if i cannot fly {open} let me sing

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

Today was lesson day, the day to sit and attempt to be someone who had maybe left their home in the last nineteen years, someone who attended the balls that one was invited to. It was her arrangement with Phillip, at least, and she was true to her word. This Friday she uncovered one of the objects in the parlor and sat down at it, feeling it's cold, smooth surface. It was old, older than she, and she loved it though she could not play it very well.

The piano was a dark ebony, the color of the night sky. Phillip had a smaller version in his own room that he had moved there after.... well, he had one closer to him since he was the only person in the castle who regularly played. This was the piano meant for recitals, to entertain guests of the royal family. It was rarely out of tune, and the sound it produced was warm and inviting if you meant it to be, cold and harsh likewise. No one ever really played it but Alyson, never seeing the point to even go in the room.

Her left foot sat tucked under her leg as she sat on the leather bench, her bare right foot pressing on the pedals found below. Now her fingers were gracing the pretty white keys, glad of the cold tenderness they found there. She didn't hate playing the piano, she was just never very good at it. She could pluck out a melody to sing with and that was about it, but grand songs, the long pieces that Phillip played, by no means no. She enjoyed the smaller tunes, the lilting little melodies that she came up with or the line here or there that she practiced regularly that was accompanied by her soft soprano voice.

Today she played a scale to warm up her fingers, going up and then down the keys, then hummed a few words here and there. Now she played faster, letting her control loose so she could move her splayed fingers furiouser and furiouser over the white and black. Now she slowed, remembering that she couldn't just let herself go, that she must pace herself. She smiled in the dark light of the room, looking up at the shaded windows, tiny particles of light filtering down amid the dust in the room. Something soft today to start out with, perhaps.

"Green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
How can you jubilate sitting in cages
Never taking wing?
Outside the sky waits beckoning!
Beckoning!
Just beyond the bars...
How can you remain staring at the rain
Maddened by the stars?
How is it you sing anything?
How is it you sing?
Have you decided it's safer in cages singing when you're told?
My cage has many rooms damask and dark...
Nothing there sings, not even my lark
Larks never will, you know, when they're captive
Teach me to be more adaptive!
Green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
Teach me how to sing..."

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

It was a fine day today; the sort of day that made William want to take a long walk through the village, and not one on which he wanted to sit behind a desk and bury his nose in dark, musty pages full of dates to be learnt and unimportant, boring details to be memorised. Of course, William didn’t want to work on any day, but it was less of a chore if it was raining and miserable outside; he was quite happy to go for a walk in the mud, but apparently his father disliked having mud trailed through the house. It was hardly surprising, really, but why did he have to work on a day like today? The short answer was that he had been brought home from Lyon with the intention of working at least a little each day, in the hope of qualifying as a magistrate sometime before he died. He probably would have been assigned someone to watch over him to make sure that his essays were completed had he remained away from home, and so this arrangement was far preferable, even if it did mean he had to sit in this dark room and stare out the window, overlooking the street, wishing he could be out there.

In actual fact, was there really a reason why he couldn’t go out now. He didn’t have to work all day, every day, and there was no way he would have done, even if it was what his father had wanted. He was an adult, after all; he could do what he wanted. Perhaps he’d work at his books later, if he felt like it. Yes, after dinner, when it was dark and he wouldn’t be spending some time outside anyway. But now, he was going to do something he’d been wanting to do for a few days. Slamming his book shut without bothering to mark his place, William put on his boots, which he had discarded beneath the table earlier, and took his hat in his hand, leaving the house and smiling as he stepped into the fresh air.

This was the reason he loved living where he did so much. Of course it rained often, but there were some beautiful days, like today, when it was so nice to wander through the village, greeting those people he knew well, nodding at those he didn’t, humming to himself under his breath and getting away from the house for a few hours. But today, he had something else in mind; he was going to see if he could get inside the castle without being noticed. Oh, he was well aware that he wasn’t supposed to do it, and that there were certain people in his life who wouldn’t approve, but the castle, standing away from the rest of the village as it did, had been a source of intrigue for William ever since he had been a young boy, as were its occupants. He wasn’t really sure why he hadn’t thought of going closer before, but the thought had occurred to him the other day, when he’d seen a woman, presumably a maid, walking up towards it, and he’d been waiting for the opportune moment. His father was safely encased in his study, and therefore there was no-one to mind. Besides, the occupants might have been royal, but they were normal human beings, William was sure of that. It was probably quite lonely, in the huge building; he could hardly remember seeing them come out, if they had ever done. Who would want to pass up the chance to spend some time in William’s company?

A few minutes later, and William was pushing open the door to what was presumably some kind of entrance hall or reception room, glad to find that it was empty. Hm, it looked like this could be a nice place to live, but he thought that he preferred his father’s house, even with the other occupant being as sour as Vincent was. Still, he wasn’t going to look as though he were skulking; he could be here on business, for all anyone else knew, and it was with confidence that he quietly closed the large front door behind him, standing still for a moment and taking in his surroundings. From a nearby room – or perhaps round a corner, he wasn’t quite sure – William could hear a piano playing, and a sweet voice singing a song he didn’t recognise, although it was beautiful. Moving towards the voice, William paused in a doorway, watching the back of a young woman as she played the piano, and instrument which he himself loved, listening to her song. “You have a beautiful voice, Mademoiselle,” he said as the notes faded away, sounding completely at ease, as though he had every right to be here. “And that is a beautiful instrument.”

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

The song ended much too quickly for Alyson, as lovely as it was. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a time while the last of the notes filtered through the piano, and she sat back a little, a small smile on her face. How it was that she could keep the music flowing on the piano, as well as sing and not hit sour notes was still past her. Perhaps she just had a talent for it; perhaps also, she thought as she searched her brain for another song, it was simply because she took the time to practice, and she cared about what little songs she sang. Her heart was in them, and that meant something. It had to.

It was to her great and unending shock when an unfamiliar voice spoke at her, and she jumped, turning around quickly in her seat, her legs flying out before her to come to rest on the carpet far-side of the pedals. There before her, standing in the door and shining in the light was a strange man that she had never seen before. Her small body was suddenly so full of anger, so tired of people just.... walking into her home uninvited! It was not a bar or a tavern, where you could just come and go as you pleased... one needed an invitation. The girl, Penelope, she had just come in as though the house was unoccupied, when in fact there were people on the lawn, trimming the hedgerows. Was she blind, or did she just choose not to see that people were there? And now this gentleman, coming in without being seen in by a servant, unannounced... honestly, the nerve of some people.

"Thank you for you compliment now explain why you felt the desire to just walk into my house uninvited and unattended by a servant?" All in one breath, that was Alyson's way. "I will have to seriously scold Alphonse for his delinquency as door attendant of late; anyone who feels the need to just come onto our grounds feels they also can just come in unannounced."

She was very sore, very incredibly sore over another intrusion in so short a time. Never in ten years had anyone come to the castle unless they had been called to do it, and all of a sudden, as though the flood gates had been released, they just came. She rose from her spot, her dress falling to her bare feet and she almost stormed over to him. She was much smaller than he but she commanded her space and so took up more of it.

"Would you care to explain?" She was now close to him, close enough to get a better look of him, and her eyes relaxed a mite bit. She had only ever seen men who worked at the castle or were her brother, or those who her brother invited for whatever reasons he had. They were never so... young or unrelated to her as this man. He had a musky, earthy smell to him that she didn't notice before... and she wavered slightly. She was still furious, but she couldn't help but notice how pleasing to the eye this man was.

"Perhaps you've come to rid me of that wretch of a girl Penelope, who also arrived unintended or invited."

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

William might have enjoyed playing the piano immensely, but he did not possess a singing voice that was particularly pleasing to anyone (loud songs in the taverns after several bottles of wine were an exception, of course), and so he rarely chose to play songs, opting instead for pieces that were a challenge to him, certainly, but that he could get his teeth into and really work hard at. He felt that he would never have stuck at playing the piano for so long if it had not been for the fact that it had been his mother’s instrument; it was well known that William was not the sort of person who follow tasks through to the end unless he had great reason to, but, having never known his mother, he wanted to do something that reminded him of her. What better way was there than indulging himself in a hobby that she had enjoyed too? Perhaps it was silly, but he felt that it was partly her doing that made him wish to improve; she was up there, somewhere, watching him, and he wanted to make her proud of him. It was nice, then, to hear someone with a voice that was as beautiful as he’d said, sing such a pretty song. There wasn’t nearly enough singing in his household…none, actually, aside from him humming as he worked. He didn’t think his father had ever sung, except for at church, and even then, William thought that he was probably the sort of person to mouth the words.

William looked at the young woman with a slightly bemused expression on his face as she literally whirled round and started berating him for arriving unannounced. In all honesty, William didn’t think he could blame her; he would not be too happy if just anyone wandered into his house without cause or invitation, and her passion on the subject was certainly well founded. Still, if people didn’t want company, they shouldn’t leave their doors open. At least William was a respectable man, for all his faults. But some of the people of the village…they weren’t the sort of person a young lady like this would want in her home; hell, he wouldn’t want them in his home, and he could certainly take care of himself. Not that it seemed that she had any problem with that; were it not for his sense of adventure, William thought that it would probably be easier to make his apologies and disappear. It wasn’t as though she would ever see him again, after all. But he’d waited his whole life to be able to actually visit the castle, and he wasn’t going to pass up that chance now.

The castle was a source of gossip for all the village folk, whether they were old or young. Everyone knew the rumours of what had happened here, and the elusiveness of the occupants only helped to fuel the gossip mongers, but no-one really knew what it was like inside. Therefore, now he was here, he was darn well going to see as much as he could. Well, if he could get past this fierce girl, anyway. She certainly was not one you would wish to cross, he could see now, although an angry girl did not particularly bother him. He had encountered enough of them in his time, and he was sure she would run out of steam in a minute or two. He took opportunity of the time she was speaking to look around the room, disappointed to find most of the furniture covered with dust sheets, and the far corners being so dark it was impossible to see anything at all.

“I apologise,” William replied calmly. “There was nobody about to show me in, and I heard your singing. So beautiful,” he repeated, smiling down at the woman apologetically. “I could not help but investigate. I realise it was wrong of me, Mademoiselle, but playing the instrument myself, I am always interested in someone else who has as much love of the piano as I do.” However, as she mentioned Penelope, William’s expression changed. “Penelope comes here?” he asked, frowning. “What business would she have here? That will not please Lance…” For a moment he was silent, but then he remembered himself and turned his attention back to the lady. “I am inclined to agree with you; the girl is a wretch. If I can be of assistance…”

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

"There was nobody about to show me in, and I heard your singing. So beautiful..."

Alyson had to admit that at his words, with his eyes on her face, she resisted very hard the need to blush. She was still angry, supposedly, and she wanted to keep as much of that built up as she could. Well... as much as a person could when they found themselves absolutely fascinated with another person. Ha, another person... she hadn't had the luxury of saying that, well, ever. Not for a long, long while, anyway. Perhaps ever was too long a time, yes, most definitely too long a time. She just couldn't really remember the last time someone other than her brother gazed directly into her eyes like that.

Suddenly, at the mention of Penelope, his face turned sour and she noticed a slight twinkle in his eyes, something a bit like frustration and anger. She watched as he seemed to link a few things together in his head, and her own eyes lit up at his next words. “If I can be of assistance…” It was all she really needed to hear. She didn't really need to have the girl gone, though, having some sort of arrangement where she wasn't at the castle every day poking and prodding into things that she had no business doing, well now, that would be something else. Not that she wanted her brother to suffer, she just needed his head clear for just a little while longer, so that they could disenchant their parents.

After that she would have protection, she would be able to learn from someone how to go out into the world, though, the more Phillip had that dreamy look in his eyes, the less she figured she would never leave the castle. She knew that if he left for any reason she would do the right and reckless thing and just leave and be gone. Where she would go she had no idea, but she knew that she would die in that castle, alone and cold, without family or friend in the world. Princess or not, her title didn't matter much other than the amount of money her brother was able to collect with taxes, and she was just a sad, broken girl. Perhaps she would go to Paris and be a court maid, or perhaps....

Her face broke out into a smile. She didn't want to travel down that road just yet, not by herself anyway. This young man obviously knew Penelope, and probably knew how to get her gone. He would be a very fine implement in getting what she wanted, and so, the manipulation began, though, not as heavy handed as she would have normally gone; he seemed sincere in his concern and his dislike of the girl, and she could respect that. Perhaps his services rendered would come as easily as he offered.

"You... what is your name. You may be of use to me yet. You may call me Your Highness, until you earn the privilege of calling me Princess Alyson."

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

William couldn’t quite fathom out why Penelope would be coming to the castle of all places, but he was certain that when he told his best friend, Lance wouldn’t be particularly pleased about it; there was no way that he wouldn’t tell Lance, for though he disagreed with his friend’s obsession and disliked the girl immensely, he was loyal towards him, and if he wanted to waste his life chasing after this girl who obviously did not return his feelings, then so be it. As long as William didn’t end up being some kind of messenger, or have to skulk around late at night making sure nobody was watching as Lance tried to sneak upon Penelope, that was fine by him. What it was about the girl he didn’t like, William wasn’t sure, as he had never actually met her, but the way his best friend seemed almost to be possessed by her was something that made him resentful. His friends were of the utmost importance to him, and to lose one of his closest because of this girl who was not half as attractive as the young lady facing him was not something that he wanted to happen, yet he felt that Lance was slowly being dragged away by something he would probably never be able to have.

But this woman, she was attractive, William realised suddenly, watching as the anger seemed to fade visibly from her face. This must be the little princess, he thought, the idea having never even crossed his mind until that moment. No wonder she had kept herself here, alone; all the men of the village would be vying for her hand in a moment if she so much as stepped outside the door. Still, it must have been lonely; William couldn’t abide spending time by himself, unless he was doing something that he could really throw himself into. Having spent so many years at school isolated from his classmates (admittedly it was due to his own disregard for the rules, but they were damn stupid rules, and he had been isolated nonetheless), keeping his friends close was important to him; he did not wish to end his days alone, and having someone to turn to was always a necessity. How she coped being on her own so much, William couldn’t begin to imagine. Did she not wonder what was outside these castle walls, in the village beyond?

William could not answer that, but he knew that he was wondering what was within these walls. He had always been interested in the buildings of the village, finding the history of the builds as well as the former occupants fascinating, but the castle had stood above them all, just a little out of reach and far grander than anything else. Every child had wanted to go inside, the girls to become princesses, the boys princes, in order to ride majestic steeds and rule the world, but none of them had actually managed it. He might have been a little too old to dream of being a prince now, and it certainly wasn’t something that he wanted to become, but William was glad that he had at least seen this part of the house, even if he was ordered out with the next words spoken. It would still be something to talk about, which would probably turn into boasting with a few large glasses of wine…nonetheless, it was an experience, even if nothing did become of it. He wished he could get to know this lonely princess, though, presuming of course that she was the princess and not a distant relation come to stay, or something of the sort. Her defensiveness and spirit intrigued him; most of the people he knew were mellow spirited and preferred sitting in a tavern to doing anything else.

“William Lambert, Your Highness,” he replied, the final two words sounding somewhat mocking, a reflection of his belief that all people should be equal, royalty included. However, he bowed his head politely, a smile gracing his lips; his suspicions had been correct, and this was the elusive princess that no-one had seen neither hide nor hair of for years. He wondered what ‘use’ he might be to her; after all, he was just a young man with little sense of propriety and a tendency to walk into castles uninvited, but no doubt he would find out soon enough. “It is a pleasure to meet you. What might one have to do to earn such a privilege?”

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

“It is a pleasure to meet you. What might one have to do to earn such a privilege?”

Alyson opened her mouth to reply, but heard the creak of a door near here; Penelope might in the castle at this very moment, and she didn't want the silly girl to hear how Alyson was planning to remove her thorn from her side. Nor, for that matter, did she want the usual prying ears of her servants to eavesdrop on this particular conversation. She would have to wait, she thought with a frown, to better understand this man, get to know him so that they might find a way to communicate and get a message across without meaning what they said. She had learned all kinds of codes from her books... now to figure out what kind this man could handle.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Her voice was still slightly hot, but she gave a wry smile. "Walk with me, for the time being, and we shall see what you might do to earn such things..." Alyson said, darting her eyes around his tall frame and toward the entrance hall. The kitchens were down and her own room above, but she knew better than to bring a strange man to her room and barely know him, unlike her brother who was willing to bring about anyone anywhere... sometimes he was such a mess to try and take care of. She did understand that conundrum, that she was taking care of her brother, who was in turn taking care of her, but he did not know just how wily a woman could be, and well, she did, because she was one.

She hurried over to the piano and returned the dust cover to its original position, and pushed the bench closer to the pedals. Her lessons would have to be put off for a while, maybe until later when all was still and quiet in the castle. She would dampen the strings then, and if anyone had issue they could rightly just tell her to go to bed. Then again, there were other lessons as well, quieter ones. Perhaps she would just wait until tomorrow to finish her piano playing, maybe do some dancing this night instead.

Now she was back at the doorway, looking at William, up, down, now she was padding through the entrance hall, her feet enjoying the cool kiss of the stones. Her dress flowed back behind her, shining and pale in the light coming through the high windows, and she stopped shortly before the hall bound itself with the room which housed the split of doors and the grand stair. If they followed the path straight they would go past the kitchens, a shortcut to the dining hall, a smaller room for small, quiet meals. It wasn't every day they ate at that grossly long table, you know... well, they rarely ate in the dining hall. To the right would be the throne room, to the right of that the grand ball room. If they veered left they would find themselves in a different set of parlor rooms, the library was on this floor as well. Up above were rooms and studies, a place for games and light reading... her home had many rooms, many places to hide and explore, and she knew every one of them, loved every one of them. Each had different things, different paintings and tapestries, each had a life and story of their own to tell... but each was somber, damask. It was a pretty little cage...

"Are you coming or not? There is a great deal we must speak about, and I do not wish to stay in one place at this time."

She turned back around, taking a left. She would wander toward the library, but end up outside near the pond, which she loved so much. If he had the nerve, which she assumed he did since he had wandered into her home anyway, he would be but two steps behind her in two shakes of a lamb's tail.

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

The situation he was in now reminded William somewhat of a novel he had once read, the sort of book that his father despised and therefore he had to read in his room at night – he did not wish to get into an unnecessary argument with the man, although there were so many things that he did not approve of. However, in it, the roles had been reversed; it had been a feisty, but poor young lady from the Normandy countryside that a rich young man, some Lord or Duke, had stumbled upon in his drawing room. Of course, through over-elaborate words and phrases, the man and the woman had fallen in love, despite the social scandal, and been married within the year, and ended up being a happy family with several children and pots of money. Not that that was likely to happen here, as much as William needed a wife before he became officially middle-aged. After all, he’d just wandered into her house, and she was angry at him. It was hardly love at first sight, was it? William was beginning to think that he might not even believe in love, it seemed to be so elusive. He’d known so many women, but none of them had seemed right.

He had to find someone to marry soon, though, or his father would force some ugly, fat woman onto him because she was rich, and all her money would become his. William did not want that in the slightest; a marriage of convenience was not the one for him, although he knew it worked well for many people. He wanted to love the woman he married from the outset, but she also had to be the sort of person his father would approve of. It was harder than it sounded; there was not much his father did approve of, and it seemed that no lady, whoever she was, would be good enough. If it wasn’t for the fact that he would be destitute without his father’s support, and eventually his estate, he would have married whomever he pleased. If only it were that easy, though. Things were never as easy as they first appeared.

Even coming here wasn’t as easy as he’d thought. Perhaps foolishly, William had been under the impression that he could stand in the entrance hall for a bit, looking around him and taking in as many rooms as he could see without disturbing anybody, and then disappear off to relay his tales to his friends. However, it was as he’d told the princess; her pretty little song had enticed him in further, and now it seemed as though she was thinking up some scheme for him to complete for her. William didn’t like schemes; they ended up meaning a lot of work, and he was not fond of that. If he’d had more staying power, he probably would have been a magistrate four or five years ago; the fact that he was still studying, and nowhere near finishing doing so, was reflection enough on his work ethic.

He just hoped she didn’t want him to slay a dragon or something stupid like that; there was something completely compelling about her that made him want to spend time in her company, despite his beliefs about royalty, and he certainly did not wish to make her angry at him again. A quick retreat would be in order in that case…probably as far away as Lyon. He could always pretend that he wanted to go back because of the large libraries, or something of the sort. Not that it was ever going to happen; he was an adventurous man, always looking out for something slightly risky to amuse himself with, and here was the perfect opportunity. And as he’d told people so many times, she was only a human being. There could be nothing major that the woman would want him for. She was probably just lonely. God knew he would be, were he stuck in some castle for years on end.

Oh dear, he had let his thoughts carry him away for a few moments, and it seemed that Alyson was waiting for him to follow. What was he doing, acting like some animal to follow or some servant to be ordered? However, his sense of adventure prevailed, along with his desire to keep himself in the princess’ favour, and so he took one last look around the dark room with the piano in before following, catching her up in a few strides. She would soon learn that William did not take well to orders, but preferred to do things for other people because they requested it, or because he was their friend and they deserved it. But if this was what he would have to do to get a good look at the castle - and potentially make a new friend, he added to his thought, for didn’t everyone need friends, even lonely, spirited princesses? – then it was worth it. “I am coming,” he replied as he reached her, still smiling. “I have to admit, I am intrigued to see inside your home. It is a source of conversation for us in the village from the time we are old enough to want to play at princes and dragons, because none of us could ever foresee ourselves coming inside. Yet, I suppose that is not always true; we never know what may come upon us, as here I am.” All the while he was talking, he was looking around him, trying to take in as much as he possibly could, like a child faced with the decision of which cake to get for Sunday tea, and not knowing which row to look at first. “I apologise, I probably talk too much. It is a fault of mine, one which I cannot seem to remedy.”

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

“I apologise, I probably talk too much. It is a fault of mine, one which I cannot seem to remedy.”

Alyson didn't care how much he talked; it would give her more time to think. Think... think about how to get rid of Penelope. He mentioned a name, Lance, that he would be displeased if he knew Penelope was coming to the castle. She would need to meet this gentleman, find out his relationship with the girl, take advantage of his displeasure and perhaps alert him to the fact that she was interested romantically in her brother. Jealousy was a powerful weapon when you knew how to wield it against others. Of course, it would please her brother none too much that she had displaced his pretty little things, but he would get over himself. There were better girls in the world for him, and she knew that to be true.

Penelope... Alyson's mind flicked over the problem as she strode toward the library. She didn't notice that her traveling companion was slow, trying to take in the sights around him, and after a turn down the corridor she finally noticed that he wasn't behind her. She turned around and wandered back the way she had come, and found him, staring at his surroundings as though they were some magical vision that would disappear if he didn't soak them all in now. What a silly notion, she thought, striding up to him. Why would anyone want to play the prince of a lonely castle? Perhaps they just didn't know that it was lonely, that there were worse things afoot inside than dragons.

Now she was looking at him impatiently. "If you are so interested in seeing everything I will personally give you a tour later, but now is the time for conversation, good William. We cannot discuss anything in the halls, or for that matter, in the castle. There is a place, and the shortcut there is through this way."

She turned around again, not even glancing over her shoulder, and turned the corner again. The tall doors to the library loomed, and she glanced at the curved handle, and twitched as it opened and Etienne stumbled through, a load of books in his arms. She ran forward and reach out, catching the three books that fell from the top of his load gracefully, and stood upright, smiling at him.

"Alyson, thank you!" he breathed, steadily walking toward the wheeled cart that was just behind one of the tables in the hall. He set his load down and Alyson followed, handing him the books.

"No problem, Etienne," she said, giving him a warm smile. "Be careful when you carry so many books next time... bring the cart inside and put the books on them there."

"Of course," he said, an honest look of thanks on his face. "Why didn't I think of that in the first place? Thank you again, Alyson."

Alyson shrugged as she continued on her way, and with a few backwards steps said to him, "You were just eager is all... you should just take care next time, all right?" Her comment was met with a quick nod and then the squeak of wheels going off in the direction of the dumbwaiter which would eventually rise to the level of her room. She had requested those books earlier, and she would read through most of them before the end of the week. She turned her head to check on the man who was supposed to be following her, and noted that the door to the library was still open; she took a few quick steps and had the handle of the door in her hand.

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

It was very unlike William to stare so much; like most children, he had been brought up to know that it was very impolite – no matter if the woman selling flowers on the street corner did look like a hag, you were not allowed to stare at her, because nice, well brought up boys did not stare. It was quite annoying, really; at least when you were a child, because there were so many people and places that would have invoked staring as you walked about town, but for William, a sharp rap on the back of his legs with his father’s cane was enough to stop him doing it. But here, he felt like a child again, just without the hitting every time he looked for just a little too long. Alyson could not understand how fascinating it was for someone like him to actually be inside the castle for the first time in his life, having lived here forever, and there was so much for him to see. William might have been brought up in a very nice house, with a well-off father and enough servants, but it was nothing like this. It might have been dark here, but William was used to rooms panelled in dark mahogany, lit with few candles, and that was not the interest for him.

It was more the fact that all children had been wanting to enter the castle for as long as they could remember, and it was this childish appeal, despite William’s twenty-seven years, that had him staring at all the portraits, trying to peer through slightly open doors, and most importantly, trying to absorb the atmosphere of the castle. Hopefully he’d have the chance to return at some point, if whatever Alyson suggested was agreeable, because he did like the young woman a lot, and wished to spend some more time in her company, but in case she decided that she didn’t like him or something, he had to try and take in as much as he could now. This was going to be the source of conversation in the taverns for nights now, and William would probably be asked to recount the story of how he had simply walked into the castle, come across the princess that no-one had seen for years, and have a business proposition thrown at him, innumerable times. Not that that was much of an issue; William loved speaking, and loved having all eyes on him. But now was not the time to talk, he knew that. He had to keep walking, see as much as he could in one go, and try and keep the princess on his good side. It couldn’t be that hard.

William turned his head as Alyson came towards him; he had been so absorbed in his own little world that he’d almost forgotten that he was supposed to have been following her so that the two could talk. However, a smile came to his face, broad as anything, at her suggestion. Besides, he liked being called ‘good William’ although he had never been addressed as such before; it was better than being called lazy or a time waster, as his father preferred. “I should very much like for you to give me a tour,” he replied, able to drag his eyes away from everything with the prospect and concentrate on the task ahead. He wasn’t entirely sure what she would ask of him, but he was sure he would agree, as long as it did not sound too much like hard work. Even for a pretty princess, he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything that required him to bore himself to death.

It was with interest that William watched the exchange between Alyson and someone whom he presumed was a servant as he rounded the corner. It was strange, the way he addressed her. Even in his house, none of the servants would have dared to call either him or his father by solely their first name. His father was simply ‘Sir’ or ‘the master’, which he, being more laid back and generally more approachable, was ‘Mr William’, which suited him fine. However, his father would have had palpitations if one of the maids had called him anything other than that. After all, here he was, having to call the princess ‘Your Highness’, whereas there was no recognition of her status here at all, something he found somewhat perplexing, although he was sure that it was not worth dwelling on. “It appears that someday I might be able to call you by your name alone, Your Highness,” William commented, not sounding at all concerned either way, although he found it impossible to call her such a title without a hint of mockery. Surely ‘Miss’ or even ‘Madam’ would have sufficed, especially in a place where it seemed there were few outsiders? Still, who was he to question what she wished to be addressed as; what was in a name?

The more important matter was, what was behind the door that Alyson looked about to shut? After all, all the doors that he’d seen so far had been shut, or very nearly so, and he had not had the chance to actually look inside the rooms. If he walked a couple more paces, he would be able to see inside without any trouble, and perhaps he could make it look natural, as though he were not staring (although that was what he was doing), but merely looking where he was going…or something like that. Either way, he took a few more steps forward, and, wow. William didn’t think he had ever seen so many books in one room before. Rows upon rows of them, stacked high; it made the library at his father’s house seem like a tiny pantry in comparison. “That is…some room,” he said eventually, thinking that he had probably found a room that he loved more than his room at home, with its piano, bookshelves, and secret decanter, and that was saying something; William loved that decanter.

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

She should have closed the door fast; and she regretted her hesitance the moment William stepped toward her. She knew the villager would instantly crumble at the sight of her library... and yes, she did say hers. Her brother had as much of claim to the books in there that she did, but it was her thirst for knowledge that had compelled her to pull volume after volume off the shelves, reading as though her very life depended upon it. Perhaps not so extreme, but her hunger for knowledge, for that which she did not already know... that was a pain that she pondered might have the ability to kill her. Not that it would, but it was something she considered heavily. Without her books she grew listless, running more and more, exploring into places her brother grew angry at her for. Then there was always her desire to learn witchcraft, which he had forbidden entirely. Something about it being much too dangerous for her, and that she would never be powerful enough in this lifetime to change back their parents.

Pooh. That was all she had to say about that. She looked at the stranger up and down, trying to figure out what it was that was going on in his head. He seemed so innocent, standing in the pale light, staring helplessly at the inside of the library... the door began to swing shut under her hands and she firmly closed the door with a quiet yet solid thud. She gave him a half-smile, the first she'd decided to honestly give since they encountered one another.

Disregarding his comment on her choice of nominal, since she found it slightly rude, even for a Frenchman, she responded instead to his latter comment. "It's a very wonderful place," she sighed, turning back toward the direction she had been walking, this time at a slightly slower pace. "The only terrible shame about it is that I'm running out of things to read." Oh, if only it weren't true! The books being taken away were the last of the final few shelves that she had yet to touch upon... aside from the books pertaining to languages, of course. She had to read those as time would allow. Otherwise, she enjoyed the books on history, geography, culture, science... Anything, really. Astronomy was a special point of interest, though she usually gave it a rare second glance when there were other things to be read, like the books on the ancient Egyptians, or reading works pertaining to the Bible. There were many books which she loved and chanced to read again. Ten years, after all, were a long time to be very much alone and without direction.

"Shall we continue then? There is but a piece I must speak of with you, then you will be able to go at your own pace. I am indeed in quite a rush - you would be too if you had a volatile intruder such as Penelope in your home, interfering in affairs that were not hers to interfere with."

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

William would have stood in awe at the room for hours if he’d had the chance to; he’d never seen so many books in one place, and he was sure that there were subjects in here that he had barely heard about, just waiting to be read. It could never have been said that he was a particularly scholarly person, with his preference for good company and alcohol to spending time on his own with a book, but even so, he knew a good library when he saw one. Besides, the only books that he really disliked were those pertaining to law, and anything that brought him closer to having to hold down a job and be independent financially. If it were a novel, or on a subject that interested him, then William was quite happy to sit in his bedroom well into the night, supposing that the book happened to grasp his attention, of course, and he could devour a book of several hundred pages in days, if it were interesting. That was the key, though; if he did not enjoy a book, or had to read it, it was likely to take him years, as he just kept putting it off, finding other things to do with his time, things that he actually enjoyed. How much longer was he going to have to do things because his father wished him to do them?

He was an adult, after all, but being unmarried and living under the same room as his father meant that William had to at least attempt to follow some of the rules he lay down, although God knew William wasn’t particularly inclined to follow regulations; he set out to defy them on many occasions, and were it not for the money and security that his father provided, he probably would have been far more disobedient. He had his own mind, and his own views. That was not a problem to most people, as long as he was not pig-headed enough to believe that his opinion was the only one that mattered. However, while he lived with his father, apparently he could only have the same, conservative, capitalist views that Vincent had. As soon as he had enough money, he was going to see about buying his own house, although that seemed a long way off. His allowance paid for clothes, wine, carriages and books, but that was about all. Until he had an income of his own…but that meant studying, and William did not wish to spend any more time with his nose in those books than was absolutely necessary.

How could she be running out of things to read in there, William wondered as she shut the door, forcing him to concentrate his thoughts on other things instead. There were just so many books; it would surely take years to read them all. And then, by the time the last one had been read, wouldn’t she have forgotten what was in the first one, thus enabling her to read them all again? “You must be a very avid reader, to have read all those books,” William replied, feeling more and more insignificant at every turn in this massive castle. Oh, he’d never thought himself particularly important, but he was no working-class lad, yet there were things here, the like of which he’d only been able to imagine before, that made a part of him wish he’d never entered. Of course, that was not a true sentiment, because he was glad that he had, but perhaps things felt better when you did not know what they were truly like. He felt almost as though he had come from another planet, the world around him, with its vast library, long, dark corridors and informal servants, was so alien to him, and it was not a pleasant feeling. He could only hope that once they began talking, things would be easier.

“I truly am sorry if it seems as though I am staring or prying,” William said, continuing just a step behind Alyson. “It is just that everything here is so unknown to me. I am like a child asked to sample a cake, but not being able to decide which sort would be the best. There is so much that is of interest, but I do not intend to appear rude.” Nodding briefly, William continued, “I understand your concern, Your Highness. Penelope might not be in my home, but she is in my life, much as I do not wish her to be, and she is most certainly interfering in the affairs of others without anyone’s permission. She has changed everything, and not for the better.”

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

"She has changed everything, and not for the better.”

Alyson nodded, completely agreeing with him on that point. It would seem that he was an agreeable person after all, at the very least someone who had a commonality with her, and though that particular thread was an issue for the both of them, it was a start toward more common ground. She smiled as she walked beside him, deciding that she could forgive him perhaps for intruding into her home. He was going to help her, after all.

Now they were at the small wooden door that led outside, and she pulled on the handle, pushing the door out and to a very shabby view of parts of the castle. To the left it was a huge expanse of stone wall, rising high and broken apart by glass formed as windows. To the right was the huge curve that filled the library, and there were only windows on high, almost so high you couldn't see them any more. Here before her bare feet was a well trodden path, dirt and small stones, edged by scrubby little grasses and a few wild flowers that dared to grow were oft a foot fell.

"It's this way," she said almost shyly, stepping lightly on her toes. No one but Brigitte knew of this secret place, though it was not really a secret. Was it often visited by servants? Never, not any more, anyway. The path led past the rose garden, the glass garden room that was filled with flowers and benches all year round, a good place for reading and hiding. It wound past the plot of land allotted to the servants for growing their own food, and just past that the woods began, and that was where the pond was hidden... it was where the old fisherman used to live and gather the scrumptious snails that would be served at the finer parties. He left when the King disappeared, and his small house edging the pond had not since been filled. Alyson found it when she was seven, wandering the grounds in search of a good hiding place that Phillip hadn't discovered first. She had stumbled across the man pulling traps from the pond full of croakers. She had been shocked at him, but he had smiled and invited her in for a cup of tea, and she obliged, and they had talked and she had come back. He was a gentle, kind old man who enjoyed his employment, and loved her parents; he had left shortly after they were changed and she hadn't seen him since. It often wandered into her mind that he had gone in search of the way to turn them back, and he would return, fix her parents, and sit down and have another cup of tea with her, another talk about the forest....

She was quiet on her trek, thinking of these things that had come to pass, and it was around the menagerie that she looked up and noticed William there. She chuckled slightly and decided an apology was best, but he had not spoken either, so she did not bother. She looked around, noticing that they were just nearing the servant's garden; no one was tending it.

"Hold on a minute," she said softly, turning sharply right and pressing down into the well-tilled earth with her toes. She stole over and pulled a carrot from the ground, using her hands to brush off the large chunks of dirt from it. There was a bucket of water close, and she dipped the carrot down inside, sloshing it around to get the rest of the sod off. "Would you... care for one?" She pointed at the large orange object in her hand that was still warm from it's time in the ground.

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

If only life could go back to how it had been before Penelope had turned up, or at least become noticeable. William couldn’t honestly have said if she’d lived in the village all her life or had moved there recently, because village gossip did not tend to thrill him. That was something for the women to chatter about over tea and biscuits in the parlour of whomever’s house they happened to be visiting that week, and then spread around the village like a bad cold. It was impossible not to hear the gossip, but it seemed that he and his friends had more important things to talk about when they met up than who had moved in or out, and whatever the scandal of the week was. What they talked about William couldn’t always remember the next day, but he was sure that it was far more important than any idle female conversations were. Penelope did tend to be a regular topic between him and Lance, though, when they did manage to talk. It seemed to William that that was becoming less and less frequent, though.

This woman was stealing his best friend away from him. At times when they used to go walking or riding, Lance was now following what she was doing, or at least trying to get William suggest places that she might go to, so he could have the opportunity to follow her. Well, it seemed that he knew where she was going now, though what purpose she could have in the castle, he could only imagine. But it wasn’t fair, her coming into their lives without a warning and changing everything. He had been happy with his life as it had been. Of course, it would have been better if his father had been a more amiable person, and he’d perhaps had a wife or better wine, but relatively speaking, he had not wished to change anything. Now, he wanted to get rid of Penelope, not in the way of murder, or anything so final and cruel, but just remove her from their lives. Did anyone really want her here? He didn’t, the princess didn’t. How many other people in the village didn’t?

Well, it wasn’t as though William could conduct some kind of survey to find out, was it? But hopefully he and Alyson would come to some agreement when they finally reached wherever it was that she was taking him, and both of them would benefit from it. He would get his best friend back, and she would get back her privacy in this castle, which was what he presumed she felt Penelope had been meddling in; after all, hadn’t she been angry when he had entered without permission (although it seemed that that had been forgotten, or at least forgiven, now, and therefore he wasn’t going to mention it again), and she’d made it sound as though the woman was coming here on more than one occasion. Why? That was what William could not work out; it was a beautiful place, he was sure, and the gardens, which they had just walked past, were too, but even he would not come back a second time without invitation. Of course, he hoped that there would be an invitation coming his way asking him to return, but one could never be quite sure, even if he did think that she was smiling at him more now than she had been before.

Women were strange creatures to try and understand, William thought. He’d known that for many years, and had given up attempting to understand most of them, and he supposed it was hard because he’d never had the guidance of a woman in his life; there had been nursemaids and the like, but he’d never really listened to them, and it had been his father that had brought him up. The problem was, they were just so unpredictable. You couldn’t tell whether they liked you, hated you, were going to shout at you for no real reason, or suddenly go completely silent and not say a word. Why couldn’t they be more like men? They said what they pleased, talked to whomever they wanted to, and didn’t change their mood halfway through a conversation. It would have been so much easier to understand women if they were like that, but William didn’t think that he’d ever really understand the gentler sex. He certainly didn’t understand the princess.

Putting his hat on his head and putting his hands into the pockets of his coat, William watched with a half smile as Alyson dug around in the ground. She appeared so natural, as if she wandered around outside barefoot all the time, and it was enchanting. “Yes, thank you,” he replied, looking warmly at her, unable to help the smile spreading across his face. She was so unusual and innocent, yet seemed wiser than her years as well. “Do you have many gardens like this one, growing vegetables?” she asked, gesturing towards the dug earth. There was a small vegetable patch at the bottom of the garden of his father’s house, tended by the gardener, but it did not get as much attention as the lawns and flowerbeds, and so they had to buy most of their fresh vegetables from the market. William did not possess green fingers, and for him, gardens were only for socialising and walking, and even the latter he did rarely; there were forests around the village that provided far more interesting walks, in his opinion. Anything to get away from the house.

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

“Do you have many gardens like this one, growing vegetables?”

The carrot was already half-way out of the ground when he was speaking, and it was completely out of the ground by the time he finished speaking. It took was brushed off, washed, and she was already hiking her way back up the little hill to the path, her carrot in her hand and the other extended out to him. As soon as her foot struck hard dirt she thrust it in his direction, keeping her hand out to him as she picked up the trail again. The sun was shining and she felt very wonderful all of a sudden, as though a giant weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. It would turn out to be a good day, even if she had been barged in on.

"Yes, there are more, that way..." She had taken a bite of her carrot and was talking with her mouth half full, and pointed with the still-warm carrot in the direction opposite the way they had come. It waggled a bit before finding its way back to her mouth and she took another bite. It was almost juicy as she chewed, and she thought about why he would ask such a thing. "Not a lot of travel goes on between here and the village, as you might have noted," she said softly, swinging in her steps. "Mostly only the servants go to town and beyond, get what Phillip or I or anyone else might need. We're well supplied for that matter, but there's something lost in transported vegetables."

They were into the woods now, and she chewed and swallowed and smiled and turned and twirled. It was something most people saw her do when she went this way, and why bother changing it now? If she stormed off into the woods something would seem awful suspicious of that, and someone might take to coming and looking at her. That she wouldn't have, not when she needed this time to really be alone. It would be a bad time for someone to take to following her.

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

There were times when William wished that his father was more concerned about other people’s feelings, in particular those of his son, than he was in reality. For the most part, William preferred the fact that his father kept himself to himself, only speaking to William when he wished to berate the young man for something that he deemed unacceptable (which seemed to be most aspects of William’s life), because it saved unnecessary awkwardness and the heated discussions which tended to ensue when the two said more to each other than the formal exchanges heard over a meal, for example. However, everything in the household was run to Vincent’s orders, and there was little to keep William there, aside from the fact that it was cheap and he had no money of his own. He couldn’t afford to lease a place of his own on the allowance his father gave him, and he wasn’t going to get a job until it was absolutely essential. The only place in the house that he had been allowed to mould to his own tastes was his room, but aside from that, he had had no say in the house or gardens. Standing here, watching as Alyson seemed so at home in the vegetable garden, William thought that perhaps he would have liked to have the chance to watch fruits grow in his own garden, as opposed to in the hedgerows he walked past on his rambles. Having a little patch of earth for the growing of useful plants was certainly something he could see the benefit in, and he was not sure why his father hadn’t seen that.

Not that there was anything wrong with wild berries; far from it. William loved the way that the plants of the countryside grew higgledy-piggledy wherever they chose, bursting into brightly coloured flowers or deep, juicy berries almost spontaneously. There was an uncultivated feeling to it that always made William smile; life here was always so rigid and formal, in every way from the clothes people wore to the way they addressed each other, and it was good to know that there was some freedom in the world. It surprised him that he also felt far more free here, at a castle far larger than any building he had ever been in and in the company of none other than a princess, than he had ever done at his own house. Whether it was the fact that no-one from the village knew where he was, or the girl’s manner, or the fact that it was a nice day, he wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it was a good feeling to have. A feeling of liberty, however small it was, was something that everyone should have the chance to taste.

The carrot Alyson had handed him tasted good too; he nodded his thanks and bit into it, finding it warm and juicy, a taste that you did not get with vegetables that had been dug up at some unearthly hour in the morning, transported perhaps miles to the market, and then sat on a cart all day, until they were bought by the cook or kitchen maid to be used in a meal the next day. The only time William thought he’d had something so fresh was when he’d eaten berries from the bushes on the outskirts of the forest, and they had been delicious too. “Mm, I can see that now,” William replied, finishing his mouthful before replying. “My father does not believe in growing our own vegetables, and I do not think I have tasted a carrot so fresh and delicious, as they all come from the market in our household,” he explained. “My father does not believe in a lot of things,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Still, he didn’t have to linger on the thought, for the sight of Alyson twirling along the way like a free spirit, without a care in the world, brought a large smile to his face. He wished he could join her, she looked so free and uninhibited, but there was something holding him back, some innocence of youth that he had lost, that made him feel self-conscious just thinking about expressing himself in such a way.

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

“My father does not believe in a lot of things.”

Alyson's mind was wandering over many thoughts and she half-heard him, half-cared about his concern. It was one thing to dissent over something, like not being able to grow fresh vegetables. It was another to dislike your father for his choices in life. She could not hate her father and mother for their choice in never letting her leave the grounds; she did not understand it and she might rightly never fully know why. Until you knew the logic and reasoning behind something, you should never ever judge someone else. You usually would never know unless you asked, and even then, the other person would have a whole row of things that would never be known to you, past experiences and situations that influence their choices. She stopped in her movements as she neared the trees and turned around to face the man still eating his carrot. She had finished hers, and tossed the top on the ground.

Silence echoed out of the trees as he came closer, and she simply gazed into his eyes. Perhaps his father had been dealt a heavy hand in childhood, perhaps his father's mother had been a drunk and thrashed him. Maybe it was that he had lost something very dear to him, and could not bear the thought of a life without that something. Perhaps also it was simply that he was a disagreeable man, and William simply couldn't mesh his personality against the other. There were a plethora of things that could be the case, and while it teased her mind to delve into it, she did not, she could not. Her forethoughts were consumed with the image of her brother ensnared by that little devil Penelope, who would rip her brother away from her and send poor Alyson into a world of discontent. How cruel and undeserving!

"William, your father is your father. His father was his father. I am sure that your father disagreed with many of the things that his father did and said, just as you obviously disagree with your father." Her words were soft and light and she walked beside him as he neared her, wandering along the path before them. "You should not hold such grievances against your father; have you considered his perspective? Do you know what goes on in his mind? Until you do, his choices should be counted as rational as your own. We all do things for different reasons. My own father set forth a rule that my brother and I were to never leave the castle grounds, which I have not disobeyed or found complaint in. He had his reasons, and while I cannot ask him what those reasons are, I am sure they are very justifiable."

She looked him over as they walked and shook her head slightly. This poor lad had no idea what it would mean to be in her place, to have no real father or mother to turn toward and ask comfort for. Whatever this young man's troubles were she knew she would not be able to heal them, that he had to find the questions and ask himself to begin the healing. It would be a long process for him, but if he accepted what his father requested as a genuine care, then his heart would be eased a little more, even if he still disagreed with what his father had to say. it was bound to happen with all people, and she couldn't stop it. What she could stop, though, was Penelope, and she would find a way.

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

William finished his carrot, and having seen what Alyson did with the top of hers, dropped the top. The fact that it was fresh from the ground seemed to have given it a fresher, earthier taste than those vegetables that were bought at market and rinsed thoroughly before coming anywhere near a dining table, or perhaps it was the fact that William was aware of the fact that the carrot had been dug up no more than a minute before he had eaten it. He would have to ask his father again if they could have a vegetable patch at the end of their garden; it seemed to make a lot of sense, and it would certainly give him something to do with all the free time he had. It might even save money on the vegetables that they currently had to buy at market. That was two arguments already that William was sure his father would at least consider, although knowing his luck, Vincent would be able to come up with some reason or other to say no, as he invariably did. Sometimes William wondered if his father was going out of his way to spite him.

It certainly did seem that William’s father did not want his son to do anything of his own choosing. If it was not so economically beneficial for him, he probably would have bought a house of his own years ago, but he was beginning to think that he would have to knuckle down to his studying so that he could earn his own money; there was a limit to how much longer he could take living with his father. William was well aware that he probably wasn’t the easiest person to live with, and could probably get rather irritating at times, but he’d thought that fathers were the people that children – particularly sons – were meant to be closest to. Perhaps it was the fact that his mother had died giving birth to him and his father had never quite been able to disassociate William with that fact, or that he had spent his formative years out of the house and had been sent away for his teenage years, and had therefore never had a chance to get to know what sort of a man his father was. Whatever the reason, William seemed destined to disagree with the man. It wasn’t particularly something he wanted to delve into…and it certainly wasn’t any business of the Princess!

Anger flooded William’s expression and he turned away from Alyson in an attempt to hide it, striding forward down the path. It wasn’t really anger that he was feeling, he knew that, because she wasn’t to know that his relationship with his father was a sore point and not something that he wished to discuss, yet he was more than mildly annoyed – more at himself and his father than at her though. Why couldn’t he be like her, accepting of things and able to obey the orders of those more senior than herself? It was his father’s fault that he wasn’t like that, because William had never been given the chance to know his father in order to accept that he was in charge, and Vincent had never expressed a wish to see his son until William had been much older. If he’d had his father’s firm but loving hand showing him what was right and wrong when he’d been little, maybe they would not have so many arguments now; maybe there would be love and understanding in their relationship. “Oh yes, I should try to understand the reasoning of a man who suffocates his son with rules and restraints and refuses to let him choose his own path in life – a man who has never tried to get to know his only child,” he said bitterly, coming to a standstill and running a hand through his hair.

“Please, Your Highness,” he continued a moment later, turning back round, his voice softer. “Please do not seek to lecture me on how I should attempt to understand a man who has never tried to understand me.”

[Ron Weasley]

green finch, and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing...

“Please do not seek to lecture me on how I should attempt to understand a man who has never tried to understand me.”

Alyson bowed her head in respect to what William had to say. He was absolutely correct - it was not her place. But, if he had not wanted some sort of dialogue about it, why did he bring it up? The logic of his manner escaped her, but she wouldn't let it bother her. Gingerly, she placed a small hand on the dark fabric of his sleeve and looked up at him.

"William, I did not mean to seem meddlesome." She paused, giving her next words some thought. "My apologies." These last words were not oft spoke by Alyson, and when she said them she meant them. "I shall not mention it again, if you wish."

Her hand slipped down William's sleeve, and for a brief moment her hand brushed past his. This was purely accidental, but half a moment later her heart was in her throat and she felt a blush rise to her ears. As gracefully as possible she moved her hand away and swallowed hard, trying to seem inconspicuous. The feeling itself was marvelous - touching someone - but at the same time it was terrifying. Free as she was, Alyson was completely unaccustomed to anyone really touching her in any sort of manner. Her brother and she hugged occasionally, Brigitte would brush her hair and help her don her dresses, but that was it. It was not that Alyson was afraid of people touching her, it was just a rare occurrence.

Slowly, as they walked down the path to the pond, a meek smile splashed across her face and she felt more color rise into her cheeks. She let her embarrassment linger for a few moments more, reveling in the sensation. Part of her issue was that she was never courted, and she had never properly had the chance to explore her romantic side. Perhaps, if her father was not a tree, he might have allowed her to leave the court at some point in her adolescence. But alas, he was a tree, and there was nothing that could really be done to change that at the moment. All she or her brother could do was wait for more research to be done, for more scouts to return with information. Or maybe there was something else Alyson could do, something drastic and irrational... but first she had to see to her brother to make sure he wouldn't lose himself.

Looking about, Alyson realized they had arrived at the snail pond. "I think we have come far enough," she said softly, her light voice soft in the dankness of the forest. There was a rough wooden bench on the edge of the pond, and with a small gesture of her hand Alyson bade William follow her and sit beside her.

The cream gown looked dainty on her small frame as it spread out like wings as she sat down. A layer of silk kissed her skin while a fragile slip of lace decorated the entire exterior; a wide ribbon hugged her waist and tied in the back, where pearly buttons closed the gown. The neckline dipped low in a scallop, and curved upward to become thin, poofed sleeves that stopped just past her shoulders. Her dark brown hair was pinned loosely to the top of her head, and sitting on the bench a bit of light trickled down through the tree tops to illuminate her face in a golden-green glow. Her pale toes were buried in the brown dirt, and the bottom hem of her gown was a muddy brown color. A breeze picked up and blew the scent of leaves and spice, and as she breathed deep, her natural smile crept over her face; she relaxed and eased the butterflies out of her stomach from her previous encounter with William.

"I would like to discuss how you might be able to rid me of Penelope," she said sweetly. "I asked you to come out here because I did not know if she was in the house at the time, and I do not want any servants to overhear what I might have to say. As much as I care about them, servants do not always keep sealed lips."

[Liberty Martin]

w i l l i a m ;

It was a stupid thing for him to have brought up, especially in the presence of a lady; William had no desire to ever speak of his father, to do more than have a stilted conversation with the man over dinner before they went their separate ways, his room William’s sanctuary from what would otherwise be an ever-present belittling, he was sure. That was if he even bothered to return home for dinner, of course, instead of eating in the tavern or charming his way into a young lady’s warm kitchen for a few hours. The best days were when they did not speak at all, and William purposely avoided the man to make sure that as many days as possible were good. Of course, he had to work, and he did not have enough money to buy even a room of his own, and so the chances were that at least once a day, William would come across his father. If only it could have been avoided, he was sure that he would have been free. Free to be whatever he wanted, to do whatever he wanted, instead of tied down by another person’s ideals about his life. Yes, the man was his father; William had to obey him, most of the time, and while there were plenty of occasions when he wished that he was dead, he knew that he would never wilfully wish death upon someone – even someone as belligerent and restrictive as his father. But to have his estate without him, to be able to make it into what he wanted...it was something that William dreamed about. He wanted to be his own man, to live for himself and make himself happy in life, instead of merely doing things that amused him as a way to get back at someone else, and if he was going to be under someone’s thumb (which was always a likelihood, as he was just a villager, an unqualified candidate for a magistrate, the sort of person who always served another), then he was going to make damn sure that he worked for someone he liked, someone who let him be a whole person instead of a shadow of someone else. William was just tired of being his old man’s puppet. He wanted to be able to pull his own strings for a change.

"I shall not mention it again, if you wish."

“It is I who should apologise,” he replied with an incline of his head. His first time speaking to someone of royal blood and all William was doing was putting his foot in his mouth, making it seem as though normal people were imbeciles who could not forget their own issues for a few hours. It wasn’t as though William’s problems were even that large, in the overall scheme of things – he had money, food, pleasant company, he was not ill or malnourished or alone – and yet it always seemed that however charitable you were, however much you tried to think of others’ misfortunes before your own, you always thought of your own problems as though they were the end of the world. William was no expert, but he didn’t believe that not getting on with his father would be enough to cause some great catastrophe, and while it might have made him occasionally homicidal, it was not, he hoped, the sort of thing that would end with either of them dead in a gutter. “I did not mean to bring it up and impose my family problems on you, Your Highness.” It would be better for the both of them, he felt, if they could just forget that it ever happened and move it. And with the touch of her hand against his, the way that she blushed and he glanced at her, realising the accidental nature of the movement and yet finding it impulsive and thrillingly improper nonetheless, it was forgotten. Moving on was something that William liked; he might make a mistake or have an argument, but each moment was a new one that would only drown in the past’s problems if it was allowed to. He had regrets, of course, because everyone did, but he didn’t let them rule his life. Living in the present brought so many more benefits, like the touch of a woman’s hand—the princess alternated between seeming as carefree as a child and so much more mature than she should have been at her age, and there was something beautiful about that, just as she was beautiful. William had courted women, but he had never felt a sharp intake of breath at the touch of a princess’ hand. He had never touched a princess’ hand before today, but he deemed that irrelevant.

He stopped walking at her words, taking a moment to look around him (could he be blamed for that, when he might never set foot within the castle walls again?), to look at her – without lingering, of course, because although she looked like a fairy of the forest might, in her gown but with muddy feet, he would do his best not to be inappropriate because she was a princess – before turning and sitting beside her, careful not to sit on her dress. “Of course,” he agreed, resting his hands on his knees and leaning back against the bench, caught in a position somewhere between the sprawl he would have adopted at home and an attempt to keep some sense of decorum about himself, so that in fact, William looked a little awkward. He had been taught a lot, but how he was supposed to act around a princess was not one of them—or if it had been, it had been one of the lessons he had not paid attention to, because he felt that everyone should be equal in this life, and earn their respect through their actions and not what their father had done, and his father before him. But he knew that he couldn’t be himself, not entirely. For the moment, at least, that suited William; he and the princess appeared to have a common goal, and frankly that was all that was relevant for the time being. He hardly imagined that they were going to become fast friends, their worlds were so far apart, and while he had notice the blush that had risen to her face as his touch, he chalked it up to few male visitors and nothing more. “How is she...troubling you?”