Hector shivered on the chilly cobbles, squirming uncomfortably in his torn and dirtied velvet rags and thinking of home. To say the Raestar estate was a slumbering community would be an understatement. In fact, Hector often fantasised he could hear it snoring and wondered if it dreamed of being a more exciting place than it was in reality. Hector had a lot of free time. The estate consisted of several farm holds in the midst of the Bannorn, serene and lush; Hector had always considered it his country in itself and had never ventured further into Ferelden than his father’s borders and occasionally the allied freeholds. Now he hadn’t the faintest idea of his whereabouts besides the dark, windowless room he had been bundled into.
Hector had always had delusions of heroism and valour, without fighting in any battles. After all he was only nineteen, barely learning to shave and only just rid of the painful acne that had plagued his earlier years. Thinking of his predicament, he cursed his father’s stories and his mother’s undeserved praise that had filled his mind with the notions that he may one day be a proud and noble leader of armies and a mighty conqueror of foreign lands as he lay battered and bruised in the last place he had thought he would die in, and he was sure that he was to die here. Bitterly he sobbed for days until his eyes were dry of tears.
That day seemed like an age ago after the time Hector spent in captivity. The day that had begun like any other, he awoke to the sounds of a servant Elf entering his bed chamber with breakfast. “Good morning, my lord!” She chirped.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” Hector groaned as he sat up in his bed furs.
“Why not, Ser? You’ll be the Bann of these lands once your father passes and mother says to get used to treating you like a lord. She says you’ll expect it once you receive your proper rank.” She said happily, placing the breakfast tray on his bedside table and sitting by him on the furs. His eyes moved from her dainty features down her comely figure. She could feel them.
“I could not expect a more lordly treatment than yours, Illyn.” He said, smiling slightly as he raised his hand to her face and ran his fingers through her hair. He found great joy in her presence during these quiet mornings, and for the son of an Arl, every morning was quiet. He was fond of the way she moved so delicately, and the way the waking sun poured through her hair in a warming golden flow. She leaned forward and kissed his naked chest, and he squirmed happily under her before wrapping his arm around her, and dragging her into his bed.
“We really should stop doing this, my lord.” She sighed as she touched his face so lightly he could barely feel it, then pressed a little harder as he kissed her.
An hour later they awoke again and Illyn shot out of bed in a panic. She hurried to dress herself and bolted from Hector’s chambers without saying a word, only making worried squeals as she fumbled with her humble clothes. “See you tomorrow!” Hector called after her. He slumped back on his pillow, placing his hands behind his head as he usually did when he was content and thoughtful. A look of boredom crept across his face and he frowned. “Now what?” he mumbled entirely to himself. Barely a minute had passed before the door was flung open and another attractive, if a little older, woman breezed in. “Get up, boy!” She hissed, throwing a velvet robe onto his bed. “We have important guests today and you’ve wasted far too much time in bed with that servant girl!”
“Oh, mother, why must you spoil my quiet mornings like this?” He snorted.
“Because I’m evil. And don’t think I’m ignorant to your activities with that girl, Hector. I should have her removed from the staff.”
“But she makes such lovely tea in the morning.” Hector said with a mocking whine.
“How would you know? You never drink it!”
“Smells good.”
The gap between Rose’s eyebrows narrowed and her lips thinned to a pink line. “Get up, get dressed and get your backside into that washroom right now or I’ll have your old nanny come up here with her favourite spatula!” Hector hopped out of bed and threw on the robes Rose had brought it. She looked pleased slightly, Hector imagined it was because he had underwear on, contrary to expectations.
“So who are these important guests?” He sighed, as if he the question was arbitrary and he had no interest in the answer.
“You know who they are, I told you yesterday” Rose said flatly. “Arl Sevain is coming with the Arlessa and their daughter, Evelyn.”
“Why their daughter?”
“Careful boy, you’re not so tall that I would not club your pretty face with one of these ridiculous Orlesian ornaments you clutter this room with.” She sighed with exasperation as Hector stared at her vacantly. “Evelyn is the young lady your father and I have picked for you, she is to be your betrothed.”
“My what?”
Rose’s face turned red and watched a grin slowly crumple his face. Then she used the glare only possessed by mothers and school teachers and jerked forward as if to strike him. Hector darted backwards and shot out of the room, laughing childishly.
Fifteen minutes later Hector joined his mother in the greeting hall of their mansion. He was wearing his finest velvet garments and smelled of soap now instead of fornication. He walked to her side and she smiled warmly. “Much better, now you look like a nobleman.” She said, proud more of herself for having orchestrated such a feat than of her son, who only seemed to hinder her attempts to turn him into a man of worth and merit. He returned a happy grin as he often did and watched with her as a carriage approached the house’s gates.
“You realise that I find the notion of depriving so many Fereldan women of me to be abhorrent, don’t you mother?” He said, smirking.
Rose grunted, bemused. “You wouldn’t know a real woman if saw one. Worry not though, son, we found one for you.”
Hector strained his eyes to see the Lady emerging from the carriage. “That’s Evelyn?” He asked.
“Yes, that’s Evelyn”
“But I took her to bed at your last salon!”
Rose bowed her head and groaned.
“Only Joking, mother...it was father’s birthday party.”
Rose was about to turn and exact unknown punishment upon Hector when the butler entered to announce the arrival of guests. Greetings were made and formal protocol was abundant. Hector stayed fairly quiet, shy in the presence of company it seemed and in a grandiose flourish his father emerged from the top of the stairs to greet the Sevains by galloping down in his flowing cloak with outstretched arms. Impressive to all, no doubt, except Hector who was well aware that his father was fond of such dramatics and had in all probability been waiting out of site for some time ready to unleash his performance as soon as they made it to the door. Herbert Raestar was a portly man with a jolly face and a great deal of greying hair. His smile was stained brown and he wore golden-framed spectacles that looked delicate enough that they might shatter into a hundred pieces if dropped or handled without care. This was Herbert’s sixth pair of the year. Hector was thankful that he resembled his mother more, but enjoyed the strength and the agility that Herbert possessed in his prime.
The way Evelyn regarded Hector was curious to him, it was as though she knew him but not in a way as intimate as Hector remembered. After an hour of sitting in the Raestar lounge and making idle chatter, of which neither Hector nor Evelyn were a part, both families were sat at a long table to eat together and make more conversation sure to bore Hector to a stupor. The dining hall was a long room, lined with crimson curtains and golden skirting. The walls we cream and textured with a marble effect, the family made sure to decorate the function rooms finely. Along the walls there were various ornaments, vases, paintings and murals of origins long forgotten. He was happily surprised when he looked up from his food to see Evelyn, who had been placed opposite him and was now smiling politely at him. “How are you?” She said, after looking thoughtful for a moment.
“Keeping out of trouble, my lady.” Hector replied laboriously. He always found it awkward to converse with women he had taken to bed. He found great sport in the conversation before said event, wooing and charming, but to speak to her afterwards seemed without aim or reward.
“Good to know, my lord. Still fighting fit, I hope? You bested my brother at the tourney last spring. I’d hate to see such talent go to waste.” Evelyn spoke happily, a playful manner about her tone. Perhaps it is not to be without reward, Hector mused to himself.
“Which one was your brother?”
At this point, having clearly listened so far, Herbert spoke to Evelyn. “You’ll have to narrow it down, dear girl. Hector bested a few men at that tourney.” Herbert chortled and looked affectionately now at Hector, who stroked his chin and frowned.
“Was he the lad whose arm I broke? I felt awful about that but if a man can’t handle a shield properly he shouldn’t be fight...”
“No.” Evelyn started, cutting Hector off. “My brother was the man you fought in the final bout, he lasted several minutes before you landed a strike to his torso. He went down and yielded.”
“I do recall that man. A credit to his family, Lady Evelyn.”
“Ah, if only father would let me fight.” She sighed playfully.
“I would not fight you.”
“And why not?”
“You’re far too pretty.”
Evelyn looked pleasantly surprised, as well as a little shocked. “You think so?” she asked politely. Hector regarded her warmly, tilting his head and admiring her emerald eyes and dainty nose. Her hair had been arranged especially for the day, that much was sure, and a white flower had been placed by her ear.
“I think you’re prettier than that tulip in your hair. Such flowers do not need to be adorned with others, my Lady.” Hector said, hoping that his knowledge of flowers had impressed her. It was something that helped immensely when it came to charming women, but he refused to stoop to their level when it came to shoes.
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, screwing up her smile in an attempt to hide it from him. “Now I remember you properly. The most charming man in the Bannorn, whom I met at your father’s birthday last year.” She relented, speaking through a flattered grin.
Hector chuckled. “There are more charming men in the Bannorn, but apparently their parents aren’t the matchmakers that mine are. Perhaps I will succeed in charming you entirely before you meet them.”
“Perhaps you will.” Evelyn giggled
Modifié par DistinctlyMinty, 15 mars 2010 - 03:38 .
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