“What is it, Sir?” Earl Wylyam Ramsay’s chief squire asked him with a puzzled expression. Light had just begun to enter through the small glass panes of the Earl’s chamber. Although it was still fairly dark in the room, Wil could see clearly the squire inspecting a newly leather-bound book encrusted with precious stones on both sides.

“Do ye no’ read, Alan?” Wil joked in his thick Garikin accent while removing his nightclothes. Wylyam had just been woken up by his servant, whom Wil handed the book and careful instructions on how and when to deliver it to King Theodore.

“Yes, Sir, I can read,” Alan replied in a hurt tone. “I just don’t understand…”

“Why th’ King would want tae? Our king is a resourceful an’ wise ruler, an’ I believe he will appreciate this book. It's an original copy ay The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli. Have ye heard of him?”

“Isn’t he the Godless Eyetalian who says what he thinks?” Alan asked as he opened the cover and began leafing through its pages. “Is this Latin?”

“Tuscan,” Wil corrected. “Machiavelli wasn’t a heretic – he was a political genius. He believed it was better tae be realistic an’ effective rather than cling to auld ways of thinkin’. Th’ King enjoys politics in all its forms. He may need someone tae translate it fur him, but Ah think he will 'preciate it.”

“Did you have it bound so? With the stones? It is lovely.”

Wylyam nodded in response. “Ay hope the King agrees. Now go, for th’ love of all ‘at is holy.”

_________________
Marvin's view on Life

Greenmor Palace was a large place and it was a good thing given the amount of guests that were still visiting the king and his queen for the holiday celebrations. Rebecca Montgomery was one of those guests. She was the fifth of seven children born to Henry and Victoria, the Duke and Duchess of New Haven. Of course, Victoria made it a point to anyone who would listen that she and all seven of her children were cousins of King Theodore. If things had worked out differently in the past, perhaps it would have been Victoria on the throne, but it hadn't. Not that it mattered much to Rebecca. While Victoria clearly loved every moment being here, Rebecca couldn't wait to return home to Montgomery Manor.

While it was nice to visit with the king and his lovely queen, politics and social status mattered very little to the young woman. She found the conversations boring and was often zoning out as her mother dragged her around the parties. Which, in turn, caused her mother to give her cold looks and subtle jabs in her ribs to pay attention. "Oh, Mother, I'll never be like Katherine," Rebecca thought. Katherine, Rebecca's older sister, seemed quite at home in these type of situations, while Rebecca felt more at home talking with the servants. She sat on the guest bed as she thought. It was decked out in the finest silks of the land. Definitely fit for royalty. Rebecca sat cross-legged on the bed, still dressed in her nightclothes. She was looking at her favorite Christmas gift. A gift given to her before Christmas, since she and the present giver knew they were apart on that special holiday. It was a simple gold bracelet. Not fancy, not nearly as nice as the bed sheets Rebecca was sitting on, but the most perfect piece of jewelry in the world to her because of who had given it to her.

Soon they should be heading home and Rebecca was excited about that. Since the palace was so large, most guests had their own rooms. Rebecca did and she was happy. She could be alone and write her letters, letters she would never dare show her parents. She got off the bed and took a seat at the desk and grabbed a quill and a piece of paper. Her brother, Nicholas, had noticed that she loved to write, although he didn't know or ask much what or who she was writing to. He had just decided to give her new stationary set for a Christmas present. It was something she would actually use and Rebecca had liked it much better then clothes and jewelry others had gifted her. She set the bracelet down and began to write:

To my beloved Tomas,

I miss you so. The time we have been apart seems like it has been months not weeks. While the king and his queen are quite lovely, these parties bore me so. I cannot remember who is who and my mother is not pleased. She is fussing over me, worried that I will offend someone very important if just one hair on my head is out of place. She parades me around like I am an exotic animal. I cannot wait until I am home and in your arms again. I do not belong with these people. Only with you do I feel at home. Today is the beginning of a new year and I feel I am finally ready to tell

There was a knock on the door and Rebecca stopped writing.

"Rebecca?"

It was Victoria and Rebecca knew she had to hide her letter and the bracelet quickly. Her mother knew who Tomas was but would never approve of her daughter writing letters to him or receiving a present from him either. He was on the stable boys of their manor and Victoria thought all their servants were beneath her. No, Victoria would never, ever, approve of such a relationship. Thus, Rebecca had to hide it from her and the rest of the family. But hiding her love for Tomas was getting harder and harder each passing day.

"Yes, Mother?"

Rebecca called as she quickly hid the unfinished letter, the bracelet, and the stationary supplies in a desk drawer.

"Let me in, we need to get you ready."

"Of course, Mother."

Rebecca replied and after a quick check that nothing looked suspicious on the desk, she opened the door for her mother. Victoria scoffed at her messy hair and her state of dress. They were still guests of the king and Rebecca should have been ready to go the moment she had woken up.

"You are such a mess. You cannot be seen by servants like this, let alone his royal highness."

Rebecca lowered her head and quietly replied.

"I am sorry, Mother."

"You should be."

Victoria replied and grabbed a hair brush as Rebecca took a seat in the desk chair. Victoria stood behind her and roughly started to brush out Rebecca's hair. Rebecca winced as her hair was pulled by the brush but said nothing. Her mother was angry and it was never good to talk much when Victoria was angry. What she needed to tell Victoria and her father, Henry, would have to wait until much later in the day. Perhaps after they both drank on some more of the king's wine.

_________________

" Sir Arthur, Dawn is approaching." A woman spoke groggily as if the night had went far too fast. Speckles of light gleamed through the dark red curtains of the room. Morning? He gently moved the lady's thin pale arm from around his body. She was a lady of some standing, but he wasn't sure exactly what standing that might be. Maybe a high up servant?
He lousily stumbled out of bed, grabbing his suit, and underwear on his way for the bathroom. The lady miraculously disappeared during his relaxing bath time. A shame really. After getting completely dressed in his usual black suit with a blue under shirt, and black pant adorned with a red trench coat just for the cold, he looked to the corner of the room. A little gift wrapped up in pretty paper, and bowed up perfectly as if his hands could create such a master piece. He had servants for that job.

The gift was clever. Truly a masterpiece coming from the Queen's little brother. It would not create a spectacle like most people would assume in court. Rumors say that his gift would be a key to a brothel. Others say it would be some form of humorous get back for his sister. However, his sister had gotten her gift a week in advance. There was no need to humor her with needless worries.

His walk through the court yard resumed with lustrous whispers of little vixens spreading more lies, and men who devised that it was best to ignore the Queen's ruckus of a little brother. Good. The less trouble that follows means the easier it will be to set this magnificent gift on a table where others would aspire to gain the king's love. Pathetic really. Earn a king's love, who truly could care less for anyone other than his queen.

The table in the foyer of the castle was decorated in red linen, and adorned with purple ribbons. It was sort of flashy in the way that the side of the table could shimmer a little from the morning sun. Far to early for him. Far too early. He set the nicely made gift on the table, with a little card on it saying,


" Sir Arthur, " The words interrupted his thoughts as he blew out smoke from his lungs. When he turned, a woman was facing him with a pale face. So pale that it made ghosts feel real. She curtsied as his eyes fell on her. A flowing white dress, and a small wristlet adorned her. Sun-kissed hair was strewn upon her shoulders as if she had been walking miles in the wild. This was not his first encounter with the wild beast of woman. After all, he had an encounter just earlier today, except it was much prettier.

" Yes?"

" I Believe my Lady would like to discuss a meeting with you , if you would presume her time is especially rare to gain these days."

" Ah, Yes. I have heard the name.Please tell your lady, I will accompany her later during the day. I make no guarantee to be on time."

" Yes, men are typically late to such meetings. All jokes aside. Sir, have a wonderful breakfast. " The woman curtsied again before disappearing through a hallway. He made his way from the foyer of the castle to the kitchen. Chefs, and bakers alike were preparing for morning festivities. His hands couldn't help but obtain a small delicious delight before wandering back into the hallway.

_________________

King Theodore was always doing work in one form or another. Most individuals think a king spends all his time being pampered and spoiled, but Theo wasn’t like most kings. He took his duty seriously and though he lived as was expected a royal of his wealth and stature, he did not spend all his time galavanting about. He went over every detail that had been set into motion for the feasts and preparations and accommodations. He’d already read through all these papers before, but since he had not been able to sleep the night before he’d read them again just to make sure there was nothing out of place that could reflect badly upon himself or his court.

Of course there was nothing. Nothing but the usual gossip, intrigue and ploys that is. The accommodations and preparations were all in perfect order. He would have to make sure to thank his stewart for that. The man had a knack for these sorts of thing. Surely it would be appropriate to send the man a gift worthy of his achievements and loyalty. One always rewards servants for their work. It was this line of thought that brought Theo to thinking of the gifts he would be receiving today and the ones his beloved Queen would receive from him. A devilish smile curved his features. These items had been particularly hard to acquire. He felt distinctly proud of what he’d achieved this year. The others gifts he would receive he would have to weigh carefully. They would not be so easy to send gifts back to. Everything at the point would be a consideration in the status of the individual or holdings sending the gifts. Weather he would accept them or weather he would send something of slightly higher value or much higher value. Every gift he received had a price tag in the politics of the court. The tactics of this little adventures was enough to lift his otherwise low spirits. He always did enjoy a good game of politics before breakfast.

Leaning back in his chair he looked away from the papers he’d been reviewing and towards the door to his chamber where his valet stood waiting at the side of his desk, “Let it be known I am awake,” he said to the man. It wouldn’t do to let them think him still in bed, after all he was no where such. He hadn’t been all night as a mater of fact. Rising from the chair he walked over to the window and looked out into the cold morning. He was just about to look down upon the rest of the castle when he heard his door open and turned to face it.

Walking towards him holding his gift was the love of his life, his queen, Beatrice. Gazing upon her was like gazing into the sun. He felt his face break into a smile as she spoke. He loved the sound of her voice most of all. Especially when she sang. Her words were formal as was her gesture. Even if she broke tradition by being here. He took the gift gingerly from her hands and felt his face heat up with delight like a child. It was stunning. The sword he held in his hands was beyond perfection. It was exquisite and it took his breath away. He felt the weight of it in his hand as he gave it a slight twirl. It’s weight and balance were prefect for him and he laughed as he held it out to the side in order to draw Beatrice into a light embrace so he could kiss her.

“Your gift pleases me greatly my Queen,” he said with a radiant smile as he broke the kiss and laid the blade down on his desk so he could pick up the gift he had gotten her, his hands held the box towards her. Within when she opened it would be a set of scrolls from the library in Alexandria and set atop them a harp hand carved by the finest craftsman he could find. Set with expensive jewels, but made so it could be played as a true instrument. A rich wood finish with gold trim and perfectly tuned.

He always made a point to make sure that his queen would get her gift first before any of his other subjects received their response to his approval or not of their gifts. This year was no difference. He spoke softly as he held out the box towards her in response to the formal part of the day, “I wish thee a year of peace, health and prosperity my queen, I accept your gift and hope you find this token of my appreciation a worthy response.”

Soon the other gifts would begin to arrive. Those from within his close court and those from the guests residing within is halls. As well as later on those from further out in the kingdom and sometimes even from allies further away depending on the year and their need of his alliance. He’d done similar things with his allies sending out gifts to the follow kings he desired to keep a close alliance with. It was after all a dance of politics.

_________________

No noise came from the light footsteps that gently kissed the stone floor of the castle, adding to an already palpable silence that seemed to sink into the walls themselves. The footsteps came from a woman, straight-backed and fair haired. She carried a brown hide satchel, and wore a plain blue dress, a half-shoulder green cloak and hood her only protection from the intrusive frost of early morning. The cold was not impeding, however, her posture and sureness not betraying the slightest sign of inconvenience. Even as she crossed through a white-tipped garden, feet softly crunching across still sweet green grass, she did not shiver. On the contrary, she smiled, and slowed just enough to fully enjoy the blue delphiniums and blooming quinces. The fragrance of the flowers, mixed with the indescribable scent of a cold morning, brought her comfort. She longed to pause and sit on one of the many marble benches along the edges of the courtyard, but did not have the time. Instead, she hasted her step, once again swallowed by the stone walls of the castle.
The inner parts of the keep were not unpleasant, but lacked the beauty and elegance of the gardens and terraces. Sconces containing flames brought warmth and light, and tapestries depicting great scenes of triumph and love were hung here and there, but it was not to this woman's tastes. She had always preferred the outdoors, even when compared to the lavishly decorated room of the Queen. The gift to sleep in that room, by the Queen's side, was no less of an honour, however. Emeline Vaughan was no fool in that regard. As lady in waiting, the head at that, Emeline was granted a simple pallet bed to the corner of the room, should Queen Beatrice need anything in the night. Normally at this time, Emeline would already be waiting on Beatrice, the Queen. However, a week from the night previously, Emeline had been away from the castle for personal matters with her family.
Emeline knew that today was a very important day, and that she had an important job. She also knew that if she didn't hurry, she would be late. No, Emeline was painfully aware of possible imminent failure. The Queen had graced her with the time off, on the condition that she returned the day before the first of January. Today was the first of January, explaining the urgency of Emeline's steps. She didn't want to present herself as a liar, someone who did not keep their word. Her dedication to the Queen shouldn't be tarnished in any way.
After an eternity of quiet stone halls, Emeline reached her destination, which was a dark oak, intricately carved door. She placed a small, childish hand on the handle and it swung open neatly. With no hesitation, Emeline stepped in, prepared to curtsy in forgiveness to Beatrice. "A thousand apologies, your High-" Emeline chanced a look up, and realized that the Queen was not in her quarters. Instead, there was a single cleaning maid, currently collecting the bed sheets to be washed.
"She has already left, my lady," the servant said in a clipped, polite tone, bowing slightly as she continued to fold blankets. Emeline was not embarrassed by her rash entrance, but did feel a sting of annoyance.
"Might I ask where her majesty is?" Emeline asked politely, eyes scanning the room as if the Queen would suddenly pop out of a closet or nook as some sort of cosmic joke. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
"She has gone to his Majesty's quarters with the New Year's gift, my lady," the servant looked at Emeline for the respectful amount of time before turning to her task fully once again. A small smirk lay upon her face, fatefully hidden from Emeline. Emeline wasn't irreverently abusive of servants, but she did hold the belief of most nobles that they should remain in their place. Nobles were certainly not to be mocked.
Immediately upon hearing the location of her Queen, Emeline spun to exit the room. Her heart was crushed from being unable to present the gift with Beatrice, but if she didn't tarry, she would be by her friend's side soon. Emeline thanked the servant as an afterthought, closing the door with an abrupt slam, so unlike the quiet beauty of before.
Emeline's journey to the King's quarters was shorter than her first traversal of the castle, but nonetheless holding an air of urgency. It meant so much to her, to not disappoint the Queen, and be there for such important events. The thought of another, lesser lady in waiting doing her job prickled her skin. When Emeline arrived at the King's quarters, she found that the door was open, another lady standing at the portal. Emeline drew herself up, prepared to make an elaborate speech as to why she should stand at the door, being the head lady in waiting and all, but her fellow lady simply stepped aside with a nod. Emeline thought she detected the hint of a glower in the other girl's face, but was too proud of herself to confront her about it.
Emeline glanced inside the door. Queen Beatrice was facing away from her, so that all she could see was the Queen's silky raven hair and beautifully embroidered dress. Despite Emeline's innate dislike for King Theodore (how could he have not adored Beatrice from the beginning?), she couldn't help but agree that their relationship had made Beatrice immensely happy, adding to her already existent beauty.
Emeline hovered by the door, as replacement to the other lady in waiting. She swung like a pendulum. Did she have the audacity to go into the King's chamber without express permission? She did. Emeline entered quietly, her subdued body movements in submission to the two royals. She was ultimately furniture in front of the pair. the King and Queen appeared untouchable, like divine creatures, submissive only to the Lord Himself. Her impulses had brought her in to the room with these devines, but now she simply had nothing to do but glance at them reverently from her slightly bowed position. King Theodore's eyes were full of love and reverence for Beatrice, and Emeline couldn't help but feel a little jealous, presumably because it was unlikely that anyone could look at herself in that way. So she waited as a simple piece of furniture, patient until given orders by the Queen herself.

_________________

Earl Wylyam Ramsay completed his morning routine and with Alan’s help dressed in his finest winter garments. His embroidered red and black outer coat was underlain by sleeves of the finest French silk, which he wore together with dark trousers (rather than hose) to ward off the chill. His cap in place, Wil made a final check before Alan departed.

“Donna forget th’ Queen’s gift,” he commented in his brogue to his squire. Nodding dutifully, Alan stepped over to collect them both. Within a few moments the servant had returned with the King’s treatise and a small bale of the finest embroidery thread interwoven with delicate strands of gold, intended for the queen. It was clear the King’s friend had spared no expense on his gifts this year. Once satisfied Wil dismissed his squire with an approving nod.

The walk across the palace was uneventful at that hour, though Alan found the passageways too dark and cold for his liking. Before long he arrived outside the King’s chambers. Once there he was not surprised to find a small line of other servants waiting outside the King’s door. Alan nodded respectfully to the others before taking up a position behind the servants from the King’s immediate family. He wound up standing next to a servant of Prince Ewan, the King’s uncle. The teenage boy looked nervous as he held a box in his hands.

“First time to see the King, eh?” Alan asked him. The boy nodded nervously in response.

“Don’t worry, the King is very gracious. It’s Prince Ewan you should be nervous about. What’s in the box, anyway?”

The boy looked away and gulped. “R-Roman coins. Gold ones…” he answered. “Uncovered during the renovations at Bradstoe Hall. “Quite rare…” he added, trying to convince himself everything was going to be alright. “Shiny…”

Alan rolled his eyes just as the man with Elizabeth’s letter passed him in the corridor. Within a few minutes her messenger had retraced Alan’s path through the dark to Sir Wylyam’s door.

The man was admitted and given a small token for his services before being dismissed. Wil opened the letter without any sign of anticipation in order to downplay the excitement that had welled up inside him. Hidden behind his somber expression was a young man in love, whose heart leapt at the prospect of meeting Elisabeth later that day in private. He walked over to his fire and consigned the message to the flame as soon as he finished reading it. He did this not because he did not wish to keep the letter; but rather because he would never compromise Elisabeth’s virtue by keeping a copy. The palace was filled with those who would happily destroy their rivals if given the chance. The Saville’s recent troubles made discretion all the more pressing for the young would-be couple. In light of that, Wil decided to answer her request in person when they both met in court later that day rather than risk a letter of response.

Quite pleased with his lot in life, Early Wylyam strode out of his chambers and made his way to the great hall. Surely some other distinguished guests were milling about there while waiting for breakfast. Perhaps, if he were lucky, Elizabeth herself and her family might arrive.

As he walked, another of his servants in tow, Wil’s whistling echoed through the halls and up the stairs to Prince Ewan’s chamber. Inside, Ewan angrily rolled over in his bed as an attempt to fall back asleep.

“To hell with all ‘Rik bastards,” Ewan mumbled to himself, knowing full from whom the whistle had emanated.

_________________
Marvin's view on Life

Victoria was many things and observant was one of them. She was certain that Rebecca was trying to hide something from her. Her daughter's behavior....Victoria had been mother since she turned twenty, she had seen this type of behavior before from her older children. She might not be the best mother in the world, Eugenia Dawson, her children's nanny, was far more qualified then her to handle many things when it came to children, but Victoria had a mother's intuition. Especially when it came to her children trying to hide something from her. Victoria would find out what it was, she always did, and no doubt something terrible would happen as a result. She finished helping Rebecca get ready and told her.

"Come, daughter, we need to get your father and younger brothers."

"Yes, Mother."

Rebecca replied, following into line behind Victoria. It was the first day of the New Year and it was customary to present the king and his queen with a present. Her older children were all married and they would be giving King Theodore and Queen Beatrice gifts with their own spouses. Rebecca, David, and George would only be expected to be present when their parents presented a gift. This would likely be Rebecca's last year presenting a gift with her parents. If Victoria had her way, next year or at the latest, the year after, Rebecca would be married to her intended. She had no idea, of course. Victoria told Henry they would tell their daughter the wonderful news later in the day. David was twelve and George was seven and were sharing a room. Eugenia was getting them ready. Victoria heard George asking Eugenia as she opened the door.

"I do not get it, why do we have to present the king and queen another gift?"

The family had given the monarchs a gift at Christmas, why did they need another one? George had liked Christmas, he had loved receiving presents. He wanted more but Eugenia informed him he mostly likely would not be getting anymore today. Thus, it did not make sense to him that other people would still be getting presents.

"You are guests in their home, George, it is the proper thing to do."

Eugenia, a middle age woman with gray hair, replied as she tried to get the young boy to stand still as she buttoned his shirt. George was an active boy and standing still was never one of his strong points.

"But cannot the king just buy whatever he wants? He is rich."

Victoria's blue eyes narrowed as she heard what her youngest child said. To most people, it was an innocent question. After all, he was right. King Theodore was rich and he could surely buy whatever he desired or if he was a crueler king, take it by force. Victoria grabbed George painfully by his ear and told him in a stern voice.

"Enough, George. This tradition is always done and you will not disrespect it by questioning it. You will present the gift with your father and I and will not question it anymore. Do I make myself clear?"

Victoria rarely rose her voice but her children were usually still terrified of her when she was angry. She had a cold anger and all would only admit to themselves that they much preferred Henry's company to Victoria's any day. Henry was a lot nicer then her. George swallowed hard and nodded his head. His blue eyes, the same shade as his mother's, were filled with fear.

"Yes, Mother....I am sorry, Mother."

Eugenia's jaw tightened as Victoria 'corrected' her youngest son. She had no children of her own, she was barren, but she did love the Montgomery children, as much as if she had given birth to them instead of Victoria. She had been hired when Alexander, the oldest, was born and been with the family ever since. She knew the children better then Victoria did and she knew George meant no disrespect but she would never dare to tell the Duchess that. David and Rebecca were both looking down at the floor, both too afraid of their mother to say anything either. George's answer seemed to please Victoria, however, and she released his ear. It was red from how hard she had been holding it.

"Good, I am glad we have reached an understanding. Finish getting ready. You too, David."

She told her other son, who just nodded his head.

_________________

A puppet is attached to strings by a spider weaving the story. For sure. This was the way of life. King's lead subjects, fought wars, and claimed it was in the name of the people. Would the people be defined as puppets then? Arthur shook his head. He must have read far too many stories when he was young for these thoughts to occur in his head. An odd whistling noise rounded from one of the corners of the hallway. Sir Earl Wylyam was making his way down the hallway. It would be seen as odd that a Savidge prince should leave his gift on a table, and not in the hands of the king. But he was never one for waiting in lines. Plus, his dear sister needed every second to grovel with the king for hopes of a child.

His heart was sinking. Wylyam would certainly make some sort of backwatered comment about how lazy the prince was. He could weasel one of the chamber maids into giving the gift to the king personally.

A lady dressed in a rouge low cut dress was walking by without any gifts or food in hand. He waved a finger to her catching a glaring emerald eye from her. She was on a mission apparently. The lady walked over to him stomping one of her high heels in anger. " My lady whatever it is you are angry about, please release it from your mind. I will give you a real treat if you carry my gift to the king for me?" She tilted her head before agreeing to the four copper coins slipped into her hands. Never do anything personally. A lesson his father taught him well. Possibly, a little too well.

Break-feast was slowly ticking closer. What do they say about family? There was always a member trying to stab you in the back. He heaved a sigh. Word would spread that he trickled through the chef's den. But that was typical for him. He meandered down the hallway knowing of the coming trouble.

His mistress would not enjoy the idea that he would be late to their rendezvous. Well, she was not his only mistress, but was apart of the select few who had a high status in court...almost as high as himself. She had been caught seen in one of the brothels once searching for him. When word reached her father...oh the blasphemy the two of them heard. So, he decided meeting in her chambers was a much better choice.

Wam! A cold wall greeted his face. Walls were built to get in his way. " Sir, are you ok?" A lady maid asked before shaking her head in disbelief at his stupidity.

By nearly avoiding Whylyam, he managed to snake his way all the way to the mistress's chambers. Knocking carefully on her door. " My lady, It is I, the one who bears the strings to the spider's web." It was a interesting line that she had formed as a code for the two of them. For if they were to be found out hell would break lose upon the court.

_________________

"Yes, quite well, thank you Mary."

Lorna Shaw sat in front of her chamber's vanity mirror, doing her hair. Having begun combing in small sections from the bottom, and then working upward toward the roots, she'd deftly managed to take out all of the tangles, and avoid any damage. Though her penance enforced a simple ponytail as her sole choice of style, she nonetheless took the same meticulous care with her tresses that she always did.

The comb with which she diligently worked was one of her most treasured keepsakes. It had belonged to her murdered mother; come with her when she'd emigrated from the wave-lashed isle of Thassos, in Graece, to be wed to Lorna's father, the Marquess Alaric Shaw. As Mary pulled open the drapes, the morning light fell upon the comb's silver filigree and mother-of-pearl inlays, casting it alight with moon-hues, that almost made it seem some fey implement; out of place in the dawning day. Finishing, Lorna placed it on the vanity's marble top, and then took up a brush; good quality, but common and banal contrasted to the comb.

While she continued to work, she addressed Mary without looking at her:

"Now, Mary, please understand -- nothing in my penance proscribes me from attending this morn's breakfast. And, I wouldn't think of forcing you to sit about here with me, and miss it yourself. I will not have it. And, regardless, I do wish to go -- so, that is what we shall do."

She shortly concluded her ministrations with the brush, placed it aside, then retrieved a specific white ribbon, with which she proceeded to bind back her hair. Giving her reflection a last review, and being satisfied, she finalized her humble ensemble: lifting a dull silver crucifix from the vanity top, she slipped it over her head, and about her throat. Then she arose, turned, and gave her newly acquired aide a polite, modestly friendly, smile.

"Come. There is no reason to linger here. Let us be off."

In due time, the pair made their way from Lorna's chamber, situated in Greenmoor's slightly more austere western wing, and descended the stairs into one of its several main hallways.

While they walked, Lorna idly made note of a rather resplendent shaft of ruby tinged, morning light, which streamed from a window some distance ahead of them:

"Well, morning has its own distinct and lovely shade, does it not? Like precious rubies, or fresh roses..." or the color of blood, from pricking your fingers on their hidden thorns, she added silently, drawn from the cool irony she was beginning to experience, as they drew nearer and nearer the palace's royal wing.

Along the way, they passed a particular tapestry, that depicted a certain fable with which she was well familiar.

"Ah. The tale of Sir Orland of Gancil...are you familiar? A rather naive sort of fellow, bent upon, of course, winning the heart of the beautiful damsel whom he fancied. It's a long, involved sort of tale... but, ultimately, after a rather circular quest, filled with much misadventure, he discovers that she cares nothing for all the pretty riches he tries to lay at her feet...all the bloody victories he wins in her name. Her own personal quest had been simply to find an honest, gentle man, whom loves her enough to not leave her side for campaigns, and crusades. She finds those things in a humble woodsman, whom she then weds, and lives happily ever after with. And, Sir Orland...well, there are two endings. One says he gives up on worldly things altogether, and lives out his remaining days as a monk. The other, that he ties stones to his feet, and drowns himself. Either way, it's a tragedy, I'd say. How easily we may delude ourselves...by making the error of not asking, listening, and understanding...is the simplistic moral of the fable. And, isn't it so?" Lorna sighed faintly, after she concluded.

"I am sorry, Mary. I must be wearying you with my chatter. You look very nice this morning, by the way." It wasn't sarcasm. Mary's grooming was quite thorough, she noted, not for the first time. The girl had an eye for detail. Which again spoke of a bright mind.

Shortly, they emerged from an adjacent, branching hall into the antechambers of the palace's royal wing. Attired in the same simple, sky-blue gown, hair bound in a simple ponytail, with a bland white ribbon -- Lorna was of course aware how sharply she contrasted with the resplendent trappings of the other attendees, that she began to see.

If the humility of her garments wasn't enough to spell it out, then the prominent crucifix -- sole accessory that she wore -- should do the trick, to inform all present that she was doing formal penance.

And then of course, there were some few here whom knew she was a repenting adulteress...

But this didn't bother her. Some time after her mother's passing, the part of her that was capable of caring what other people thought about her had died. She could remember caring, as a girl, what that had been like. To wonder in some degree of desperation if others regarded her well, held her in good esteem. Today, it seemed like an odd, distant fancy -- evaporated with the past, and other fancies that had little to do with a starkly real world.

Appearances could be most usefully deceiving, any rate. Anyone who'd not learned that...well, they had a few hard lessons ahead of them. She turned and smiled at Mary.

"Well. And so here we are. This looks quite lovely. I - I don't have a gift, for his Majesty," she added, sounding more than a little sheepish.

"That wouldn't really be appropriate. But...I do have a simple note I would like you to deliver, please." She handed Mary the slimly furled and sealed piece of velum that she'd been carrying.

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:: To every life a light that shines
To every heart a beat that's true ::
-Heather Nova, Winter Blue

Hawkgirl: "Standard interrogation technique. I was bad cop." Superman: "You're always bad cop." Hawkgirl: "Why play against type?"

Urd: "I'll just be Santa's little helper...so to speak."

King Theodore did not fail to see the change in his queen’s servants. Her lady in waiting. He gave a very small smile to the woman. Emeline he remembered her name. Before turning all his focus back on his queen. There would be time enough to hand out the other gifts for his beloveds lady in waiting. His thoughts and feelings for the woman who surrounded his beloved wife constantly were none other than gladness that she did not have to be alone when he was drawn away to war or ruling.

He knew his wife wanted to give him a heir. A child of their own flesh. That was in the Lords hands and he could not make that happen anymore then he could stall time to have more with his wife. He gently watched as his beloved wife opened the gift and felt his heart race in anticipation. He wondered if she would like it as much as he liked the gift she had given him. He was not yet fully dressed for the day and knew that he would be wearing her gift from this year and last proudly as he did every year. He loved to display her gifts to the world as he did his love for her. Their marriage may have been arranged and he way have had fun with his mistress and cared for her in his own way, but what he held for Beatrice was more then just love. He would do anything to please her. Even die for her. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to his beloved wife. She held his heart and soul in her hand.

A smile spread wide across his features as she opened the gift and her eyes lit up from the pleasure he had given her in his gift. As she embraced him he was left speechless and in awe of her. He held her gently against him and softly kissed her once more in response to her words. Releasing her gently so that she could greet her friend and so he could make himself ready.

“A moment before you leave my lady, I wish to give you the gifts for your ladies that you may take them with you as I make myself ready,” King Theodore said politely not interrupting his queen, but wanting to stall her departure. He waved his hand for his chamberlain to step forwards with the stack of boxes that contained a gift for each of his queen’s ladies in waiting. “May the new year bring you all warm tidings,” Theodore said before taking his leave to finish dressing in order to head down to the hall where the rest of the day would unfold.

Leaving his Chamberlain to get the gifts down into the Great Hall where he would either hand them out as he accepted the gifts given to him. Or he would deny them and not. He’d bought everything calculated to reflect what place he wanted everyone to have in court and had consulted his queen for most of it as she was by far the master mind in buying gifts where he was not so gifted. It was their little secret that he rather enjoyed.

As he stepped into his dressing chamber he found the rest of his clothing had been laid out. As he always did he dressed himself having no patience for someone else hands on his body. It wouldn’t take him long to put on the proper outer tunic and the large emerald necklace that held his cloak in place, a gift from his beloved queen. He gently touched the centre stone shaped as a heart made of ruby that seemed to glow faintly. His favourite adornment. He clipped his belt in place and took out the sword that had previously hung at his waist laying it down on a cushion in the closet he left his dressing chamber to take up his Queen’s gift and gently ran his hand over it smiling as he felt the cool steel beneath his fingers he drew it up feeling it’s weight settle perfectly in his palm and slowly sheathed the blade into the scabbard that was just as beautifully adorned as the hilt. He ran his hand over it’s hilt not wanting to let it go. Maybe he would give a demonstration of arms in contest later this afternoon to show off the blade in all it’s splendour. He thought with a wide smile.

Considering his readied state Theo left his rooms to find his Squire waiting for him in the hall. He regarded the man. "Is it time already?" he asked and at the squires nod of assent he smiled. "Good good, lead on then," He said waving his hand imperiously to indicate his readiness. He followed the man down to the Great Hall and entered in the back room to take a seat on his throne. Leaning back to wait for the others to join him and for the procession to begin.

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Earl Wylyam Ramsay was one of the first nobles in the Great Hall for breakfast, arriving early as he usually did. Initially he passed the time joking with the King’s guards. He knew many of them from his years spent at the palace, and some also from serving on campaign together. Despite the difference in their ages and stations; men who fight, kill and bleed together share a special connection that Wil enjoyed taking part in. As other nobles arrived he turned his attention to mingling pleasantly with them as well.

When Lorna Shaw made an appearance Wil’s face lit up. He made it a point to walk directly to her and greet her in a manner worthy of her noble birth. Some considered Lorna to be a bit of a pariah because of her now-ended affair with the King, but not Wil. As a bastard child produced from a similar relationship, Wil had a soft spot in his heart for her and what she was enduring. While she did not become with child during their relationship, she nonetheless was being forced to bear a generous helping of self-righteous indignation for falling in love. Nearly all of those most critical of her were hypocrites, however, since they were guilty of the same behavior. The only difference was that many of them had yet to be caught. Besides that connection, when she and the King were an item the three of them spent a fair amount of time together travelling and at court events. Wil genuinely appreciated her company and considered Lorna to be a good friend.

“Lorna, ye look brammer thes morn,” he said, complimenting her in his thick Garikin accent before taking her hand and kissing it with a polite bow. If she allowed him, following that he gently took her arm in his and escorted her towards a pleasant seat by one of the windows, their servants Mary and Alan in tow. “Ah have a present tae be delivered later fur ye – anither book Ah brooght back from across th' channel. Ah think ye will loch it.”

Once they reached the table Earl Wylyam sat down beside her to talk about old times. When that conversation waned he brought up another, more sensitive topic. He asked her if they could speak in private – in other words if Mary and Alan would give them a little space.

“M’lady,” Wil’s squire said to Mary, “Would you join me for a cup of… well… whatever it is they are serving over there. It appears to be steaming and… warm…?” he asked, not exactly sure what he was inviting her to take part in.

Once they had a few moments of relative privacy Wil told Lorna what was on his mind.

“Dae ye remember Elizabeth Saville, th' maid Ah am madly in loove wi'? She’s haur wi' 'er faither an' siblings. Dad doesn’t want 'er tae marry; he wants 'er tae bide at home an' tak' care ay him. Ah haven’t spoken tae him since Ah inherited mah title an' Ah was gonnae ask him again tonight fur 'er hand. Ah need yer advice – wha’ can Ah do tae convince him?”

After they had spoken for a while Wil saw the Savilles enter the great hall and he immediately stood up.

“Mah lady, please excuse me – Ah simply hae tae spick tae 'er. It’s bin months…” He added with a smile, giving her forearm a gentle squeeze of thanks. “We’ll gab later, awe rite?”

Wil made his way over to the Saville family with a warm expression and open arms. He approached Sir Jonas Saville first and gave him a firm handshake and a friendly slap on the opposite shoulder. Wil was genuinely happy to see him, even if Jonas refused his previous proposal for Elizabeth. He then did the same for Peter whom he was also pleased to see again and doing well. It had been years since their harrowing escape from the brigands near Lake Palace, and the young man seemed not be too harmed by the adventure.

Next he greeted Johanna, who had grown significantly since he last saw her. “Ye hae become a proper yoong lady, mah dear; eet is a pleasure,” he said, offering to take her hand and kiss it politely as he would a woman of the court – if she were so inclined.

Then came the moment he had been anticipating for months. He greeted the love of his young life with so much barely contained emotion that his demeanor bordered on reverence. He slowly dropped to one knee and took her left hand as if it were a gift from the Holy Father himself, and kissed her ring finger intentionally. Her finger seemed so naked – so completely in need of a ring that would tell the entire world that she was his wife. Unfortunately that seemed like a far off possibility at the moment.

“Lady Elizabeth,” he said, rising back to his feet. “Ye ur e'en mair bonnie than Ah remember,” he complimented her truthfully as his hand lingered on hers. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of it despite the fact that it was deeply inappropriate in front of the assembled company. Completely under her spell, Wil slipped his fingers between hers and held them until she shook herself loose. Turning back to her father he asked about their travel to the palace.

“Ah troost 'at ye had safe travels haur? Safer than th' lest time Ah was in yer company?” Wil asked with a smile. “Also, how lang ur ye stayin'? Ah would loove to dine wi' th' woman who saved mah life an' 'er fowk at some point.”

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Marvin's view on Life

After the boys were done getting ready, they went with Victoria to the guest room she was always given in Greenmor Palace to retrieve Henry. It was a shame, Victoria thought, that on holidays Henry had to join her. With him along, she could not get one on one time with Prince Ewan. Henry, in his youth, had been in good shape. Over the years, he had let himself go. His stomach had grown larger, since he decided to drink more and hunt less. Henry opened the door when he heard them arrive and frowned looking at his youngest son.

"George? What happened your ear?"

Henry asked, in shock, upon seeing how red it was. George covered his ear with his hand automatically. He looked up at his father and then looked at Victoria a moment. She gave him a look and he replied, looking down at the floor.

"Nothing, Father...I..."

"You know he is always an active boy, dear husband. He must have hit his head on something. Right?"

Victoria replied and George nodded his head in agreement. Rebecca and David didn't dare to correct her. Henry accepted the answer. He learned many years ago to never argue with his wife. Fighting with Victoria was always a losing battle. He grabbed the present that they were to present to the king and queen. Victoria also grabbed a smaller gift that was just for the queen. Rebecca, David, and George fell into line behind their parents as they headed to the Great Hall. The family waited their turn and Henry presented the case of wine to King Theodore and his queen.

"My family and I present you, your majesties, with bottles of the finest wines in New Haven. May we be able to toast today and many more holidays to come this year in grand style."

'And replace all the wine you drank during the Christmas festivities,' Victoria thought. Drinking had become one of Henry's favorite pass times as he got older. She handed a smaller present to Queen Beatrice. It was a bottle of tonic that some midwives claimed would help with the conceiving of children. Victoria, herself, had never had a problem conceiving children. She was the mother of seven after all. Her oldest was twenty seven and her youngest was seven. Queen Beatrice had been failing to provide her husband with an heir. Now, given Victoria's secret plans with King Theodore's uncle, there being no royal baby was a good thing. Of course, she also couldn't resist taking a dig at the young queen's lack of carrying out her wifely duties, either. After all, if a couple failed to have a baby, it was the woman's fault.

Victoria told her.

"A special present for you, my queen. May this tonic help you along with making sure the palace hears the pitter patter of little feet this year."

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King Theodore leaned back casually in his seat. His eyes watching those around him. Calculating. This day was about alliances and perceptions. How he responded to those things would determine his courts next year. His eyes of course traveled from the people gathering in the Great Hall to the stack of gifts that would handed to him and his queen one by one. All displayed perfectly for his eyes to gaze over and contemplate. Of course this was always the case. The king was already ready having chosen gifts ahead of time, and keeping a pile of various inexpensive, or at least to him anyways, of gifts that could be handed out if he was displeased and it turned out that his calculated assumptions were not as he had first believed.

Theo gave his wife a loving smile and let his hand drift lightly to hers. Resting gently against her soft skin. A light touch telling her wished they were still alone. Though Theo was looking forwards to the tournament this afternoon where he would display his skills with his new weapon, for surely he was determined to showcase his wife's most amazing gift. He was busily greeting those who would come speak with him. But mostly he nibbled on the cheese that was brought to him or the fruits. He refused anything stronger then the mulled wine he usually had with his breakfast not wanting his head clouded by stronger drink.

He watched the hall with experienced eyes and allowed his mind to wander in anticipation of the ceremony to start. It was however soon to begin and he cleared his throat calling the hall to silence a moment before Victoria and her family approached the throne. It wasn't uncommon for him to simply make a loud noise and have the hall fall to silence expectantly. It's how he usually began things.

As the first of many gifts was brought forwards Theodore gave a light smile, an expression he was known for and one that wouldn't tell the bearer whether or not he accepted their offered gift. In this case he took the bottle of wine with a gentle nod of his head, but waited for his wife to accept her gift before speaking. He would wait for her to acknowledge the couple and respond to their gift before he would respond to his. It was how he'd always done it, in the event they offered insult to his beloved wife. It was his way of ensuring that his wife was not displeased with their offerings before he responded in favour. Though his gaze watched those before him, his peripheral vision watched his wife. Though at times Theo would act right away. In this dance of intrigue and social courting he would act only after judging the reaction of his wife to those bearing gifts. For if she was happy then so was he.

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Earl Wylyam Ramsay did not object when Elizabeth pulled her hand away and intentionally left her glove behind. Any favor of hers was a memento that the young man treasured. He usually looked over his small collection of them when writing to her. In the long months between their sporadic meetings it was nice to have something physical to remind him of her feelings.

Wil curled the glove up in his fingers before anyone else realized what had happened and slipped it into his pocket. While his favorite memento was a lock of her hair that she had sent once, the glove was still truly appreciated. This was especially so since she could not say how she felt in public – so any physical representation of her feelings sent the young man reeling.

He smiled warmly in the face of Sir Jonas’s and Peter’s cool responses – taking their negative tone in stride. Clearly Wil didn’t have their approval, but nonetheless he didn’t really care. The young noble was someone who truly and desperately loved Elizabeth – and was an Earl to boot. Someday her family would come around, he suspected. Wil also took comfort in the knowledge that Jonas didn’t want to marry her off to anyone – so he had as good a shot as any man in that court at one day convincing him to relent. Based on Elizabeth’s letters he suspected that her mother would have liked him. He took no small amount of pride in that, even though he would never have the pleasure of knowing for sure in this life.

“Ah do indeed wish yer company, mah friends. Eet’s settl’d then – we shall sup together at the same table tomorrow eve. It will be mah pleasure,” he added with a deferential nod. Wil, realizing his foreign accent was not helping his case, did his best to minimize his brogue while in their presence.

Turning his attention to the thrones at the front of the room, Wil watched with interest as guests approached with their gifts and were received by the King and Queen with circumstance and formality.

What were they really thinking, Wylyam wondered to himself. Especially about that woman Victoria? The Dutchess was the only woman whom Wil genuinely held concerns about. She was someone he knew better than to cross and did his best to steer clear of. Either way the line was still quite long and Wil needed to kill some time, so he decided to try and continue the conversation with Elizabeth’s family.

“If Ah may, will either of yeh be takin’ part een the jousting, or the melee? If so we shoulds be on the same team. Ah coodn’t bring maself to harm either of you – even in mock combat,” Wil added sincerely. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally harm or even embarrass the two men – that would certainly not help him convince Jonas to release the hand of his daughter.

“I promise yeh, Ah will bring spear and armor this time!” he said, joking about his combat with a brigand outside of Lake Palace.

In that conflict Wil was forced to charge an armored knight with only a sword in his possession. While he won the contest, he was wounded seriously and brought to the very threshold of death’s door. It was only Elizabeth’s quick thinking that saved him in the end.

Wil flashed a charming smile at the two men, hoping that reminding them of his valor while defending Elizabeth would be worth at least a partial thaw of their icy tones.

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Marvin's view on Life

Victoria resisted the urge to smirk seeing the Queen's reaction to the tonic. It was a wife's duty, whether a queen or a maid, to provide children to her husband. Beatrice was clearly failing in that mission. It made Victoria sneer inside that she could take a little dig at the woman. Especially when she had never had trouble giving her husband children.

Victoria didn't dislike Beatrice because she had ever done anything to personally to Victoria. She disliked the Queen for having what she always wanted. Victoria wanted to be a queen. She had dreamed of it almost her whole life. Life dealt her a different card. Instead, of being a queen, she was stuck being married to Henry. Henry, who wasn't a bad husband, but had no ambitions. Other then to probably helping the King drink the wine he presented to them. Most people seemed to like Henry. He was nice, he could be funny, and he was nothing like his wife. People often felt sorry for him that of all the women in the world, Victoria was the one he had forced to marry. Victoria knew of her and Henry, her children liked their father better. Victoria smiled at the Queen, not realizing the significance of getting a ruby necklace.

"Thank you, your majesty. It is beautiful and I will treasure it forever."

She probably would too. Rubies were quite expensive and Victoria was one who had expensive tastes.

"May you have a very blessed year, as well. Hopefully filled with a little one."

Victoria replied, not resisting talking about a baby one more time. Henry hoped that the Queen wasn't too offended by his wife and that the King would accept his present.

------------------------

While David and George stood behind their parents, keeping quiet and not looking up much, Rebecca was paying attention. She was surprised to see the difference between the monarchs and her parents. While Victoria was clearly in charge in her marriage and seemed to almost despise Henry at times, Rebecca could see from the way the King and Queen acted, their marriage wasn't the same. It might have been arranged but they appeared to actually be in love. King Theodore actually respected his wife's opinion. Rebecca could not remember a time that Victoria ever showed respect to Henry. Probably because she never had. It was very fascinating to the young woman to see a couple that appeared to be in love.

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King Theodore as many new was a man who enjoyed books and swordplay. Riding and a rare vintage, though only in small amounts as he did not approve of being drunk. He was a complicated man who often was not seen as being truly complicated. Most who saw him saw him in his role as king, where he tended to be more reserved and silent. He regarded his wife as she indicated which necklace was to go to the lady. He regarded Henry studying the man before him deciding that he was neither displeased nor truly pleased with the family and deciding he would diplomatically not allow the insult to his wife to pass unnoticed. Though he would not reject their gift out of hand and shame them he would not bestow the honor of his most generous gifts. He would be neutral in this. He waved his manservant forwards and indicated the equally rare vintage from the royal vineyards to be gifted to the family. A gift slightly higher in value than what was received or of equal value, he figured at a glance. A sign he'd accepted the gift in kind, but showed no special favour to the family. He was not displeased with them, but rather did not look kindly on the insult offered to his wife. He was after all a very protective man of his beloved wife.

Leaning back in his throne he watched their reaction quite clearly to judge how his action was taken. He couldn't help but know how it must pain his wife that they had yet to bear a child together. Though truth be told he wasn't really concerned about it. After all it had been late in life when his own father had had his first child. It would not surprise him if in the next few years their family began. He treasured his wife and valued her above all else. He would wait eternally for her to gift him with a child and never once think ill of the time it took for him to get an heir and if it came down to not having a child he knew he'd broach the topic of adoption with his wife. He did not however like the way that Victoria was seeming to think it her place to hint that his wife was inadequate for not giving him a child. He let the coldness in his eyes show just a hint but otherwise held the genuine smile on his face.

Turning his gaze to the next in line he continued on with greeting his guests and showing either favour or neutrality. Very rarely did he ever reject anyone out of hand. He preferred to keep them close and in favour even if not in the highest of favour. He had no ill will towards any in his court and did not consider any of them his enemy. He rather liked them all even if he didn't particularly like them. They were after all his subjects and he tried his best to treat them all well. He especially needed the support of his nobles and the higher families so he tried to keep them in high standing even if he did not show them special honour. That was a gesture reserved for those who truly stood high in his thoughts and friendship.

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