This is meant to be a bit of a lighter chapter, as i realize the last one was pretty. . . serious. Also, i miss Hanna, and i'm pretty sure Brigan does too - because, let's face it, he's a busy guy. And Hanna loves her ol' Papa, so i bet she's missing him too. And Fire deserves some alone time - i'll give her a rest for a chapter, let her regroup, and we'll come back with her next. Hop you enjoy.
Brigan hadn't realised how tired he was until he fell asleep on the King's throne.
He had just been going to see Nash with his Captain's reports on the mountain villages – he took a shortcut past the hall with the mirrors, where he had seen Fire looking at her own reflection for the first time and was snared by her beauty for the first time, and through the Throne Room, where Nash held all his 'official' audiences - "With the Doilies." Nash would say, because the ridiculous lace the older members of court still trimmed their clothes with reminded him of the ugly contraptions with no apparent use besides forming a pointless barrier between the bottom of a vase and table. He and Nash had been calling the 'Court Elders' (as was their traditional title) 'The Doilies' since they were old enough to eavesdrop on the King's Court.
He had been walking past when his eye caught on the throne. What harm could a little rest do, anyway? His feet ached. He had several new, tender bruises and a cut under his eye from a recent expedition to the Bay Valleys, where he was met with a less than courteous welcome. And Fire's mood swings, as well was worrying for her safety constantly, were grinding his mind down to a thread. No one would notice, and he wouldn't be late to Nash's meeting – Rocks, even Brigan wasn't meant to be in the Throne Room without the King's presence or written permission; as if anyone was going to check. Brigan eased himself into the chair with a loud sigh. It wasn't comfortable at all, but it was better than standing. He hummed and leaned his head back, relishing in the relief. It wouldn't hurt to close his eyes, surely? Just ten seconds, a long blink, really. Brigan closed his eyes. One. . . Two. . . Three. . .Four. . . fiiiivvvvveeee. . .
"Well," a loud banging and an amused voice made him jump to attention "I've heard of brothers competing for the Throne before, but simply refusing to get off it is new. Did you think it up all on your own, Brother? Or were your advisers involved?"
"Oh, Brother King, you know I have no advisers," Brigan mocked back, standing reluctantly from the throne "that honour is all yours – you need all the help you can get." Nash grinned in response.
"I am not sure," he said, his voice suddenly turning serious "you look tired, Brigan. And worried. What troubles you?"
Brigan fell back onto the throne with a groan, collapsing into the back of it "Too many things. For now, the Dells is in a tenuous state of peace, but who knows how long that will last? You know how greedy the Lords get – it's only a matter of time before one of them would like a little more wine in his cellar, or one of their wives would like a few more fur cloaks and necklaces. The harvest in the mountains was poor due to the late frost this year, so the people there struggle, and our popularity with the Valley folk is. . .poor."
"And?" Nash pressed "You can't expect me to believe your only worries are for my Kingdom; no one is that loyal to the Dells, not even you."
"No," Brigan agreed.
"Fire?"
"Fire." Brigan counted the names off on his fingers "Hanna. Mother. The list goes on."
"I thought Hana had come to terms with having a new sibling?"
"She has. She and Fire are spending a lot of time together – but Hana and I are not. I miss her; I'm missing everything. Did you know she hit her first bull's-eye in archery the other day? I missed it. I having trouble enough splitting my time between you, Garan and Clara, my soldiers and Fire, and I'm struggling to fit in Hanna too. I feel like I'm failing her, Nash."
"It will pass." Nash said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder "When the baby is born –"
"I can't even think of that far into the future right now, Nash." Brigan shook his head "Fire's getting into more trouble every day. She's so exhausted most of the time she can't even keep her mental defences very strong. And her beauty seems to multiply daily – I came to our chambers last evening and found her sleeping on our bed covered from eyelash to toenail in butterflies! Rocks knows how they got in, but I think they thought she was some sort of flower and swarmed her!"
"We are doing all we can," Nash reassured earnestly "you are doing all you can. Go back to your chambers – I have the written report, I can do without the verbal for now. Get some rest, then go out and find Hanna and spend the day together. Fire can do without you – she is helping Mila with organising the final plans Autumn Celebrations, and is well occupied – and you know everything Mother says is meant to help, not criticise."
"Thank you, Brother," Brigan stood and grinner "Of course, I have no choice but to obey my King."
"For once."
Brigan clapped Nash on the shoulder boyishly and span off in the opposite direction.
"And Brigan!" Nash called out; Brigan turned and faced him, still walking backwards towards the doors "I catch you in my seat again and I'll charge you with High Treason!"
Brigan bowed mockingly and shot out the door.
Brigan knew just where Hanna would be at this time of day; classes. He marched straight into the room without knocking, interrupting the Tutor mid-lecture. This tutor was one of Hanna's least favourites, an aged woman who believed women should sit with their knees together, wear bows in their hair and generally be a delight to all who beheld them. Hanna disagreed.
"Lord Prince," the woman stuttered, then forced her arthritic bones into an ugly curtsey – Brigan imaged that a gargoyle would perform a similar kind of bow it one happened to chance upon royalty "Is there a problem?"
"All of Hanna's classes are cancelled today." Brigan announced – Hanna squealed in delight behind him, but he didn't look at her "Please inform the other Tutors. Hanna," Brigan turned his eyes on her "follow me." he strode out the room, hearing her fast little patters hurry to catch up.
"Papa, am I in trouble?" Hanna asked, but Brigan didn't say anything – he wanted it to be a surprise "Papa, what did I do? Was it that argument with the stable boy? I swear, on the Dells, Papa, he started it, not me. And I didn't fight him, like you told me, Papa, I swear it! Where are we going?"
"What did you do to you hair?" Brigan finally asked. They had reached the stable courtyard, and Brigan had stopped to regard his daughter, which he did for a good few seconds. Hanna's hair, normally a messy but acceptable (for a girl) collar-bone length, had been brutally cut short to almost military length.
"I cut it." Hanna said, looking at her shoes and fiddling with her hair self-consciously.
"Hmmm. On your own? Does your Mother know about this?"
"Oh, yes, it was Mama's idea." Hanna said brightly "She held the scissors – said I needed to explore all aspects of my personality before I found who I was."
"Oh?" Brigan raised an eyebrow "And who are you?"
"I'm still Princess Hanna." She pouted.
"Who did you want to be?"
"Officer Hanna. Lieutenant Hanna. Oh, Captain Hanna! Then I could work with you all day."
Brigan felt a twinge of guilt and frowned. Hanna immediately took it the wrong way.
"Am I losing my combat lessons again?" she said with dread.
"No," Brigan grinned "you're gaining one. Frank!" he called out, and one of the stable-masters looked up from combing a horse "Is Big ready?"
"Yes, Lord Prince."
"And is Princess Hanna's horse ready?"
"Yes, Lord Prince."
"Good – come, Hanna." He took her hand and pulled her over to where their horses were dutifully waiting. Though Hanna was small, she was a talented rider and her Uncle Nash had gifted her a steed at Brigan's request for her last birthday, a beautiful pure white stallion called Mouse, because he reminded Hanna of the white kitchen mice.
"You're giving me a lesson, Papa!" Hanna practically fainted from delight "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she threw her arms around Brigan and kissed him on the cheek.
"Well, we have not spent enough time together, my daughter." Brigan said, lifting her onto Mouse "I am jealous – I think your mother knows you better than I do now!"
"Oh, Papa, where are we going?"
Brigan spent the rest of the day with Hanna, and found his exhaustion evaporated. They went out to the Archery range and Brigan got to see Hanna shoot, and they sparred together – they galloped around in the protection of the palace walls, as Brigan still had to keep up appearances for the public; if they saw him out and laughing while his wife was supposedly ailing day by day, suspicions would arise. At lunch time, they stole apples from Nash's orchard and ate them in the treetops.
"Is Mama very unwell, Papa?" Hanna asked after a while, examining her apple as if it held the secrets of the world.
"Who told you she was unwell?" Brigan replied neutrally.
"I heard her screaming yesterday." Hanna's voice warbled. Brigan cursed under his breath.
"That was. . .an accident. She's not unwell, she's just. . . the baby's taking a lot out of her, that's all." Brigan tried to explain without scaring her.
"She looks weary when I see her," Hanna frowned "and when she rubs her tummy, she looks worried. Sometimes, she lets me rub it for her, when she's too tired."
"She's doing fine, Hanna, don't you worry." Brigan picked another apple from the tree and tossed it at her "Here, give that to Mouse."
"I'd love to see Uncle Nash's expression if he saw me giving his favourite apples to my horse." Hanna giggled.
"Me too," Brigan agreed "now, I bet I can get back to the Red Tree faster than you can!"
ta-da! Tell me what you think. be honest. be kind. don't dis the typos - they have a life of their own. I can only apologize, but really, it feels a little like apologizing for something your kids have done, or apologizing when your cat sneaks into the neighbours' and eats their cats' food too. So sorry - but i still love them. Honest.