Elena trotted along at Aelf's side, her arm threaded through the guard's. The Celt watched his Lady with a measure of pride as she paused to greet everyone she passed, addressing them by name. She was a good leader, his charge, and because of that he knew that she could very easily find herself in danger. So it was that he had decided to take the girl with him to the Armory today, and begin her education in matters of the blade. She was not eager for it, he knew, but she understood the importance of it and so would work hard to learn. Elena would be a good student in this, as she was in everything else. The guard sighed. What a child her father had sired! A girl child, who thought and acted and led as well as any man. Better than most men, in fact. And now she would be learning to fight. The thought made him shiver.

The young Lawley was oblivious to her guard's musings, and stepped away from him with her skirts held carefully off the dusty floor of the Armory. She crossed the threshold calmly and looked around at the weapons on the wall, then back to her guard with a shrug. "So. What are you going to give me to make me more dangerous?"

Aelf ignored the twinkle in her eyes and started hunting through daggers. "You will learn everything, my girl, because everything and anything might want to deal with you. We'll start with daggers because those will be the most logical for a Lady to use. Here, this one has a good weight. And we'll need arm guards too-archery-"

Elena sighed as her man descended into mumbles, and then looked around the echoing room to pass the time. There was so much weaponry here! It was hard to believe that Aelf was going to have her, a Lady, learn to use it. Learn to kill. Who would she be killing, she wondered. And then her gaze strayed past a suit of armor and she froze as she looked into the first face handsome enough to make her cheeks color.

Brian had snuck into the armory once again. It wasn't easy, but he'd learned enough of thievery from his youth, when all he'd had to eat was what he could scrounge from the town, after his parents had simply run out of food. He knew enough to affect a swagger when he paced the halls, as though he were here on some minor errand. He kept a few excuses ready for each room he passed, but no one had stopped him. It was amazing how invisible self-assurance made you.

Cael had given him the key to the armory, after he'd made a soft wax impression of it and had Jackson make a copy. Easy enough. With that in the worn inner pocket of his trousers, Brian at last reached the armory.

It was very dark and quiet. After all, with the first wave of men at the border, it was nearly empty; and that was just what he wanted. No one would miss a few of the blades that remained, which were mostly of poorer quality. But they were still better than nothing. He lost himself in examining the still-keen edge of a steel sidesword, and so almost missed the telltalle scritch of a key turning in the lock.

He froze.

Who could be coming in? Perhaps a servant, to clean--but perhaps not. His heart pounding, he ducked behind the largest available object in the room, a standing suit of armor, and thanked God starvation had kept him small. Shrinking into his shadow, he watched... and the Lady of the fiefdom, the younger sister of Darien Lawley himself, came in accompanied by that Celtic servant she always kept about. Damn. If he was found... he'd heard she was uncommonly cold and calculating for a wee girl, almost worse than her hapless brute of a brother. Damn.

He tried to shrink further into the shadows as the pale-faced girl approached, but his own pallidness betrayed him. She caught the glimmer of his face through the gloom, and Brian, cornered, had no option but to stretch his eyes wide and press one finger to his lips, hoping against hope she'd be startled enough at the gesture of complicity to remain silent.

Elena jumped slightly to see the strange man gesturing to her, and narrowed her eyes. He wanted her to be quiet, then? She glanced over to Aelf, who was still searching through the weaponry, and then back to the boy. For once the young lady didn't know exactly what to do. On the one hand, why give in to someone who was obviously a thief? On the other, why say something and risk having him him hurt? All at once she came to a decision, and lifted her head pertly. "Aelf."

The guard glanced up. "Please, I don't wish to have Darien become suspicious of me. Lock me in here, and go set up a ruse?" Elena ignored his bewildered expression. "Make it seem that I am out..riding, or hawking, or something, then double back. I shall be perfectly safe in here until you return. There are not many keys to this room, and Darien is almost certainly out with a girl. Somewhere. For me?"

Aelf nodded his assent and rose smoothly, striding out of the room without a backwards glance. The girl listened to hear the lock click into place, counted slowly to ten, and then turned around to look at the man hiding behind the suit of armor. Elena put her hands on her hips. "Well, thief? Who exactly are you planning to kill?"

Brian's mouth opened and shut; for a moment it seemed as though she'd been able to read his mind. But that was ridiculous. She was just a slip of a girl, albeit a Lawley girl.

"You'd best hope it ain't you," he said, in a voice that would've been gruff if it had been lower in pitch. "'Cause you'd be daft, wouldn't you, sending away your man when you thought I come to kill you. Mebbe I'm just in here 'cause I'm curious how it'll be for those as who're conscripted. Not me, of course." He held up his mangled hand, and flashed her a quick grin. His teeth were yellower than usual in the dimness of the vaulted armory. "Mebbe I'm just jealous."

He snorted, moving forward, and noticed the way she was looking at him. Five years younger, this girl. She'd been a little thing--but with scary eyes, that he remembered, even from afar--way back when he'd caught glimpses of her. Well, now it seemed like she was one of those who found him charming. Probably harbored some sort of girlish romantic notion about men of the land.

"So I don't think you really think I'd kill you, milady, so kindly just let me go. Or to you want to take a few more fingers than your old steward got already?"

"You want to kill me?" She smiled, only amusement showing in her eyes. "I know you're not educated, but lack of education is not the same thing as being stupid. Anyway it's not very fair of you to threaten me, is it, when if I had said a single word Aelf would have taken you down." The bluegreen eyes sparkled faintly. "He's not curious like I am. "

The Lady stepped closer to him and clicked her tongue, letting her gaze linger briefly on the mangled hand before she lifted it to look him full in the face. "Apparently you're curious too. Curious enough to break into a locked armory at the risk of death, just to see what it will be like for other men who are conscripted to the border. " Abrubtly, she laughed. The sound was as light and delicate as the child herself, and she shook her head. "By the saints, you are a terrible liar. "

Elena sobered then and looked at him, putting her head to the side. "I'm sorry about your hand. You might have deserved it, of course, but since I don't know that you did I shall say that I'm sorry for it. Who are you?"

"Who'm I, is one of those whose names don't matter, is who," Brian said, not looking away from her. He felt the rise of something like fire from his chest to his throat. It was anger, recklessness, righteousness. It made him feel alive. Sometimes his body felt dead, his body and mind. Sometimes, he thought he might submit to whatever anyone else wanted, and just let that be that.

"Brian Farraday," he said at last, raising one eyebrow at her. "And a shame you don't know it, seeing as I belong to you and your family. Or maybe it's a sign, as I don't really so much belong, 'cept in name--or without a name. If I didn't have a name, would I still belong to you, now that's a tricky question. But trickier still is this. Am I still the same person as I was before so much was taken from me?" He held up his hand. "It's a puzzle I think of in bed. Had a priest say I was a natural-born philosopher, but I dunno about that."

He crossed his arms over his chest, hiding his injured hand, and looked down at her, some of the fire gone from his gaze.

"So maybe I am a liar, but maybe you're one too, and we all do lie, don't we, first off to ourselves."

Elena watched him the way a wolf might watch a deer who stepped right out of his skin to become a wolf just like her. Puzzlement. Surprise. And then the talk about belonging, and a twisting sense of revulsion. Her face did not change, but something in her eyes did. She knew all about belonging. "...Brian Farraday. You belong to me."

She circled him, warily, and repeated to herself. "You belong to me." It wasn't as much a statement as the way someone spoke when they were trying to puzzle out a riddle. "You belong to me, and you've had things taken.....you must work in the fields. That's why I'm not familiar with you. Mother never let me."

The Lady stopped pacing, put her hands together behind her back, and looked at him again. She didn't know what to make of this person. This Brian. Brian. He had a name. The girl tilted her head to the other side. "...I should say that you are not the same person you were before you had so much taken. I should also say that name or not, you do not belong to me. I don't wish you to. Not this way, and at any rate what is belonging? I could have you hung, but the body is not what we are. I could order you to work but can I control what you think and feel? I think....belonging....is not something that I like." The pale little face was utterly serious. "And I should think that I would like to make amends. You may have three blades. One for each finger."

Brian snorted. "Thanks for your generosity, milady, but I know how it is. You like to sit there and pretend you hate injustice, oh I do believe it. And you're all for converting the heathen barbarians, but it's us you send to die and don't think twice on it. Well, my lady, here's what I think of your generosity--it's just as empty and--and cold as your neglect. You see me and you think, well, he lost three fingers so give him three blades, but that ain't a fair exchange. My lady. If you hate that I belong to you, well, I'm so horribly sorry for you, ain't I! Sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities by belonging to you!"

He turned his back on her, and made good on her promise. He picked up the sidesword he'd been admiring, and followed it up with two more useful sturdy daggers, long and still sharp.

"Really, I'm so glad for your charity," he said, turning to look at her. "I mean, it completely makes up for the fact you still own me, and I still haven't got three fingers. But now I have some blades, well, then, all better, innit?"

He wasn't usually so brash, but she was a small girl, and she was a uniquely intimidating girl, and she was a Lawley--and most of all she had actually seemed to see--or to begin to see--where he was coming from.

The young Lawley was becoming increasingly confused. She couldn't figure out how to deal with this man. Being imperious didn't seem quite fair; nor did it seem like it would work on him. Reminding him that she was sparing his life did not seem quite fair either because that just went to prove that he belonged to her after all. Agreeing with him would fail to punish him for coming and trying to steal from here. She was used to dealing with Darien-a confused young man with no spirit and no fire and no convictions except that he wanted to have fun. She was used to dealing with servants who stayed in their places, and slippery courtiers just trying to get a little more land or money.

"....No one's sending you out to die." Elena's tone wasn't sharp, but rather matter-of-fact. "And even if they were, it wouldn't be me. I belong to everyone; even you, Brian Farraday." She looked at him oddly. "Stop flaming at me, spitfire, and tell me what you mean. I don't understand you."

She didn't. Father had sheltered her from the roughness of the workers outside the castle, only saying that they could never be trusted to behave themselves around young ladies and were best left to the stewards. "If it's so bad here why not work somewhere else?"

"Are you daft? You can't leave once you're bonded to the land! The steward's men would kill me." Brian shook his head and squinted at her in amazement. She was quite young, but surely not so stupid she really didn't understand such basic laws of the land. "People starve out there providing for your feasts. D'you think they do it a'purpose?"

He set to work tucking the slimmer daggers, still in their sheaths, into his voluminous tunic. and extracted a sack he could use to wrap the sword for carrying.

He shook his head and sighed, looking up at her. "Milady, I almost pity you. It ain't your fault you were born into the ignorance of wealth." That was a pretty phrase, as pretty as the preacher used. He filed it away. It was important, when planning something like he was planning, to know how to say things. Despite his lack of education, Brian was pretty sure that pretty words won more wars than swords.

"You're young, ain't you. My sister's seventeen."

"Aren't." Elena corrected him automatically. "Not 'ain't.' Aren't or 'are you not.'" This was becoming more puzzling with every passing moment. "And yes, I am young." She would die before she told him just how young, not with him standing there looking like a demigod and calling her ignorant. What was she going to do about him? She couldn't just let him put her fiefdom in danger; that would go against everything she was working for. On the other hand it would seem a crime to have such a fiery young man killed. A young man with a cause was something entirely new to Elena, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. All at once an idea struck, and she stepped forward and seized the serf's hands.

"Brian Farraday." Her voice was low, now, and almost icy. "Aelf will be back here at any moment, and this can go one of two ways. You can behave and fool him into thinking that I am with you of my own will; in which case he will love you like a son. Or you can keep speaking in riddles and fool him into thinking that his beloved girl is being forced to do things she doesn't want to do." Elena tightened her fingers around his, gripping until the knuckles were white. "Lawley is my fiefdom. If people are starving, I haven't known it, and I would have your report on the matter this very minute. The stewards have assured me that all is well in the fields; and we have had such plenty at our table I have not imagined otherwise. Tell me."

Brian winced when she took his hands in hers. The pressure on the still-healing wounds of his left hand made him want to pull away, but he knew it was very important that he listen to what she had to say. After all, he thought coldly, she had the power to have him killed. And wasn't it like the nobility, to keep making threads even as she held out the false olive branch of peace!

"Fine," he said, his voice clipped. "I'll tell you how it is." Pointedly, he pulled his injured hand free of hers. "This ain't," he said, emphasizing the colloquialism, "the half of it. Your past two steward's've been evil men and the present one ain't much better. Our bread's half chalk, our meals mostly cabbage and never meat, and these clothes are all I've got in a year. But you're just makin' threats and wanting something out of me, isn't that so." He regarded her calmly.

Egon Botolph had wanted him for his body too. It wasn't a dynamic with which Brian was wholly unfamiliar.

"You'll spare my life, in return for something, isn't that so. And how very generous of you too." He couldn't stop himself. The old bitterness, the old anger, and the old fear--it overflowed him like a torrent, a waterfall, a flame.

The lady lifted an eyebrow. "In exchange for something? You've already given me what I want." Elena dropped his hands and stepped back, pacing in circles. "I won't have people starving, not on my land. Your information is enough. I'm making a visit to the fields as soon as Aelf gets back. This is ridiculous."

Abruptly she stopped, and looked at him again. "And i just realized. You can't take weapons. Not now. Not yet. Wait until I leave; if weapons are missing while I'm in here Darien will think I'm planning something. And then it's trouble for all of us. He doesn't care if Lawley goes to hell or not."

That much was true. He wouldn't know a rebellion or discontent if it came up and bit him in the rear. He also probably wouldn't care if a bunch of poor workers were starving. Elena cared. Part of that caring was sentimental, but most of it came from knowing that discontented workers were dangerous-and either they were destroyed or their percieved enemies were. The last thing she wanted here was a bloodbath. "I'll have to visit so the steward doesn't know. If things are that bad and he knew he would try to hide things from me."

"Nice try, but your brother doesn't know you're here," Brian pointed out drily, tucking the sword under his arm. "I've been here all along, remember, milady? You sent your manservant off to make your excuses. So I think I'm in no great danger of discovery."

He shrugged, but watched her interestedly as she paced, apparently deep in thought. It would almost have been charming, if she hadn't so closely resembled that rat of a man who so glibly destroyed the people's lives. Well, maybe she meant it. She was very young. He wouldn't place her past sixteen, and even that was stretching it. Young people could be idealistic. Sometimes they even believed in doing the right thing.

Not that he thought for a second there wasn't something in it for her. Her brother.

"You want Darien out of the way, don't you," he said suddenly. "And I'm t'think with you in charge and him gone, we'd both win. Is that it?"

"No!"

Her protest was vehement. Everyone thought that she wanted Darien dead, and that just wasn't true. Frankly, even Darien's clutches were better than Katherine's. He at least had some vague sense of fair play.

"No, no, I don't want my brother dead. No. I would like to be in power here but only God himself would be able to fix that for me now, so it's not worth worrying about." Elena looked at the young man in exasperation. It couldn't be fun to live thinking that everyone wanted something out of you, no matter how good their intentions were. It was like dealing with a falcon or hawk, newly brought from the wild- all aggression and terror. Elena found such behavior perfectly excusable in animals, but in people it was only annoying. "Look, since you insist on having me get something out of this, you may kiss my cheek."

She gestured to it. "I've never had any kind of kiss before, so that would more than suffice for an exchange."

"I may? I may be permitted to kiss your cheek?" Brian shook his head, smiling faintly. "Again. Your generosity, Lady--it's amazing." But he watched her, and noted the heightened flush along her cheekbone. Pinkness spread down her throat, to disappear into the neck of her gown. Brian was used to womanizing, but he'd never kissed someone so well-dressed. It was an inane thought.

The thought that wasn't inane was that he'd give her permitted. Letting the wrapped sword he held fall to the ground, Brian crossed the distance between them in two quick strides. He wasn't a tall or large man, but he felt powerful beside Lady Lawley's small frame. He took her by the shoulders and drew back, searching her face with lazy-lidded eyes. His ruined hand, where it lay on her shoulder, throbbed.

Before he said or did anything, Brian let a smirk slide across his face, an expression--if he could've seen it from outside himself--much like his brother's. Then he crushed the small girl to him, his lips on hers, holding her too tightly to allow movement. His hands slid down her back, his tongue delved into her mouth (and he tasted the tang of liquorice and good health, with no sourness or salt)--and the door to the armory clattered open.

Brian leapt back, immediately defensive, eyes wild and hair disheveled. What had he been thinking?

Nothing--only that the Lady Lawley's kiss was the closest thing to power he'd ever tasted.

Elena had not expected that. She felt a thrill of alarm when Brian had smirked at her, but even as she tensed to run away he had seized her to him. After that was a whirlwind, a terrifying and somehow exhilerating rush of fire. Should she be liking this? If he hadn't been so handsome the answer would almost certainly had been 'no'-but he was handsome. He was very handsome, and she could not think clearly in his presence. She was losing her mind.

The door clanged open at the perfect time and she felt a rush of relief as Aelf snatched her and dragged her back, where she stumbled off balance and fell to her knees, catching herself on her hands. Her Celtic guard moved towards the man with his sword drawn and she tried to tell him to stop, but she could only gasp-

"wait." Her breath was completely out of sync, and there was no way he could have heard her. Calm down. Calm down. Elena's hand shot out and seized Aelf by the leg of his trousers, stopping him in his tracks. "I ordered it."

Grey eyebrows bristled at her, and the guard turned to pull her to her feet. "You ordered it?" The strong brow was furrowed in concern, and Aelf checked her over for any signs of harm-keeping a wary gaze on Brian all the while. "You ordered it? Why would you do that? Who is he?"

The heaving of her chest was slowing down, thank God. "His name's Brian, and I ordered it because he's handsome and Darien will-"

Aelf didn't let her finish. "That was very foolish of you. Very, very, foolish. Kisses are not to be played with, my girl, they are a serious business and it serves you right that you're flustered now. Keep your kisses for your husband. You are too young for this. Too young."

Meekly Elena nodded, and the guard looked at Brian sharply. "I apologize for my charge, but I won't have any more kisses from the likes of you. You could have ruined her. Out."

Brian had fallen back into a half-crouch when Aelf dragged Lady Lawley away, and his eyes remained as wary as a wild animal's while the man berated her. And then--she made his excuse. It was no more than she'd promised, but Brian let himself relax a hair. He realized he'd picked up the wrapped sword, hugging it to his chest, without even noticing. It was for security. It was what he'd done with stolen goods in the past. Just grab them and hand on, and no one could take 'em away.

Lot of trouble for a few old blades. He kept his body still, ready to flee. He knew his face was very pale, his mouth open, his breath coming fast from fear and surprise.

He still tasted her on his tongue.

"Yessir. Aye." His voice came out strangely clear and exhilarating, and he pushed himself to his feet. Moving toward the door, he turned back, and, avoiding the servant's gaze, tossed a wink back at Elena. He quickly disguised it with a subservient duck of his head, but he knew she'd seen it. As for what it meant? It meant, for now I've won.