She hadn't been able to sleep.

There was no rhyme or reason for it, but she tossed and turned as easily as a ship in a storm that night. Her mother's words about her looks ("Striking, but not beautiful, to be sure") coupled with her father's ("We'll just marry you off as soon as possible and then you won't cause any trouble at all") insured that as easily as if someone was threatening to kill her.

Wasn't that a death of sorts? What her father was proposing anyway. The death of herself, the birth of her as a secondary importance. No longer would she be able to think for herself, but she would have to learn to make others, a husband or a child, more important than herself. Instead of reading treatises on religion and government, she would have to lie in bed waiting for her next child to come. A string of unwanted pregnancies and then...

She would die. Whether in childbirth or in an ancient age, she would die and her memory would wither away like leaves on a tree in winter's icy grasp.

Underneath the wool covers, she shivered, curling up in the fetal position as if remembering the positions of life before birth would save her from that which started at conception: the process of death.

"I must do something," she whispered, her eyes snapping open from their closed determination. "I must keep myself alive. I must fulfill my plans and see them to the end, come glory or..." she hesitated and then forced herself to spit out the word, "death."

The word hung like a silver promise strung through the air. She waved her hand above her head, hearing the snores of that maid her father had given her. The woman, middle-aged and not up much for keeping awake until her mistress fell asleep, snored heavily and snuffled a bit. With quiet, quickness, Niamh dressed herself (the trait of lacing her own corset having been perfected as a small child though it was still looser than if someone else had done it) and tiptoed her way out the doors, her slippers sliding on the stones beneath them.

For a moment, as she glanced down either end of the corridor, she looked like a small child again, deviant and ever so happy to be out on her own. "Let's make this productive." she murmured beneath her breath as if trying to remind herself of her mission.

Glory or death.

Hastily, she choose the left corridor and set off, scurrying through two more chambers before winding up in another hallway. It was full of portraits...The room she had been followed out of by Prince Fergus before. She smiled a bit to herself and followed the torchlight, glancing up with her dark eyes to see the portraits every so often. The portrait of the current king caught her eye and she stopped, as if being chastised through his gaze. For a moment, she considered going back.

{OOC: Nice post :lol: }

Leon sat up, still awake at this late hour. But he wasn't at the Heaton fief anymore. Several weeks ago, Leon's father sent Leon to the Keep, much to his dislike. The only reason to be here was to become "acquainted" with other members in the Keep, preferably the King and other people of importance. To Leon, such activities were completely pointless; he didn't believe that someone who kissed up to the King could do better than someone who showed his true worth on the field. Sure he held respect for them, but he wouldn't enjoy trying to favor them all the time.

So here he was, in the middle of the night, wondering what he was going to do to pass the time. Looking out the window, he smiled. The moon was out and full, casting its light across the entire hill the Keep was built on. He was completely captivated by its beauty, and the way everything looked basked in moonlight. Hmmm, he thought with a slight smile on his face. This would be a nice night to ride in...

Leon quickly got dressed in a discreet fashion, anticipation building within him. He had received his new horse and it was always a joy riding her. She was fast as the wind and didn't seem to overshadow Leon like the way the original Scalian horses would. Leon wasn't quite sure how to decide what her name would be; for it didn't seem to manner, so it inevitably got pushed to the back of his mind.

After slipping his shoes, Leon quietly opened the door and creped out into the hallways. Looking around, everything was unrecognizable. There was torches illuminating the hallways, but Leon couldn't make heads or tails of where to go. Am I supposed to go right?, Leon thought. Or was it left? Arrggh this is frustrating. Leon stood there, doubt growing within him. Maybe I should get back in, he thought. But looking out a window at the end of the hallway, he shook his head of the idea. It was too beautiful a night to waste indoors. Even if it was midnight.

In quite a random fashion, Leon walked up one hallway and down others, not really knowing where he was going. He figured that eventually he would run into a servant or guard. Finally, with much relieve to Leon, he stumbled upon a hallway with a person in it.

It was a room filled with portraits, although Leon quite frankly could've cared less. His only intent was going outside and there was a person here to could probably help him. Not noticing it was a lady, Leon walked right up beside her. He mentally cursed himself for not noticing such details beforehand. If he couldn’t even tell if someone was a lady or a simple maidservant, how could he be expected to lead troops? Sighing, he tried pushing down his emotions and turned back to the lady beside him.

Being quite plainly dressed and he could've been passed for a knight of little sort unless closely examined his clothes. Not that he minded how much he looked. What he did mind was acting like a fool. Here was the heir to Heaton fief, asking for directions! Let’s get this over with, he thought with a sigh. "My lady," Leon said, wincing slightly as his voice broke the delicate silence. "I'm afraid I'm quite lost. Would you mind to tell me where the stables are?"

Niamh heard footsteps in the hallway with her and for a moment she thought that person whose visage she was staring at (if it had been real, it would have been in a very rude manner). Swallowing thickly, she calmed her heartbeat and looked over her shoulder. To her great surprise, it wasn't the king that was walking towards her but a man that she had never seen before. Her eyes reflected sharply her own surprise before she quickly concealed it with a look that was simply patient. "Milord," she greeted him and curtsied accordingly.

He seemed confused, dazed almost, and absolutely seemed a fool. With amusement, she watch his emotions flicker over his face. This man was obvious not a great lord of renown who had been at court for several years. Otherwise, he would have figured out how to mask all his confusion and turn it into a simple confidence. The unpolished nature of his face appealled to her in a strange way and she took pity on the man in her heart. Clearly, she thought, he had sleeping problems as well if he was up so late (or was it early?) and standing beside her like this.

"The stables?" she asked, surprised once more. It flickered across her face before comprehension dawned. Of course he would want something to tire him out for bed. Easy enough instructions to follow. "Of course. I will lead you there myself."

She bowed her head in agreement and began to walk calmly through the Keep, her steps smooth and small to fit her stature. "So you're lost?" she asked though it was much more of a statement for certain, "I myself was lost here a week ago. It was quite....strange. I think, looking upon it now, I was so panicked that I was lost that I wandered through each corridor at least three times and never realized just why they all seemed familiar. But there are clues..." She gestured to the paintings on the walls, "I call this the painting hallway. It has the most paintings I have ever seen. The one connected is one I think of as the Queen's Tapestry hallway, since all the tapestries favored one queen or another and her husband's most illustrious, chivalrous deed for certain."

Her words were punctuated with slight gestures that motioned towards each and every wall as she moved through them gracefully. Meanwhile, her curiosity was building. Right before she could ask his name, she came to the door to the courtyard. Pushing it open with her pale, small hands, she stepped outside into the cool night air. A breeze rustled its way against her gable hood (she had put it on even so late when no one could possible be about) and for a moment she wondered if she should fix it and make sure it would stay with the same hands that had opened the door to freedom.

Hesitating a moment, she decided to trust the weight of her hood and then pointed to the stables. "There they are, sir." She hesitated once more, curiosity burning in her eyes and said, "What's your name, by the way? I don't think we've ever met before. I've only been at court for two weeks but it's highly probable that I haven't met you anyway. Are you a knight?" She eyed his clothing for a moment but the dark made it nigh impossible to see the weave of the fabric and therefore determine the probable class he was from. For a moment, she thought he resembled Lord Heaton but the night made that nearly impossible to discern as well.

What she wouldn't trade for a simple candle or a spark of sunlight over the brow of a hill!

She introduced herself as if bribing the information from him. "I am Lady Niamh McNamara, the daughter of Sir Anrai."

Leon walked beside the lady, occasionally glimpsing at her when eh thought she wasn't looking. Hmmm, he thought. Who is she? Leon was just confused as the lady was, wondering exactly who was leading him to the stables. But his experience at court was hardly anything and he couldn't pull any memory that included her with it.

As they moved down the hallways, Leon looked around, trying his best to memorize all the twisting corridors and dark hallways. He was ashamed as it was to ask directions like a little boy. He did not plan on letting that ever happen again. But his thoughts soon moved from that. All he wanted to do now was ride, and it seemed he could never get to the stables fast enough. Finally, they reached the courtyard door and Leon sighed in relief. He had thought he would never manage to get here.

Stepping towards his horse, he gently patted her head, calling himself to her attention. She was just as restless as he was, being forced to be in a foreign stable with unknown horses. "I know how you feel," Leon quietly whispered into her ear, trying to soothe her down. Opening her gate, Leon brought her out and quickly saddled her. Blood was rushing in his veins, making his cheeks take on a red hue to them. His horse mirrored his feelings, shifting from foot to foot nervously, both rider and horse anxious to ride out into the night.

He then turned to Lady Niamh, a slight smile on his face. "I'm sorry for the delay, Lady Niamh. I am Lord Leon Heaton, heir to Lord Bertram Heaton, my father." With that he swung himself on top of his horse and they seemingly became one. Physically and mentally, whenever they rode together, it looked as if they become one whole being, rather than two separate ones. Leon felt instantly at ease with himself, and decided that it just might be better if he could ride with one other.

"Lady Niamh," he said with much more confidence now. "I thank you for your help in guiding me. Would you like to ride with me this beautiful midnight?"

He smiled at her from his horse. For a moment, she stared at him as he apolgized. Her shock at hearing that he was the Heaton heir permeated her face, causing her jaw to go slack for a moment and her brow to furrow in confusion. The heir to Heaton was here? At the Keep? And he had asked her for directions?

There was no point in reminding Niamh that she was a lesser knight's daughter, someone hardly able to rub shoulders with royalty (that had been unintentional and rather lucky on her part) or higher nobility (once again, lucky and unintentional.) She could hardly believe her luck. Already her potential support base was growing and from it, she could launch her own ambitions.

Already, in her mind, she could see the rolling, green hills of the land she wanted. A river would run through it. She might breed a high order of horses herself. And when she thought that she was ready, she would marry and produce a child for her estate, someone to inherit their mother's glory and honor.

If there is any honor left at the end of this, she thought grimly, her look of shock disappearing into one of calm. "A pleasure to meet you, sir," she intoned, bowing her head in deference to his station.

And then he asked...the question. Would she ride with him? Tonight?

Color flared into her cheeks, caressing them with Thiasan roses and the heat of passion. Her eyes shone within their dark depths and with all the joy she could muster in her soul, she answered bravely, "Aye, I will."

It took her but a moment to grab Siobhan. She woke the horse (who looked startled but pleasantly so at the surprise visit) and saddled her herself. Secret lessons behind their house were wonderful. They taught her to be self-sufficient when it came to horses and she wasn't going to stop just because there were smaller lads about that might help her. Brushing of the helpful hands of a small, sleepy boy, she mounted her horse and rode her from the stables.

The horse's muscles bunched as she trotted towards Leon, her face gleaming pearly white in the moonlight. "Let's race," she said, smiling at him and gently tapping her heels to Siobhan's sides. The mare lunged forward, nostrils flaring. Her mistress's request excited her. After all, how many times had they ever gone out for a late night (or early morning) ride? Her mistress usually slept fitfully and from her presence upon Siobhan's back, the mare could only assume that her mistress felt quite uncomfortable at court despite her eagerness to get there before.

So, faithful friend that she was, Siobhan was fast and furious as she led her mistress from the cobbled paths of the Keep, into the open space and ran like mad. On her back, Niamh laughed, pleased with the progress of her galloping horse. Her hands gently tugged left or right depending, telling Siobhan her preference. At times, she glance over her shoulder, seeing if the Heaton heir was keeping up with her.

All she could think was how this night was turning out better than she had thought possible.

Leon smiled down at the lady, trying his best to be courteous. He was beginning to show doubts of uncertainty but his face gleamed when he heard Niamh agree to ride with him. His horse mirrored his feelings perfectly: the idea of riding with another made the horse happy yet nervous at the same time, making it step anxiously back and forth underneath Leon. He gently patted it on her neck. "There, don't worry. You'll get to ride soon," Leon whispered gently into her ear.

Seeing Niamh going into the stables to get her horse, Leon was about to follow, but stopped when he saw she proved herself to be self-sufficient. Hmmm, Leon looked on with a curious eye. She knows how to ride and saddle a horse. He wasn't altogether shocked by this; at his fiefdom, it wasn't uncommon for women to learn to ride for necessity. It was uncommon for ladies to learn however, although Leon never personally saw why it was a big issue.

As Niamh rode up beside him, Leon admired her horse carefully. It was indeed a beautiful beast but before Leon could have said anything, he was challenged a race while Niamh herself raced ahead. Leon couldn't help but smile. She could ride pretty fast too.

Leon's horse took a step forward, anxious to pursue the horse that was racing in front of her. Leon was just the same. He wasn't one to give people too much of a head start, although he didn't care for winning. A race was a race; you gave it your best.

Leon reared up his horse, then set after Niamh at a full gallop. Easily, he began to shorten the length between them. Leon's horse was a breed of speed and strength by crossbreeding the tougher Scalian horses with the light-footed Thiasian ones. Leon couldn't help but start laughing. No, he wasn't happy because he had now caught up. No, rather he just enjoys riding that much. Riding away from all that pressure and problems, Leon could finally have his freedom.

If Niamh didn't know where they were actually going, she gave no hint of it. In all honesty, she was letting Siobhan take all the liberties she wanted due to being cooped up all day. With such thoughts in mind, when the horse decided to bolt for the woods, Niamh didn't try to stop her. In fact, her reflexes were too slow to do that.

So it was that the lady Niamh McNamara was taken into the woods by her own horse. The trees lashed at her and only her hands before her face stopped them from gashing her eyes, nose and lips. She could feel the tug of the wind in her hair and somewhere, she had lost her hood. The crown of her head felt bare, almost vulnerable, in lieu of losing it so suddenly. For a moment, she twisted around, trying to see where it went and was awarded with a small branch smacking her nose.

It didn't take long for Siobhan to have them arrive where she had planned. At least two miles away from the Keep, Siobhan stopped in a meadow and lowered her head happily to the sweet, moist grasses that waited therein. Niamh, for all her skill as a horsewoman, clung to the saddle and had to use all her strength to keep herself from falling out of it quickly. When she was sure that she was finished shaking (it had been frightening, though she would never admit that), she dismounted fluidly and then stood in the meadow, brushing off her skirts as if the last mile of erasing any of her dignified manner had not just happened.

Upon reclaiming the last shreds of such a thing that now seemed mythical to her, she patted her horse's neck, awarded her with a kiss upon her broad cheek and then took off the harness so that, should the reins fall down, the horse would not become entangled in her own strings. Siobhan looked at her mistress with gratitude and then resumed feeding.

Niamh herself, pleased to have won the race (that sudden turn into the wood had meant victory for sure), waited for Leon Heaton to catch up with her. If she wasn't stranded out here all night...

Leon slowed down when Niamh burst into the woods, not wanting to just rush into things. He paused to look around, wondering exactly where she was heading at. Niamh had made a small trial by rushing through the trees, marking where she was going. Leon's horse impatiently snorted, demanding to pursue the other horse and win the race.

Leon reared his horse, much to its delight, and rushed forward into the foliage. Branches and twigs lashed at his face, and soon he was simply latching on his horse's back, trusting that the horse wouldn't get him lost. To him, the ride was black and turbulent, separated only by the short breaks of time where no trees could be felt around him. Eventually they stopped, and Leon breathed a sigh of relief. It was hardly ever he felt so out of control like that. It was...breath taking to say the least.

Leon dismounted quickly, which awarded him to land flat on his back. He had ridden too long in a stressed position and his body was shaking uncontrollably. Taking several deep breaths, he got up, using his horse for support. Looking around, he saw he was in a meadow. Somewhere off to the left were Lady Niamh and her horse, who had obviously gotten here first. Leon quickly checked himself and his horse for any injuries, and surprised to find none, went over to rejoin them.

"That was quite surprising, my lady," Leon said when he was close enough. "Turning into the foliage like that? Impressive skills indeed."

She smiled at him when he landed flat on his back, a quiet, tame smile compared to the one she had had while riding. She was amused that he thought she wouldn't know how to ride in the woods. Didn't she know how to fix the girth around her horse? Put her harness on properly? Mount up without help? She had proved herself already an accomplished rider just through those steps alone which were much more than any normal noblewoman to know. She almost laughed when he fell off his horse so promptly.

"You'll find that I know a great many things that you didn't think I would," she said, all stress and worry cast aside after letting loose on Siobhan. The relief and rush of good feelings in her body made her careless or at least, more careless than usual. As a result of all those things, she found herself sitting down on a rock in the clearing, heedless of what might happen to her dress on such a thing of nature.

"So, you're the son of Lord Heaton," she said, not asking it as a question in the least. For a moment, her gaze raked over his body as if trying to tell if he was lying or not just by looking at his body. Her eyes then latched onto his. "I have to admit, I saw a resemblance at first but I wasn't sure if the moonlight was playing tricks on me. How is it? Being a lord's son, I mean?"

The question was something she always wanted to ask and never had the courage to do so. She had always been too careful, too precise, in her questions to ask the ones she really wanted to know. But for the moment, in her carelessness, she found herself freeing up and letting her tongue loose unlike usual. She wanted to know what the difference was in the raising of a lord's son or a merchant's son. She had seen the common people well enough and how they raised their children. Somehow, that always seemed coarser to her, more obvious. Whereas she had seen common folk slap their children in broad day light when they misbehaved, nobility seemed to raise theirs with firmer stuff and subtlety. It was as if, when she watched them, there was something unspoken, a hidden danger, as if one wrong step could land you in the hottest water you ever stepped into.

Her parents had been a mix of both, being not exactly nobility and not exactly common either. Her father had slapped her several times before, but always in private. In public, she let her tongue loose and in private, she felt the sting of it come right back to her when her father's fury lasted long enough to carry into the house.

She eyed his horse. "That's a fine animal," she said, softly, as if afraid to spook it, "How old? Where did you buy him? What's his name?" She couldn't stop looking at his horse despite the fact that she should probably look at him instead. It was polite, she knew, but she couldn't help it. "Was he a gift?" she asked, truly curious.

Her eyes radiated this as well as her passion for riding and horses in particular. Inside her pupils, a fire was growing, fanned by the heat of riding so fast, so furiously. Her blood was still rushing through her veins like strings of fire. It tingled just beneath the flimsy shell of her skin and bit at the slender muscles in her arms, legs, abdomen and back. In her mind, she felt at peace even if her body demanded more and more riding, faster and faster.

But Siobhan needed rest and Niamh, in all her pride, had won the race. She was content for the night.

{OOC: Sorry for the wait}

Leon slightly blushed in embracement when he heard her reply. He was just about to say something when she sat on the rock before he stopped and scolded himself. You're not her mother, he thought to himself. She's a better rider than you, and she obviously is more than just any other lady. Growing up isolated had managed to give him a less sexist view than most people of his time, even if Leon didn't actually knew it himself.

Leon laughed as he nodded through the questions Niamh fired. "You're pretty curious aren't you?" he asked as he slowly calmed down again. Deciding to make himself more comfortable, he sat down on the ground, not really caring what would happen to his clothes either way. "Hmmm, why don't we start answering them in order?"

"Let's see, being a lord's son?" Leon slowly thought over his answer. Not really sure what to say. "It's...uhh...really educative most of the time. It’s either learning this, learning that, learning not to do something, things like that. I wasn't even let outside because my father was afraid of bad influences," he said while pausing slightly. "But it wasn't really all that bad," he quickly added, afraid what he have said might've came out wrong. "It's just you never get out much and that quickly gets boring."

Looking back at Niamh, he saw she was eyeing his horse with wonder and couldn't help but smile. He was his pride and prize and he treasured him above anything. "He's a real beauty, isn't he? Just a little over five years, I think. He's a crossbreed from the native horses and ours. That's supposedly makes him a sturdy yet really fast horse. He's actually straight from my father's stables and not something you could get anywhere else. So I guess that makes him a gift." Leon paused here, not really sure how to answer that particular last question. What will it sound like if I didn't give him a name, Leon thought, while hoping his anxiety wasn't showing on his face, even though it was.

Taking a quick breath, he slightly whispered, as if afraid someone would hear. "I haven't really given him a name yet," he said shyly. "I'm not really creative enough and I'm afraid if it isn't it would just make him feel bad."

Why am I telling her all this, Leon thought. She'll just think I'm even more foolish with the directions and now this! He sighed to himself. Court life really is hard...

She smiled close-mouthed at the question of just how curious she was. "I always hunger for things that I don't know about yet," she answered, her eyes holding a strange look in them, partially amused, partially cold, "I will always seek answers no matter the subject. It's a hobby of mine, a passion, if you will, much the same as Siobhan and horseback riding is one. Knowledge, my lord, is something I will crave for all my days and I'm never satisfied until I've gotten all the answers I can."

Fixing her seat upon the rock, she listened to him intently, her eyes devouring as much as her ears were as she took it all in. "Doesn't sound too bad, my lord," she answered honestly, her dark eyes taking in his features as he seemed to scrabble to reassure her that it was hardly abuse. "I'll admit, I myself am learned. I can read, write, speak Latin, French and one of the native languages here. My father insist I learn the native language when I was younger if only because he was sure that one day I was going to ride off, get kidnapped by natives, and I should, in his mind, at least be able to yammer their ears off. He said..." she thought about it for a moment, then a spark of recognition came across her features as she fully remembered, "Ah! Yes! He said, 'Here. Learn this. With any luck, we'll be able to hear you shouting at them in their own language and locate you should you ever be kidnapped. You'll charm your way out of their in no time.' And then he left me to my studies." She gave Leon a crooked smile, her teeth gleaming like a wolf's fangs in the moonlight, "And I learned alright. I learned that and then I got a hunger to learn other languages. So I devoured them as fast as I could. I'm working on a second native language here now. Baskari, I suppose it's called. At this rate, I could probably negotiate a peace."

She listened very intently as he discussed his horse. Sort of a gift? She understood that. Siobhan would be her family's but not hers if her father hadn't given Siobhan to her when she was a girl. Little did he know back then that he was grooming a lady to be a great horseback rider. Well, shame for the past, she thought, otherwise he would have given me an even better horse...Or taken Siobhan away from me forever.

The prospect of not being with her horse was, well, frightening. Siobhan was as much a part of her when Niamh rode her that it was like a leg or an arm. One could not part Siobhan from Niamh without disrupting the other's heart completely. Niamh had no idea what she would do when Siobhan died before her, as the horse was just likely to do. It was an idea that just now crossed her mind and, cold as she could be, the lady McNamara couldn't bear the thought of it.

A thought crossed her mind and she gave it voice, loud and clear, "Are you going to war with them?"

"If you are....Bellaphron for your horse. He was the horse that carried Alexander the Great through battle. When Alexander fell off one day and was wounded, Bellaphron searched the lively battlefield until he found his Alexander. Once he did, he pulled his master out of the field and into safety. Once he reached the safe haven, Bellaphron had taken so many hits from arrows and swords that the horse died. But he made sure his master was safe first and foremost. A true companion, a true friend," she finished, closing her eyes and crisscrossing her arms to lock her hands around them as if savoring the tale. Her arms, beneath her gown, were slender and strong from the reins and working with books and quills and sewing for long hours with no respite. Her fingers were nimble as well and as she forced herself to unclamp her arms with her hands, the fabric bore slight shapes of her fingertips.

"You'd best call him Bellaphron then. The name itself is good luck if you go into battle, my lord, and I have no doubt that, should you treat him right, a fine creature like that will pull you out of battle and back to the Keep if you wish it. And he wouldn't slow down for sword or arrow, not until he knew you were safe, I think." Her dark eyes stared at the liquid form of the horse through the meadow and then she smiled a bit, looking down at the ground. "If you think I'm silly, well, I'm not surprised." She loooked up again, through the strands of her dark hair in the night, "A lot of men and women think I am. That I'm strange but..." she smiled as she added, "charming." Niamh stood up from her leaning place on the rock and stepped closer to Leon so that she might better see him. "And what do you think, my lord? Am I strange but charming? Or just strange to you?" She was so close now that if she leaned forward at a forty five degree angle, she could kiss him upon his mouth. She had no intention to. Not at that moment, but the thought of doing it was amusing to her and amusing enough to make her give her crooked close-mouthed smile.