A/N: Please review! :)
A gown had been laid out for me, ready for the arrival of Lord Brant. It always helped to make good first impressions, not that it was necessarily me that needed to impress, but I still needed to keep up to expectations.
The smooth gossamer of the crimson under-gown slipped over my body easily as Vivian helped to pull it on and tie the laces. Next came the black velvet over-gown, which matched the intricate swirls and leaves on the gossamer adorning the front where the heavy velvet had been cut away. The sleeves clung to the top of my arms like skin before flaring out from the elbow, falling over my hands. I hated the long sleeves, they always let the drafts up and got in the way because they were so long and drooping. However, luckily, this time it seemed I would only have to put up with it for a few hours, for it was already dark outside.
Next, after sitting me down in front of the mirror, Vivian did my hair, pinning it up, piece by piece. I rarely wore like that, preferring the curtain it provided when down, but putting it up made me look more sophisticated and that's what I needed. She left a few hairs loose around my face and placed a light, gilded crown on top of my head.
"I think you're ready, my lady."
I looked in the mirror. "It's perfect, thank you, Vivian." I stood up. "Are the rooms made up?"
"Yes, my lady. Everything is ready."
"Good."
As soon as I'd spoken, there was a knock on the door. At my nod, Vivian went to unlock it and it opened to reveal one of the guards. William, I think his name was.
"My lady, Lord Brant is approaching the gates," he informed us, standing up straight.
"I will come immediately."
I looked at him as I spoke and I saw him swallow at my eye contact. He nodded curtly before backing away and hurrying down the corridor to return to his post. I tried not to smirk, sometimes it could be rather amusing to watch the unusual effects my eye contact had on people, men in particular. I knew I had many admirers and many of my father's men had only stayed here because of hoping to attract my attention. I just used it to my advantage. It ensured their loyalty.
"Come, Vivian," I ordered as soon as I had composed myself and swept out of the room, heading for the courtyard.
I got there just as the gates were opening. Standing, I waited for the horses to enter. Drake came first with another man at his side, followed by about a dozen more. The man with Drake was clearly Lord Brant. He was dressed in finery that was very different to his men and it was clear he had made an attempt to look relatively as though he lived in Briton. His men… well, they looked… French. Very French. And that was going to have to change if they lived here. The cut on their clothes was very different to the Briton men. It was more refined, more sophisticated, and no matter how much I told myself they couldn't wear it, I had to admit, it was rather fetching. Although, from the fact it made them look so out of place, it was a wonder they hadn't been ambushed.
As they rode closer, I got my first proper look at the man who I was going accommodate in my home. His earthy hair was tousled from the long ride and his warm brown eyes twinkled mischievously. However, he did have a look of the French, despite the clothes and the slightly Briton-looking eyes.
"My lady, may I present Lord Brant of Pierrefonds," Drake introduced gruffly. He was still wearing the clothes I provided for him and I vaguely wondered whether he'd washed them in between. Probably not.
I stepped forwards. "My lord," I greeted.
"My lady," he answered in a deep, strong French accent, dismounting and handing his horse to a stable boy. Then suddenly, he bowed down low before me and took my hand, planting a gentle kiss on it. "I must thank you for letting us stay here. I am in your debt."
I nodded. "I will have a maid take you and your men to your rooms, my lord. I was told there were eleven of you?"
"You would have been told correctly, my lady, but please, just Brant. It makes me feel as though I am your equal when I am most certainly not."
"If that's what you wish, then I will call you Brant." There was a reason I wasn't going to let him call me Morgan just yet. The only people who had ever called me by name were my parents, King Lot, Merlin and Arthur. None of which had given me the choice of inviting them to call me such. There was only one of them that I would have. My mother. And she had been cruelly snatched from me when I was a child. "Vivian, will you take him up to his chambers please. I will be in the Great Hall if you need me."
"Of course, my lady." She turned to Brant. "This way please, my lord."