Shorter chapter, could have continued but not until tomorrow so just decided to publish.

Rebecca Taylor: Thanx for the continued praise. Hope you like it. Tell me what you think of this one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing below.

The room fell silent. The King and Prince Ander looking at the youth in wonder whilst Arion fumed.

"This is ridiculous, don't listen to their lies father," the eldest Prince stated. "How could you say this Amberle? And you!" he said, stepping towards Rawdon. "How dare you use the death of my aunt for political gain!" Rawdon's mouth gaped open in shock at the very idea, pain coursing through him as he received such hostility from one who was supposed to be his family. Allanon instantly moved to step between his son and the still advancing Prince when the King's voice boomed through the hall.

"That's enough!" he shouted, silencing Arion's rant. "You will leave us now," the King said to his son. "When I next see you I expect you to have a level head and to behave like a Prince." Arion huffed, shooting a death glare at Rawdon before storming out of the room. The King sighed before calming his features and looking towards his commander. "Please ensure we are not disturbed." Tilton bowed her head, making her way to the door with Wil following. The boy had patted Rawdon's back in good luck before deciding to go; this was a family matter and not his place to intervene. Besides he wanted to speak with Bandon some more.

"Now…what is your name?" the King asked kindly, displeased by the hurt on the youth's face as a consequence of Arion's words.

"Rawdon, your Highness," he replied, after a short cough to strengthen his voice.

"Your father's name," the King said to Allanon, making the druid nod. "And why is it this is the first I have heard of you?"

"My mother raised me in Wing Hove your majesty. I…I was unaware of her family as much as you were unaware of me. That was until I came home on leave and Amb…I mean…when the Princess was with my mother."

"You are a soldier?"

"A Lieutenant in the border guard your Grace," Rawdon replied, just trying to say everything right and respectfully. The King smiled, completely aware of the youth's nervousness.

"And you Allanon. Had you no part to play in this?"

"As always Pyria took control of her own life," the druid stated. "I had already left for the druid's sleep before she could tell me of her pregnancy. The choice to live apart from you was hers alone. These last few days have been the first I have had with my son."

"You have my sister's eyes boy; and no doubt some of her traits too," the King finished; eye's sad at the loss of his sister. "Amberle, I want you to prepare to stand before the Ellcrys in the morning. Tonight we shall celebrate your return and welcome my nephew formerly to the palace."

"Your Grace?" Rawdon attempted to say as the King already began walking away, needing some privacy to mourn his sister.

"Princess, we must prepare," Allanon said, taking the Codex out of his bag and placing in on the table.

"Amberle?" Rawdon intercepted. "I didn't think I would be introduced to the Court. I thought I would be returning to my regiment."

"Rawdon you are a Prince of the blood, you have to be respected as such," she replied. Allanon sighed from the table seeing Rawdon's distress.

"We must prepare. Your future must be decided at a later time," Allanon said apologetically. Rawdon nodded, he knew the safety of the Four Lands came above his petty worries, but still he did not like this whole situation. Amberle smiled at him, taking his arm and guiding him out the room where she Commander Tilton was waiting to take him to his chambers. "I would show you around, but Allanon is right. I must prepare for tomorrow. I shall see you tonight," Amberle finished, walking back into the throne-room where Allanon was already studying the book. Rawdon could do nothing but agree to Amberle's wishes. Unbeknownst to him Prince Ander was watching how uncomfortable he was from across the hallway; thinking of a way to help.

"My Prince," Commander Tilton acknowledged, bowing her head.

"Wh…no…its Rawdon. Please Commander, it is I who should be bowing to you," Rawdon replied, dipping his head to her, his hand across his chest. "You are my superior."

"If you were just a Lieutenant that would be true," Tilton said, leading the way through the corridors.

"Commander…if I am to introduced to court…I would never get my old life back would I?"

"Princes of the blood are immediately given the rank of General; though in some cases it is merely a title."

"And if I wished to earn my rank?" Rawdon asked, causing the Commander to smile sadly at him.

"I'm afraid you will no longer be striving to earn a rank anymore my Prince. From now on everyone will look for your weaknesses, for any faults that prove you are a mere woodsman and not meant for royalty. You have to earn the people's respect. If you do not, you will never survive here."

"And if I am just a mere woodsman?" Commander Tilton paused, turning towards the youth and staring at him intently.

"When I was younger I was told I could never advance beyond a Captain's position. Princess Pyria helped me and convinced me otherwise. If you really are her son, you owe it to her to prove your worth. Fail…and you fail her… This way," she finished opening a door which led into a huge study with a bedchamber off to one side. Two elves stood inside, a man servant and maid, ready to attend to Rawdon's every need.

"My Prince," the elf said, bowing to Rawdon.

"My Prince," the maiden copied, curtsying. Rawdon gulped, looking back at the Commander for help only to find that she had already left the room.

"We have prepared a bath for you, Sir," the elf stated, guiding Rawdon towards the bathroom. Rawdon followed hesitantly, looking around his surroundings not understanding that all this space was just for him.

"My Prince," the maid said, snapping Rawdon out of his daze as she began unbuckling his cloak.

"I can do it," Rawdon said, taking over and pulling the cloak off with practiced hands. He was going to just drop it when the elf took it and folded it over the chair in the corner as the maid began unfastening the stitches on his tunic. Immediately uncomfortable, Rawdon took a step back, holding his hands up. "I assure you I can manage; thank-you." The two servants looked at him disapprovingly and Rawdon realised this was exactly what Commander Tilton was talking about. Every single action was to be judged, even in the privacy of his own room.

"My Prince, our role is to help you in every way we can," the elf stated. "These are our customs." Rawdon sighed, not believing he was actually going to agree to this. He put his hands down and in a moment they were both removing his clothes once again. Thankfully they allowed him to remove his breeches on his own as they could tell that helping him with those was a step he was not willing to take. Rawdon then quickly climbed into the bath thinking that would be it… It was not.

No sooner had he settled in the bath when the elf picked up all of his clothes and took them out of the room. Rawdon was about to protest when an arm suddenly travelled down his chest from behind; rubbing a sponge over his skin. Rawdon immediately tensed as the elven maid cleaned him and the elf returned to pour rose petals into the water. The maid then washed his hair, taking a pair of scissors to the straggled ends. The youth didn't speak, he merely stayed uncomfortably still until the whole process was over.

Standing upon instruction Rawdon was towel dried and then given dark breeches and a white silk tunic. A grey buckled jerkin went over the top to be finished with a dark green cloak that swept across his chest before falling over his shoulder. Rawdon managed to pull the black boots on by himself only to be attacked again when the maid placed a belt around his waist.

"Are you done?" Rawdon asked, slightly more gruffly than he had meant to say to. He couldn't help but feel both annoyed and violated by the whole experience.

"Indeed my Prince," the elf replied, verging on a tone of insolence. Rawdon didn't begrudge him for it, he had been rude to the servant so he had every right to act impolitely back. "May we be of any further assistance. Rawdon just shook his head tiredly, glad when they both eventually left the room.

Rawdon just about managed to collapse at his desk when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called, not even bothering to look up as he rubbed hands through his hair, elbows rested on the desk.

"Rawdon, are you alright?"

"Wil," Rawdon sighed, relieved to see a friendly face. He stood to greet the boy and Wil stared at him, shock on his face. "What?"

"You certainly look like a Prince," Wil stated, gesturing at Rawdon's appearance. In Wil's eyes he saw a slightly short but compact man. His muscled frame highlighted by the fit of the clothes. His dark brown hair that had previously been matted by the elements curled neatly in ringlets across his head in a manner similar to Prince Ander's. Then his eyes matched the dark green of his cloak, drawing attention to them so they felt almost piercing and powerful. He looked every bit strong and royal, except for the slight nervousness in his stance and the hesitant rubbing of his thumb over his other hand.

"Well, I sure don't feel like one," Rawdon replied, running a hand through his hair and gesturing to the room. "This isn't me Wil. I don't know how to do this."

"Hey Rawdon, no-ones forcing you to stay," Wil assured. "Look…just go to the party tonight, say goodbye to Amberle and then you can decide what to do. Allanon told me the King left to grieve for Pyria. I'm sure over the next few days he will want to speak with you about her; properly."

"You're right. This is about my family and not me." Wil smiled.

"Come, lets go down. Apparently I am to be introduced to the court too."

"How are you so calm?" Rawdon said, following Wil out the door.

"Because what's the worst that can happen?" Wil replied, smiling as they walked through the corridors lined with guards. "Here we go," Wil continued, beginning his descent down the spiralled staircase that came out to the party. Wil walked calmly down, joining the party confidently despite the inspection he was getting by the guests. Rawdon was still at the top of the stairs.

"Wil, where's Rawdon?" Amberle asked the boy as she stood by her Uncle Ander.

"He was just…just behind me," Wil replied.

"I should go to him," Amberle said, starting to walk when Ander grabbed her hand.

"No need," the Prince stated, as he watched his cousin make his way down the stairs and into the room. The hall fell quiet, all watching the regal looking stranger walk down the stairs. When he came into full sight there was a collective silence as the memories of many in the room were awakened. Ander even let out a gasp as he stared up at the man who now resembled his dead brother, Prince Aine, so much.

"He…he looks like my father," Amberle whispered, unable to take her eyes of the made-up Rawdon.

"An uncanny likeness," Ander replied weakly, eyes welling up. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go make sure Arion stays in check," he said so that he could escape his niece's company. It was his fault Aine had died. He was the one that showed the gnomes how to access the passage. It was his mistake that had killed his brother.

Rawdon's steps only faltered when he noticed everyone watching him. This was when Amberle made her move, going up to greet her cousin and save him from the quietness just as Ander had done for her following the Gauntlett.

"Thank-you," Rawdon whispered as he took his cousin's arm and guided her into the fray.

"Don't mention it. Come, lets go see my Grandfather."

"Ok," Rawdon replied quietly, letting Amberle lead him through the crowds of people staring at him. Allanon was standing beside the King who was currently sat on his throne, stroking his dog. The King, however, stood when he saw the two of them approaching, the two Princes standing off to the side; Ander silent with pain, Arion silent with rage.

"Amberle," the King said, kissing his grand-daughter on the cheek. "You look beautiful."

"Thank-you grand-father," she replied, before stepping out the way so the King could see Rawdon properly.

The King almost fell in shock, reaching an arm out to the youth which Rawdon took immediately to steady the man.

"Your Grace?" Rawdon stuttered. "Are you well?" The King let out a choked laugh, moving both hands so that they were placed against Rawdon's face, cupping his cheeks.

"Well? My dear boy…," the King said, voice weak as he stared at the likeness of his first-born. "You have come home…of course I am well," he finished, pulling the youth into a fierce hug. Rawdon stilled for a moment before he allowed himself a small smile and returned the grip, his head resting on the shoulder of his uncle. "Come," the King said as he broke the hug. "You will sit beside me for the dinner," he insisted, arm wrapped around Rawdon's shoulder as he lead him into the next room and to the grand table. The King all but forced him into the chair at his right hand. The King sat beside him, unable to stop

staring at the boy in front of him as the rest of the guests joined him. "Now…I did not have the time to speak with you properly before. Please…I wish to know everything about your life my boy; do not miss anything out." Rawdon gaped for a moment but found strength when Amberle smiled at him from across the table as she took her seat. It was not long before Rawdon had the King and some of the other guests enthralled by his tales and adventures within the border guard and growing up with Pyria as a mother.

"Your son seems to have found his way into the King's heart rather quickly druid," Arion stated to Allanon who he was forced to sit beside as Rawdon had stolen his seat.

"Your father mourns the loss of his sister. Of course he would wish to hear stories about her," Allanon replied before turning his head to the other side where he could speak to Wil and ignore the Prince who was preoccupied with staring at Rawdon.

Ander chose a seat further down the table, needing to be in a less favoured seat than his brother and also wanting to be alone. Unlike his usual self he did not partake in any conversation. He merely drank and hoped the night would end soon. However, just like his brother Arion, Ander couldn't help his eyes from drifting towards his cousin who spoke so vibrantly to his father. If he allowed himself he could almost imagine that it was Aine himself sat at the table, eating and drinking with them; with his daughter, but that was impossible. Aine was dead, and Rawdon was part of the family now.

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