A/N: O.O Wow...I got some nice feedback...much thanks, Rachel, whitewater-spirit, EbonyFirePhoenix, and Fyli! I appreciate the reviews and their messages :D Thanks muchly, all of you! ::bounce::

Here goes, chapter two...I'm pretty sure that I won't get too far ahead with my OCs in this one, so I still only own Meg...Padraig might not be entirely IC, but then again, the only thing said about him is that he's conservative. I've tried to make him conservative but not stiff...not entirely revolutionary, but likeable nonetheless...and Faleron is once again the protective older brother. ::wry grin:: Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Corus

Faleron sat astride his black mare, Raven, gently stroking her mane as he waited for Meg to finish packing. Millions of worries were racing through his mind – first and foremost, how furious his father would be that he'd taken Meg to Corus. He'd just have to pray that a father's love for his son would overpower Elris's views, fury, and drunken rage. In the end, it just might be enough. Mithros protect me, Faleron thought, then added, and my sister. On second thought, protect her only – she needs it more than I do.

Faleron was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Meg attach a final saddlebag to Raven. He was only aware of her presence when she mounted up behind him and said softly, "Are you really taking me to Corus?"

"No, to the Yamani Islands on holiday," Faleron replied, turning around to tousle his sister's hair. He couldn't get used to its sudden shortness; Meg's hair had always been thick, glossy black, and at least waist-length. Now, she'd cut it to her earlobes to make training easier. Her grey eyes were slightly darker than normal, and Faleron could see sparks of gold drifting between her fingers. She was scared, and he couldn't blame her.

Leaning back, Faleron kissed his sister's forehead. "I'm here until we get to the palace, Meglet," he said encouragingly. "If you change your mind..."

"I won't," she cut him off, and smiled at him, brightly.

She reached for his hand; he took it, and squeezed it. She put her arms around his waist, and they set off.

:::::

Lord Padraig haMinch bowed in respect to Faleron, and he to him in return. He then inclined his head at Meg, with a small smile. Meg, unused to being acknowledged, was flustered; she dropped him too low of a curtsy.

Padraig grinned, then. "No need to curtsy so low. I am not royalty – Megenne, is it?"

"Meg, please, my lord," Meg corrected softly, then flushed with embarrassment. "I – I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't – I wasn't trying to – I – " She broke off then, looking close to tears.

Paidraig glanced at Faleron, who bit his lip. The older man just shook his head. "You need not be so uneasy, child," he said with a smile. "I've a daughter about your age; I won't hurt you." Meg looked worried for a second, then smiled shakily, visibly relaxing.

This made Faleron ease up, too – his sister was an excellent judge of character. As Padraig offered her as well as her brother a chair, he studied the man. He was famed for being more conservative and somewhat more reclusive than his charismatic younger brother Kieran. However, Padraig was an easygoing man – no slouch, but certainly far less stiff than Lord Wyldon had been. Faleron could tell that though he was conservative, he was fair – he would treat Meg like his own daughter, but discipline her as one of the pages.

"Now, let us discuss the probation terms," Lord Padraig said slowly, sitting down himself. "You are, of course, familiar with the probation set up for Lady Keladry?" Meg nodded. "Well, you will undergo something similar. I will do my best to keep the probation fair – you deserve an equal chance as the boys." Lord Padraig smiled, but Faleron sensed something behind it – unease, perhaps, or disagreement.

So he didn't really believe all that he was saying of equality, Faleron thought, frowning slightly. However, he still believed that Padraig's sense of justice would prevent him from discriminating against Meg, no matter how conservative the man might be.

As Lord Padraig went through the palace rules and regulations, Meg looked at him instead – Faleron had already told her everything that being a page entailed. He was tall, broad-shouldered, heavier than his younger brother – whom Meg had seen a few times, but from a distance. He had deep, dark brown eyes that were thoughtful and piercing, as well as a tightly curled, orderly crop of dark hair. He looked to be about her father's age, perhaps some years younger, and limber despite it; there were the remains of scars on his face. He appeared intelligent and thoughtful, but strict...conservative but fair. Meg would have to be on her best behaviour around him, but perhaps she could be herself, too.

"Meg?"

The girl's head jerked up – she'd been too lost in thought to hear what Lord Padraig had been saying. She immediately flushed dark. "S-sorry, my lord?"

The man simply grinned, as if he understood perfectly. "I said, when the supper bell rings, the new pages will be recieving sponsors. Would you like to say goodbye to your brother before you go to your room and unpack your things?"

Meg nodded so ferociously she felt as though her head would drop off. Lord Padraig simply smiled and got up, exiting the room. "I will give you two a moment."

The instant he left, Meg flung herself at Faleron and hugged him tightly, as though she would never let go. "Meglet, I need to breathe," the young knight protested, but returned her fierce embrace tightly, swinging her up into his arms as he always used to do when she was younger. Again they embraced, exchanging a brief, wordless gesture of love.

The moment was tender and meaningful for Faleron, who felt almost as though Meg was his daughter. He was deeply protective of her and loved her – he prayed that she would survive her eight years of ordeal. For Meg, though, the moment was even more precious. In the eleven years she'd been alive, Faleron had been her confidante, her protector, her best friend. Almost more of a father than her real one. He'd been all she had, and now she would be alone in an unfamiliar, potentially unfriendly place. Meg buried her head in Faleron's shouilder; she wasn't sure her spirit would be able to stand being away from her brother so long.

As if he could read her thoughts – which it often seemed like he could do – Faleron held his sister even closer. "You will see me every summer, I promise," he whispered gently. "You'll write to me too, won't you?" A nod. "And I'll write back. Don't cry, Meglet..." He gently lifted her chin to reveal that she was, indeed, crying; little flickers of gold flame danced down her cheeks. She wiped them away ferociously.

"You'll be fine," Faleron promised her softly. "I believe in you, and I will pray for you. May the gods watch over you, Meglet."

He gently kissed her forehead, and she hugged him one last time, kissing his cheek. They clasped hands tightly, and Faleron left the room quickly, so that Meg wouldn't see the tears forming in his eyes.

Outside, Lord Padraig faced Faleron. "I know how it is, sir Faleron...I was protective of my brother, too..."

Faleron nodded. "If it's not too much to ask..." he began. "She's sensitive...gentle...unused to the harshness of knight life. I'm not asking you to go easy on her," he added hurriedly, "or to show favoritism because she's a girl...but...simple courtesy, tact..." He trailed off, wondering how best to phrase this.

Lord Padraig seemed to read his mind, and clasped Faleron's forearm in the traditional greeting of knights. "Don't worry, sir," he said softly. "I'm not Lord Wyldon."

Faleron wasn't sure what to do, so he just nodded again, solemnly, returned the gesture, bowed, and left.

Padraig entered the room again, only to find Meg sobbing in the chair. He bit his lip, then placed a hand on her shoulder and handed her a handkerchief. "It isn't as if you shall never see him again," was all he could think of saying.

Meg sniffed a little. "I know," she said softly, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. "I'm being a bit silly. Better not cry like that around the boys..." She smiled hesitantly. "It's just hard...it was hard enough when Faleron left, but now I am too..." She suddenly looked ready to cry again.

"None of that," Lord Padraig admonished gently. "Go to your rooms now, and unpack. It'll be sponsor time soon." As she got up, Padraig quickly added, "Oh yes – and welcome to Corus and the palace, Meg."

Meg looked back at him, surprised, and smiled gently. "Thank you, sir." She bowed again, then left.

:::::

About an hour later, Meg sat in a broken chair near the door, unease and anxiety written all over her face. Her room had been wrecked – nothing was untouched. They'd scrawled threats and insults on the wall, ransacked her bed and desk, and the bathroom soaped. Meg had insisted on helping the servants clean up, and they patiently accepted their helper until Salma Aynnar, head of servants in the pages' wing, had kindly but firmly told her to hurry and clean up for supper.

Meg had done so, putting on a simple white shift and a blue dress with silvery embroidery on the sleeves, neckline, and hem. She'd pulled back what she could of her hair with a silvery clip and used her Gift to dry her eyes. No use in appearing weak before the others – though, she'd realized, in time they'd figure out how sensitive and easily scared she was, and use it against her.

Now these thoughts, of her future trials and all she might encounter, ran through her head when the supper bell rang. Loudly, Meg thought, clapping both hands to her ears and getting up to go.

Salma chuckled as she watched the small, slender girl dart from the room with her hands over her ears. Not as spirited as Lady Kel had been, nor as strong or solid-looking. But she just might survive, Salma thought with a grin. She just might survive.