Build me up

. . .

Elliot ran across the garden, followed by Grace's puppy. His father's words rang in his ears: "Be proper, boy. The King has already cast us away, so we can't afford to antagonize the Princess. Who knows what your mother would do if I lost my position here; you know how much she loves to parade in her finest clothes around Millfields…" But Elliot didn't know any other way of being when he was around Grace. She was so full of light and laughter and warmth and-

"BALLS!"

The boy blinked. Her Highness had picked up more than a few tricks from Walter, and that word was her latest acquisition. Elliot tried not to laugh as he caught a glimpse of Jasper's almost apoplectic face. The butler was more than displeased with the idea of the Princess training like a soldier and swearing like a sailor.

"My goodness! Where do you hear those things? I've never-!"

"Easy, old codger." Walter rested his broadsword on his shoulders as he waited for Grace to stand up and fix her clothes. "Nobody would ever think you'd teach the girl something so useful."

"I simply cannot understand why the Princess," the butler highlighted with arched eyebrows, "should be exposed to that kind of vulgar vocabulary. The Queen would have held me responsible for these appallingly poor manners." Jasper gasped discreetly. "And what if the King hears of this?"

"Bah!" Walter shrugged. "That will be the day."

Grace shook off the dry leaves and the dirt from her skirt and dropped her sword. She fixed her hair and curtsied dignifiedly before Jasper, who mumbled something about "trying to make up for a potty mouth". The butler stood up when Elliot approached the group. Grace picked up her sword and sheathed it before she walked over to welcome the newcomers.

"Come here, Victus!" she cooed, and the puppy wagged his tail and bounced about. Grace held him in her arms and snuggled him, and she received his playful kisses in return. "Have you been playing with Elliot? Has he been nice to you, you cutiepie? Hmm? Oh, you're so cute!"

Jasper's sigh was cut short by Walter's slap on the butler's back. "Just let her be, you wet blanket. She deserves a bit of sunshine in her life." Walter looked back at the castle, which seemed to have grown a little gloomier with each passing day since Logan's return.

Having been dismissed from his position as Royal Adviser, Walter had little idea what the King was up to at the moment. There had been rumours of an alliance with the dwellers, but that had been quickly dismissed when Reaver had joined the Council. The man had an influential voice in all matters related to the economy of the kingdom, and the exploitation of the mountains seemed to be inevitable now. Walter wondered how come the Council had let him climb that high – the man had always been considered little more than an upstart from Bloodstone, and the old-money families were not eager to have dealings with him. So it was either thanks to Logan's influence or to his five Dragonstompers, which -Walter was sure- had found a way into the negotiation tables and had silently managed to strike terror into the hearts of Reaver's detractors.

"So, what do you think, Walter?" Elliot asked. "Is Her Highness improving?"

"'Her Highness', pffft!" The warrior blew a raspberry, much to Jasper's disgrace. "You two are still young and burden-free! Use her name!"

"Please do not encourage Master Elliot to follow your example," Jasper snubbed Walter, giving the young lad a look of approval.

"I'm fine with whatever Elliot wants to call me," Grace intervened amicably. "It's nice to feel that I've made another friend."

"Indeed, madam. And since Master Elliot seems to be eager to participate in your education, may I suggest that we request his cooperation in the dancing practice I have scheduled for you?" Jasper took out a gilded notepad. "This is all in the interest of improving Her Highness's waltzing abilities, Master Elliot. I'm afraid I will have to ask you to bring sturdy shoes."

Elliot managed to contain a chuckle. "Very well, Jasper. I'll help you."

"Thank you. Tomorrow morning, then, when the chimes ring seven."

"That early?" Grace's dismay was almost palpable.

"I'm afraid so, madam. Sir Walter has fully booked your day, and it would be nice if you could change your clothes before your fisticuff practice, or whatever it is you do with him." Jasper snap-shut his notepad and added, "Besides, your feet might get awfully swollen after training with the big brute."

"Yeah, yeah. Better to have big feet than a big head," Walter replied, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Gracie. It's time to do some shooting. No moving targets today, so you can relax, Jasper. Now, we could work with the rifle today… I know it might still feel a little heavy," he said as they walked to the shooting range, "but it's time for you to get used to handling heavier weaponry."

"What did Mama prefer?" Grace asked, leaving Victus on the floor. The puppy trotted ahead and occasionally turned around to see if his mistress was still walking behind him.

"Will," Walter chuckled. "Your mother was proud of the mastery over will that she had achieved, especially after… certain events. She did have a rifle and a pistol that she favoured. Never asked her where she got them. They were lighter than the ones you can get in Albion." He tousled Grace's hair tenderly. "Your mother was a natural explorer. My time with her was never dull, I can assure you."

"AHEM." Jasper cleared his throat right behind them.

"Holy Tofu!" Walter exclaimed, startled. "You know I hate it when you do that, you gnashgab!"

"Ah, the big man flinches," Jasper smirked. "When the Queen returned from Samarkand, she brought with her several objects, among which those two stood out: a rifle and a pistol infused with will. Sadly, she never revealed the location of the weapons, and nobody ever questioned their disappearance because frankly, who would question the Queen?"

"Here," Walter said, handing her a simple rifle and placing it in the right position so that she could fire right away. "This will do nicely. Now, the important thing is to focus on your target and to stand your ground even after you've taken the shot. Don't pull back and you'll be fine. Aim, pull the trigger, and wait. Good luck!" he said, patting her on the shoulder and leaving her alone.

Grace swallowed hard. She looked as if she needed more detailed instructions. Even though Walter had told her that there was no way that she could hurt anyone with that type of ammunition, she seemed to be-

Her finger slipped and she pulled the trigger too soon. She lifted the rifle, changing the trajectory of the bullet slightly. It didn't hit the mark, but at least it hadn't hit anyone.

"Tsk tsk tsk," she heard to her right. "Such a sorry shot." Reaver was standing nearby, one hand on his waist and the other resting on his cane. "Of course, the fault lies not in the shooter, but in the instructor. Sir Walter, perhaps you should stick to those brutish knives, darling?"

"You'd better stay away from the Princess, Reaver," Walter snarled, sprinting forward with his sword in hand.

"Oh my, baring your blade already?" Reaver laughed. "There are children in front of us, what will they think?"

"What do you want?"

Reaver cocked his head and gave Walter a smirk. "Please, there is no need for concern. I am merely an observer today. I overheard some of the guards talking about the Princess making use of the shooting range and it piqued my interest. If I may," he purred, approaching Grace, "I would be willing to give you some pointers, Your Highness…"

"I don't think so," Walter said, standing between Grace and the man. There was a fiery look in his eyes, and both men seized each other for a while.

"Why so protective, Wally?" Reaver peered at the man with a certain amount of glee. "Is there something I should –or rather, shouldn't– know? Or is this still the bad blood from way back? I'm not filled with rancour, you know. It is rancour, not time, that gives you wrinkles."

"Hrm-hrm," Jasper murmured, clearing his throat. "I believe that King Logan is waiting for you, messere. You would not want to keep His Majesty wondering where you are."

Reaver gave him an odd grin. "But of course! Business must come first, my dears." He hit the floor with his cane and tipped his hat at Grace. "Your Highness… May you have a pleasant day." He turned around and walked down the path that led to the castle, but before he disappeared round the bend, he shouted, "Keep your finger off the trigger until you've decided to shoot!"

"Bugger off!" Walter shouted in return.

~ . ~

"Why are you massaging my cheeks, Jasper?" Grace mumbled. The sun had barely come out when the butler had drawn the curtains to wake her up.

"Because there is a horrible mark across your face. Did or didn't I tell you not to sleep on your belly? Face up, or on your side. Face down and you'll drool on the pillows."

"It must have been Victus-" Grace started to protest, but that only managed to irritate Jasper even more.

"The dog has a basket all for himself. Now, unless you want me to transfer your pillow and your blanket to the basket…" Jasper said, brushing her hair energetically and tying it up with a tight ribbon. "Ah, wonderful! Your hair looks radiant this morning. Master Elliot will be most impressed."

"Why would I want Elliot to be impressed?" she asked, doe-eyed. "He is my friend, nothing more."

"Of course, madam."

Grace mulled over Jasper's words during breakfast. Elliot was a nice boy. They were the same age, their birthdays apart only for two weeks. He had been nothing but kind and polite towards her. When he was not busy with his personal tutor, he was helping the people of Bowerstone Industrial or overseeing her lessons with Jasper and Victus. He never spoke more than it seemed necessary, and he rarely questioned.

He was pretty dull.

As soon as Grace finished her breakfast, Jasper led her to the ballroom, where Elliot was waiting.

"Your Highness," he said, bowing before her. He was dressed in the finest clothes he'd ever worn, and his dark hair was combed appropriately, except for a wild tuft of lighter hair that simply refused to join the rest.

"I thought we'd agreed on you calling me by my name," she said, curtsying.

He rested his hand on her waist firmly but tenderly, and as their hands clasped together, he murmured, "Very well, Grace."

She couldn't explain why the room suddenly felt like summer.

…

.