You told me Dom was smooth, too true. I will try and fix it.
Dom licked his lips, and shifted skittishly in his saddle. He was quite giddy; Kel had said yes! Dom savoured the warmth inside him as he thought back to the moment she had agreed. It was pure pleasure. Kel was not just any other girl- and these were not just his thoughts because of the way she made his heart thump, no his Kel was the Lady Knight Keladry. She was marvelous…Kel cared for people and truly wanted to protect and help them. She was strong, not one of the abundance of weak willed mice in the Corus court. Kel was not a fair beauty, but her face was a treasure to Dom, full of peace and ideals. Oh no what if I bungle myself…I've never bungled myself! ... In truth I've never acted in such an oafish embarrassing manner around a woman since I was twelve. What is wrong with me!?. He cursed himself. I hope she thought endearing and sweet…ouue Dom cringed at the memory.
The Queenscove line was as old as that of Contė, and had a castle reaching back through the ages to match. The residence of the Queenscove nobility was more a fortress than a castle of the gentry. It was not an elegant structure; constructed of a harsh grey stone Tortal's mines had long ago stopped producing, it was clumsy and awkward, without an ounce of grace. There were gorges in the land so old, there was no scroll or tapestry that depicted the Keep without it. Queenscove Keep had been designed and built to withstand sieges, and withstand sieges it had. Dom stopped to admire his home appreciatively. Yes, this is home, much as sleeping under trees with the Own is more comfortable. Dom's mother had given his raising over to her elder brother, Baird. Dom had been eight, and had stayed at Queenscove until he had left at sixteen for Corus and the Own.
'Domitan!' A high pitched voice all but screeched his name, not with joy but with severe unfaltering disapproval. Said man turned slowly, his face intending to hold a winning smile, but showing as a baring of his teeth in a grimace of pain and foreboding. A grey wizened old woman in her mid-forties- the source of his displeasure, came marching to meet her son. Marita of (Hey, where is Dom from?) was very thin and short, appearing even more so because of a stoop in her shoulders. She carried a carved and jeweled walking-cane and brandished it alternately as a sceptre and a weapon. Dom's heart sank as he recognised the expression on her face. Mother would demand hours, maybe days with her youngest son. It would take much cunning to worm his way out of what Marita felt as her due attention.
'Why have you not come to visit your poor doddering old mother in the years she needs you?' Her voice was lathered with self-pity 'After all I have done for you, I'd like to think you would stop gallivanting off in the countryside for a few-'
Dom cut off the litany he knew by heart with a swooping bow. 'Mother!' he exclaimed as if nothing could have pleased him more. 'I'm simply overwhelmed to see you again!'
'Is that so, boy? Well then-'
'I have just had the most splendid idea! The Prince Roald has told me many a time of his desire to meet you.' Roald had said nothing of the sort, but he and Dom had become friends over the last few days, and Dom felt no twinge of conscience at latching his mother to Roald's side. 'Why, we should go at once to introduce you to him.' Marita looked quite pleased at the prospect of meeting the heir of the throne.
'The Prince, you say? Hhmm… alright then Domitan. You will escort me to the keep, and then to Prince Roald. She nodded, pleased with herself.
Dom did just that. Roald had given him a venomous glare- he had heard the stories of The Dragon inhabiting Queenscove Keep. Once Marita had been distracted Dom inched away, and out into the hall. He then remembered why Queenscove was the beloved home of his childhood; his mother had been absent from the scene. Reminiscing of the past Dom did not notice another man striding the corridor. The other had stopped and stood in an aggressive stance. Dom didn't see him, and nearly walked into him.
'Sorry, there. I wasn't paying attention.' Dom had dropped his pompous-ass manner, after leaving his mother.
'It's fine.' The man grated out, as if the words hurt him to say. 'I was seeking you, this has saved me some trouble.'
'Well what can I do for you?' Dom offered with open friendliness, despite having not an inkling as to who this stranger was, nor what he wanted.
'I am Cleon of Kennan.' A light kindled behind Dom's eyes. Cleon.