“You need to dress up for court, Elayne,” Elrich said with a slight frown. They were already running late that day, all because of his brother’s stupid daughter. The way she had insisted on wearing one of her mother’s old gowns had ended with Elrich slapping her and locking her in a room together with two servants. And he swore he wouldn’t let her out until she had changed into the beautiful blue gown he had had made for her and was all set and ready to go. It really was a beautiful dress too, but Elayne had still not wanted to change out of her rather simple, teal dress.

But alas, the battle was lost. The dress was on now and the two servant girls were busy fixing the girl’s hair and deciding upon what jewelry would look the best on Elayne. They both seemed happy that their master and his niece seemed to have sorted out their problems.

Elayne, though, was not at all happy. She angrily dried away tears of frustration and stared at her own reflection in the mirror in front of her. Who was that girl there? Who was that unknown lady that was staring back from the mirror? She wore such a beautiful dress and looked so unfamiliar that it close to frightened the 17-year old.

Not long after, the servants announced that “Lady Elayne is ready!” and the doors were unlocked. Lord Elrich seemed pleased with the result and his arrogance reflected in his voice when he spoke. “Ah, look at you, brother-daughter! This fits you so much better than such rags you wore before!” “They’re not-,” but Elayne’s words were brought to a sudden halt by her uncle speaking once again. “Now, now!” he started, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Think of your father, my dearest brother! Would he not be happy if you could announce your marriage to a man of great stature? Perhaps even a king? Would he not smile at that?”

Thousands of insults ran through Elayne’s head by his comment, but she said naught. After all, that sly fox of an uncle was perfectly right! How happy wouldn’t her father be if she could wed into a wealthier family? It would give them both, at least him, a happy life. Parting her slender lips to speak, she stopped herself and instead simply nodded. There seemed nothing more in her power to be done.

---

And so the only thing she could do was to follow her uncle, as she had now done. His carriage had brought them both to the castle, and at the moment Elayne was walking around the great hall. All around her were people in wonderful clothing, trapped in mindlessly happy conversations. But she didn’t feel like talking. She still had to recover mentally from the morning’s events, so she wandered alone and in silence. And she would prefer that she could continue with that too. But her plan seemed threatened by a rather ugly man who had caught her eye and was now making his way towards her.

A moment of panic came over her, and she escaped out the closest door, not wanting to be stared upon by such a man. And so she suddenly found herself in a wonderfully decorated room. But when she made big eyes when she noticed she wasn’t alone there. With one hand on the door, she made a little bow and stuttered a faint “I’m sorry for the intrusion,” unsure of what else to say and do.

It was a usual day at court, all things considered. Usual for court didn't match anywhere else of course, he was fairly certain that it was only in court that two nobles would actually fall out over a game of chess and a fight over a young lady's dubious honour would involve politely bowing both before and after the dual, if both opponents were standing by then of course. Fergus liked to keep himself out of it as much as possible, he had enough problems to deal with without getting involved in the numerous intrigues going on around him.

In contrast to everyone else, he was plainly dressed. His tunic and breeches were in shades of brown and made from a strong cloth rather than a rich satin or silk, fashionably cut to a degree but still highly practical with no embellishments. On the few occasions when he'd seen what he actually looked like in his usual clothes he could understand why they mostly favoured his brother's style of dress, with far more opportunity for showing wealth.

The afternoon light was strong, lighting up the keep in a way torches couldn't manage. It was the sort of weather Fergus longed to be outside riding in, yet instead he was inside reading everything he could about the eastern barbarians. Zerui, after their leader Warlord Zeru, camping at da'Zeru. Really if he remembered the one name, it seemed like he'd be just fine. As he finished another page - the scholars could go on sometimes, and this was just information compiled int he last fifteen years - he groaned and stretched back, feeling his spine crack as he bent it with his shoulders resting on the back of the chair. A second later he was settled again, feet propped up carelessly on the table with the papers on his legs, hands holding them so that they didn't fall.

Although he didn't stay in these they were technically his apartments, and furnished accordingly. Most people avoided them though, nothing much happened in them and in truth Fergus himself was seldom in them. When the door opened he looked up, surprised and slightly relieved to have an excuse to look away from the papers again. He could probably bore the barbarians to death with this lot. While he hadn't summoned one he'd expected that it would be a servant, slipping in to do something or perhaps sent to give him a message. Unless maids had started wearing blue dresses and jewels, the intruder wasn't a servant.

Her eyes widened when she saw him, although he didn't recognise her at all. For all he stayed out of affairs, he knew who was around. Whoever she was she appeared distressed in any case, and Fergus could well imagine that if she was new to court that there was plenty to be distressed about. She bowed, and he nodded his head back, moving slowly without giving any indication of his emotions. "It's quite all right, my lady." As she hadn't said his title he assumed that she wasn't aware of who he was, but he didn't feel like telling her right this second. She looked unsure enough as it was. "Is there anything that I can help you with?" His tone indicated interest, although he didn't move from where he was sitting.

The man, who sat there covered in papers, came of strangely normal to Elayne. His clothes didn’t give off that feeling of wealth and title that most wanted to show off and just that he was in here and not out there made him seem different. Not that she should be allowed to say anything, as dressed up as she was! He might mistake her for some rich man’s daughter, even if she surely was not.

After having bowed, he nodded to her, and she was left there, unsure of what to do. Her normal cheerfulness had been put a lid on today; it seemed, mainly because of her uncle. Had it not been so, she would have smiled at him at once and said something, but instead she was left speechless and confused, like a deer caught in a snare. But even so, she gave herself time to look him over. He had a handsome face, and even if he was sitting down she bet he was tall as well. He seemed not fully content about something, but it could have been boredom too, she wouldn’t know.

” Is there anything that I can help you with?”

His words shattered her little bubble of thoughts, and she quickly shook her head, her dark locks like a cloud around her shoulders. “Ah! Uhm…no milord, I just thought…this door, and another room and-“ it was better to hold her tongue. What she said now all came out as random ramblings, so it was better if she calmed a bit more down first, and then returned to trying to explain to him why she was there.

Elayne nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, before she forced herself to believe that he was probably like her and felt uncomfortable among all the other people. And because of that, he’d understand her, and she could be honest! “I just needed some time away from the ever so busy court, milord. Sometimes you are allowed to be a little weak and retreat, I believe. Therefore I somehow ended up here.” Her voice was steady now, and her own imagination had managed to calm her down. She even dared to look him in the eyes and smile at him, now that the first shock was starting to fade in strength.

Letting go of the door, the little lady dared to take a few more steps into the room, looking around before her glance returned to the man. “Did you escape a little too?” she asked, unable to hide her childish curiosity.

Clearly, she was still off balance. Fergus was starting to wonder if something else had happened to make her seem so confused and self conscious, he could well imagine that something might. She was a pretty creature, there was no denying that, and he wouldn't be the only person to see it. She was also young, and although richly dressed very probably new to court, a relatively easy target. Even as he wondered what she was thinking as she studied him he felt a spike of pity for her, a woman's lot in this world wasn't easy. Especially without a man who cared about her.

The result of his question was starling, a sudden burst of disconnected half sentences as she shook her head and looked even more alarmed than she had before. Both eyebrows raised he waited silently, watching as she shifted from one foot to the other and managed to gain control over her tongue again. Speaking to her again before she was ready would simply destroy the calm she had, and he was in no hurry to find out what the problem was and palm her off on someone else.

Perhaps she was allowed to be weak and retreat, Fergus wasn't. He hid away from people and tried to shut himself off, but it could hardly be called a retreat if he caused the temperature in a room to drop by several degrees if someone disturbed him when he didn't want to be disturbed. Even so he smiled back, nodding in an understanding manner. His smile was a distant one and no other emotion showed. "Some refreshment, perhaps?" Wine was always in here, somewhere. The servants at least knew where he was and made sure that there was a bottle to hand, and he could imagine that Elayne might be thirsty after dealing with the court. If she wanted food he'd have to send for someone, although perhaps he should anyway for protocol.

The papers were removed from his lap and placed on the table, carelessly dropped on top of an even larger batch which he had yet to go through. A moment later he was on his feet, hands automatically straightening his tunic as he walked across the room, aiming for the sideboard with the decanter. Even if Elayne wasn't going to have a drink, he intended to have one. Although he hadn't given her permission to be in the room she was coming further into it, and he wasn't going to tell her to stop. By offering her a drink without informing her non-verbally that the answer had better be no he'd effectively suggested that she was welcome to stay, anyway.

He laughed at the question, lifting the decanter and flipping the lid back. She clearly had no idea who he was, or where she was. "Escape would mean being outside for me, my lady." Looking over his shoulder at her, smiling warmly - or as warmly as his smiles got, anyway - he could tell that she was curious. About the room, about him, a sort of childish curiosity that settles like a blanket over everything. "No, I haven't escaped. I was going over papers required for my work. The rooms are so quiet because I spent so many years doing nothing but glowering that everyone leaves me alone in them." Even as he spoke he was wondering if the implied ownership of the rooms would set alarm bells ringing in Elayne's head. His clothing was at odds with the room, it was true, but as he'd said, there was no one else here. It took quite powerful disapproval and strong ownership to force the court out of somewhere it had an interest in being.

A simple nod of her head was the only reply Elayne gave the man to his question. She was unsure of what might be the proper answer; so found it better to just nod. His clothing still managed to confuse her about his title, but it was best to show him some respect. Because wouldn’t it be embarrassing if he turned out to be of high status and she had treated him like someone of her own? The other way around wasn’t so bad, but if she did treat him disrespectful her uncle might scold her again, and that was never pleasant.

Her eyes followed him as he crossed the floor, and once he turned to her to answer her question, she returned his smile. It made her relax more, to see his smile and it helped her gain some more courage to speak up. “Outside? I can understand that, my lord. What are bricks and marble against green grass and the open sky?” Once this was said, Elayne’s eyes moved around the room again. It was something about the decorations and the beauty of the room that made her feel like she should remember something about it, but nothing came to her at once. No big revelations or further explanations.

"No, I haven't escaped. I was going over papers required for my work. The rooms are so quiet because I spent so many years doing nothing but glowering that everyone leaves me alone in them."

Elayne made big eyes at his words, but not because she suddenly realised she was talking to the Prince. The young girl was more concerned about having disturbed him, since it seemed he rather wished to be left alone. A little courtesy and she gave him an apologizing look. "You have tried so hard to be left to yourself, and yet here I am, disturbing your work...!" she suddenly said, earnestly looking sorry for what she had done. “I’m really sorry, my lord! You should have told me sooner, and I would have left without a word. This is rather typical of me, though. I always manage to walk into my uncle’s study when he’s busy, and I’m always in the way-“ once again since she had entered the room, Elayne stopped herself from speaking further. He probably had no interest in her doings, as she had gotten the impression that people at court only thought about their fortune and prospect of marrying someone wealthy. The women, that was. And then naturally she presumed the men were too. And if that was right, why should this man, who had his own rooms in the castle-…

Who had his own rooms in the castle? Not many had that, did they? A shy glance up at the man again, and Elayne looked to the floor, her cheeks slowly turning a deep shade of crimson. He couldn’t be? Could he?

It was red wine, and it took the work of a moment to have two of the provided goblets half full. The servants would have ensured that it was a fine wine, although Fergus wouldn't claim to know what exact vintage it was off the top of his head. The lid of the decanted was flicked back down, and the decanter itself replaced on the tray before he picked up both goblets and walked back across the room, one in each hand. The one in his right he held out to Lady Elayne, waiting for her to take it.

Bricks and marble were both a haven and a prison, in his opinion, but he was gratified that he'd found someone who'd rather spend time outside, rather than in the almost claustrophobic keep. Perhaps the next time he went out riding he'd see if he could summon her to go with the party, while he preferred riding alone for the most part an escort was generally called for if he was going far. It usually consisted of whoever was hanging around who caught his attention. "Very little, but sadly I fear strong stone walls will soon be necessary. With God's grace, they will never be needs here again." The keep could probably withstand any attack the barbarians wanted to launch on it, but their being this far into Thiasan territory wasn't something Fergus wanted to consider.

Her eyes were still flitting curiously around the room, and Fergus looked around it as well. Causally, it was a room he'd never given much thought to. Now he thought about it he supposed it was a bit strange, a room with this level of grand decoration that wasn't in much use. "These rooms were decorated for King Aedan while he was a prince fifteen years ago, if you look closely you can see what was added later or changed. The crests were all taken out or painted over when he became king, of course." These were the heir's apartments. He hadn't bothered to change anything himself, and he was fairly certain that Lady Elayne, for all she was new to court, knew that there was an heir and had an idea of who the heir was, although so far it wasn't evident that she'd pinned him as the heir

For a moment he thought she'd worked out who he was - which was bound to happen sooner or later, and he wasn't going to make any attempt to delay the process - but it quickly became evident that she was more upset about having intruded while he was working. She looked genuinely distressed by it, few people here ever seemed openly genuinely distressed. It meant weakness. He felt an unexpected pang at the knowledge that one day Lady Elayne was going to learn to wear a mask in public like the rest of them, while her distress was not a good thing it was at least an honest emotion.

He would have liked to reassuringly touch her hand or shoulder, but sadly the same protocol which reminded him that they shouldn't be alone together told him that he certainly wasn't allowed to comfortingly touch her either. Silly really, but that was the way it was, and he intended to follow the rules as best he could. Instead he smiled as reassuringly as he could when she stopped herself for a second time, placing his untouched wineglass down on the table for the moment. "It's quite all right, my lady. It's the sort of work one doesn't mind being distracted from." Certainly, he almost felt like encouraging distractions some days when the paper work piled up. It made things worse over the long run, but over the short term it felt good.

Continuing to smile he stepped around her, over to the door. Turning the handle he pushed it open slightly, hopefully not enough so that anyone would pounce on him. Most people had learnt not to, but there was always someone who set the wavering crowd off. Swiftly he picked out who he wanted, a pair of young girls sewing what looked to him like clothes for a trousseau. A standing servant was sent to fetch them, and despite the look of surprise they started making preparations to move. Although invitations to his rooms were rare, Fergus' position was still one that meant invitations were accepted.

The door was left slightly ajar for them as he turned back to Lady Elayne, a smile still fixed on his face, albeit slightly more forced as he was now going to be having greater company. "You see? At this particular point in time, I do not mind being disturbed at all." By the time the door creaked open and the two ladies came though, still looking slightly puzzled until they saw Elayne, at which point their eyes widened with sudden understanding. Or scandal. Either way, they were on chaperone duty and they knew it, even before Fergus turned his clearly businesslike smile on them. "Thank you for joining us, ladies. Please, continue what you were doing, you may help yourselves to wine from the decanter on the sideboard or send a servant for food should you require it." They both curtsied, shuffling into the room exchanging looks varying between pointed and excited, taking seats several meters away from Fergus and Elayne. Close enough to eavesdrop without it being obvious that they were doing it.

Still in the middle of finally figuring out who this man was, Elayne took the goblet he offered her with a little nod of thanks to him. She was not that fond of wine, but in order to come off as polite she lightly sipped at the wine. After all, he shouldn’t be able to read her mind and find out if she liked it or not.

"Very little, but sadly I fear strong stone walls will soon be necessary. With God's grace, they will never be needs here again."

His words made Elayne look up from the goblet, and she slowly nodded. They would soon be necessary? So all this gossiping about a potential war might be true? The main thought of that sent a little shiver down Elayne’s spine. She had never seen a war, but she had heard about it. Not to mention that it had claimed the lives of her brothers and her father’s leg. So based on that alone she had already at an early age labelled war as something horrible that she didn’t ever want to get involved with. But it seemed it was inevitable to avoid it.

But as her mindset returned to the present, his next words only made her question his position even more. Of course she knew of the Prince, of course she knew something about castle etiquette, but…he couldn’t be! If he really was the Prince, as she had slowly started to suspect, then what in the world was he doing here? Not to mention what was she doing here, talking like a little fool?! The thought of that made her fear the truth so much that she was about to push it away and take it for her own nonsense. But just as she did, he left her view of sight, only to return, followed by two ladies. And yes, she had heard what he had said! Not many people could make orders people would so blindly follow, not many people could…

With cheeks that burned deep crimson, Elayne made a deep courtesy to the Prince. Her eyes remained pinned at the ground and she seemed for a second about to cry at her own lack of knowledge. “M-my lord, I’m sorry! I didn’t know-…Please forgive me for my manner of speaking, and for the intrusion and…” her voice trailed off, and it was obvious she was struggling with fulfilling the sentence.

Elayne didn't say anything in reply, but from her expression Fergus could guess that the news wasn't thrilling to her. It wasn't entirely thrilling to him. Conflict was inevitable as things stood, with the tribes in the south and Thiasa clinging to the north and the two tribes in allegiance to expel the invaders from the continent, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. "I've never seen a war close, before." He spoke softly, eyes fixed on Lady Elayne's face. It was fifteen years since the end of the barbarian war, but when his memories started he'd been somewhere relatively safe, where the closest thing they had to war were troop movements. He'd always thought it was exciting, watching the nobles lead their men towards the battle grounds.

Fifteen years later he hoped that he had more sense, he'd seen enough people missing limbs and family to allow him to think that it was all fun and games. "The best we can hope for is a short conflict with minimal loss of life." Even as he spoke he didn't believe it was possible, his father had been a fully trained military man who'd campaigned before, this was a primarily young court. Few here could claim such experience, and the learning process was bound to be hard.

The poor girl was starting to look more and more worried. Fergus had never really understood being worried about the court, having grown up with it there was little about it that he felt threatened by. Being nervous of royalty, on the other hand, he understood well and gave the girl as supportive a smile as he could manage as he walked past her. As he rarely had to do them, or smiled at all these days, it came out more vaguely uncomfortable than supportive.

Skirts rustled as the ladies sat down and arranged their sewing on their laps again, followed shortly by a storm of whispers as Lady Elayne's face went red and she started stammering apologies. Fergus managed not to close his eyes and sigh loudly at the entire arrangement, at least he could make out roughly what they were saying. There were going to be rumours, but if he knew what they were he could shield against them, or at least not be startled by them. Elayne might do well to pay attention as well, but he didn't think from what he'd seen so far that it was something she'd do.

While waiting for some form of peace to be restored he picked up his wine again, this time taking decent sized mouthful of it. The liquid smelt fruity, and tasted faintly of fruits as well. A wine made to be sniffed and sipped, probably. Again Elayne cut herself off without Fergus having to interfere, clearly she had trouble forming coherent sentences when put under stress. Once he'd swallowed the wine he tried smiling reassuringly again, with similar results. "If I was at all offended I would have asked you to leave, but perhaps next time you could try requesting an audience." It wouldn't do to encourage this sort of behaviour, after all. "Please do be seated, my lady. What did you say your name was?" He could almost feel the ladies ear's prick from across the room as he sat back down in his chair by the desk, gesturing with his free hand to another chair abandoned by a circular table.

The silence that followed when she first managed to stop talking seemed endless. In reality it probably wasn’t more than about a second or two, but to Elayne it seemed like forever. She was sure that she’d be scolded, and she felt a growing urge to just run away and hide far, far away. But of course…that would only prove to make the whole issue much, much worse. So she was stuck with waiting in that never-ending silence. It came to a point where she was about to sigh of relief when the Prince finally spoke, even if she feared what he might say.

"If I was at all offended I would have asked you to leave, but perhaps next time you could try requesting an audience."

But surprisingly he didn’t sound too mad. Elayne even meant to have seen a little smile on his lips before he spoke too. Not that she yelled out of joy that she wasn’t being scolded, but a smile blossomed in her face. The young girl bowed her head to show that she understood and she uttered a somewhat forced “I’m sorry, my lord.”

But as she was left in silence once more, Elayne was left unsure of what to do, until she was offered to sit down. And since it was the prince asking, what could she do but sit? She chose a somewhat simple chair compared to the once Fergus had seated himself in, and she nervously arranged the skirt of her dress. It was like she suddenly became more and more aware of herself and her own flaws when being with a person whose presence demanded so much of her.

”What did you say your name was?"

“Elayne Argyle, sir,” sounded the answer. And as she spoke she even dared to look up at the Prince and smile at him. It was only natural for her to greet someone this way, and it felt wrong to even considering staring at the floor while introducing herself. That was, even after her uncle had scolded her countless times for not looking down when speaking to men and women of higher status than her own.

((I'm sorry about the wait))

The smile really lit up her face, and Fergus found his lips curving into a small smile in response. How old was she? They had some quite young children at court, it was true, and even more people who Fergus had watched arriving naive and leaving cynical. Elayne still looked naive, so although he judged that she could be anywhere between fourteen and eighteen she probably had little experience in anything which required a decided lack of conscience.

He nodded in response to the apology, allowing the matter to drop. It upset her, and he had no wish to dwell on it. Then there was the uncomfortable pause before he offered her a seat, or told her to sit down depending on how you saw it. Fergus wasn't the best with people and uncomfortable pauses often happened around him as people tried and failed to work out how he was going to react.

The silence continued after they were seated, Lady Elayne arranging her blue skirts. Fergus had a limited knowledge of dyes, but he was under the impression that blue was expensive. They ground some sort of precious stone into it - or was that paint? He shook his head slightly. In any case, the blue gown couldn't have come cheap. Someone had paid for her to come to court, and they wern't skimping on the details.

Ah. An Argyle, that explained it. Elayne was perhaps a niece or more distant relative of one of their politically scheming lords. She was here for a reason then, a pawn waiting to be played. Cannon fodder in the battlefield of the court. Fergus didn't feel that this comparison was a little extreme as he nodded thoughtfully with a serious expression, he knew enough of court life to understand that it was a struggle to gain and retain power.

"Your dress is very pretty. New?" He asked, taking a sip of wine this time. Yes, definitely a beverage to be sipped rather than downed. From what he could see there was no wear on the dress, it was cut to a current fashion and Elayne had been carefully with it when sitting down. A large part may have been modesty and something to do, but all the same her movements had spoken of care being taken. Fergus had shown no such movements, he'd simply sat down again and refrained from putting his feet back up on the desk.

Digits carefully brushed against the goblet in her hands. Elayne had chosen to pick it up from the little table she had put it, mainly to stop fiddling with her skirts. It was another one of those bad habits of hers that her uncle was almost dying for her to rid herself of. But there seemed so much he wanted her to rid herself off, just to adjust to court. But how could she do that? If she stopped doing what was typical her, she’d cease to be herself.

"Your dress is very pretty. New?"

Looking up at the Prince’s new question, Elayne nodded slowly. “Yes, my lord. It was a gift from my uncle,” Oh yes, she had tried to say those words with a smile, but it didn’t quite work. It was too obvious that she didn’t really approve of the gift. Oh yes, it was beautiful, but it was not a gift to her. In reality it was something her uncle had given her just because he’d look better when he brought her there. He’d look wealthy and prosperous, and he could show it off by buying his darling niece beautiful clothing.

“It is,” she continued slowly, not sure if she could say what she wanted. But a few seconds consideration, and she continued. “It is one of those gifts you’d rather just look at. Like… Like when you are a child, and one’s father has brought back a wonderful toy. But instead of playing with it, you simply watch it, afraid that it will break if you play with it even just a little.” That might be saying too much again, but Elayne wasn’t aware of it herself. She had thought it only natural to say it, and so she would.

While waiting for the Prince’s reply, she brought the goblet to her lips and tasted the wine. And of course, it too seemed a bit like her dress; too wonderful to even be tasted. Compared to what she was used to, of course.

What would her uncle say if he learned of this conversation? Praise her? Yell at her? The options were few, but Elayne hoped he wouldn’t yell. She hated it when he did that, and now she didn’t even have the chance to run to her father any longer. Now there was only her pillow to find comfort in, and no one but herself that would try to keep her spirits up.

There was an attempt at a smile, perhaps an attempt at sounding happy about it, as she picked up the goblet. An attempt that largely failed. Lady Elayne sounded almost disapproving of the entire thing. Curious, most women he knew liked pretty clothes and jewellery. Or at least seemed to be constantly after them, so he’d assumed that they liked them. His expression didn’t change as the two young women kept on whispering in the background, but his head tipped to the side and his eyes became ever so slightly inquisitive. What was it exactly that she didn’t approve of? Theoretical knowledge told him that there were people out there – usually religious, belonging to some break away order of the Christian Church that frequently got denounced as heretics, or hermits who disapproved of the world so much they left it – but these people didn’t seem to come to court often. They didn’t like it, he’d assumed, so they didn’t come. So perhaps Lady Elayne, if given the choice, wouldn’t be here?

The uncle part was important. Her father wasn’t here, wasn’t he an invalid of sorts? Her uncle controlled the purse strings anyway, and as she was pretty she’d been brought here for a reason. Maybe she just didn’t approve of the entire affair. It would be so much easier for him to work it out if he knew more of her father – as he didn’t the man could hardly be that important, but it was frustrating. So if her father wasn’t important, she’d have been raised away from court, possibly quite simply, so she wouldn’t approve of the dress at all. Then again, he’d been raised in splendour and tended to only wear opulent clothes when the situation absolutely called for it. Maybe she’d just rather be simply dressed.

He was still thinking, looking almost puzzled, when she started speaking again. His attention was dragged back to her, because if he didn’t pay attention he easily got lost and then said the wrong thing. He nodded when she paused, a small hum which was so quite she may not have heard it encouraging her to continue. Fergus held the rather simple approach to clothes, in that if they were his and they were comfortable he’d wear them, and he’d never be that worried about ruining them. But then it was easy for him to do, he had large resources and the most expensive clothes were often the most uncomfortable and were seldom worn often enough to do any damage unless there was an accident. Toys were something he could understand better – his father had been a soldier and so had little time or patience for them, but he’d had enough. Admittedly mostly toy swords and things that were made to be battered, but he did have vague recollections of a puppet that he wouldn’t let anyone else touch and seldom touched himself. Why it had been so special he didn’t know, but he thought he understood the feeling.

“So this dress, it was not a gift you wanted?” It didn’t occur to Fergus until he’d spoken that it was an odd question, perhaps even accusing. If Lady Elayne would rather look at the dress than wear it, then it intimidated her in some way, and no one wanted a gift that would intimidate them so the dress wasn’t a gift that she’d wanted. It made sense to him, anyway. Was that why he’d kept the puppet shut away and only looked at it, because it intimidated him? He’d always been more inclined towards the thought that the idea of such power over people – like the power Aedan had over him now – scared him. But maybe that was part of it as well.

Frowning, studying Lady Elayne, he took another sip of the wine, rolling it around his tongue. If the gift intimidated her then it stood for something she wasn’t sure of, perhaps afraid of. A rich dress stood for wealth and power, which you found at court. She’d been raised by a minor lord and crippled man in the countryside. She wasn’t very sure what she was doing here, she’d staggered into his rooms by accident. So, perhaps she wasn’t just intimidated by the dress, but the court it stood for. The court he thought she might not approve of.

“Where would you like to be, my lady?” The question was sudden, and the wine glass rested against his lips as he waited for a reply, watching the whole time. The ladies quietened for a second to hear, to try and work out whether this was small talk or something else was going on between the two of them.

His expression was for Elayne impossible to read. At first she thought he might look curious, but that changed and seemed more like questioning in less than a second. And his question didn't serve to make her less confused.

The answer was obvious, but she was unsure if she could offer such truth to a Prince. Most of her instincts told her to keep quiet or just brush the question off with a simple sentence, but it was too difficult for her. Elayne was too young and unexperienced to choose what was looked upon as proper and too truthful to lie someone straight in the face.

"This dress was...A gift I did not ask for. It was a gift that was given me because my uncle suddenly took an interest in me, because-..." Elayne's words trailed off and she let out a faint sigh. "I did not ask for such gift, and I did not want such an ammount to be spent on my behalf." It was what she had thought, and what she said. But it wasn't everything. She had not said that she prefered her old clothing to this. That she hated that her uncle showed her attention, just because she was old enough, by far, to enter courtlife. Nor did she say out loud that she hated the dress and everything it stood for. The prison it seemed to embody, what it demanded of Elayne.

With an almost restless gesture, Elayne pushed some stray strands of dark hair away from her face. Then she once again straightened a bit on the skirt of her dress before looking up at the Prince once again. How intimidating would he not be if she had realised who he was when first seeing him. And yet she had not found him scary at all before knowing who he was. But perhaps that was the power of his title? She had heard people speaking of the power the titles brought, but she hadn't fully understood what it meant until now. How a person would be offered so much power, just because he was born by the right parents, into the right family.

A sudden question, followed by a sudden silence. Elayne met Fergus's glance and she answered slowly, as if unsure if she was allowed to speak her mind. "I would like to be home. I would like to be back by my father's side to watch him. Back to the freedom and lack of dresses I don't want. But that is beggining to seem naught more than a distant dream to me now." Her reply was clear and she did not hesitate. Nor did she do as was her habit and look away.

"You might even say I feel envious of you, my lord, for you are still at your home. And you have such freedom to choose when to come and go."

Someone who had been at the court for longer might have spun him an answer fast enough to make his head spin, and managed to sound witty in the process. Lady Elayne evidently hadn’t been at court long enough for that, and it wasn’t in her nature to do it naturally. Instead it seemed to be taking her quite a while to find the right words to say. Fergus thought he knew what it felt like, not quite knowing what to say to someone who could make your life difficult. Admittedly he only had Aedan above him in rank, but Aedan was quite enough, especially these days. He never quite knew if what he was going to say was going to make him smile or shout and the time he took debating it seemed to irritate his brother as well.

When she did speak her thoughts didn’t seem that organised, and there were things that she clearly didn’t want to put into words. He could understand that as well actually, in Lady Elayne’s position he wouldn’t want to say that he’d been brought to court because he was presentable and of a breeding age. At least he was assuming that that was the reason for her uncle’s sudden interest, he couldn’t imagine why else the man would have suddenly realised that she existed and brought her to court. He nodded, still thinking. If Lady Elayne didn’t want such an amount spent on her behalf that could probably be taken to mean that she wasn’t used to such sums of money, or at least not spent in bulk on a dress. If she wasn’t used to money then it supported the idea that she was a poor relation dependant, along with her father and any other family members, on her uncle. Which meant that her uncle would hold a lot of power over her, at least until she married. Perhaps something to watch out for, although Fergus doubted that there was much that could be done about the situation as it was.

“If you could have the money for the dress instead of the dress, what would you do with it?” A very large if question, Fergus doubted that Lady Elayne would be allowed to have, much less decide what to do with, such an amount if her uncle was truly looking to control her. It would give her too much freedom. But if she didn’t want it spent on herself then perhaps she had other things she could use it for, and Fergus was interested in what things she might be interested in. Repairs to a family home, perhaps? Funding a sibling’s education? Donated to the poor? Saved for a time of need? Maybe used as a dowry, even. Fergus wasn’t immediately sure what he’d do with a large sum of money, but supposed that he’d find a use for it. There always seemed to be something that needed doing.

Seeing Lady Elayne fidget with her hair and dress made Fergus want to fidget as well, and it was long training in the art of sitting still that allowed him to resist the temptation. Really it was silly expecting a young child to be able to sit still for hours on end, but as Fergus had been expected and taught to he could sit still as an adult as well. It didn’t look like Lady Elayne had had the same training, brushing her hair out the way and moving her skirts around she didn’t look as if she actually belonged in the dress. Head tipped to one side a small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he tried to imagine her in clothes she’d usually wear. What he was imagining was just so out of place for court life that it was laughable.

Back home with her father – did she have anyone else? He’d have to try and discreetly find out – and away from dresses. Court by extension of the dress. It did seem to be a distant dream, even if she was allowed to go home court had a way of changing people in a way that Fergus imagined meant that the time before court, however good or bad it might seem, was beyond reach. Besides, her uncle probably wouldn’t allow it, not until she’d fulfilled whatever role he’d brought her here for. “In that case I hope your home is not near the border.” He took another sip of wine. It was no secret that raids were becoming more frequent and more vicious. Perhaps if her home was near the border it was better for Lady Elayne to be at the keep, but that probably wasn’t going to be much of a consolation.

With a huff of laughter he shook his head, smiling sadly. “I’m afraid not, as you obey your lord uncle I must obey my brother the king. I can hardly come and go as I please for fear that I should cause offence.” In any case, if given the choice he’d choose to stay near Aedan. He had lands of his own, tucked away and managed by a steward, but he didn’t think he’d feel at home trying to run them himself, or live there. When younger he’d lived as part of an army camp, when the Heaton keep was built he’d lived there, always with the budding court and always with his brother. He didn’t know any other way of living, and as much as Aedan scared him he didn’t want to live far away from him.

His questions kept putting her to the test. Whenever he asked her of something, Elayne had to really think through what to say. Not that it was anything negative in that, but it was trying for such a young girl to try to put such confusing thoughts into words.

So what would she have spent the money on? It wouldn't be enough for her father and herself to live comfortably without further support, nor was it enough to give her independence from her uncle. "If I could have had the money..." she started, obviously still deciding upon what to answer. But it really was hard to choose only one thing and to be realistic about how much money she'd have. But in th end everything revolved around the same reason she'd willingly been brought to the keep: "...I'd make sure my father had as comfortable a year as possible. Perhaps it would be enough to fix the roof of our house and supply him with good food also. I'm sure that would make him happy."

Thinking about it, she would really have to try harder to gain the favour of some rich lord. Because if she didn't, then perhaps her uncle would label her useless and stop helping her father. After all, he was a greedy man and Elayne wasn't completely sure he'd continue helping his crippled brother if he had to pay without gaining anything from it.


"Near the border, my lord? As little as I know about our geography, I would say the Argyle lands lie far enough from the borders. For I cannot recall my father telling me not to stray too far." The way she worded herself made it sound like she went around alone. But that was, of course, not true. Normally she would be accompanied by the woman who was now her maid, Mary. She'd taken care of little Elayne ever since the girl's mother died, and was probably one of the few people who could talk to the girl without making her blush, stutter or make a hassle over small matters.

A small pout of understanding appeared in Elayne's face and she nodded, as if she understood perfectly. "The fear of offending someone seems like a looming shadow here at court. Everyone is tiptoeing around eachother, caught up in status. It seems almost as if the status is more important than the person, at least from what people say, and-..." clasping her hand over her mouth, Elayne's cheeks turned crimson yet again and she bowed her head in appology. How could she talk about such things with a Prince? Yeah, she was just as bad as anybody, but... Who was she to say things like this?

Lady Elayne began talking before she’d thought everything through, and Fergus waited patiently, still partially wondering what he’d do with the money. Currently it would probably get sucked into the sums being spent on arming the troops and other preparations for war. It had to be said that he thought what she would do with the money sounded better than what he would do with it. Was there no fund set aside for men who’d fought and lost limbs for the country? He’d never heard of one, it had never really come up before. Not around him, anyway. How many more cripples would be walking around by the end of this, relying on untrustworthy relations for support?

“Your uncle does not see that your family is well housed?” There was a note of confusion in his voice, he knew. While understanding that not everyone was naturally charitable and even if they were didn’t always have the means – although that didn’t seem to be the case here – Fergus had always been supported by his family. He had to do what was expected of him and stay on their good sides of course, but there’d never once been any suggestion of letting him suffer unnecessarily. Admittedly he was still useful, whereas from the sound of it Elayne’s father was unable to be of service in the same way.

Could some sort of job be found? It was awful, Fergus realised, but he’d never thought what sort of life a man who’d been permanently injured could expect. Most jobs he could think of required two hands, you’d have to be an owner of reasonably sized estates or a wealthy merchant to afford to be able to live maimed. Yet they were in all likelihood going to be adding people to the category of those unable to physically work, which some frightening consequences. They weren’t going to be working but would require food, a place to live, perhaps have families. The church surely couldn’t support all of them, and yet they shouldn’t just be left alone. It wasn’t right.

Wherever the Argyle lands were they must have been peaceful for Lady Elayne’s father to feel safe letting her roam around. There would probably have been an escort of sorts, Fergus thought, but even so that freedom was not common. Perhaps she was located more in the north, which was far from the boarders and as such a bit more settled. There was no chance of being allowed to go far alone around here, being a large city there were simply too many strange sorts around for it to be safe. Besides which he couldn’t imagine that her uncle would let her roam far even if it was safe. “It sounds a pleasant place.” Perhaps it would be even better if this roof of theirs didn’t leak. Leaking roves weren’t uncommon exactly, but Fergus found it hard to reconcile the image of Lady Elayne at her home trying to deal with a leaking roof in a storm and her sitting in front of him dressed in silks.

Perhaps he should talk to people who were new to court more often – what Lady Elayne was saying was perhaps impolitic on assorted levels, but it was quite refreshing to hear someone say it. An outsiders view on the madness that was court life. While her cheeks went red and she bowed her head Fergus looked amused. The two ladies were silent, only the whisper of the threads moving through the fabric telling Fergus that they were bothering to keep up the pretence of not listening in too closely while making sure nothing untoward happened.

“They have that in Scalia, you know.” He shrugged, sipping the wine again. “Each lord is referred to by the name of the lands he holds, whereas his own name may be entirely different but never sees the light of day.” Fergus had always found it slightly odd, not to say daunting when he was trying to remember things in history because there was so much to get muddled up on. They didn’t have such an issue here because the fiefdoms had taken their names from the surnames of their lords, but the prospect of being less important as a person than the titles and lands was still there, Fergus himself had little idea of who he was besides the prince and he was certain that it wasn’t meant to work that way. Perhaps Elayne felt a similar thing, that her status at court was more important than she was as a person. It seemed cruel, but Fergus didn’t think that there was anything to be done about it as court was almost all about status and rank.

The Prince’s question caused Elayne to blush, and she felt put on the spot. She knew very well she was not supposed to talk ill of her uncle. And the way he asked her now made it seem like she had said bad things about him. “I… He does help us some! I mean, if not for him…I wouldn’t be here…?” Her last words sounded almost like a question to herself. And in many ways it was a aimed to her, because she wasn’t all that sure if she liked being brought to court. Truth be told, she’d prefer to take care of her father, the way he had struggled to take care of her throughout all her 17 years. “But lately he has been very busy with court-matters, so he has had no time to see to my father’s house, is what I meant! M-my lord.”

Aah, she was making a fool out of herself again. What they spoke about threatened to confuse her, so it was got gradually harder to find the right way to say things. As if it hadn’t been hard enough to find anything to say in the first place! So even if it was against her nature to lie, she now had to start covering up her little mistakes, even if she was no good at it.

“Oh yes, the Argyle lands are very pretty. Especially in spring! Then all the flowers bloom, and the oak in the yard gets new leaves and…The garden might not be as superb as here, but it is nice enough, my lord. Me and my brothers used to help my father maintaining it, since it was so precious to my mother.” Elayne did not even realise that she might speak to the Prince as if they knew each other well and were of the same status. But it was mainly because somewhere in her sub-consciousness she slowly started to consider him a friend since they had spoken of so much already. So even if her mind told her to act more proper in front of the Prince, her personality and nature worked against that. Not to mention that ever since she came to the Keep, she had enjoyed speaking of her home more than before. Because when she talked about it the memories remained vivid and she could pretend, even for just a second, that she would go back home when nightfall came.

“So they lose a sense of themselves when the time comes that they take over land?” Elayne asked slowly, thinking about what Fergus had said. To be robbed of your name in favour of land and title seemed cruel in her eyes, as she had always thought that your name was an important part of who you were. So if the court claimed your freedom, and your lands claimed your name, what then would you be left with? “But if that’s the case… who’d know them as who they were?” it came suddenly from Elayne, who cocked her head to the side and stared ahead at nothing at all. “Wouldn’t they get lonely, being the only ones who knew themselves?”

The question carried that childish wonder that most kids have. Only then they wonder about something easier like why the birds fly and why your tongue gets burnt when you try to eat too hot food. It was this childishness that Elrich Argyle had tried to rid his niece off ever since he decided to send her to court. He’d told her she was stupid and that she should keep such mindless thoughts out of her head. He’d even hit her once because she had asked him if she was should try to catch the king’s attention, since there were so many already trying.

Some. Also a tone of voice suggesting that Lady Elayne wasn’t sure that she’d have made it to court otherwise or she wasn’t sure she appreciated being brought here. Either way Fergus didn’t get the impression that this uncle was falling over himself to be helpful. He also got the impression that trying to interfere was going to cause more problems than it fixed and might not even be appreciated by Lady Elayne and her father. Clearly from her blush it wasn’t a subject she was comfortable with. “Let’s hope he finds some time to see to the house soon, then.” Fergus managed to keep his scepticism of that off his face and out of his voice, even if he thought that it was unlikely to be seen to when the man had a spare minute.

It was hard not to smile and laugh at the enthusiastic description. Lady Elayne must love her home despite the roof to speak so fondly of it, and Fergus wondered how much she missed it. In his experience there wasn’t often time to miss things once the court was in full swing, but perhaps she found the time sometimes. Fergus had spent most of his life at court, and before that other keeps as the time of year and other events dictated. He had a few favourite places, but often found himself too occupied with other things to dwell on them for long. “What sort of things do you grow in your garden, my lady?” He was guessing the usual mixture of vegetables, herbs and a few physic flowers, but its precious nature suggested that it might also have a function as a pleasure garden.

The one thing that sounded negative was the mention of her mother. Past tense with an implication that she was no longer there. As she hadn’t been mentioned so far Fergus had had an idea that it might be the case and wasn’t entirely surprised to find that it was. He hadn’t been close to either of his parents, although he expected that Aedan might have been closer to their father than he’d been as he was older and more important. He didn’t know about his sisters, but he’d have imagined that they’d have been closer to their mother than he’d been. From the stories he’d heard a girl’s relationship with her mother was seen as very important though, it was where the girl learnt to be a mother and wife in her own right. Had Lady Elayne not had that? As he gave her a curious look he could imagine that she might have had a slightly unconventional upbringing, she was a sweet thing but as she spoke to him so easily she seemed a little more naive than Fergus thought most female courtiers were.

“There’s a potential for it. I’ve only ever met a few of them, usually ambassadors.” He said, with the implication that as the men were happy to come all this way to another court they couldn’t be that attached to the land itself in the first place. The titles were probably another matter, but mostly it was the lower nobility with connections who ended up being ambassadors, and so they often didn’t have titles that came with a name. The courtiers without connections probably wouldn’t get the positions, and people such as Fergus wouldn’t go so far. Mostly because it was to their own disadvantage, but also because the rulers wouldn’t want the most powerful subjects where they couldn’t keep an eye on them. Fergus had no doubt that even if he asked if he could go and be an ambassador somewhere Aedan wouldn’t let him.

Her gaze had gone completely vacant, and Fergus snatched a look at the two women on chaperone duty. They were still sewing, but Fergus was prepared to bet that both of them were keeping a close eye and ear on what was happening. Turning his attention back to Lady Elayne he considered the question, it wasn’t the sort of thing people usually asked him. In fact it was strangely childlike, wanting to know things that only someone new to the entire thing would think of. “Maybe they take on the identify without realising it.” They were talking in terms of the spirit rather than the physical, or at least Fergus thought they were. “If you’re called by one name all day, sign it all the time and respond to it, then surely no matter what it is it becomes you. So you’d know yourself, but you’d be different.” Possibly not the best way to explain it, and Fergus reached for an example. “I can’t imagine that your family call you Lady Elayne, but you’ll be called that here all the time. If you stay here long enough and be Lady Elayne long enough you’ll adapt, you might not think of yourself as Elayne, or whatever you think of yourself now, any more. So you’d know yourself, but be relying on other things to give you that knowledge and wouldn’t be the way you used to be.” So the title effectively worked its way into whatever understanding she’d had before and changed it to fit. Fergus still wasn’t sure he’d explained it clearly as he’d spoken as he thought, but it made some sense to him. It would explain why some of the lords looked slightly blank if you ever referred to something that had happened before they’d gained their title or accused them of being inhumane.