The morning greeted her with singing, the voice low and rich like a tapestry full of animals and colors and emotional ties. Niamh squirmed in her sleep, tossed over and attempted to bury her ears into her pillow. The singing persisted, getting louder and louder until finally it was so loud she could no longer pretend to be sleeping. She opened her eyes in a snap, not fluttering them or batting her eyelashes like most women would do, and stared up.

At her mother.

Lady Maeve laughed under her breath at her eldest child, her black eyes twinkling happily beneath the arched, defined black brows that her daughter held as well. "Niamh," she whispered, "Get up, child. Today is the day that your father and you go to the castle."

Niamh groaned and tried to flatten the pillow over her head instead. Overhead, Maeve frowned, not pretending to be cheerful this morning anymore. By God, she had given birth to this daughter! Twenty six hours of labor and sweat and good, old fashioned labor and all this useless girl could do was groan and simper back into her sheets! By God, Maeve wasn't having it.

Maeve gritted her teeth and whisked the sheets off of Niamh's bed, exposing the slender girl in her pale glory. The tiny, high arched feet poked out of the white gown that she wore to bed and her black hair was tumbled down her bed and off the side of her bed. Maeve rolled her eyes and shouted, "Up, you lazy girl! Before I decide to prod you awake with the maid's broom!"

Niamh startled back into consciousness, scrambled out of bed and just looked at Maeve who stared back with the black eyes of harsh reality. "Good," the lady of the house said, "Now get dressed. The maids will help you, do your hair and the like. I'm going down to supervise the cooking."

Niamh blinked at her blurrily before coming to the aburpt conclusion that her mother would be useless in a ktichen as she had no cooking experience anyway. As her mother headed downstairs, Niamh watched her go and then looked at two of her father's maids before arching a brow.

"Well, let's get on with it," she said, her voice coming out soft but sharp. Intelligence crackled there, overlaid with pleasant sounding timbre. The maids nodded, bobbed a curtsey, and brought forth a black gown with pearls and very little embroidery on it. Niamh saw it coming, nodded her approval and tried to pretend, as she was helped with dressing, that she had not just proven herself a lazy daughter by groaning and tossing as her mother came close to her with the prospect of waking up.

Once dressing her was finished, the maids began combing her hair. The long black tendrils snaked down Niamh's back and to the floor when she sat as she had never been permitted to cut it. She waited patiently as they finished their combing and finally set to work on pinning part of it back from her face. The effect, once finished, was good enough. Niamh wasn't particularly devastating in her appearance, her sister Aoife was good enough for that. Instead, she had an aura around her. An aura that suggested not to underestimate her. Her dark, black eyes flashed dangerously, seducingly from her pale face, inviting and yet distant all at the same time. She knew how to use her eyes as that was her most becoming feature, in her opinion and in several others'. So she taught herself to use her eyes, charm, and wit even as Aoife taught herself to rely on her body, not her brains, for attention.

Niamh smiled into the reflection, close mouthed, and headed downstairs. Already, her ambition was rising.

***

They arrived at the castle later than had been expected and Niamh dismounted from her horse easily enough. She had fought her father tooth and nail saying that she would not submit to riding in a carriage. The dress she was wearing would survive the journey, she decided, and besides she needed to stretch her legs and how better to do that then to ride sidesaddle on the way there?

Her father gave in to her, knowing that she would not budge until she got her way on this. There were certain things that Niamh would give way to, certain things that one could fight about with her and they would win because she got bored of the fighting, but things, such as her passions, she would not budge on.

And her horse was one of her passions.

So she had ridden the way there, black hair loose and flowing around her shoulders and back. Her dress was draped so that none of her leg would be exposed and when she dismounted, she was helped by one of the guards.

On the ground, she looked up at the walls, the windows, everything about the Keep, committing it to memory. Her father came after her, nodding to her as if to say, "Well, you made it. What more do you want?" to her. She smiled at him, light hearted and joyful as the ride had made her amiable.

"Father, for one who was so eager to bring me here, you are hesitating. Will you not escort me in?" she asked, her voice the same detached yet sharp tone as she had used with the maids. Her father shot her a warning glance but couldn't prove that she had been hostile to him or disrespectful and so he offered her his arm and said, "My dear daughter, if you but follow me, we will get you set up. But first, we must introduce you to the court."

With that, he led her just outside the throne room and bid her to wait while he spoke to the guards and announcers telling them that they had arrived and were ready. Niamh could feel her heart pounding, her palms sweating. Also as soon as she thought about how nervous she was to being so close to that which would grant her her heart's desire, she banished the thought, reminding herself that nerves could not stop what needed to be done.

The herald announced them, they came forth and Sir Anrai offered his arm to her again and off they went into the room. It was ornate, by Niamh's standards, but she allowed herself to look nowhere but the throne and it's occupant. Her eyes flashed, black and liquid but oh-so intelligent and fiery, and she thought she moved so slowly in those few seconds it took to get there.

Her father bowed and indicated her, saying, "Majesty, may I present my daughter, Lady Niamh McNamara?" Niamh smiled, close mouthed, curtsied and spread her skirts out wide like a fan, her eyes not leaving the king. Most women would have dropped her eyes in difference but Niamh did not. She wanted him to remember her, even if it didn't work. She was using her eyes as best she could, the feature that was most striking of all. They flashed and sparkled like black diamonds of fire beneath her delicately arched brows.

Remember me later, she willed into her mind.

She stood from her curtesy and waited for the dismissal wondering if her father would be spoken to at that moment or not.

The king wasn't unused to the useless. Most of what he had to do, in fact, was entirely without purpose. Still, the throne room was his least favorite location.

He settled himself onto his throne, adjusting his crown with one hand. Good posture had gone out the window by the time he was twenty-six. Now, he slouched, crossing one ankle over his opposite knee, and folded his hands in his lap. And if there was a bit of a dark look in his eye he could pass it off as brooding over matters of state.

In fact he was irritating he couldn't go hurting or spend more time in the practice-yards; and besides, yards of ermine and velvet were exceedingly uncomfortable as the season wore on. When the war began... well, it wouldn't, not yet. They had to manage the levy, first off. But there were petitioners, there were squabbles over hereditary land rights (damn his father--he respected him immensely, but he'd put little thought into the plots he had granted his soldiers) and introductions. And Lord Fremont seemed to have some sort of unnatural attachment to asking useless questions.

King Aedan waved the irritating man away (this time it had been a scheme regarding aqueducts) and turned to the next petitioner. Ah--at least it was Lord McNamara. He was one of the few Aedan trusted. And here was his daughter.

He considered her as she introduced herself. She was pretty, he supposed, but then, pretty girls were a penny a dozen. It was the determined look in her eye that made him think further on her, though he hardly had time to concern himself with ladies of the court.

"Well met, Lady McNamara," he said, nodding at her, his gaze on her father. "I suppose you're here to ask me to arrange a marriage?" If not, he'd be surprised, happily so. Unless she were one of those angling for him.

Niamh took in his posture. He looked as if he barely cared for the matters of court. She found this surprising and assumed that perhaps she had been wrong in thinking that there was much to learn from just watching the nobility's expressions as certain events came to pass.

She rose from her curtsy, surprised at the question. Her father blinked, slightly worried that the king had asked Niamh rather than him. He could have given an answer that would have pleased the king but Niamh...

Niamh raised her chin, her pride and dignity shining through. Her dark eyes stared straight into the king's own as she spoke. "Nay, I come not to find shackles, Majesty, but rather, my own road and, at the end of that road, perhaps my future. Whether marriage is in the cards," she offered a slow smile, her eyes bright, intelligent, "is up to God above."

She was far from religious, in fact. She could care less about the Church as she thought it corrupt and indecent. She thought of it as simply power hungry, grabbing anything it could and swallowing it whole. However, she chose to conceal this fact from the king.

The mark on her shoulder seemed to burn in agreement as she spoke with her sharp, soft timbre.

Her father, meanwhile, glanced her and then at the king. "Forgive her, Majesty. She's...headstrong, a trait I have no idea how she came about. She has fanciful notions though I'm sure a few years at court will curdle that out of her." He bowed upon his knee, his head downward in show of submission.

Niamh eyed him, slightly frustrated. In her frustration, her dark eyes glittered like obsidian with their hidden anger and instead of yelling at him like she normally would, she curved her anger and offered the king a slight smile as if to say, Oh what men will lie to themselves about when they think it might save their necks.

"Majesty, my father would ask you to arrange a marriage for me, yet I ask that you not," she offered quietly, her eyes working whatever magic they could, "After all, the purpose of court is to introduce ladies to the country and their peers. It is to instill loyalty in them for their king. Should I be whisked away into a marriage far from the Keep, I fear that I would not have witnessed these traits enough to emulate them in the highest calling. To be sure, Majesty, my loyalty is far from lame but rather, it is young yet and requires tutoring."

Her father shot her another look, implying that she was slowly ruining everything. Niamh could care less at that moment but rather, had her entire attention focused up the king. She waited for whatever was going to happen and then her father stepped in again, determined to try to save whatever he could, "Majesty, later, we might discuss the trade possibilites to come after your possible marriage to Lady Blauvent, with your permission, of course."

Aedan raised an eyebrow at her temerity. If this was a new attempt to charm him... well, when wasn't it? In the context of her introduction, every movement she made was an attempt to create a certain impression. However, he had to admit that her bravery, at least, made an impression.

Whether marriage is in the cards is up to God above."

"No, actually," Aedan couldn't resist responding, cutting through the falsely pious tone she'd struck (there was little he detested more than the pose of piety), "It's up to me. But your father's obviously trained you well in diplomacy." He smiled at McNamara. "That's always been a strength of his." He waved a hand at the man, who had settled into apology for his 'headstrong' daughter. "Nonsense, I don't care. Having one's own opinion is a trait I've always valued, and you know it."

He waited to hear the rest of what she had to say. "Your loyalty was never a question I had, but now I'll have to reconsider. When people make vehement promises, I've always..." He trailed off. She was only a girl, after all. And then Sir Anrai stepped in, trying to smooth things over.

"I'd like to discuss that." He shrugged. "I'll speak with you later, I have a few matters I'd like to discuss with you after speaking to the General. Well met, Lady Niamh." He nodded to her. "I hope to see you at tomorrow's hunt."

Niamh watched the king raise an eyebrow. Had no one ever been this forward with him before? If not, he was going to have to realize that Niamh was not one to mince words but often cut to the core of something. She had a temper and she had her pride. Both were great flaws in her, and yet she thought fondly of the last one as a strength. After all, she couldn't lose her pride.

Sir Anrai nearly sighed in relief when the king pronounced that it was alright for his daughter to be such a stone in the shoe. He needed to talk to her then, alone, and make clear what she had been brought to the court for: secure a good marriage and then get tucked away in that fiefdom's boundaries. There she could commit no harm while still getting favors for her family from her husband. After all, as long as they used her star correctly, they would rise with her.

He was more than happy that his attempt to step in proved useful. The king took the bait and now he could privately explain why his daughter was such a mess and not at all showing that wonderful trait of obedience.

Niamh curtsied once more once the king had verbally dismissed them. "I will place it upon my top most priorities to be there, Your Majesty." she murmured in agreement, spreading her skirts once more and her black eyes latched onto his own.

Anrai could have smacked her for not lowering her eyes submissively. If there was one thing he couldn't take, it was an unruly household. Having two daughters caused that, he surmised, and bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope to see you soon that we might discuss these great matters then." Anrai offered and both left the room.

Niamh followed, obedient in this at least, and once they were out in the hall, her father grabbed her arm harshly and said, "You've just humiliated me in front of the king and court, Niamh."

Niamh looked over at him, her black eyes fiery with temper as he latched onto her. She shook off his hand and then said, "Father, it was your idea to bring me to court and it is my desire that will keep me here. I won't leave until I get what I want."

"And what is that, praytell?"

"My own title and my own land."

Anrai fought to roll his eyes at her headstrong nature and yet something told him not to. After all, Niamh had a way to get what she always wanted.