The headache behind Léofe's eyes the following morning was nothing to scoff at. Indeed, she could not recall any instance in her life that she had been in such singular and agonizing pain.

It did not subside over the course of the day.

It did not help that the entire day was spent being constantly jolted on Brego's back. As much as she normally would have usually enjoyed riding whilst in Théodred's embrace, that day it was confining, and being surrounded by a hundred or more Riders only made her more irritable. The pain and confusion had only added to her grief, and so the haze of surreality followed her from dawn until dusk and she began to wonder if she was simply caught in a horrible, horrible dream.

She threw the blanket from her body, drawing her knees to her chest to massage her calves, still feeling as if she were moving even though she had bedded down in the tent several hours earlier.

Take rest, Théodred had told her. The sentries will keep all of us safe. But she had balked at the suggestion that an unknown guard be posted outside of her assigned tent.

"A stranger? You wish to put me under the mercy of a stranger?" Her temper, unsurprisingly, was awfully close to the surface, and she had tried to stare down the prince with all the indignity she could muster.

"I wish to keep you safe," he had replied, passing Brego's reins to a squire while he steered her, a firm grip on her elbow, towards where the tents were being struck.

"I do not feel safe as is! A strange man will hardly help!" she snapped.

"I will not allow you to be without protection."

"Then I will not sleep at all!" she said. "I will spend the night at the fire laughing with the guards. I would very much enjoy a slew of vulgar jokes right now!"

For a moment Théodred seemed as though he would laugh; his lips twitched upwards. But then his face turned stern once more. "There is little laughter among the soldiers of late," he said quietly. "And I am sure they know better than to trade lewd jokes in the company of a lady."

"I am not a lady," Léofe said primly, wrenching her elbow from his grasp none too gently, stopping their progression in the chaos that was the camp. "I am a maid. And I appreciate crassness as much as anyone."

One of his eyebrows shot skywards, and then he sighed. "Léofe, if it comforts you, I will be your personal guard tonight."

"Oh!" She had not realized that her complaints would have caused him to offer so. As tempting as it was… "I suppose I will be safe among your men," she said after a moment. "I would not dare inconvenience the king's heir."

"There will be little sleep for me tonight," he said. "Nightmares come too easily, when the moon is dark and death is near."

"But, the fact remains -"

"The fact remains that you need to rest," Théodred said, grasping her limp hand to pull her forward once more. "And I will grant it."

Her guilt had only increased when he brought her supper, and after that a small pot of hot water and rags to wash herself. But she had not felt so guilty that she left her tent, for to be under the scrutiny of so many others was far worse than being alone with her thoughts.

Léofe sighed and turned over on her back. Despite having several blankets under her, she could still feel large rocks in her back. It did not help that she still wore her tightly bodiced dress.

Was this what her life would now be? Awkward, uncomfortable, and nervous? Would she find a peaceful place to live once more? She squashed that thought - if her memories of yesterday surfaced, her tears would be torrents, and she did not care to have Théodred hear her weeping.

She sat up and tried twisting her arms once more to her back, where her dress was laced. At home, she had used a crochet hook to lace herself, and here in this camp she had neither of those luxuries. And nor would she sleep for the discomfort. She nearly wished for more of that medicine, which had forced her to sleep no matter the pain the previous night.

Léofe heard a rustle outside the tent, and a horribly wicked thought came to her. But she was desperate - desperate enough to lose Théodred's good opinion. He was going to think her terribly forward. Tentatively she untied the flaps, peeking her nose through the door at the prince's concerned face as he saw her from his low stool. "What is it?" he asked, dropping a whetting stone, and gripping more firmly a knife in his other hand. "Are you well?"

She cast her eyes around - they were essentially alone. A single man tended the nearest fire about fifteen feet away, but his back was towards them. "I need help," she whispered.

"What is it?" he asked again.

Léofe paused. Why had she thought this was a good idea! "I cannot unlace my dress," she said, casting her eyes down and to the depths of Morgoth's prison, where Théodred's opinion of her was surely headed.

But he did not seem angry at all, his eyes widening and his mouth softening. "There are no women to help you," he said. "But if I may be of service."

"Thank you," she could barely mouth the words, and turned so that he could reach her laces, drawing her loose hair from her back so that it lay on her breast.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sensation of Théodred's gentle fingers, warm even though her shift, as he undid the laces. Léofe closed her eyes, revelling in the sensation of being touched in such a manner. She hoped he would not see the goosepimples that were racing across her bare skin! She held her bodice to her chest to keep it from falling, and once he was finished, she thought she imagined that he fingers lingered on the small of her back.

"There," he said softly. "You are finished."

She turned, still holding her dress resolutely together. "Thank you," she whispered. There was nothing else to say as his warm, brown eyes seized her gaze and held her there, and not entirely against her will. Though his face was obscured in shadow, the expression on it seemed at once intense and tender, and it was awfully close to hers. Was he leaning towards her?

The fire cracked. Théodred stirred, and looked away from her. "Good night, dear Léofe," he said. "I will see you in the morning."

.

.

The second day passed similarly to the first, Léofe riding Brego with Théodred's arms around her. Only a few words passed between them, as a new and timid sort of silence descended upon them. She felt as if her face was going to be permanently flushed, and she tried to lean forward as they rode so that she could not feel so much of him.

Yet, she still fervently wished that he could return her affection.

Was it so far-fetched a hope? He referred to her as dear, and the previous night she had thought for a moment that he would kiss her. If only he had! She fell into daydreaming, contemplating just how wonderful it would be to have his lips pressing against hers, wrapped in his strong embrace…

Léofe must have fallen asleep, for she started awake as the normal pounding of hooves against grass changed to a clanging and ringing against stone. Her mouth fell open as she looked ahead - a large, stone-walled fortress was suddenly before her. She had clearly been sleeping for much longer than she realized. Somehow she had also come to be draped in Théodred's dark green cloak, and at the apprehension of arriving at the Deep, she drew it closer around her shoulders.

"High time you woke," Théodred said behind her. His voice was light, as if he had not a care in the world. Why was he so happy, anyway?

"Yes," she said stiffly. He did not respond again, and her moodiness continued as they passed through the gate and into the Hornburg's chaotic inner court. They have evidently been expected, or at least sighted from the road, for dozens of people were milling about, some busy and some simply watching. Léofe looked down to see Théodred waiting to help her dismount, and she swung her leg over, which was beginning to tingle. At once an alarming sharp pain rushed through her legs and rear end, and she fell forward with a cry into Théodred's arms. To his credit, he did not lose his footing at all, his strong arms holding her securely around the waist.

"Are you alright?" he murmured into her hair.

"I - I think so," she said. "Only - my legs are numb." She heard a small sigh, and was lifted into his arms like a babe. "Put me down!" she screeched, and thrashed her shoulders. "Put me down this instant!"

"You cannot stand," Théodred said, his voice glinting with iron. "I think that you would prefer to not crawl into the hall."

"I would rather crawl by my own will than be...be coddled for another minute!" Léofe was feeling the reality of her situation quite clearly and suddenly. She was surrounded by strangers - many of whom were now staring despite her dark scowl, and she was confined in a stone fortress. She could only see walls of stone and iron as she whipped her head around! Her heart began to race, for Théodred's closeness or for panic - she did not quite care to discover.

"You will suffer it," the prince said. "Since you are otherwise without protection, it would be wise of you to accept mine." She fumed in silence, and kept her frown firmly in place as Théodred carried her through a set of oaken doors and sat her down rather gently, considering their exchange, at a long table in the dark hall. "There," he said. "That was not so bad, was it?"

For an odd reason, he was wearing a smile that was both sinister and triumphant. Léofe's frown deepened. "I could have walked," she insisted.

"I will find the housekeeper presently. She will see you settled."

Léofe was left in the empty hall, and she folded her arms and glared daggers at Théodred's back. He presumed much! And too little at once. Would it not be convenient - a thought wiggled into her mind - if he were to marry her? Then he could care for her all he pleased!

Oh, but he would not be pleased by her. She was an absolute menace; ungrateful even as he protected her. Léofe sighed.

"His Highness has informed me that you in need of a room," a voice said behind her, and Léofe turned to see a middle-aged woman standing over her and looking down her long nose with hooded eyes.

"Yes, I imagine he did."

"Follow me." Whoever this woman was, she was certainly purposeful. She led Léofe down a corridor at a fast pace, which Léofe struggled to follow as feeling slowly returned to her legs. They passed an open kitchen - which seemed to be bursting with maids and platters of food being rushed about, until they came to a small door at the end of the hall. "This room recently opened," the woman said, unlatching the door and waving Léofe through. "The scullery who rented it was recently married. It will fit your circumstances."

My circumstances! I might have lost my livelihood, but I am no servant! she wanted to scream. But she only nodded, not bothering to force a polite smile. "It will do," she said in a bland voice. She could probably touch both walls with her arms if she stretched them out. A tiny bed was tucked in the back underneath a slit of a window, and there was a chest at the foot of the bed.

"I will send someone with a change of clothes as well," the woman said. "You are hardly fit to be seen in public."

"Your generosity does you credit," Léofe said, letting the full measure of her sarcasm be felt.

"I am generous as befits my station as housekeeper and keeper of the house in Lady Alfrida's absence," the woman said, her nose rising higher. "You do not receive any higher kindness than she herself would give."

"I can hardly wait to acquaint myself with the Lady and tell her of your admirably filled duties."

The woman looked at her sharply. "You shall do no such thing. The Lady will not be disturbed by a chit of a girl wearing little more than a shift. Curb your tongue, girl, you are no longer living in the fens!" She pulled the door shut with a bang as she exited, and Léofe was left alone.

She promptly howled out her rage and threw herself on the knobbly mattress in despair.

.

.

Evidently her status had been pronounced upon her head with finality, for during supper she was directed to the servants' table where she sat at the end of a table and beside an adolescent squire, who ate thrice as much as she did and picked his nose. Her appetite quite deserted her.

Léofe's back was towards the rest of the tables, and she could not muster the courage to turn and seek out the prince. And she did not dare to tell him of how the housekeeper had treated her, either. She feared that he would agree with where she had been placed. What was she, after all? Certainly not a lady. Did she really expect to be given courtesies, when she was little better than a peasant?

Her father raised good horses. That much was true, but now she had neither father nor horses to her name. She was left, she was abandoned, and she was dreadfully poor. She had her own clothes, and the loaned smock of grey wool that had been brought by for her. It was the same as the rest of the servants wore - surely that meant that she was a servant now, too.

Once the meal was over, Léofe ducked out of the hall through the servants' door (and she would have to become used to it, as well). She did not wish to retire yet - her mind was still swirling with anxieties and she certainly did not wish to face them in that tiny room. She wandered the corridors for a bit, dodging servants and soldiers, until she found her way to a small, private courtyard which happened to be unguarded. There were stone benches aplenty, and she chose one that faced the sunset and sat, tucking her feet underneath her.

Tears fell; for her father, for her horses, for her home, for the horribly way she behaved towards Théodred, for the even worse way that she had been treated, for her loneliness, and for the freedom of the untouchable sky that comforted her for the next several hours.

.

.

A soft tapping on the door woke Léofe with a jolt, and she jumped out of bed with a blanket around her shoulders. A young face peered at her as she opened the door. "I have a message for Mistress Léofe," the boy said proudly. "Are you she?"

"I am," she said. "Please, come in."

The boy entered her room with his arms clasped formally behind his back, and he stood and looked down at her as she sat on her bed. "To Mistress Léofe, from Prince Théodred. We have had to ride out immediately at the report of an orc band twenty miles east. I apologize for not taking my leave of you in a better manner; we had to depart at midnight." The boy paused here, as if waiting for her to way something.

"Go on," she encouraged.

"I have told Ermhild that she is at your disposal. Please do not hesitate to inform her of your needs. When I return we will have a long talk and sort everything out." The boy stopped again, then said, "That was all, mistress."

"Thank you for the message," she said. "Could - could you possibly tell me who Ermhild is?"

"Ermhild?" The boy's solemn expression faltered. "Er - she is the acting housekeeper, I thought everyone knew that."

"I only arrived yesterday, that is why I do not know," Léofe said. "Is she tall, with a long nose?"

The boy grinned at her. "So you do know her.

"Thank you again - ?"

"Helm."

"Thank you, Helm."

He bowed and took his leave. Once she was alone again, Léofe groaned into her hands. Théodred had left her too, and at the mercy of that horrible woman.

She was doomed.