.
Lords of the Fallen: Lords and Ladies
Chapter 2: Elizabeth
Elizabeth hated fancy parties; she much preferred substantial conversation to this hypocritical simpering at each other in garments expensive enough to clothe a village for a year.
"Why Elizabeth, your dress looks absolutely stunning."
Elizabeth forced a smile as she saw Lady Lafitte d'Bala – a case in point of the type of people she preferred to avoid – approaching. Still tall, still dressed in emerald green, still the type of person she preferred to avoid. And unfortunately the hostess of the evening.
"Lady Lafitte," she said as she curtsied. "How splendid to see you."
"And you, my dear, and you!" the lady exclaimed, pinching Elizabeth's cheeks. "Goodness how you've grown."
"Yes, er…people have noticed." Like everyone this evening.
Lafitte began talking about…something. On instinct Elizabeth forced a smile, and on instinct, she drowned her fellow noble's words out. Out of the corner of her left eye she could see her parents, the people who had dragged her along to this circus. Out of the corner of her right she could a gentleman leaning against the far wall, far removed from the social scene.
Should've tried that myself.
"And I was just talking to Lord Lublin about this frightful winter we're having," she heard Lafitte say, the lady's words breaking her out of her distraction. "Honestly, at this rate, my land could lose half its flock."
"Indeed," Elizabeth said, her smile now becoming more of a lemon-sucking grimace. "And how about those who work the land? How many of them may freeze to death while we indulge ourselves in here?"
Lafitte stared at her. Briefly regretting her impetuousness, Elizabeth glanced at the man over in the corner, currently engaged in discourse with another man who was acting like he was drunk. He probably was.
"Oh dear, how kind of you," Elizabeth heard Lafitte say suddenly. "Honestly, thinking about the lower classes like that!"
And Elizabeth wished she was drunk as well. It might have allowed her to go home earlier.
"I'm serious," she said, gesturing around the ball room. "I mean, look at this," she exclaimed, gesturing around the ball room. "It's the dead of winter, we had a poor harvest, and yet we're feasting like kings."
"And queens," Lafitte said, taking two glasses of wine from a passing servant and handing one to Elizabeth. "Let us not forget we women too are entitled to such things."
"Are we?" Elizabeth asked, taking the liquor. "Can we in good conscience-"
Lafitte took a swill of her wine. Sighing, Elizabeth stared at hers – red. Likely grown in the vineyards of the Whitehead Valley, and likely worth more coin than a member of the "lower classes" would see in a year.
"You'll understand one day my dear," Lafitte said, putting her bony hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "You're still young. I understand how the world might seem to you."
Elizabeth winced as the hag's fingers sunk into her shoulder, messing the blue fabric of her dress. At sixteen, she was among the youngest people in the hall. Too young for her words to count, but old enough that every gentleman around seemed intent on introducing her to a friend, a son, or themselves.
The sound of a belch echoed from across the room, cutting through the din. Both ladies glanced at the man who had let it out - the same man who Elizabeth had guessed was drunk earlier.
"Disgusting," Lafitte sniffed, nonetheless taking a sip of her own wine. She looked back at her counterpart. "Do you not drink yourself, child?"
"Hmm?" Elizabeth murmured, still glancing at the two men.
"Your wine, my girl. It has yet to touch your lips."
Elizabeth wanted to say that no, she didn't drink. Not out of abstinence or any religious fervour, but because she couldn't stand the taste. But she couldn't bring herself to. Why answer when the answer would be ignored? Why bother? Why-
"Coward!"
Is that who I am? A coward?
"Coward!" came the voice again. "Coward coward cow-"
And then Elizabeth saw the source of the voice – the drunken gentleman. The same gentleman who just received a fist into the jaw from the man he had been calling coward.
Lafitte screamed and dropped her glass. A chorus of gasps echoed throughout the hall. Elizabeth barely noticed, so intent was her focus on the men before her, fighting like savages. Holding nothing back.
She loved the sight. This was true life. True passion. True honesty. Made all the more exciting as the two men started wrestling along the ground.
"Enough!" she heard Lafitte exclaim. "This is madness! This is unseemly! This is-"
The men weren't listening to her. Elizabeth barely heard her either. She clutched her wine glass as the pair kept rolling across the floor, exchanging blows, and one of them still hurling the coward insult. She clutched even tighter as the non-drunk one grabbed his foe and slam him against one of the stain-glass windows.
"Madness," she heard Lafitte say. "Utter barbarity."
Perhaps, but entertaining to Elizabeth nonetheless. But as the cornered man belched, as his foe continued to hold him in place, second thoughts entered her mind – people had fought to death for entertainment in arenas before, and still did in the shadowed parts of the world. Who was she to lecture her fellow nobles on morality if she just stood by now?
"I…think you should drop him," she said, walking forward. "Lest you do something you may regret."
The non-drunken brawler looked at her. For a moment, he appeared to agree with her. But a moment later, his counterpart grabbed him by the shoulders and fell backwards, sending both crashing through the window out into the winter air.
So much for that suggestion.
Slowly and steadily, the noise of conversation began to fill the hall again. Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth could see servants running for the exit. Why they hadn't intervened up until now, she didn't know. Not that she regrated their lack of intervention. It would have cut the fun early.
"Frightful," she heard Lafitte say. "Absolutely frightful." She grasped Elizabeth by the shoulder again. "Honestly, brawling like lowly commoners? Ruining this evening with no consideration for our wellbeing?"
"Oh, I don't know," Elizabeth said, taking Lafitte's hand off her shoulder. "I thought that was the best excitement we've had all evening."
Lafitte's jaw dropped.
"Well, it's been a lovely show," Elizabeth said, curtsying. "Goodnight, milady."
And with that, she began to walk off as well.
And for the first time this evening, produced a genuine smile.
A/N
So, this was the first to use one of the two start-off points given to me. The phrase was "John hated fancy parties; he much preferred substantial conversation to this hypocritical simpering at each other in garments expensive enough to clothe an African village for a year." Changed it a bit around of course. Ch. 3 gets the alternate POV and opening.
