Discalimer: I own naught of anyone you recognize. Of course, you all already know that.
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Lady Gwenneth had a problem on her hands.
With one dearly departed husband and three bundles of womanly joy on her hands (and all of age, as the youngest had turned sixteen just two months ago), and only the eldest wed, how was she to fulfill her husband's wish of grandchildren? Enough to overrun the house, he had said. They were to visit as often as possible, and call him "Pappa." Now, Lady Gwenneth was of a kinder sort than most noblewoman, but even she wondered how much time the late Lord Oswald, Duke of Desbond had had to think up such ... specific dreams.
But, on to the noblewoman's daughters. The oldest was the picture of grace. With a tall stature, and, taking after her father, she had hair of a raven-black, wavy sort, and eyes of a twinkling violet hue, a lesser shade of her mother's. She had married Sir Daven of Bast, and although they were happy, Lady Gwenneth did not see any sign of children from the stately pair. They had been married with haste, and they seemed to be taking their time about everything from renovating Sir Daven's manor to hiring new servants.
The youngest was just emerging into womanhood, with a petite, slight figure. She was just learning to manage her golden curls enough to keep them pinned up and away from her heart-shaped face. She was the exact opposite of her older sister, bubbly and spirited, quite unable to keep her emotions in check. Her light, almond-colored eyes (her father's) gave away everything even when her face did not. She was much loved by everyone from the servants to visiting nobles, and Lady Gwenneth intended to marry her off to none less than the Prince.
And, for the middle daughter. Lady Gwenneth was actually quite worried about her. For a while, she had guiltily wished her most ... questionable daughter had been born a boy, only to quell such thoughts upon seeing her face and realizing that her actions would be seen as disrespectful either way. Lady Daria did not posses Lady Elizabeth's grace nor Lady Sarah's joy. She had been the most hard-pressed by their governess, learning to curtsey and dance properly after hours of heartbreaking torture. She hadn't taken entirely after her mother nor her father, but rather, fell in the middle, as she did in birthing order. Her hair fell in tamer curls than Lady Sarah's, and were of a dark brown hue, as were her eyes. She was quite tall, towering over both her mother and her younger sister, although she didn't quite reach Lady Elizabeth's height. While Lady Sarah was filled with joy and rarely showed and angry disposition, Lady Daria could often be quite sarcastic, and managed to keep her emotions hidden, albeit not as well as Lady Elizabeth. Lady Gwenneth supposed she could find a suitable noble of a sweeter disposition to balance her unruly daughter's and send them off.
With a feeling of quiet dread, she called one of the maids in the library with her to send for her daughters.
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Lady Gwenneth was about to ... enlighten her daughters (or, at least Sarah, since she would not disgrace Daria in such a manner as to tell her she believed her daughter would scare off many suitors with her demeanor) of her marriage plans for them when a pageboy stumbled into the room. He was quite young, and behind him she spied an able-bodied footmen, who had evidently been leading the way. Thanking him with a look, she turned to boy, who began to speak at a curt nod from her.
"His Majesty King Evan of Kyrria, leading general in times of war--" Lady Gwenneth politely listened to the King's accomplishments for at least ten more seconds before she interrupted him.
"Perhaps we should get to the subject of the message?" The page boy blushed awkwardly, and went on.
"His Majesty King Evan of Kyrria--" he began again, and Lady Gwenneth could hear her daughters groan slightly. To her relief, he got to the point, "--has sent a company to investigate news of various ogre-induced terror among the common-folk. He requests that the knights be allowed lodging in various noble homes. My Lady, as you are the Duchess of Desbond, the king has requested that the Prince and two of his accompanying knights take their lodging within your home--" at this, she sent a delighted glance toward Sarah, who looked back, confused. Oh, drat, she muttered inaudibly. She still hadn't told them of her musings. She listened to the rest of the page's message, realized the company would be arriving in a week, and sent him off.
After a flurry of new orders for the servants, she told her children of her plans that night. Sarah had stayed smiling, although Lady Gwenneth could see she wasn't truly happy. To increase her dismay, Daria was giving her a blank stare, only her clenched fists giving her mother a glimpse of her anger.
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In the later hours of the night, after all the household was asleep, an entirely too-clean scullery maid crept out of a large estate. Boris hiccuped as she neared the gates. He could've sworn that he'd seen her somewhere before. As he took another sip from the large mug of ale conveniently left out for him, his vision began to blur and his mind slowed to a snail's pace. Thoughts of the pretty maid were shaken from his mind and he happily gulped more of the delicious ale. His eyelids were almost completely closed as he settled comfortably on the nice ground beneath him. Boris stretched lazily, his guard duties completely forgotten. He didn't even stir when he heard the faint swish of a skirt as someone passed him and slipped out on to the streets. However, when he heard the sharp clang of the latch falling back into place, Boris stumbled to his feet as fast as a drugged man could, under the circumstances. He looked around for a moment, and shrugged when he saw nothing. He surreptitiously kicked the mug of ale out of the way ("How did that get there?" he wondered aloud), and he leaned against the wall, ever the watchful guard. He was nodding off to sleep just as the sun's first light brightened the sky when Lady Gwenneth's scream startled him into tripping over the mug he had ended up kicking into his way earlier (or was it later? Boris didn't know, he was quite confused at the moment)...
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A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review, you'll make my day. (And if that doesn't appeal to you, I've got cookies!)
