.:A Welcomed Gift:.

We heard Aswen and Roag singing loudly before we'd even reached the chamber's door, and I could not help but pause to listen to their words. I groaned inwardly as I heard Thalia half-shouting, half-laughing, trying to get her brothers to leave the room but to no avail. The King besides me nudged me and rolled his eyes at the boys' pathetically childish rhyme, snorting with laughter.

"Princess Thalia, Princess Thalia, you're a bloody misery;

In the palace there's a banner sayin': you are now sixteen!

But don't believe it; don't believe, it is all a pack of lies;

If it wasn't for the party, we would think you're thirty-five!"

"You two are the worst bards I've ever had the misfortune of hearing in my life!" Thalia was shouting, as the two young princes moved on to yet another verse. "Go on, get out of my room! Be gone, you evil demons!"

Roag shrieked with laughter as the sound of a pillow thudding over his head reached my ears, and the next thing I knew the song had vanished behind wild screams and snippets of friendly insults, and the gently thump-thump of pillows and cushions colliding into stomachs and thighs.

I opened the door onto a furious play fight. The Crown Prince was being chased around the room by his older sister, who in turn was being pursued by little Roag. Thalia, dressed as always in trousers and a loose flannel shirt, dived at Aswen and brought him down, straddling his chest in one swift movement. Immediately forgetting his quarrel with his sister, Roag flung himself to his knees next to Thalia and the pinned Aswen, joining in with his sister's merciless tickling of the Crown Prince, ignoring his choked laughter and screams.

"Ge'off me! Stop...it!" Aswen was wailing, legs kicking helplessly as he tried to clamp his arms firmly to his sides to stop Thalia tickling him under the arms. "Thalia! Stop!"

The severe-looking face of the man at my side grew a little tender as he watched the scene before us, his cool grey eyes dancing with the laughter that boomed from his mouth, making my unruly children freeze in the middle of Aswen's torturing. Thalia let out a wild cry of delight, leaping off her brother and rushing towards our visitor. She barely managed to remember to bow in her excitement and desperation to hug the man before her.

"Uncle Harte! But I thought you weren't going to be here until midwinter next!" Thalia laughed as her uncle swept her up in her arms and, gave her one of his bear hugs that my children often demanded of him. "Mum, I can't believe you didn't tell us!"

I swapped a knowing look with Harte as he lowered Thalia to the ground. "Your Uncle is on his way back from a congress, and timed his journey through Carsona perfectly so that he could be here today."

"Truth be told, 'tis not every year my little knee-nibbler of a niece turns fifteen!"

"Sixteen, Uncle," Thalia said with a broad grin. "How was the talks? Boring? Good? I wish I could go and see them; our ambassador says that the officials sometimes have arguments that break out into fistfights!"

"You make it sound like a brawl in a pub, my dear," mumbled Harte, then winked at Thalia. "I have gifts for you, my lady. Would you like it now, or would you rather pester me into giving you a minute by minute account of the congress?"

Scarcely minutes lately, Harte was presenting my daughter with a parcel wrapped in delicate pink paper. Inside the wrapping – much to Thalia's obvious delight – was a beautiful, leather-bond book, which bore the initials 'H.R.H T of C'. Thalia hugged the book to her for a moment, grinning like a fool, then kissed Harte on the cheek. "Thank you, Uncle!"

"Why did you get her another diary?" Roag asked sullenly from the windowseat, eyeing the book suspiciously. "All she ever does is write in them, then complain that there isn't enough room for her to survive the week."

Ignoring Harte's small chuckle, I gave my youngest son my calmest or stern glares. "There is nothing wrong with keeping a diary, my son; if anything it improves one's handwriting and spelling. Yours, I might add, leaves something to be desired."

The littlest Prince shuffled his feet moodily against the wall, looking down to study the toes of his boots. "Diaries don't beat swords."

"Then I shall have to righten that problem," Harte replied cheerfully, and reached back to produce a long, broad-bladed sword from the hidden depths of the cushions he had obviously hidden it behind when none of us were looking.

Thalia shrieked with joy, excitement and disbelief shinning in her eyes as her uncle held the sword out to her. She glanced at me, laughing suddenly, and I reluctantly nodded. "I would take it, Thalia, unless you would like His Majesty to take the sword back---"

"No way!" my daughter screamed, placing the diary gently on the chair behind her before she launched herself into Harte's arms. "Thank you, Uncle! Oh, thank you!"

"Steady, child; I happen to have a blade in my hand, albeit a sheathed one." Harte grinned fondly down at his niece, ruffling her hair fondly. "You grow up too quickly – the same problem I had with you, was it not, dear sister?"

I nodded politely. Thalia took the sword with trembling hands, too stunned to do anything else be gawk at it. It was at that precise moment that Bacall marched into the room; everyone, save for my brother, quickly bowed or curtsied to the King, who had instantly spotted the sword in Thalia's hands.

"What's that?" he asked sharply, his piercing gaze falling onto me.

"A sword."

"Yes, Roag, I can see it's a sword. I'm not a fool!"

Thalia bobbed another curtsy. "If it pleases you, Father, Uncle Harte presented it to me for my birthday."

"Oh, did he now?" Bacall turned his gaze from me and regarded Harte with cold, glaring eyes. "And why would you be presenting the realm's only princess – a gem of unspeakable value – with a blade she will most likely skewer herself on?"

The excitement vanished from Thalia's face, resentment and hurt making her shoulders lock and back stiffen. A red blush of anger swept up her neck and onto her cheeks, but the two kings barely seemed to notice. Harte inclined his head briefly. "I just remember how much of a natural my young sister was, when she was not much older than Thalia herself. I thought that the Princess might benefit from its use some day – after all, why school a able pupil in magic and not explore her hand at other weaponry skills?"

Bacall's eyes narrowed. "How thoughtful of you, Harte. That was a very kind gesture, but Thalia won't be---"

"Father, please?" Thalia suddenly begged, making the King start. Even I was taken aback, for Thalia rarely spoke out or defied her...father any more. "I swear I shan't ask anything of you ever again! I swear! Nothing at all! I'll even" – the girl openly grimaced at this point – "dance with that young duke fellow who you introduced me to yesterday, as he asked."

A muscle in Bacall's temple throbbed. "What? You were thinking of refusing his offer?"

"No, of course not!" Thalia gasped, though I could see she was mentally kicking herself for her traitorous tongue. "Darren is a...very sweet young man, but he was very forward yesterday. I was worried what you might think."

I inwardly let out a sigh of relief as Bacall's mood seemed to soften, the muscle in his temple calming. "If I had known, my dear, I would have intervened." He gave the sword another once over, glanced at the composed face that belonged to my observing brother, then sighed angrily. "Fine! Keep the blasted sword, but don't come crying to me when your hands are covered in blisters!"

Thalia gently handed the sword to Harte and hugged Bacall, smiling happily once more. "Thank you, Father!"

Bacall merely nodded grouchily, patting her on the head, before he pulled out of her embrace and stormed out of the room. Harte grunted without humour, giving the sword back to Thalia. "Quick thinking, my girl. Now, if you do not mind, I would go lie down for a few hours; my bones ache from the many days I have spent in the saddle."

I showed Harte out, whispering my gratitude for Thalia's gift in his ear as he left, then turned back to face my three children. Thalia already had the blade out of the scabbard, and she and Aswen were busy scrutinising it fiercely by the strong light of magic, which radiated from the tips of my daughter's fingers.

"Mother, will Father keep to his word?" Thalia asked worriedly, suddenly looking up at me with fear in her eyes. "He will let me learn to wield the blade, won't he?"

What could I say. It was hardly like I could lie to my daughter and yet I was as uncertain as she, for Bacall really was very strict with her: the Princess could not step a foot outside without a dozen grim-faced guards at her back, her friends were all smiling, china dolls who were more interested in swooning over the guardsmen than reading books on dragons and demons. Thalia was a prisoner in the palace, for all that to live in the royal home was a privilege many would kill for, and yet to set foot outside the palace without an escort and to be able to ride her horse Crow, untroubled, was something Thalia could only do in daydreams or while she slept. My daughter often told me airily that she had the most strange, lifelike dreams in the world, while we sat at the breakfast table, or while we compared our tapestry work; rarely did Thalia reveal to me the stories that her dreams held. Of course, when Thalia had spoken the words 'lifelike' to me, my face had involuntarily paled.

"What on earth do you mean by that?" I'd asked quite angrily, for all I had wanted to make the question seem more out of casual interest.

"Oh, nothing," was the smug reply. But her eyes – her eyes – betrayed the secret that she had sworn never to speak to anyone of.

That night, I had confronted Myron. "Have you been contacting our daughter?"

"No." Myron had smiled almost mockingly at me. "I'm not allowed to, remember?"

Yes, I had his word on that matter, but how could I be sure? I was never sure with Thalia, for she was too much like Myron to bear thinking about! Her secretive manner, her distant looks, her small smile... And now there were heavy black bags under her eyes, her small yawns hidden beneath serviettes at the table, or her mournful little sighs that made everyone turn and look at her. Bacall's immediate reaction was that Thalia was attention seeking once more; I, however, could come to only one conclusion: first love.

Thalia, why won't you talk to me? My child stepped back from her brothers and swung the blade experimentally, laughing at it sighed through the air. "Should you not wait until you are given lessons, my dear?"

The look in Thalia's eyes darkened as she lowered the blade, then she grinned evilly at me. "Harte reminded me that you were once quite the little blades-woman, Mother Dearest."

I raised my eyebrow sceptically. "Your uncle also thinks that the world is round – would you believe him?"

"Oh, I don't believe that," Thalia scoffed, then offered me the sword. I felt my hands begin to itch as my eyes studied the beautifully balanced weapon before me. "Go on, Mother! Show us how a real lady fights!"

Roag and Aswen leaped up and down where they stood, their looks pleading against my better nature. "Oh, please show us how you fight, Mother! Please!"

Finally, I gave in, taking the sword from out of Thalia's grasp. She smiled broadly at me. "All right, children, but I warn you: I may be a bit rusty."

Not you, my lover, Myron's voice suddenly teased against my ear, making my hands quiver. I glanced back, but there was nothing behind me or besides me – my children seemed oblivious to his voice. Never my Eloryn.

I thought spying was illegal, I thought, wondering if Myron could hear me. Or are you happy to taunt me where I can't hit you?

His laugh felt strange within my mind. I'll taunt you all I like now, then, my love, then I'll happily let you try and hit me the next time I invade your dreams. However, back to why I am here, I merely wish to admire the stunning daughter that I sired.

You aren't the only man admiring her, I thought with a small smirk upon my lips. I believe our daughter is in love.

Myron's voice was sharp. With whom?

Like a daughter would reveal that to her parents! I hesitated. One of them is a Duke Darren.

Ah.

You know him?

His three-year-older nephew – a king – is a secret ally to Queen Heldrida, Myron answered, then snorted with laughter. Bacall shan't be pleased. Any other young men I should know about?

Why?

I'd like to castrate them before they can lay their hands on my daughter. Myron let out a small sigh. Come on, Eloryn, your children are fussing something dreadful.

He was right, of course; Aswen and Road were now down on their knees in desperation. "Fine, you meddling chicks, stand back!"

Now this I have to watch! Myron laughed at me, making me scowl.

I swung the blade slowly in an arc. Letting my mind relax, I let my arms take me through the many and various sword exercises that I had learnt – oh – so many years before in Igorance. Distantly, I heard my children applauding and cheering, obviously surprised by their mother's ease with a blade. When I brought my act to a quick close, terrified that Bacall might return at any minute and confiscate the sword if he caught it in my hands, Thalia was staring at me with admiration in her eyes.

"I want to learn to fight just like you!" she breathed, amazed.

I couldn't help myself; I threw back my head and laughed. "Oh, Thalia, I am a good swords woman, I cannot lie, but I am not that good."

Fooled me!

Myron!

Thalia shook her head as I handed her back the blade. "I have not seen anyone better amongst the ladies of court."

"Then you're not looking hard enough."

Her look became dejected all of a sudden, and my heart swelled with concern. "But I'll never be as good as you – all I'm good at is stupid spells."

Myron cursed within my mind. I frowned slightly. "Thalia, I once knew a man – a long time ago – who was blessed with many different skills. He was a fantastic swordsman, a brilliant athlete, and his magic... My dear, you cannot believe how strong his power was. If he could manage to be as remarkable in all three of those as you are with your magic, my dear, what's to say that you too shan't make men bow down at the mere sight of the blade clasped to your belt?"

Thalia beamed at me, her eyes suddenly determined. "I'll do it! Yes, I'll learn to fight, and practise until I'm as good as any of the housecarles!"

That's my girl, Myron whispered, then his presence faded from my mind, leaving me feeling very empty indeed.

windcriesjimi - I wouldn't put it past him! Thank you for the review!

Pirate - I'm sorry! I honestly didn't mean to make you feel bad - I actually thought it was quite cool!

Oo.dream.on.girl.oO - Thank you for the support! I keep getting writer's block, but I'm trying to write as fast as I can!

Jonathan - Laughing, eh? I swear you have a twisted mind! But cheers all the same. (Call yourself Jolly!)

Everyone else, hope you enjoyed too! Llamas, Ginger-Bizkit!