So, so sorry it has taken so long to update. Soooo many things happening right now at home! I'm actually trying to publish another book, so this had to take a back seat for awhile.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated in any way with Merlin, the BBC, or any of the cast, directors, or writers.

The night before the arrival of the North Kings, all of Camelot burned their torches late into the night making final preparations. When Wynne finally tumbled into bed, it was well past midnight. As she stared out the window at the near-full moon, she felt a deep sense of contentment that she hadn't felt in a long time, not only because the other young ladies hadn't been taunting her as much-no one had time for that with the North Kings coming-but also because of the high praise she had received from Lady Magdalen, Queen Guinevere, and even King Arthur himself. As she stifled a yawn, she thought to herself, I almost wish the North Kings would visit more often. The only thing that was still amiss in her little corner of the world was her unrequited love for Gwaine. As she drifted off to sleep, she tried to push aside the image of the handsome knight-her handsome knight-and Lady Retta, determined that not even that was going to spoil the excitement of the coming days.

Before dawn the next morning, Wynne was awakened by the voices of servants walking briskly down the hallway. She blinked sleepily a few times, wondering what might be amiss, before she remembered what day it was. With a squeak of excitement, she threw back the covers, leapt out of bed, and scrambled into her favorite gray everyday dress beofre heading downstairs.

The kitchens were already a hive of activity. In the middle of the room, Berte stirred a large kettle while she uncharacteristically barked orders at the servants, who all seemed to stumble over one another and get in each others' way. Wynne's eyes took in the large pots simmering over every cookfire in the kitchen, and the scent of baking breads and pastries wafted from all the ovens. As fast as one servant snatched a pot from one of the fires, another servant hurriedly replaced it with another. As Wynne stood gaping at the barely-controlled chaos in front of her, Theresa suddenly appeared beside her, also stopping short at the scene in front of her. The two young ladies exchanged an uncertain glance, certain they had somehow side-stepped Camelot's usually-well-run kitchens and found themselves at the entrance of another castle's kitchen.

Berte lifted a lid the size of Sir Percival's shield off the kettle she was minding, releasing a fragrant cloud of steam into the air and blocking out her face. Wynne inhaled the aroma of venison stew, one of King Elkantar's favorite dishes. As Berte replaced the lid, she caught sight of the two young ladies hovering uncertainly at the door. "Wynne! Theresa! Are you planning to stand there gawking all day?" she barked. "Get your aprons on and pitch in. We're behindhand already!"

Jarred into action by the head cook's commanding voice, both girls snatched aprons off the peg by the door and scampered to their places. Theresa grabbed a knife and began chopping vegetables for one of the many stews while Wynne dashed over to help prepare and arrange platters of hors d'oeuvres.

By the time early afternoon arrived, most of the food for the evening feast was prepared and set aside, ready to be carried out at the appointed time. Lady Magdalen arrived to do one final inspection of the kitchens and the food. Wynne and Theresa stood with the other servants, their hastily-braided hair disheveled and their dresses, damp with sweat, clinging to their skin. When she was satisfied that everything was in order, she and Berte made their way over to the gathering of servants. Her normally-dour expression was replaced by a tense, nervous smile as she addressed the group. "You have all truly outdone yourselves. I am confident that the North Kings will be more than pleased with the offerings of Camelot's kitchens, and you should all be very proud of your accomplishments." Her eyes suddenly landed on Wynne and Theresa, and her smile faded slightly as a whispered "oh my" escaped her lips. She cast a hurried glance at Berte. "I trust that my charges have performed their duties well?"

Berte beamed in their direction and replied, "Oh, yes, milady! They have certainly..."

"Good, good," Lady Magdalen interrupted, stepping forward to grasp both young ladies by the arm and usher them urgently towards the door. "Beg pardon, Berte, but Wynifred and Theresa must hurry back to their rooms and prepare to be presented to the delegation. Please have hot water sent to their rooms so they may bathe."

As the matron led Wynne and Theresa up the back staircase and along the passageway leading to the young ladies' quarters, she muttered distractedly to herself. "What was I thinking, sending two young ladies-in-training into the kitchens the very day the visiting delegation is expected? Good heavens," she exclaimed. "You're young ladies of means, not common scullery maids!"

Theresa's expression suggested that she quite agreed, and she placed a hand self-consciously over a large stew stain on the front of her dress, as though the North Kings could already sense her clumsiness. Wynne kept her face expressionless, but she inwardly rolled her eyes at both Lady Magdalen and Theresa. If learning the workings of the kitchens is part of our training, Wynne thought, then why on earth would it be shameful to be discovered in the kitchens putting to use what we learned?

Lady Magdalen stopped outside of Theresa's door and turned to them both with her faint, distracted smile. "I am well pleased with your abilities in the kitchens. You have proven that you're capable of both managing a kitchen and preparing a feast. Now you need only make yourselves presentable for the delegations." Her face once again took on her usual sternness as her eyes drifted ever so slightly in Wynne's direction. "I am certain I needn't remind you that a number of eligible young gentlemen will be in attendance, and they will be evaluating not only your beauty and your abilities, but also your deportment, so please, please be on your best, most ladylike behavior." She was about to say something else, but the sound of bells suddenly sounded throughout the castle, and a shout from outside announced the North Kings' imminent arrival. "Oh my goodness!" Lady Magdalen exclaimed. "They're early..." She turned and hurried back down the passageway, leaving Wynne and Theresa to stare after her for a moment before scurrying to their respective rooms to get ready.

For the next two hours, Wynne bounced from the window, where she tried to catch glimpses of the arriving kings, to her wardrobe, where she rooted through her available gowns, giving fits to the servant who was sent to help her prepare. She hastily bathed and thoroughly washed her hair with lavender-scented soap to remove the scent of onions, garlic, and fish, and to remove the bits of food that had somehow entangled in her hair. "Saints have mercy," the servant, an older woman named Clotilde, exclaimed. "No wonder the Lady Magdalen was beside herself, child! You look as though you took a swim in the stew, you do!"

After going through her clothes a third time, Wynne decided to wear a forest green gown with a pale green underskirt embroidered with flowers and leaves, an outfit that had belonged to one of her cousins. Aunt Giselle had remade it to fit her and had done such an expert job on it that no one would know it was second-hand unless she told them. Clotilde fussed with the ribbons on the back of the dress for what seemed like an hour before turning her attentions to Wynne's long, dark hair. Recalling how lovely her hair had looked the day she had bested Reginald at sword fighting, Wynne suggested wearing her hair in that style again.

It took almost two hours for Clotilde to be satisfied with Wynne's appearance, a feat that Wynne only made more difficult by wanting to rush to the window to peer out every time Clotilde turned her attention elsewhere. Wynne found herself taking back her wish from the previous night, that the North Kings would visit more often. She would go out of her mind if she had to put so much time into primping more than a couple times a year. Still, when Clotilde was finished and Wynne looked at herself in the mirror, she was quite pleased with the result.

Before she could properly thank Clotilde for her ministrations, a sharp rap sounded at her door. "Wynifred, are you ready? We must hurry downstairs; we are already late."

"Yes, Lady Magdalen," she called, giving Clotilde a quick hug of thanks. "I am ready."

She threw open the door to see the others lined up in the passageway, looking as nervous and excited as she felt. Lady Magdalen's eyes swept quickly over Wynne. Giving her a curt nod and a faint smile, she approved, "Yes, you look lovely, Wynifred. That shade of green suits you well." Not waiting for a response, she turned quickly on her heels and told them all to follow her.

Wynne's eyes quickly took in the other ladies' gowns, and her confidence faltered slightly. She was certain the others were dressed much more finely than she was. Lavinia, of course, had a sumptuous green velvet gown that was lavishly adorned with pearls. Priscilla wore a light blue gown with a collar of cascading lace and matching ribbons woven into her sunlight-blond hair. Bronwyn's gown was a deep rose with tight-fitting sleeves of lighter pink. Each of the girls' gowns seemed better than her own, and she began fretting uncharacteristically about her appearance, until her eyes met Anora's. Anora's dark blue gown also seemed much more elegant than Wynne's, even though it lacked the rich adornments of the other young ladies' attire. Anora beamed warmly at her friend, setting Wynne instantly at ease. "Wynne, your dress is beautiful!" she exclaimed in a whisper, grasping her friend's hand.

Wynne was shocked at how cold Anora's hand was, and she realized quickly that her companion's smile hid her nervousness at having to sing before the North Kings after the feast. Wynne squeezed Anora's hand and whispered a reply. "Oh, you're sweet to say so. Your gown is lovely too. Are you nervous about singing this evening?"

Anora's smile faded a bit as she replied, "Yes, a bit, but Lady Retta said the nerves will fade as soon as we begin singing." She cast a worried glance at Wynne. "I do hope she's right."

Wynne soothed, "I'm sure she is. After all, Lady Retta has..."

"Ladies!" Lady Magdalen's sharp voice startled Wynne into silence. "Please remain quiet as we enter the Great Hall!"

Lady Magdalen led her charges into the Great Hall, where the knights and squires were already gathered, along with the king and queen, to wait for their honored guests. Torches burned festively along the walls, and the late-afternoon sun cast a golden light into the room as if it too celebrated this gathering. As she lined up the young ladies to greet the visiting delegation, Lady Magdalen hurriedly looked each one over one last time, making certain that every curl was in place and that every ribbon and ruffle lay straight. Wynne tried hard not to fidget under the older woman's hawkish eyes, but she felt like one of the china dolls that were occasionally offered in the marketplace, and she didn't like it. To add to her self-consciousness, she couldn't shake the feeling that the other young ladies were dressed more elegantly than she was. She hated to admit that she cared about presenting herself as proper and refined, but given the importance of Camelot's guests, she truly wanted to shed her clumsiness if just for these few days. She was torn between wanting to be completely invisible to the visiting delegation and wanting them to notice her and to look upon her favorably.

It's difficult to say how she might have felt if she had noticed a certain dark-haired knight watching her intently. As he took in the way her braided, beribboned hair framed her face and the way her forest green dress accentuated her creamy complexion and rosy, sun-kissed cheeks, the corners of his mouth turned up appreciatively despite his recent irritation over her unflattering portrayal of him in her sketchbook. Unfortunately, Wynne didn't see his look of admiration. By the time she had turned her attention away from Lady Magdalen and the other young ladies and towards the rows of knights, Lady Retta had come alongside him and stood on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear. He turned his eyes to her, grinning delightedly, and responded to her before leaning down to kiss her cheek. Wynne's cheeks flamed, and her chest tightened unbearably as she witnessed the exchange.

Unbeknownst to Wynne, Lavinia and Reginald had also seen the exchange, and as their eyes met, they shared a wicked grin, knowing they would be able to use Gwaine and Lady Retta's exchange in their plot to sow further discord between Wynne and Gwaine.

Just then, trumpets sounded in the hallway. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere rose from their thrones and descended from their platform to greet their guests. Wynne fought the urge to crane her neck to catch a glimpse of the royal visitors, wishing she were closer to the entrance to the Great Hall instead of right in the middle of the group of ladies in training so that she wouldn't have to wait so long.

First to reach the impatient Wynne was the delegation from Pendleton. King Elkantar had a quiet, wise demeanor. His graying hair and kind, green eyes gave him a grandfatherly air, and his warm smile put Wynne at ease as she curtsied to him. As she turned to greet Queen Roseaura, her smile froze . Where King Elkantar seemed personable and benevolent, his queen, though beautiful, was haughty and self-absorbed. Her sleek, midnight-black hair was drawn tightly back in a chignon, and her icy blue eyes sliced right through Wynne's confidence, making her drop her eyes to the floor as she curtsied.

Next came Elkantar and Roseaura's offspring, all of whom were Raven-haired like their mother. Prince Declan was the oldest. His expression was reserved and his eyes guarded and watchful. His attention seemed to be upon his younger brother and sister, who followed him. Prince Lachlan and Princess Larken were twins who both had their father's green eyes and seemed fun-loving and gregarious. The prince startled Wynne by immediately grasping her hand and kissing it warmly as he greeted her. "Ah, Wynifred, the most beautiful of Camelot's maidens."

Wynne stifled a giggle as she felt her cheeks flushing. Prince Lachlan was as flirtatious as Gwaine, and almost as handsome. "You're much too kind, Prince Lachlan," she replied shyly, trying to draw her hand away.

Prince Lachlan sensed that Wynne was unused to such attention, and he smiled kindly at her. "Too kind, no, milady, but much too tongue-tied to find words worthy of so exquisite a creature." Before Wynne could respond, Queen Roseaura cleared her throat loudly. Both Wynne and Prince Lachlan glanced over to see the queen and Prince Declan glaring disapprovingly at them. Obviously they thought Wynne was unworthy and an unsuitable match for the Prince. Prince Lachlan quickly dropped her hand and gave her a curt nod, but not before hastily whispering, "Might I have the honor of the first dance?"

Without stopping to consider her clumsiness on the dance floor, she demurely accepted. As she greeted Princess Larken, Lachlan's twin sister, and several of the knights of Pendleton, she surreptitiously tried to see if the Prince was as flirtatious with the other young ladies, but she found that she couldn't do so without appearing rude. She didn't notice that Gwaine had witnessed the entire interaction between Wynne and the Prince, and he was now regarding Prince Lachlan with disdainful suspicion.

Wynne turned her attention to the knights of Pendleton, who, like Camelot's knights, were much less proper and reserved than the king and queen. They all greeted the young ladies cheerfully and jested comfortably back and forth with the ladies and one another. Although they seemed easy-going and friendly, Wynne still fretted over how she would remember so many names, and this was only the first group!

Next came King Alaric, Queen Esmerelda, and their daughters, Princess Elnora and Princess Wilhelmina, from the small island nation of Lughnavar. Queen Esmerelda was a slight, mousy-haired, timid woman who seemed much younger than her husband. King Alaric's most notable features were his thick, unruly, flame-colored hair and his bulbous red nose. Wynne overheard Rosalynde whisper to Bernice that the king appeared to love his mead, to which Bernice replied that he and Gwaine were likely to get along famously. Their remarks caused Wynne to involuntarily glance over at Gwaine, who at that moment was lavishing attention on Princess Larken in a way that only Gwaine could. A surge of jealousy made Wynne see red as he and the Princess of Pendleton seemed to forget that they were in a large public gathering in the Great Hall. The only thing that calmed Wynne's envy was the fact that Queen Roseaura and Prince Declan quickly ended their intimate conversation.

A sweet, melodic voice startled Wynne and brought her attention back to her guests. "I bring you greetings from Lughnavar, Lady Wynifred. I am Wilhelmina, and this is my sister, Elnora."

For a brief moment, Wynne was struck speechless, for Princess Wilhelmina was a stunning beauty, so much so that Wynne wondered if she might be part fey. Her hair was the color of a sunset reflecting on water, and it seemed to shine with its own light. Her complexion was flawless and soft as white roses, and her crystal blue eyes seemed to see right into Wynne's soul. Wynne quickly averted her eyes as she greeted Wilhelmina, afraid she would see how much she envied the willowy, graceful princess, as well as the flare of bitter jealousy she had felt as Gwaine flirted with Princess Larken. Wynne needn't have worried, however, for Wilhelmina could see the goodness in the young girl before her, and the princess gave Wynne a final warm smile before moving along. Princess Elnora met Wynne's eyes only briefly as she greeted her. Though older than her sister, she was mousy and timid like her mother, and she allowed her sister to do the speaking.

As the royals passed through, the Lughnavar knights greeted the young ladies. Several of the newly-knighted young men bragged of their conquests and flirted with the ladies, drawing smiles and glances of admiration from the ladies and nudges and shared jokes from both the older Lughnavar knights and from the Camelot knights who overheard their boasts.

Next in line was a young upstart king from a small kingdom just northwest of Camelot. King Keondrick was a warrior king who thought he had something to prove. Both he and Queen Maxna spoke loudly and imperiously, trying to instill fear and respect from all in the Great Hall. They brushed quickly past the young ladies and even the squires, only wanting to interact with the other royalty. The knights were likewise belligerent and stand-offish, looking down their noses at Camelot's knights and bragging of how easily they would defeat them in the tournament. Wynne breathed a sigh of gratitude that she wasn't in Arthur's shoes; she wouldn't want to have to try to ally with such a warlike country.

Last of the Northern delegation were King Eoghan and Queen Melevine from Cymrugal, near the northeastern coast. King Eoghan was the oldest of the northern kings, and his gray eyes danced with combined good humor and deep wisdom that had come from a long reign. Both he and his queen had dark, gray-streaked hair, and their demeanor, though regal, exuded humility and kindness. Their son, Prince Corrigan, followed them closely. While he seemed as fiery and skittish as a young stallion, it was obvious that he observed closely the way his parents interacted with others, preparing for the day when he would take over the kingdom.

Cymrugal's princesses, Teagan and Fallon, not much older than Wynne, followed at some distance. Their excited eyes took in every detail of the castle, and they stopped repeatedly to compliment the young ladies on their dresses or their hairstyles. Wynne overheard Teagan talking to Anora about singing, and she smiled to hear them planning to sing something together at the feast. As Princess Fallon approached, Wynne's eyebrows raised slightly as she caught a glimpse of some cleverly patched spots on the princess' gown. Obviously the young princess caught her looking, for she whispered, "Please excuse my gown. I challenged one of the squires to a horse race on the way here, and I took a tumble into a patch of thorns. My lady-in-waiting did her best to patch up the tears." She stole a quick glance at the queen. "Mother was mortified that I refused to change gowns; this one is my favorite, even with unladylike patches."

Wynne giggled and confessed her tumble into the moat while trying to catch a frog. "Lady Magdalen was fit to be tied when she saw me. I spent nearly two weeks confined to my room when I wasn't in lessons." She didn't mention Gwaine rescuing her, however; she feared that her feelings for him would be betrayed if she mentioned how he pulled her from the moat and then defended her to Lady Magdalen. Still, as the young princesses passed by, Wynne smiled to herself, pleased that she and the princess had something in common.

The Cymrugal knights were as jolly and friendly as their king, and several of them seemed to take a liking to Lavinia. Even though there was only one whose attention she craved, Wynne still wrinkled her nose at the idea that someone like Lavinia could have no shortage of male attention. As Wynne watched enviously, one of Lavinia's admirers stepped aside, giving Wynne a clear glimpse of Gwaine staring enraptured at Princess Wilhelmina. Her chest tightened once more as she gazed towards them, wishing she were as strikingly beautiful as the princess so that Gwaine would look at her that way. Just before her envy gave way to tears, a voice said low in her ear, "Don't be distressed, milady. Sir Dougal and Sir Falke are as competitive in love as they are on the tournament fields, and Sir Emerson only eekss to add another conquest to his name." Wynne turned abruptly to face a tall young knight with curly, white-blond hair. His broad smile and sky blue eyes almost blinded her as he bowed slightly and introduced himself. "Sir Orion at your service."

Wynne blushed furiously at his misreading of her expression. "Oh, but I'm not...distressed over that," she stammered, then realized she was in danger of revealing the true reason for her vexation. She covered quickly, "It's just...she's so...elegant and beautiful..."

Sir Orion laughed kindly and replied, "Milady, there is more to elegance and beauty than wearing a fine gown. True beauty lies far beneath the skin." He kissed her hand. "True beauty and elegance is standing before me right now." Wynne was so flustered she couldn't respond. If Sir Orion only knew how clumsy and unladylike she really was, he would never say such a thing. She met his gaze with uncertainty in her eyes, and he kissed her hand once more. "Lady Wynifred, I pray you would save me a dance or two this evening."

Smiling shyly, Wynne accepted a second dance request. She was hesitant, yet thrilled that first a prince and then a knight had not only noticed her, but also wanted to dance with her. For all her disdain for the trappings of becoming a lady, Wynne was so far truly enjoying her first formal gathering as a young lady, and she was certain these next few days would hold nothing but happiness.

However, Wynne's conversations had not gone unnoticed by others in the Great Hall, and those others were less than pleased by what they had witnessed. Gwaine's watchful eye had been upon Wynne the entire evening, even amid his own flirtations, and he regarded with suspicion anyone who gave Wynne more than a passing interest. He would most certainly be keeping his eye on both Prince Lachlan and this Sir Orion fellow.

Lavinia and Reginald, too, had noticed the attentions given to Wynne, and neither was pleased by the prospect of such an improper girl being given such attentions by either a proper knight or a prince. Lavinia shuddered at the idea of a girl who would rather play at being a knight and catch frogs with little boys becoming a princess. No, that would not happen, not at all! She and Reginald would see to that.