Morning comes far too fast for my taste; at first, it's as though my world hasn't collided with a Doctor Who episode set seven hundred years in my past. The sounds of people bustling about and conversing with one another all seem somehow familiar; however, it's the clashing of swords and grunts that come from outside my window that finally snap me out of my sleepy stupor. Getting up to take a look, I see it is coming from the soldiers training near the courtyard. Marcello and his cousin (Captain of the guard and perfector of the puppy dog eyes, Luca Forelli) stand before them, watching and analyzing their movements.
A knock sounds at the door just as it opens, a young woman entering with a dress and some pins for my hair. "Good morning, Milady," she says courteously. "Lord Forelli insists upon your accepting this dress as a token of goodwill. Lord Greco has already approached him about your departure; I pray you find your sister in good health."
"As do I," I reply, letting her help me into the dress and tend to my crazy bed-head. Maybe I should be initiating more conversation…if Olan Rogers had been born yet, he would probably describe the silence as being "so quiet, you could hear a fly fart." I just don't want to risk saying something incriminating…not unless it's with Rodolfo, and him alone. "What's your name?" I ask, finally cracking under the silence. Lia can attest to the fact that I struggle with keeping my mouth shut in most circumstances.
She pulls and tugs at my dark, curly locks in an attempt to subdue them. "Giacinta, Milady," she replies softly, soon stepping back to admire what she's done; she seems quite pleased with the outcome. "There we are; fit for a queen."
I raise my eyebrow, looking down to admire the gown; it is gorgeous, I'll give it that. "Well, thank you, Giacinta. I appreciate your help."
She chuckles faintly, curtsying politely. "I shall alert Lord Greco that you are awake and dressed. Breakfast will be up within the hour." I nod in reply, thanking her once more as she excuses herself from the room. I stay in the room long enough to put on some comfortable shoes before heading out to explore the Castello, ignoring the curious gazes I attract as I go. Rather quickly, I find myself in the courtyard, relishing the warmth of sunlight; oh, glorious sunshine! For a moment, I can close my eyes and imagine I'm still at home with my mother and sister, and the world is an easy place to navigate. The moment ends sooner than I'd like, though, as the reality of my circumstances crushes the small amount of peace that had started to build.
I wander into what must be the armory, glancing around at the multitude of weapons, and carefully pick up a sword that catches my eye. It's like the one I have hanging on my wall at home, and I test it out on a wooden dummy in the back of the room. Each blow lands exactly where it's supposed to, leaving fresh wooden scars all over its wooden frame; the sword is perfect.
"Ahem," a throat clears behind me, startling the Reese's Pieces right out of me. I fumble for a moment, but manage not to drop my sword. Ha…my sword. As if I have any claim to it.
Marcello Forelli stands in the doorway in all his macho-nacho hotness, arms crossed though seemingly amused. "Do not tell me they teach ladies how to spar in Normandy as well, Lady Gabriella," he says, voice light and teasing. "The more I learn of you, the stranger your land becomes in my eyes."
Heavily blushing and feeling a little impish at having been caught, I grin in return and shrug. "It was something my father and I used to do together before he died," I admit softly. "Forgive me; is this an intrusion?"
He strides over to pick up one of the other swords, raising an eyebrow. "Intrusion? Nay; this is a privilege," he replies, twirling the blade in his strong hands. "Perhaps, if your honor would not be wounded by my asking, we could put your skills to the test?"
Finally, some fun! I stretch my back with a teasing grin. "You have only to name the time and place," I reply, my sense of elation dying down the moment we are interrupted by his betrothed, Ramona, or Romana, whichever it is. I having nothing but disdain for her snotty attitude and pity for Marcello; he could do so much better.
"There you are, Beloved; Luca said I might find you here. Has your blade become dull yet again?" she asks, and I see her batting her eyelashes at him. Ugh; where's a Cone of Shame when you need one? "At least I finally have an idea of what to get you for your birthday." She looks at me, sizing me up one minute and trying to dismiss me the next. She wraps her arm around his waist in a silent, unmistakable message. "Lady Gabriella, Lord Greco is looking for you everywhere; I feel he is eager to be off as soon as you've broken your fast this morning."
Yeah, yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Princess? A real smile comes to my lips, though, at the thought of Lord Greco. "I suppose I should go to him, then," I reply, about to put the weapon back on the shelf when Marcello steps forward to grab its matching sheath. "Keep it," he says with a smile. "As yet another token of goodwill. I know the territory you shall be going into; I believe you'll have need of it." He carefully fits the blade into its sheath and buckles it around my waist so that it's snug, but not too tight.
"Thank you; you've been very kind to me," I reply honestly; I can feel the blood rushing to my face once more, and I don't even dare glance at Romana. Is it possible to feel a stare? I think if looks could kill, the one she is giving me now would probably be excruciatingly painful; my head would no longer be attached to my body.
Marcello looks down at me with eyes that seem to envelop my soul. Darn all these hot Italian knights! "It's been our pleasure to serve you," he says softly, taking my hand to kiss it. "You have our prayers for finding your sister well, as well as our invitation to return should you ever find yourself in these lands again. You will be an honored guest at our table."
…And cue more blushing; maybe being stuck here isn't so bad after all. Miss Snooty-Patootie decides this to be a good interrupting point, considering my hand still rested in his, and she comes over to take his free hand, clearing her throat. "Marcello, we should return to the men; your poor cousin is probably overwhelmed trying to keep them in line."
Her intention isn't wasted on him, and he carefully lets my hand go, though I detect a faint sigh. "Were you more acquainted with my cousin, Lady Romana, you would know that idea to be a complete impossibility," he says, trying to tease, though she doesn't seem to enjoy it. She simply snorts, turning away. "Farewell, Lady Gabriella, and safe travels," she replies. "Go with God."
I'd like to tell her where I think she can go, but I don't think it would be fitting for the circumstance. "Likewise," I reply instead, watching as she leads Marcello back towards the training grounds; I let out the breath I didn't realize I've been holding and walk back into the Castello to find Lord Greco.
