"Blaire Quinzell- stand."
A pause, and the chapel is silent. A tallish, gangly girl rises to her feet from her seat near the back. Her brunette hair is pulled back in a sensible ponytail, and her skin is freckled and tan from long hours in the sun. She wears simple, hand-me-down chain mail armor, and carries a scuffed shield and chipped sword on her back- each clearly used, but carefully checked and repaired countless times; a testament to her dedication. She meets the gaze of the imperious Master of Ceremonies, dark brown eyes betraying none of her feelings.
"Step forward."
She walks calmly, determinedly, ignoring the piercing judgmental eyes of the well-dressed nobility and the curious, hopeful gaze of her parents and peers. Her slight trembling is controlled enough to be unnoticed. She halts at the end of the aisle, lifting her chin proudly as she could manage, staring wordlessly back at the Master. He scowls, seemingly reluctant to continue.
"You have passed all of your exams with flying colors, and your trainers speak very highly of you," he finally manages, almost spitting the caustic praise, very close to physical pain as he compliments a commoner. "You have been chosen as Lady Veskel's guardian."
From the corner of her eye, she watches the red-haired girl to his left and catches her just barely smiling. Blaire glows.
"Are you prepared to take the Vow?" He questions, voice sharp, hoping she would decline.
"I am, sir," she replies, voice properly soft and submissive, but inwardly grinning. He sneers.
"Proceed."
"I solemnly swear to place my Lady's life, safety, and health before my own in all cases," she recites, the words flowing effortlessly from endless repetitions. "I am my Lady's sword and shield and will protect her to the best of my abilities. I will obey none save her, and am held only to her will. This I pledge, and will uphold until the end of my days."
He nods, then turns to the pale, green-eyed girl. She wears an elegant white silk dress that clings pleasantly to her torso and then flows out about her legs, a golden chain about her neck and bands on her wrists, twin gemmed baubles in her ears- all the signs of a very well-off nobleman's daughter.
"Miss Veskel?"
"I solemnly swear I am bound to my Quinzell," she replies, quiet but certain, meeting the brunette's eyes. "I entrust her with my care and safety, and will reciprocate to the best of my abilities. I will never abuse my Quinzell's trust and loyalty, and will guide and order her with proper restraint and knowledge. This I pledge, and will uphold until the end of my days."
"Blaire Quinzell and Kerlain Veskel of the Cawdor House, here you are bound," he finishes, almost boredly. "May you both represent your families with pride as you travel." The audience applauds- politely, in the case of the observing nobles, and raucously from the Quinzell section- and the two girls bow in unison. "You may be seated."
The graceful noblewoman steps down from the platform as the Master of Ceremonies calls another name and walks to the empty bench by the front. Blaire follows her tamely, taking a seat by her new mistress' side in a slight daze, and tries to calm her performance anxiety now that the hardest part was behind her.
And then she feels a light, almost imperceptible touch on her elbow and she turns to catch her Lady's innocent, elated grin, and she flinches, as touching her Lady is absolutely not permitted whatsoever- and suddenly it's so much harder to calm down as her heart thuds hard in her chest and there is a strange twist in her stomach. But all she can do is smile back, flushed and trembling but so happy.
Because Miss chose her.
And that was all that mattered.