Author's Note: By the way, something that I forgot to mention in the proceeding a/n: This story is in no way, no how, no why, and in no form a self-insertion fic. My OC, Margaret, while she does share certain aspects of her persona with myself (Gun Toten Girly, you'll know what I'm talking about) she is really is very different from me. The 'O' in 'OC' means what it stands for – Original Character. Margaret is not me. Believe me, I wouldn't last two seconds doing what she'll be doing in this fic. Anyway. Just wanted to clarify that so no one has to ask me a million times.

Anyway…

Here's the first proper chapter. Enjoy!

Margaret sat by her window, hunched over in a skulking manner as she watched the castle courtyard. Her hand clenched and unclenched around a wad of her skirt angrily. Her glare bored through the glass of the window as she watched the people from her second story room. If looks could kill, Gilan Davidson would be dead ten times over by now.

I can't believe him, Margaret thought to herself venomously, First he gets accepted into battleschool, is at the top of his class, is promised a place at MacNeil's side, and now he's going off to train with a ranger! The ranger! Halt! She repressed the urge to scream in frustration. Oblivious to her scrutiny, a slightly nervous but nonetheless happy Gilan said goodbye to his father with a hug, and then mounted the dark battlehorse that he would be riding to Redmont fief. As he rode off beside the Ranger, he towered above the man on the smaller horse. Gilan turned and waved at his father before setting his sights back on the road ahead.

He is so lucky… Oh, look at him, riding away on his perfect horse, with his perfect sword, going towards his oh so wonderfully perfect life. She finally gave vent to a frustrated sigh and burst from her seat. Walking over to her bed, she let herself fall face-first into the mattress and made no move to get up. 'Jealous' didn't even begin to cover it. She'd been trying to find some avenue for adventure for years – an 'official' mode of escape from the monotonous, boring, humdrum life of a lady of the court. No, she wasn't quite considered a 'Lady' yet, (especially considering her tomboyish reputation) but it was a life that had stared down at her since birth, and now with only a few years separating her from marrying age, the life she'd dreaded and avoided for fourteen years was suddenly becoming all too real. She wanted to have a good cry about her evident misfortune, but found she couldn't - she was too angry and jealous at the blond-headed wonder that had just waltzed away with everything she'd ever hoped for held so easily in his grasp.

"Margaret Elizabeth Hale! Where have you gotten yourself to?" A shrill voice sounded from across the hall. Margaret winced. She hated her full name, and she hated it even more when it was her mother's voice screeching it in such an annoyed tone. She sighed, just as annoyed as her mother, into her pillows. She would just lie here, and wait for her mother to find her. She would, eventually. In the meantime, however, Margaret wished to enjoy the solitude and silence of her room.

Right on time, Gertrude Hale burst into her daughter's room, swishing with dark, rich fabrics and smelling heavily of perfume. "Margaret! Get up, dear, and – what on earth have you done to your hair? It's all frizzy!"

"Mmmfhmmllphmmfy."

"What was that?"

Margaret lifted her head, "It's always frizzy, mother."

Gertrude scoffed. "Of course it isn't. Now come and make yourself presentable. Your father wishes to see us."

Margaret's brow furrowed. "If it's just father, then why can I not see him as I am?" She looked down at her wrinkled dress.

"Margaret!"

"What? He's my father!"

Gertrude held up her head, with a hurt look in her eye. "Just all the more reason for you make yourself look nicer." She stepped towards her daughter and put a soft hand on her tangled hair. "You are very pretty, Margaret. I don't see why you won't show it." She said with a slightly sad look. She looked her daughter in the eye. "Humor you old mother, please, dear?" She looked almost pleading.

Margaret sighed resignedly and turned. Her mother took a brush from her dresser and ran it down her wavy brown locks. Margaret held still obligingly, but made faces as the bristles tugged on her hair. She really did love her mother deep down, but Gertrude and Margaret couldn't be more of complete opposites. Gertrude wanted nothing more than to have her daughter blossom into a graceful, lady-like, beautiful and no doubt eligible lady of Caraway, and see her married off to a handsome young man of good wealth and means and see her live happily ever after. Margaret, on the other hand, wanted to make her own way in the world – she wanted to get out, see things, go places, have adventures – do something worth doing. She'd tried to tell her mother this on many occasions, but while Gertrude tried to listen, she just couldn't understand or accept her daughter's dreams. They were dreams, after all, and dreams had no place in the real world.

"There." Her mother smiled, setting down the brush. She turned her daughter around by the shoulders and nodded. "You're beautiful. Now come, your father is waiting in his study."

Margaret glanced at the mirror above her dresser. Beautiful. Funny, but it looked to her as if her hair was even more frizzy that it had already been. She shook her head and followed her mother out the door and down the flight of stairs.

She stepped into the study. Her father was sitting at his desk, and he smiled at her. She immediately felt better. Her father understood her so much better than her mother did, and even his presence seemed to speak to her: It's okay. Upon their entering, Nolan rose and kissed his wife on the cheek.

"You both look lovely this evening." He smiled at his wife and daughter. "Now come; sit." He directed them over towards the sitting area by the small fireplace.

Margaret sat down on one of the plush chairs, wondering what her father had called them down into this 'meeting' for. She looked up and her brother smiled at her from across the low coffee table. She smiled back. Dutiful Peyter. Always loyal, always smiling. Just nineteen years old and already making promising progress in battleschool; following in the footsteps of his father. At times, Margaret almost wanted to feel jealous of him, but Peyter was not only her older brother, but he was her closest confidence and despite his four year seniority over her, he never had any qualms about spending time and having fun with his little sister. She could never harbor ill feelings against him.

"I called you all in here after I received a letter this afternoon," Her father's deep voice brought her out of her thoughts, "from Castle Araluen." Margaret heard her mother gasp audibly. Her father continued.

"The battlemasters there have invited me to take up a post there as sword master." He surveyed his family. Gertrude seemed exited but surprised. Peyter sat straight and composed, but was smiling with pride. Margaret had an unreadable expression set on her face. "As you know, this is a great honor. I myself am rather shocked at their decision, but that is beside the point. The fact is that this is a long-standing position, which means that if I accept, we would be living in Castle Araluen for quite a long time." Another gasp from where Gertrude was seated.

If there was more conversation to be heard, Margaret didn't hear it. She was wrapped up in her own thoughts. A long-term post? At Castle Araluen? Just pack up and go? She didn't know what to think. She had never held a conscious love for Caraway or its court, and had always wanted to see her country's capitol, but now that the opportunity had presented itself, she found herself inexplicably grounded to where she was. She'd lived in Caraway all her life. She'd barely ever left – only to go see relatives on holidays and such, but never anything so permanent as this. Margaret was suddenly very unsure of whether or not she liked the idea of moving to Castle Araluen. But then again, there was that exited little leap in her guts that whispered: Adventure! She just couldn't help the small smile from showing on her face.

Her mother and brother were rising to leave, she saw, and she rose with them, assuming that they had been dismissed. But as she reached the door, her father called her back.

"Margaret, stay with me a moment?" She looked back, and nodded. Her mother gave the two a long glance, and then turned away and shut the door behind her as she left. Once Gertrude was gone, Nolan rose and approached his daughter.

"Maggie," He said, smiling, and opened his arms. Margaret smiled. Only he called her that – and she liked it that way. She gratefully embraced him, and smiled up at him when he pulled away.

"Now, how do you feel about all this?" He asked, and her smile faded fractionally as she considered the question.

"I… I'm not sure, daddy." She said, holding onto one of his hands affectionately as she spoke. "It's very unexpected… And very sudden… But I can't say that I'm at all opposed to the idea." She had been studying the carpet as she gathered her thoughts, but now she looked back up into his face and smiled. "I think I rather like it, actually."

He chuckled. "I thought you might. A chance to get out and see the world, hmm?" He gave her a knowing wink. "You'll like it there, I know. Perhaps you'll even find yourself a chance for an adventure."

Maggie smiled graciously, but she wasn't sure if she should believe his words or not. Courts rarely gave any opportunity for adventure to a young lady like herself, but her father was so hopeful and encouraging that she found herself inclined to take his every word for truth.

He obviously saw the apprehension written on her face, because he took her by the shoulders and leant his forehead against hers. "It'll be alright, Maggie. You'll find your way." He said philosophically, then added with a lighter tone, "Even if you have to tear down a forest of controversy to do it." Both of them laughed at this, but his expression turned serious once their mirth had died down, and he looked her in the eye. "It will be alright, Maggie," He said, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "You will find your way. And I'll always be by your side to help you." He smiled at her.

"Promise?" She asked. She'd spoken the word many times to her father as she was growing up, and she knew what the answer would be. He'd never failed her yet.

"Promise." He replied. She smiled and hugged him. The relationship they shared was special, and she hoped and prayed that nothing would ever change that.

After a few moments in each others' arms, father pulled away from daughter.

"Now you must go and start packing your things. We leave next week." He said.

"Daddy, I don't need a week to pack."

"Well… That's true. But your mother will." He looked at her sympathetically, and she smiled. "Just be ready?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good." He smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. "Now go see if you can't find you brother and the two of you go off somewhere to entertain yourselves for the evening. Your mother will be in hysterics over the transport of her wardrobe, and Lord only knows it won't be very pretty." He sighed. "Of course, someone will have to see to it that she doesn't go completely mental, but…" He gave his daughter a long-suffering look. "I was the one who married her. You shouldn't have to deal with it when there's nothing you can do about it. Perhaps you can go see if your friend, young Gilan would teach you some new sword parries?"

Maggie sneered. "Sir David's son? He left this morning. With the ranger, Halt." She looked to one side with a disgusted look. "Lucky little prat." She muttered under her breath. If her father heard the insult, he ignored it. Instead, he looked a bit surprised.

"Really? That was today? I should have liked to have said goodbye to him. He is a good boy." After a thoughtful look, he turned to his daughter and assessed his daughter's curled lip and deadly glare.

"You can't very well hold a grudge against him, Maggie." He addressed her sternly. She looked up at him apologetically.

"I know, daddy, it's just that… Well, why can't that kind of thing ever happen to me? Just for once?"

Nolan looked down at his daughter sympathetically. He almost found himself saying 'Because you're a girl', but thought better of it. No need reminding her of something she already knew. "I think you know that answer to that, Maggie." He said, and she scowled.

"Oh, yeah. Right. Girls are supposed to be dainty, pure, charitable, and aren't supposed to have any qualms about living the most boring, dull, dreadful existences on the planet." She commented dryly, rolling her eyes for emphasis.

Nolan sighed. "It does seem to be the general conception." He said truthfully. "But that's no reason to give up, Maggie. There's hope yet." He said.

"Is there?" his daughter asked, aggravated. "Well if there is, please point it out, by all means, because mother'll have me married off to some sappy lout before I'll have any chance of finding it!"

Nolan shook his head. "Just wait, Maggie. You'll soon find more freedom that you have now. Just hang on. Your time will come." He said cryptically, and kissed her on the brow once more. She drew breath to beg an answer once more, but he was already speaking.

"Now, go find Peyter and the two of you can-"

"Nolan Hale! Why didn't you warn me before? Oh, this is going to take forever to pack… How will we arrive? What will I wear?" Maragaret's mother's quick, frantic footsteps echoed from the second story. Nolan looked over at his daughter.

"Well, it's started. Before she finishes her transformation into a screaming banshee, maybe you should make yourself scarce." He looked at her with a small, patient smile. How her father continue to deal with her mother civilly in times like this, Maggie had no idea. But she was glad for it. The long-suffering love of her father for her mother was the glue that kept their family together, at times. She would never completely understand how he loved this screeching woman, but she didn't question it.

"Alright." She sighed. She mustered a smile, and he returned the gesture. As she was at the door, she turned. "And daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He only smiled, and gave her an approving nod.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Margaret ignored the screeched questions of her mother as she headed for the main corridor that lead into the castle yard. She needed to take a walk – some time alone to think to herself. For this purpose, she found herself nearly a kilometer away from the castle, with her favorite oak tree looking down at her in a friendly way. After girding up her skirts, she easily climbed up into a familiar nook and stared out onto the horizon, content for the moment to contemplate what was to come for her in her new life at Castle Araluen.

Little did she know, she was about to walk into a bigger adventure than she had ever bothered to hope for.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get up. I've been having computer problems lately. Anyway… I'm not sure where, but I seem to remember something in the RA books saying that Gilan was originally from Caraway fief. I'm probably wrong, but I'm going to stick him in there anyway.

Hope you enjoyed it! If you did (or even if you didn't) please drop me a review. I'd really, really appreciate it. Thanks!