A/N: Written for Goldenlake SMACKDOWN, 2011.

Wyldon regarded the two girls with affection – for Maura at least, if not for Keladry, yet. He like Maura, and respected her – she often reminded him of his wife. She had enough flare in her to manage a fief alone, but she wasn't trying to turn the world on its head. She could defend her people when they needed it, but she wasn't a warrior. She was the kind of noble Wyldon approved of.

But today she reminded him of his daughters – a young girl in a yellow dress who liked books and music and riding out to have picnics, when she had the chance. She should have had the chance to be a girl, instead of battling off monsters and traitors, and then holed up in this castle with an older man and a pack of wolves.

It was Keladry, he noted, who had brought a glow to Maura's smile, while she remained formal with the other pages. It was Keladry with whom she had been conversing all evening, following her polite yet perfunctory enquiries after the boys. He wondered what topic had engrossed the girls – dresses, perhaps? He sighed – bandits, more likely. Though he needed to get the pages into their bedrolls soon, he was reluctant to interrupt. Maura needed a friend, a young woman like herself, to talk to, once in a while.

A melodious laugh rang through the castle hall. Wyldon was startled – had he ever heard Keladry laugh before?

He'd give the girls a little while longer.