Fergus dunked the comb in water again and ran it through his curly red hair. His mother made him keep it short to keep it manageable, and most of the time he didn't even think about it. But it was moments like these that he wished it would lie flat, or at least look like he tried. He looked at it again in the polished silver mirror he'd borrowed from Mum. It looked a little better, precious little.
Fergus looked up when he heard chuckling coming from the doorway. He grinned at his friend, young Lord MacGuffin.
"Tell me honestly, Dirk, how bad does it look?"
"Well, you look like you've just been for a swim." Dirk said, laughing now. Fergus punched him and Dirk captured his head, rubbing his fist into Fergus's head.
"You're just gonna make it worse!" Fergus cried, struggling free. He picked up the mirror and his hair had indeed returned to its natural wild state.
"Cheer up, mate. She was bound to see you like this eventually." Dirk consoled, managing to look at least a little repentant. Fergus frowned and set down the mirror.
"What are you doing here anyway? I thought the rest of the clans weren't going to be here till nearer to the…" he paused and swallowed, "Wedding feast."
Dirk shrugged and handed Fergus the belt that had been lying on his bed. "Dad gave me permission to come early. I think he figured you'd want me here."
Fergus sighed and nodded. "Never thought this would happen so soon. Most betrothals last at least a year." He said, wrapping the belt around himself. He picked up two of the more decorative pins off the table and showed them to Dirk.
"The left one." Dirk said, pointing to the one that had a miniature sword for a clasp. "We knew it would happen eventually. And I met Elinor two years ago at a tournament, she's really not that bad."
"Really?" Fergus perked up considerably. "You talked to her?"
"Well, not really. Now that I think about it, she didn't say two words to me."
"Great." Fergus dropped up on the bed and plucked at a bowstring he'd been drying between his bedposts.
"But you can talk enough for the both of you." Dirk teased, sitting in the nearby chair. Fergus leveled a look at him.
"It's one thing if it's you…or Mum…" he muttered looking down and shaking his head. "I never know what to say…this is going to be a disaster."
"The wedding or the marriage?"
"Both!" They turned when a loud sound came from outside. Fergus leaped off the bed and pushed Dirk aside to get the view out of the window. The Macintosh clan was arriving.
"Don't worry, Fergus." Dirk said, pushing him to look out the window. "One look at me and Elinor won't want to marry you anymore."
Fergus growled and leapt at Dirk, pinning him to the ground and knocking over a table. Dirk pushed him over just as Betha walked in.
"Boys." She said, sighing and calmly folding her hands. The two large young men looked up.
"Sorry, Mum." Fergus said from where Dirk had sat on him.
"If you would care to come and welcome our guests." She held a hand out the door. Dirk disengaged himself and quickly left the room. Betha grabbed Fergus's arm and made him bend over. "Did you even try to fix your hair?" she asked, attempting to flatten it. But it would not be tamed, and stood up even more. She recognized the losing battle and settled for taking his face in her hands. "It will work out for the best, dear. I promise."
Fergus nodded and followed behind her to the throne room, taking his place in front of the central throne. It still felt strange in this seat, like it didn't quite belong to him. The drums of the approaching clan sounded outside the doors and Fergus straightened up, putting on a stern visage and hoping that no one would be able to see just how scared he was.
The doors burst open and the noise increased ten-fold. Warriors, farmers, tradesmen filled the room, stepping to either side of the dais to make an aisle for their leader and his family. They came very last, Fergus quickly surveyed Lord Macintosh, his Lady, and the infuriating Ean. But he stopped when he came to Elinor. His mouth opened a little and every noise in the room seemed to fade away.
He had seen very little of her at the contest for her hand, and he remembered even less. But now that he actually gazed upon her, he would never forget it. Her long dark hair was in a single plait pushed over her shoulder. She wore a maroon dress that fit her just right with silver embroidery about the edges. But it was her face that really caught Fergus' attention. She seemed calm, capable, intelligent, and …royal. Everything that Fergus was not, a bitter reminded him.
Dirk strained over the heads of the Macintosh clan to see Elinor, but there were too many. What he could see clearly was his friend's face, and Dirk smiled. Good to see he's not too scared of her, he thought observing Fergus's rapt expression.