Disclaimer: Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey. This fic and Original Characters belong to their author.

Notes: A One-Shot about Herald-Mage Neneya from the prologue of Down Came A Blackbird. *shrugness* I just felt like writing it, so I am. Basically it's dealing with her life before being Chosen and up until Yeo comes along. Nothing special, but I've been having monumental Writers Block on freaking everything lately, so I'm hoping this will help me get through it. If not, keep your eyes open for more One-Shots.

COURTLY GRACES
By Senashenta

Neneya Arssia sighed boredly and stifled a yawn, as at the front of the room her teacher continued to drone on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and—she found herself drifting off and had to jerk her mind back into wakefulness for the second time in a half a candlemark.

At thirteen years of age, she was less than interested in being "courtly" and the endless classes in etiquette that her mother and father were insisting she take were not something she enjoyed. In fact, and it was something that had her mother in vapors whenever the subject came up, she would much rather have been helping to clean the kennels or muck out the stalls at her uncle Daran's farm outside of Haven.

And heaven forbid she should actually play. She was thirteen, after all, and had responsibilities to grow into. Ones that she needed to be schooled on before she could take up, and as her elder brother had run off and joined the Guard when he turned sixteen (not that she blamed him, as she was currently considering the same thing herself) she was the only one to take up her father's blah blah blah…

It was always she same.

The bottom line was that they wanted her to grow up too fast. Or, that had been her uncle's opinion before they flatly forbade her to see him anymore. Apparently, he was a bad influence, and Neneya was under the impression they thought that because he let her ride horses out of the formal style that she had learned from them, and play in the yard with the dogs without regard for the dust of the outdoors.

She might—gasp!—actually get dirty!

And we all know that just wouldn't be seemly… She thought sarcastically as the teacher continued scratching words onto the blackboard and speaking in one long, boring, monotone sentence. Neneya propped her head on her hand and sighed. Can't the Gods take pity on me just this once and burn the house down?

The thought wasn't an innocent one, as she very nearly meant it, and had she been taking her classes in the temple with the rest of the city's children she probably would have regretted the thought immediately and brushed it and it's blasphemy aside.

But since she was currently seated in a cushy chair in her own private room of the most high-end private school in Haven, barring the Collegium, of course, she wasn't worried enough about encoring the wrath of the deities to even consider retracting the request. In fact, as her teacher reached for the textbook that was lying on his desk, she repeated the wish, thinking louder.

Please! Just one fireball! It shouldn't be too hard to do, right?

Not that she really expected an answer.

And when the Heavens didn't immediately open up and rain brimstone on her behalf, she turned her eyes to the window that sat across from her and stared out at the trees beyond it as they tossed and moaned in the wind.

The sky was dark, lit by the occasional far-off crack of lightning and punctuated by a low rumble of distanced thunder, and Neneya could tell the storm would break soon. Probably in the next candlemark or two—possibly sooner.

She hoped it would run the wretched school she was confined in right to the ground, and she didn't regret that thought at all, as was the only person—aside from her teacher—in the building, the reason for that being that Valdemarian children were only required to take classes on five out of seven days in the week.

Or, most Valdemarian children were.

Miss Neneya Arssia, on the other hand, was required to study every day, with the exception of Midwinter, when she was too busy posing and practicing her etiquette for her parent's guests to actually open a book and concentrate.

The worst part about it, she thought, was probably that all of her friends went to school at the temple, and she was stuck in an empty building, which the Gods wouldn't even burn down for her.

Just a little fireball? Please?

Her eyes fluttered closed again as her teacher's monotonous one-sentence lecture began to lull her to sleep once more—then her head slipped from her hand, jerking her back awake in time to watch a spiral of smoke curl from the middle of the desk in front of her and drift toward the ceiling.

Huh?

Surprised, she blinked once, and then jumped back with a yelp, toppling her chair over when the maple wood suddenly burst into flame, her mind immediately retracting her whining wishes and reverently apologizing to the Higher Powers, be they Valdemarian, Hardonian or Karsite, for having overstepped her bounds.

Ahead of her, the teacher whirled around, stared blankly for a handful of seconds at the pyre that had once been a desk, and then leapt into action.

Neneya would have been surprised by the efficiency with which he yanked his coat from the corner and smothered the flames, had she not been too busy continuing to swear her apologies to whatever deity had decided to shut her up by actually doing what she had asked.

I think I was happier in class...

Okay, so she was out of class because of the unexpected combustion of some of the furniture, but the only thing that had resulted from her newly-found freedom was being cold and wet, as she was not trudging home through the torrential downpour she had predicted, the storm having broken about three seconds after she stepped out into the street.

She wasn't sure which she preferred more, the rain or the spontaneous lighting of desks.

Did I mention I was sorry? Her eyes cast upward as she thought that, and the rain splashed down onto her face, slicking her blonde hair back and trickling down her neck and back. She sighed and looked back toward the ground, wishing she had been smart enough to bring her rain cloak with her that morning. She hadn't thought of it because when she'd left the sky had been bright and filled with sickeningly happy birdsong.

Ahead of her in the street, there were no signs of life whatsoever. The only thing that told of there being human activity at all were the vague flickering of lights beyond the thickly sealed shutters of the houses.

A block away, she could see the candlelight burning in the windows of her own house, and suddenly really didn't want to go home. Not that she had much of a choice—if she didn't go home she'd just have to wander the empty streets of Haven in the rain, which wasn't her idea of a good time.

Though, going home and dealing with her parents wasn't really her idea of a good time, either.

If she thought she could get away with it, she would have gone to her uncle's house and stayed there. But while she wasn't worried about her parent's wrath, she knew they would take it out on Daran and he didn't deserve it.

Sigh, sigh, sigh…

Her boots scuffed dully on the pavement, feeling heavy as lead. She hated going home. She hated her parents, too, but only because they refused to let her be herself and insisted she become the model of a coquettish courtesan.

She had to admit, though, she certainly had the looks for it, as the puddles under her feet could attest to. Her eyes flicked across her reflection, slightly distorted in the water. Short gold-blonde hair that was curled slightly because of the rain, and huge expressive dark blue eyes that bordered on purple.

If only she didn't absolutely despise the dresses she had to wear, day in and day out. Even for school, her parents made her wear skirts that probably cost as much as a border town. She felt as if others looked down on her, thinking that she was flaunting her family's wealth, when she would have given anything to be able to wear the same breeches and plain tunics as everyone else.

While most children rebelled against the norm, she just wanted to conform.

And wasn't allowed.

"Mother." She called, softly, not really wanting her to hear as she quietly opened the front door of the house and stepped into the foyer, then; "Father, I'm home."

It was a necessary formality in her home. Everyone announced their arrival and their leaving, and it was a bad scene if someone forgot. She had only done it once, and had received a hearty swat from her father for her forgetfulness. She had been rude, he told her, and it would not be permitted. If she was in the Court and allowed a slip of etiquette, it could scar not only her reputation, but her entire family's for years to come.

While Neneya was fairly sure he was exaggerating, she hadn't been all too eager for another smack. So she was careful to announce her arrival and departure every time, whether there were others home at the time or not.

"Neneya," her mother's voice called back, and she cursed under her breath when the older woman appeared in the doorway, "dear, you are simply soaked to the bone! Why didn't you take your rain cloak with you?"

She was actually distressed by her daughter's state, the ninny.

But then, she never leaves the house unless a carriage is ready to take her wherever she's going. Neneya thought with no small amount of scorn as she slipped out of her boots and carefully set her book bag by the door. "I apologize, Mother, but it was pleasant this morning and I truly did not think I would need it. Would you excuse me, please, while I go to my room and change into something more presentable?"

The absolutely useless nature of the formality made her cringe inwardly, and she had already started down the hallway toward the staircase, preparing to head to her room and possibly barricade the door once she was inside, when her eyes flitted through the open doorway to the living room.

Her father was sitting in one of the armchairs, chatting pleasantly with a young man who was seated in another chair across from him. She vaguely recognized him as the son of one of her father's business acquaintances.

But why..?

Her father interrupted before her thought could be finished. "Neneya," he sounded surprised, "you didn't have your rain gear with you today?"

"Apologies, but no. I had forgotten, Father."

A tsk. "I suppose it's too late for the first impression, as my daughter has chosen now to be slovenly." He sighed, and Neneya frowned as a sudden feeling of panic flooded through her. "Neneya, this is Sikor Darwin. Why don't you go and get cleaned up, now? I'm sure you have a lot to discuss with your future husband."

She ran.

Without purpose or direction, heels slapping wetly on the ground and tears stinging her eyes, though she adamantly refused to set them free. She wasn't even sure where she was anymore, though she was sure she was still in Haven. She had never been outside of a few blocks from her own house, so she couldn't even be sure which direction she had run.

Her thought whirled and she ignored the rain that poured around her, drenching her to the skin. She would have been shivering, if she hadn't been so set on running as far away from her damned parents as possible.

Bright Lady, she was thirteen!

She was thirteen, and they had already arranged a marriage for her! Without considering her feelings, her opinion, or, she was certain, her best wishes. It was probably a political thing, but she hadn't stayed around to ask.

Instead she had whirled and bolted for the door, bursting out into the rain-slicked night to the sound of her parents calling after her—her mother concerned and her father angry.

She didn't care. She just didn't care.

She had never even met Sikor Darwin before, and they expected her to up and marry him, without so much as a warning? She preferred life on the streets to that, thank you very much. Though… she wasn't sure just how she would manage to survive on her own. She had never been on her own.

She couldn't feed herself. She had no clothing. No shelter. And, because of her parents insistence on court classes, so functional skills to get a job with. She definitely couldn't defend herself, should the need arise.

She was a helpless kitten, thrown to the wolves.

It was her own fault. She could always go back. Apologize. They would forgive her, their only daughter, wouldn't they? Though… they had never forgiven her brother. In fact, they had disowned him after he had run away.

I'm not going back. I can't.

She was doomed.

Her foot caught on a rock and she fell hard, landing on the ground with a thump. The tears she had been trying so hard to conceal and force back began to trail from her eyes as she sprawled on the ground, everything she had ever done, everything she had ever been circling in her mind.

Her knees were skinned, bleeding a bit but not really badly. She had twisted her ankle, too, but it wasn't broken. She would live. Somehow, she would live. Sniffling, she wiped a hand across her eyes, but she was so wet it did nothing to get rid of the tear tracks. They smeared across her face and then blended with the rainwater that was trailing along her skin already.

Still whimpering, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, staring blankly at the puddles in front of her as rain pounded down on her back. The only thing she could do was try to find some shelter from the rain. Then she could head to Daran's farm and he might take her in…

…no. Her parents would find her there, and make her come home. She wasn't old enough to be on her own, and the Crown would let them do it. The tears came faster as she realized; her only options were to go home and face an arranged marriage with a stranger, or to leave Haven all together and take her chances.

I… can't…

The rain stopped abruptly, and she blinked slowly.

Wait…

It hadn't stopped. Beyond her, it continued to fall, stirring the puddles restlessly.

Something was shielding her from the storm.

Confused and a little fearful, she tilted her head upward—

Blue, bright and shining, and beyond it, a clean and pure white.

:I am Yeo.: A kind and wonderful voice said, as she lost herself in the Companion's gaze, :and I Choose you, Neneya Arssia. You are not will never be alone again.:

And Neneya burst into hysterical but joyful tears, flinging herself at Yeo, who had saved her from—something—unknown but frightening—and she buried herself in the love and welcome that she was broadcasting, forgetting about the rain all together.

Behind her, a tiny flame flickered, growing larger, until the oil lamp above them was bright enough for any onlookers to see the Companion and her newly-Chosen, who would never know loneliness again.