Ribbon

A moment in time wherein Sylf and Kassandra have a pleasant chat during a tournament.

Timeframe: Rebellion

Sylf approached her designated chair, her handmaid Merrida Dursk following behind her. Ephraim requested that Sylf appear festive (and for once not show up to a "fun" event in her usual livery), so she donned a blue jacket, ornamented with golden cords held together with a diamond and sapphire brooch.

Of course, Merrida didn't mind dressing up in a simple, silk blue gown. She even looked festive with white ribbons woven through her braided up-do. Merrida offered Sylf some of the ribbons, some of them even stitched with the spider web icon Sylf adopted as her insignia, but Sylf declined. Ribbons were for little girls.

Already sitting at the table was Kassandra of the Silver Order, Duchess of the House Aurelia, Branch Echtarch, Sheath of Falling Leaves. Ephraim's older cousin sat fanning herself, looking exquisitely bored. Sylf liked Kassandra well enough—after all, there was a reason she was in charge of Ephraim's royal finances and estates—and they shared a simple, formal relationship that suited the two of them just fine.

The middle-aged human woman looked up as Sylf approached the table and sighed dramatically, snapping her fan shut. "Finally! I've been bored to tears sitting here. You missed the archery contest, by the way."

Merrida pulled the chair out and Sylf sat, giving her handmaid a small nod of thanks. Merrida stepped back, her hands folded neatly in front of her. She tried keeping her expression serious, as was befitting of her Mistress, but it was evident Merrida was excited as she tilted her chin up to examine the tournament grounds in front of them.

Sylf leaned back into the chair, relaxed, and returned her attention back to Kassandra. "I didn't feel like celebrating mediocrity."

"Hah!" Kassandra barked a laugh. She inclined her head, her bright red hair gleaming as it caught in the sun. "An accurate description of the contest, I assure you. Why not enter yourself?"

Sylf stared ahead, scanning the tournament arena. It seemed they were setting up for the next event at the moment—no sign of Tomlyn or Ephraim.

"And show up a bunch of little nobles and have to manage their hurt feelings? It's not worth my time," Sylf snorted.

Kassandra considered her for a moment, sipping her goblet. Then, she smirked. "My cousin forbade you from participating, didn't he?"

Sylf scowled. He did, in fact, forbid her from participating, and his reasoning was utter nonsense. Apparently, she needed to be "respectful", give others a chance to demonstrate their "skills", and not appear "so intimidating" all the time. What else was Ephraim paying her for if not that?!

As if she knew Kassandra's comment would turn Sylf's mood, Merrida quickly stepped forward. "Some wine, Mistress?" She asked sweetly. Sylf nodded, still feeling a bit bitter, and Merrida began to pour a crisp, white wine into her goblet.

"Do you still only have poor Merrida doing everything for you? You really ought to bring on more helping hands," Kassandra said, frowning.

Sylf sensed Merrida stiffen behind her. "Merrida is quite sufficient for my needs." Merrida relaxed a bit and Sylf added, "Besides, I don't need extra hands to dress me or make up my bed when I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself."

Kassandra made a high-pitch noise in displeasure. "You should do it if nothing else but for appearances—and yes, I know you're not here for appearances, but you are one of our Prince's Council members. That comes with certain expectations."

Sylf didn't really care. As she was now, with only Merrida, the court called her common. If she added more servants, court gossip would say she was trying too hard to be something she wasn't. There was also the matter of security. The less people who had access to her rooms, the better. Regardless, Sylf decided to only add Merrida to her service, a decision that baffled everyone except for Tomlyn.

"I am perfectly capable of fulfilling my duties as a Council member when required without the need for extra, pointless, servants." Sylf said. Before Kassandra could reply she added, smirking a little, "I am here, aren't I?"

Kassandra harrumphed, "Indeed we both are." Then, she grinned. "At least if we have to sit here and suffer, we don't have to be sober while we do it." She held up her goblet to toast and Sylf obliged her, clinking their glasses together and then taking a sip. While Sylf didn't prefer white wine, the crisp fruity flavor was refreshing on the summer day.

Kassandra's fan snapped open and she began to fan herself briskly, looking out at the arena. "Tournaments," she snorted, "How droll. As if we don't have enough things to do in a day, we must watch knights and soldiers and nobles compete with each other for sport. And why must we always do this when it's hot and miserable outside?" she complained irritably.

Sylf had to agree. This was one of the aspects about being a member of Ephraim's inner Council and her life at court that she thoroughly disliked. The games of power? In that Sylf thrived. But making appearances at social events where no one wanted to talk to her anyway? Pointless.

At least today, considering how hot it was outside, Sylf made sure her trousers and jacket were thin and easily let the breeze through. Kassandra, on the other hand, preferred large gaudy dresses and today, as much as she was complaining, she was dressed for the occasion in a purple and gold brocade gown. As Ephraim's cousin, a royal herself, Kassandra oozed wealth.

Sylf eyed the amethyst and diamond hair pin glittering in Kassandra's flaming red hair. Back in her thieving days, Sylf definitely would have sought out the treasure trove of beautiful jewels in Kassandra's vanity, but, alas, she couldn't exactly steal from Ephraim's cousin and expect to stay at court, let alone keep her head. A shame.

"Oh! Forget this drab event. Mistress Dawnwood, did you receive the initiation for Natalia's debut ball?" Kassandra was excited now, her full attention on Sylf.

Sylf heard Merrida shift behind her. "Of course," Sylf replied smoothly. She hadn't received the invitation yet, something Merrida was likely blaming herself for. Silly girl, there was no need to get out of sorts about the matter. Kassandra was about to tell her everything she needed to know anyway.

Kassandra beamed at her. "I have spared no expense for the event. My daughter will debut in a gown that will set new fashion trends! She will be the talk of the realm for months, no years! All the ladies, including those insufferable Linklaters will be thick with envy. My Natalia will shine as bright as a star and men will be on their knees begging for her hand!"

It was clear Kassandra had spared no expense for the party, and, knowing Kassandra, the ball would certainly be the party of the century. Good food, good wine, plenty of dazzling jewels to pilfer, and, if the music was good, she might entertain the idea a dance or two. With the right partner, of course.

"As they should," Sylf agreed. "How is the planning going so far?"

Kassandra sighed dramatically, appearing suddenly despondent. "Well, I'm having trouble getting some exotic animals brought in. Apparently a baby dragon is "too dangerous." I may instead hire some tinkerers to create some constructs; at least then we can keep them after. What do you think?"

Kassandra went on about the ball planning, and Sylf didn't mind listening and occasionally offering her opinion on several matters: the types of constructs that Kassandra should commission (Sylf requested a giant spider, in part to prank Tomlyn); if the colors should be white, gold, and red or black, gold, and red (Sylf thought it should be purple and gold, throwing a wrench into the planning); and if the main dinner course should be duck or venison (Sylf suggested having both).

At some point, it looked like the one-on-one combat tourney started up, but the two women ignored the cheers of the crowd, absorbed in their conversation. Kassandra continued on about the place settings, where she was sourcing the wine, and going into an elaborate explanation of each meal course.

"Now for the appetizers, I have all that sorted. Although!" Kassandra looked incensed as she continued, "Countess Lina, when I was telling her all this, had the audacity to say—"

"Kassie! Kassie!"

Sylf and Kassandra turned towards the tournament grounds to see Ephraim standing elevated on the other side of the railing that overlooked the arena. He must have climbed the scaffolding, his arms hanging over the side, holding himself up. He was smiling widely, his cheeks flush with excitement. Sylf straightened a bit in her chair.

"Oh, hello, Cousin," Kassandra greeted informally, as she usually did when Ephraim used his nickname for her. "What is it? Mistress Dawnwood and I are talking."

"Kassie, I'm fighting soon. I need a favour!"

"A favour!" Kassandra snorted. "What purpose does a token from an old widow do for you? There are ladies several paces over that would kill each other for the honor of giving you a favour."

"Yeah, but," Ephraim paused, casting a wary glance over at the young court ladies fanning themselves. Sylf noted a few looking in their direction. Ephraim returned his attention to Kassandra, but not before casting a quick glance at Sylf. As she caught his eye, she was pleased to see the flush in his cheeks deepen.

"I'd rather have a favour from someone I care about, than try to play court games today. Besides, you're not that old! You're only twelve years older than me!" When she huffed, displeased, he added, "Come on, Kassie! It's just for luck."

From behind her, Kassandra's handmaid began to step forward, but Kassandra stopped her. "I simply do not have an appropriate favour. You ought to seek one elsewhere. From someone you can, preferably, court."

Ephraim pouted cutely in protest. "Courting is overrated." Then, his expression shifted into what Sylf internally referred to as his "Bachelor" look: his smile was teasing and light, and he exuded a demeanor that was dashing with a touch of mischievousness.

"Besides," he added. "I have to maintain my status as an open, eligible bachelor. I can't possibly play favorites." His bright golden eyes glanced over to Sylf and the heat radiating from his gaze went straight to her core.

Sylf quickly took a sip of wine, suddenly wishing she had thought to bring a fan like Kassandra's to stave off the sudden wave of heat rolling through her.

"Yes," Kassandra said dryly. "We can't have anyone thinking you have a favorite."

If Ephraim caught her meaning, which did not pass by Sylf unnoticed, he ignored her and resumed his pouting instead. "Oh, never mind. I thought it would be nice to celebrate how fond I am of my wonderful older cousin who is still quite fetching and also quite capable of being courted."

At that Kassandra tossed her head back and laughed gaily. "Oh, Cousin, if you think that then you are more a fool than you let on!" Still grinning, clearly pleased, she added, "But, unfortunately, I don't have a favour to give you."

From behind Sylf, Merrida cleared her throat and stepped forward. She laid a blue ribbon on the table. "If I may, Your Grace."

Sylf eyed her handmaid curiously. Why would Merrida bring a blue ribbon with her when the ribbons in her hair were white? Then, Sylf realized what the blue ribbon was.

But before Sylf could say anything or take the ribbon back, Kassandra's face lit up, as it tended to when she was about to win an argument. "Ah, of course!" She reached over and snatched the ribbon off the table.

As another part of Sylf's boring court duties, she was occasionally required to sit though visits with prominent noble ladies. Some of them liked to call on her out of curiosity, and Sylf usually brought some form of needlework along for when they inevitably sat around sewing and gossiping. For the last visit Sylf attended, Merrida insisted on stitching a favour for the tournament.

Sylf was abysmal at needlework, and it showed on the ribbon. Along the edge, her name was clumsily stitched in the elvish script with gold thread. When it came to the spiders web, Merrida had done Sylf the favor of sketching an outline onto the fabric ahead of time. It made her needlework on the web much better and distinguishable, unlike her name.

Still, once the ribbon was completed, Sylf gave Merrida strict instructions for where to store the ribbon so it would never see the light of day again. Ribbons, handkerchiefs, they were all pointless.

But now Kassandra had the favour Sylf stitched in her own hand. The Duchess handed the ribbon to Ephraim ceremoniously. "Dearest Cousin, who is snubbing all the damsels of the court because you don't play favorites, I hope this finds you the luck and fortune that you desire."

"Thank you! See, that wasn't so hard was it Kassie?" Ephraim grinned, taking the ribbon. "I'll make sure to—" He paused, looking at the stitching. Then, his face turned crimson. Sylf casually took another sip of wine, as though nothing was out of the ordinary and she didn't have a flutter in stomach.

"Oh, I—thank you," he stammered. He cleared his throat and looked right at Sylf and smiled. It was that smile, the one that was too bright and radiant and made her feel like she was melting. She could not melt. She was The Mistress Dawnwood. The Gray Wolf. In this palace, she was the shadows incarnate and—

Ephraim brought the ribbon to his lips, his heated golden eyes never leaving her. Sylf sucked in a breath, her hands clasping together tightly. This was too much, he was too obvious, there were already rumors about them, but, oh, he's tucking it into the inside of his tunic, over his heart—

Sylf broke his intense gaze, finding sanctuary in her wine. She was completely taken aback and embarrassed by this unexpected turn of events, her mind a dizzying mess, her body too hot. Unacceptable!

Ephraim turned to Kassandra and grinned, boyish and giddy. "Make sure to watch this time, okay Kassie?" He cast another glance to Sylf and winked at her. "You too, Sylf. I need my favorite ladies rooting for me."

That was a Tomlyn wink: dashing and flirty and Ephraim knew it. Damn it. Sylf still scowled at him and he smiled at her like an idiot. An admittedly cute idiot…IDIOT!

"Yes, yes, we'll watch. You'd better do well, now. No loosing in the first round." Kassandra waved him away with her open fan.

Ephraim laughed. "I will do you proud!" With that, he climbed and jumped back into the arena, calling to some of the other nobles competing. Sylf's gaze followed his figure as he moved across the grounds, a light bounce in his step.

"Ah, well," Kassandra sighed, fanning herself, "I can't help but coddle him." Her gaze slid to Sylf, "I don't think you mind, though, do you?"

Sylf glared at her but Kassandra merely replied with a chortling laugh. Sylf shot a glare to Merrida, whose blank gaze was expertly trained ahead. Sylf really needed to work on her intimidation skills if Kassandra and Merrida were immune…

Sylf crossed her legs, leaning back in the chair and finding Ephraim again as he moved into place. He turned to them and waved. Then he patted his chest, over his heart where Sylf's favour was tucked away.

As much as Sylf thought ribbons were childish and girlish, perhaps they had their place. Once in a while.

I finally got to introduce Kassandra and Merrida! This will be the only fic featuring Kassandra but I love her. She's snobby, indulgent, but also no-nonsense which is why she and Sylf get along. I love Merrida as Sylf's protégé as well. You'll get to see more of her soon!