There were several laughs and some clapping when the juggler dropped a bread roll on his foot, managing to keep several others up in the air. Fergus hadn’t counted how many went up, and had no intention of counting them while they were spinning through the air. Especially not from the other side of the room, where he was standing against a wall and giving anyone who came too close a look that sent them scurrying away again.
It didn’t always work of course, several times this evening he’d had to talk to people he’d rather avoid. Sadly it was often the ones that he really wanted to avoid who talked to him anyway and most of them indirectly about where he stood following his brother’s marriage. Fergus couldn’t think of a subject that he wanted to discuss less at that particular moment. He’d always known that Aedan was going to get married and that it was going to change things, but now it had actually happened Fergus didn’t want to think about it. As far as he was concerned it was the beginning of the end.
Fergus had accepted early on that Aedan wasn’t going to tolerate him if ever he became a threat, and while Fergus was one of the most loyal people at the court his position was a problem. Younger brothers turned into uncles sooner or later, and particularly in a royal or noble family uncles were a problem while things were unstable. While they were stable as well if the uncle had a mind to be a problem. Thiasa wasn’t the most stable of places even if Scalia was worse, so Fergus could guess that when a child did come or perhaps even before Aedan would probably be thinking of ways to get rid of him. Not a subject he really wanted to dwell on.
A glower sent another courtier – one Fergus recognised as a minor one – walking past him with an expression of forced merriment covering whatever disappointment or alarm he felt, to a huddle of other men and women several feet away. Fergus watched for a moment, noting a new change in fashion he thought quite ridiculous, before turning away and taking another sip from the wine glass held in one had. The temptation to get completely drunk was strong and already on the third glass Fergus was starting to recognise a losing battle. Soon he’d have to retire unless he wanted to cause a scene, something he avoided at almost all costs.
His clothes didn’t match up to those of the huddle of courtiers, as it wasn’t a special event but merely evening entertainment he’d stuck to his usual plain but well-made clothes. It tended to mean that he stood out more than he intended to, especially as he was intentionally driving people away this evening.