"As additional work, you are to write a paper in the origins of your name – to be completed in your free time. You are dismissed."

As the Mithran priest's drawl reached the class' ears, the sound of scraping chairs echoed through the air. There was some commotion near the door as all of the pages tried to rush out of the door at once, all eager to get to the mess hall for lunch. The pushing and shoving ceased briefly as the priest waded through the sea of heads. Once he had left the room, the pages resumed their attempts to scramble out of the door again.

All but one.

Alex of Naxen lingered at his desk, apparently deep in thought. In actual fact, he was replaying the last moments of the lesson in his mind as he wandered out of the classroom.

"…write a paper on the origins of your name…"

Alex decided against lunch. He marched down one of the many corridors of the palace, taking a left instead of the usual right that lead to the pages' wing. Alex wandered through hallways and corridors aimlessly; not really paying attention to the direction in which his feet were carrying him. His mind wasn't on his destination. It hadn't even occurred to him that his friends would take notice of his absence.

Using one of the many lesser known staircases (built for the use of a quick evacuation and for servants) Alex slipped into a room that he'd found to be a great place to hide and get away from the world – the palace library. Sliding through the many isles, sneezing every so often (due to the fact that no-one had been into this particular part of the library since the days that Master Lord Thom had quartered at the palace), Alex approached his small corner with caution. He hadn't come to his hideaway here for a few years and was unsure as to whether his hideout had remained undiscovered.

The young page breathed a sigh of relief to see everything as he and his elder brother had left it. He crawled over to one of the strategically placed pillows. As he dropped himself onto it, a cloud of dust erupted from its depths, causing Alex to sneeze even more.

"…the origins of your name …"

His heart had sank as soon as the words had left the old priests mouth – after Alex's delay of work given at the end of the previous lesson, he would surely pick on the page to read out his paper. Alex wouldn't be able to skip the lesson either; he'd done so before and was now on very thin ice. He would not be able to miss a class due to actual illness due to the number of pages ho fell ill when they were meant to be concentrating on the 'thinking arts' but then became miraculously healed for physical training afterwards. (Alex had once told his farther of his allergy of Mithran Priests. Gareth the younger of Naxen had only laughed, saying that it must be hereditary and that Alex must 'stick it out'. And to especially steer clear of the Master of Deportment when possible.)

Why did the subject of the paper have to be on the origins of his name? Why not a paper on the geographical location of certain places positioned in his home fief? Or a full history of the immortals? Or even a tedious paper on the importance of addressing nobles with the correct title and in the correct tone of voice? Anything but the origins of his name!

By the time Francis found Alex, lunch was almost over. After meeting his brother's concerned friends, he decided to go in search for him, himself.

After at least half a bell, Francis remembered about his childhood hiding place and was certain of his where he would find his brother. And was correct.

Settling beside Alex, he gazed absently at the spine of a bespeckled (and probably decaying) book trying to make out what it said. Five years older, Francis knew that his sibling wouldn't say anything before he'd gathered his thoughts. Waiting patiently, the squire was about to reach for a scroll when Alex let out a sigh.

"What brings you here?"

"I could ask you the same. Besides, Alan and your other friends are worried about you."

Francis smiled, "What's on your mind?" he enquired gently.

Alex explained his situation; his battle with certain Mithran priests, the piece of forgotten work and finally the assignment.

Francis shook his head in confusion. "I don't get it. What's so bad abou-?"He stopped short abruptly, realisation dawning on him. Interrupting himself, he murmured, "Oh, I see."

After a few moments silence, Francis asked suddenly, "Do you have any idea why your name is 'Alex' rather than 'Alexander'?"

Alex shot him a strange look – what sort of question was that? He thought it over anyway – Francis rarely said things without a reason or usually remained silent.

Finally, Alex gave up. "I don't know. I have absolutely no clue. Not that it matters anyway. Five letters hardly change anything. I was named after a traitor." He looked away bitterly. He felt even worse having voiced it. Yet it was the truth. Soon, it seemed, he would have to admit this in front of all of the other pages too. Not that they didn't know that already. He'd been teased about it before. It would be thought that the grandson of the Duke of Naxen wouldn't be taunted or bullied, but Alex refused to speak of what happened so some of the pages continued to prey on him. Being named after a man who committed high treason – in a plot against his own uncle, the king no less; to Alex such treatment was only to be expected.

Francis looked at his brother's drawn face intently. He had suspected that the pages bullied Alex – it was part of growing up, learning to deal with such things. And then there was hazing – the system in which your ways into the higher years of pagehood. Still, it was his responsibility to clear this up for his brother. Francis still didn't quite believe that Alex didn't know the significance of the shortened name. He'd always thought that their father had talked to his youngest son about it. Obviously not. To be fair though, Alex had never given him reason to believe that his name bothered him in the least.

"Five letters make a huge difference."

Confused, Alex glanced up. Francis held his gaze, determined to explain. "Alexander was a knight who was squire to Duke Roger of Conté. He moved away from his actual friends to gain associates with influence and connections. His ambition consumed him. I guess that's what got him killed in the end, He was a traitor. Alex was not."

Alex's expression became guarded, though after knowing him for all of his life, Francis could see that he was trying to make sense of these words. He nor Francis would gain peace of mind if this was not explained properly.

"Alex, however, was Papa's friend until they became squires. He was smart, athletic and honourable. Remember all of the stories that Grandpapa used to tell us when we were younger, before we went to sleep? In the fights against Ralon of Malven, the number of times that page 'Alan', Prince Jonathan, squire Gareth and squire Raoul fought that scumbag – Alex was there too, helping them. Even as a knight, he defended our side of the border at Drell River Valley against the Tusaines. He was actually in of the best fencers at court before he was blinded by his desire. You are named after a person who made Papa laugh and was a 'master of mathematics'. An awesome swordsman. Not a traitor. Not Alexander."

A few moments passed in silence as Alex mulled over what he had just been told. It changes everything. So many years of believing that… And now everything had changed!

Francis rose silently. No doubt, his brother had a great deal to think about.

Alex looked up.

Francis smiled – there were so many emotions in his sibling's eyes; confusion, happiness and hope to name a few.

"Thank you. So much."

-Hollyrose-

Hope you like it! This was inspired by "Yellow" in Conté Colours by ladymori - it's absolutely brilliant! Anyway, I'm going to introduce Alex into my other story "Son of the Lioness: Alan's Story" and felt like writing a little about him first to get used to his character...

Shamelessly begging you to R&R as usual ;D