Chapter One:

She had been there from the beginning. A shadow in the back ground no one paid attention to. She was a witness to one of the most influential monarchs of the time and hated every minute of it. She wasn't even considered a lady by most but by others she was the most sought after companion. Maybe it was her ability to stay in the shadows but whatever the case she knew everyone's secrets. Secrets she didn't even want to know, secrets that could mean death.

She had been brought to court at a young age; the daughter of a disgraced Lord and an Irish mother. Her father, who had been married with five other children, had met her mother on one of his many travels. Her mother had told her it was an affair of love and passion but duty had taken him away from them. Her mother, always the dreamer, had believed it was true love and not a one-time fling. She on the other had known different, that love didn't exists, nothing more than a fairy tale told to young girls to soften the blow when they were sold to the highest bidder.

Oh yes the joy of a young girls life was for a good match always arranged by whatever male guardian or relative was available to them. One would only hope he would be a good man. She however had no worries. She was a bastard child, an unwanted. No men would be lining up for her. She wasn't too sad by this but it also meant she had no tittle, or status. No income and no lands but with her head down low they soon forgot she was there, all but one.

When her mother had died she had no other living relatives, no kin and no one willing to take her in so at the ripe young age of twelve she was sent to live at French court with her father's family. Her father had welcomed her with open arms. His children all mostly grown and his wife unable to give him more. He loved his children no doubt and quickly integrated her into his life and home. His wife, however and children didn't like having her around. She was a reminder of his wandering eye. So she had spent a lot of time at her father's side, in court, on hunts and rides. It had been some of the happiest time in her life. That was also when she had meant him. Him, with his careless hair, captivating eyes and caring personality. Much like her there were those who felt he didn't belong at court. He was also a bastard, the son of the king by his mistress. But like her, he was his father's favorite. This worked to their advantage for the time being.

In the beginning they didn't really talk, just the polite greetings and acknowledgments, a passing acquaintance. Then one day he found her in the stables, crying. Her step sister who had always been unkind to her, had taken it upon herself to cut the young girls red curls while she slept. She had been so upset by it and distort that she had run to the stables. She always felt safe there and would spend several hours playing in the loft with whatever animal had made it their home. At the moment it was a mother with six kittens. She remembered climbing the ladder and finding the baby kittens curled up in the straw of the loft. Here she could be completely alone and wallow in self-pity. Here she didn't have to face anyone or anything and here is where he found her. At first she didn't hear him, she was so focused on the little black kitten she held in her arms. Then she heard him speak his name very quietly and cautiously. She snapped her tear stained face up to meet his gaze. All she saw was concern on his face, so unlike anything else she had seen on anyone else's face where she was concerned.

"Amelia?" He asked her again as he approached her once again and sat down next to her. She studied his friendly gaze she wiped her tears on her damp sleeves. She didn't trust very well, but something about his mere presents seemed to calm and sooth her. She didn't answer at first and he seemed to accept that as he reached over to pet the kitten she held. "You should give him a name." She just kind of shrugged her shoulders. "Do you want to tell me why such a pretty girl is so sad?" This only succeeded in her bursting into tear again. He then wrapped his arm around her pulling her against his side. This simple act was the single most comforting acts anyone had ever given her. She finally became brave enough to show him, pulling of the make shift scarf that had covered her now damaged hair. She couldn't look him in the eyes and casted them downwards. She had expected him to laugh at her instead he said nothing. He then used his thumb and forefinger to tip her head up so that she was looking at him. His vivid green eyes met her steely gray ones. She swallowed hard trying to hold back the tears. His gaze wasn't mocking her, which she had expected instead they showed concern with a hint of anger. She felt her hands tighten her hold on the scarf that she held in her lap. He then asked her in a very serious tone.

"Who did this to you?" She had a feeling he already knew but she voiced it anyway.

"My half-sister, Brigitte." She answered quietly. Most of the castle occupants already knew how her half siblings and step mother disliked her entire existence. Brigitte never could hide her hatred of Emilia or her being at court. This had led to retaliation on so many levels. Up to this point Emilia had been able to ignore most of it, hiding the fact that it bothered her but recently the tormenting had gotten worse. He touched her hair just then and brought her attention back to her current humiliation.

"Well, Lady Brigitte sounds as if she is a very spiteful individual indeed." He said to her earning him a smile. No one else had ever voiced anything against Brigitte's character. She was a favorite at court dispute Emilia's presence at their father's side. Her sister knew how to turn the charm on when needed. "Now there's the smile I've been waiting for." He said as he returned her.

"Why are you so nice to me?" She questioned him. "You're the son of the king." "The bastard son of the king." He corrected. "We bastard's need to stick together." She didn't know what to say, not many had ever been kind to her. Before she could respond however, he stood up and offered her his hand, pulling her up next to him.

He seemed tall standing next to her and she suddenly felt subconscious. Even at a young age she noticed his striking features and knew someday every available female at court would have their eyes on him, maybe even the unavailable ones. Looking down at her he reached for the scarf that she still gripped in her hands and proceeded to tie it gently back around her head as to hide the mess. He took her hand and gentle lead her from the loft.

"Let's see what we can do about this my little Irish princess." She suddenly felt her face grow warm and this made him grin even more.

"I'm not a princess." She said to him casting her eyes once again to the ground. He ducked so that she was forced to look into his eyes again.

"Don't ever look away. Keep your gaze direct and show them you are not afraid, by doing that they will soon respect you. As for calling princess, I'm the son of the king so I get to decide what to call you so Irish princess it is." She smiled at him once again as he took her hand once more. He led her to the back of the castle wall and opened a door that lead to some stairs. It was here that she found herself in the most lavish room she had ever seen. Her eyes grew big as she took in the room around her.

"Where are we?" She asked as she stood looking at him.

"This is my mother's room." He answered and before she could say anything else Diane de Poitiers mistress to the king of France entered the room. Unsure how to address her Emilia just started at her. She was every bit as beautiful as the stories had told. She also noticed that this was where her new friend had gotten his eyes.

"Hello son, who is this lovely young lady?"

"Mother this is Emilia, daughter of Lord Baxter. She has run into an issue and I thought maybe you could help."

"Come forward child and tell me your woes. My son is not one to bring just anyone to meet me."

"I do not wish to trouble you my lady."

"Nonsense, child. If my son has brought you to me it was for a good reason. Rescuing damsel's in distress is something he is very good at." Standing behind her, he quickly removed the scarf much to her horror only to have his mother approach her with concern much like her son; she too has a kindness about her.

"And what has happened here?" She asked looking at her son.

"Lady Brigitte happened mother."

"Ah, well Lady Brigitte does like to make her intentions known. Well child, I am an old friend of your father's and he speaks very fondly of you. I'm sure your sister is just being jealous and spiteful. We will just have to up the competition, so to speak. Son, give little Emilia and I a little time. I will make this right." She looked down at her and Emilia looked over at him. He nodded at her with a smile.

"It's alright princess." With a nod to his mother he left the room.

"My son is rather fond of you and speaks of you often. I believe he sees you as a good friend. Now let's see what we can do about that hair." For the next hour, Lady Diane fussed with her hair and after a bit Emilia started to relax. She couldn't help but like her and soon began l telling her stories of her own mother. Oh how she missed her. After her hair was done, Diane turned her to look in the mirror and let her take in her reflection. It almost brought tears to her eyes and she almost didn't recognize herself.

"Thank you." She said in a disbelief which earned her a smile.

"Now, my dear you listen. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you are less than you are. Hold your head high and teach them to respect you."

"I told her the same thing." Her friend had returned unnoticed and she blushed when he smiled at her and then he bowed. "See, just like a princess." That was the day that Emilia Baxter and Sebastian Poitiers became best friends and that was also the day that at thirteen years of age she fell in love with the fifteen year old boy who made her feel like a princess, the bastard son to the king of France.

So feedback is very welcome. Please let me know what you think and if this is worth continuing.