The capital, newly renamed Uru'baen, was less of a home and more of a monster I needed to slay. Things that had once been simple, even automatic, suddenly became theatrical and dangerous. Contrast it with my previous living situation: Fifteen people and fifteen dragons at the very most (and those often sequestered from each other or off on missions), a moderately spacious manor house that was easy enough to navigate, and an endless forest kept us in a shadowy hush. Uru'baen blazed with life, at all times and with a ludicrous uproar! Even just the palace had been constructed on such a grandiose scale that my entire hometown could have fit snugly within its borders. The castle required an army of servants to maintain the building and serve the endless parade of simpering nobility. My only haven from the hustle and clamor was in my chambers at the top of one of its central structures. I had a suite of rooms to myself and all the fineries "fitting" a new princess.

Princess! My life had gone through several abrupt transformations leading up to this one, but this challenge vexed me more than all the rest. I hadn't struggled half as much becoming a rebel soldier as I did becoming a princess. Every member of the forsworn had some level of training as statesmen; that was the whole point of the riders in the first place. In contrast, I had interacted exclusively with those dozen or so maniacs for my entire adolescence (which proved to be dreadful preparation for a royal title). In light of this, I acquired a series of tutors led by a shrew of a woman that I loathed. She must have had a name, but I exclusively referred to her as Madame Tutor. She was determined to cleanse me of all mediocrity by any means necessary.

I spent every morning with her and a slew of experts in everything under the sun. I suffered through as many subjects as they could reasonably squeeze between breakfast and midday. I used to enjoy learning, back when it was my guaranteed quality time with Xanist, and replacing his stern but indulgent wisdom with these droning dolts only aggravated the pain of his loss. The pack of them grew so wearisome that I started actively looking forward to my training time with Morzan (which is a considerable statement). This training would last until he said it did. Then I would drag myself up to Siyamak's study where he would assign me an ever-expanding list of magical tasks to perfect. (I saw precious little of Torix during this time, for better or worse, as he secured his reign). Most days I was too exhausted by evening to do much more than collapse into bed. In a way, I was glad of this; at the very least, I had no time to dwell on our recent losses. Gildor and I hadn't been close, but it was still shocking to suddenly have a fixture of the group absent forever. And then there was Xanist… yes, most days, I was happy enough to think as little as possible.

But, as is the nature of life, one ought to take care what they ask for; lest it be given to them. I would soon be granted a much more… interesting distraction.


I finally trudged into my room in the late afternoon.

Two heavy doors closed behind me with a soft but reassuring click. So rarely was I allowed to be alone these days, that even the brief but blessed silence felt luxurious. I wanted to collapse onto one of the velvety sofas in the first chamber, perhaps curl up with one of the many novellas I inherited from the room's previous occupant… but that was unthinkable. Morzan did not particularly mind lateness, but he would never tolerate truancy (his teaching style was hazardous enough without pissing him off). I crossed through the sitting area to a matching set of doors, raking across the space with tired eyes.

The room was all ivory, petal pink, and pale gold. It had a plastered ceiling in painstakingly cast tiles, white stone floors, pink paneling with gilded florals, and a whole wall dedicated to massive windows masked under lacy curtains. The bed was delicately draped in frilly cream trimmings from the canopy to the bed skirt. A round table and armchair sat to the right side of the room near a fireplace, a demure little vanity, and a dividing screen off to the left. I didn't care much for the decorating taste, but I was intrigued by it. The previous princess was well loved, and I thought perhaps if I could absorb some of her taste then I might manage the trick as well… thus far, I had not been successful in either goal.

The only part of the space I really enjoyed was a rounded balcony just beyond the windows, and beyond that a stunning view of the city below. The sun had long sinced passed the edge of the overhang, plunging much of Uru'baen into premature twilight. Not long ago, the whole city was illuminated in the evenings by an intricate web of magical lights. Though many of them remained, a steady cool glow in the semi-darkness, even more had been utterly obliterated by Amroth's antics. Particularly in some of the nicer parts of the city, where whole buildings had been all but demolished. Lamplighters buzzed around like hornets trying to maintain visibility for teams of builders slogging through the rubble.

Uru'baen had no more recovered from the past months than had I. The mood in the city was… grim, to say the very least. Much of the population seemed indifferent to whoever occupied the throne, so long as they were fed. The few with strong leanings on the subject had the good sense to flee once the rider's defeat became inevitable (Torix had spent considerable attention to eliminating these defectors, with very little success. The empire was simply too vast and his network not yet fully established). A handful of these had even made attempts on Torix's life, mine, and the rest of the thirteen's. We hadn't gone more than a few weeks without trouble of some kind crawling out of the woodworks, and they showed no sign of slowing anytime soon. It made little difference to us; we'd all lived on the edge of readiness for so long that it felt more natural to be fighting than to be at peace.

Which made my grueling regimen of lessons all the more painful.

My morning and midday meals had both been bogged down by asinine drilling in manners of all things. I couldn't wrap my brain around why anyone in their right mind would give a damn about how one held a fork. Hell, Morzan had the table manners of a literal jackass, and nobody dared to scorn him! It wasn't so much the emphasis on detail and perfection that irked me (gods know that my masters had all expected as much over the years) it was the fact that no one could give me a straight answer on why it mattered so much. A single flaw in a spell or attack combination could be the difference between life and death… I seriously doubted cutlery carried the same weight, no matter what the vultures said.
I had a few spare moments to change out of my itchy gown into more combat-appropriate garb. The capital costume consisted of underskirts, a robe-like overgown, and a pinned-in stomacher. Typically, a "fashionable lady" would require servants to undress properly, but the idea of being vulnerable near strangers made me violently uncomfortable. Besides, I savored my brief moments of solitude. I budgeted my time by wearing leggings underneath the skirts, and hunting boots instead of the puny heeled slippers. So long as I rationed how much I ate and drank and didn't need to "extract" them, it was a serviceable arrangement. I tossed the over-gown and stomacher to the bed and had just started loosening the ties holding up the underskirt when someone knocked on my door.

The sound made me jump half out of my skin!

All of the servants assigned to me knew to leave me be, so that was out of the question. My head swam with possibilities. The most pressing was the idea of assassins hunting me down just as Kialandi and Formora had done to my room's previous resident not so very long ago. Wait, wouldn't there have been some sort of alarm? And why would a murderer knock?

If you keep acting this foolish, you're just going to make an even bigger fool of yourself. Katana mocked me gently, though she did send peaceful thoughts along with her jibe.

I was grateful for her support, if a bit embarrassed. Thank you, my ever-redundant source of wisdom.

Maybe stop sassing me and check who's knocking?

I was so caught up in the mental bickering that I hardly noticed the click of the latch. "Princess?" A hesitant voice called into the room.

For some reason, I just yelled, "Here!" before promptly overbalancing and tripping on the falling petticoat. I swore violently as I collapsed in a puff of pastel fabric (turns out, hanging around Morzan for extended periods runs your vocabulary through the gutter).

But mine wasn't the only voice yelling.

"Damn fuckin' skirts…" I hauled myself to my feet, kicking the pile of fabric towards the bed and finally facing my visitor. When I did, my spark of fear vanished completely. Instead, I just felt confused. There was a young man, clearly a soldier since he was wearing a padded gambeson and the newly-instated crimson uniform. He was hiding his face, though I could still clearly see the red creeping down his neck and over his ears. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Apparently, he had not been expecting that response because he burst out laughing. He choked it down enough to say, "Yes, Your Highness. Uhm… are you? That seemed like a nasty fall," He pressed his hand tighter to his eyes.

I frowned. "I'm… fine." something wasn't adding up. I glanced down at myself and realized what it was almost instantly. I felt fully clothed in my undershirt, reed-stiffened stays, and leggings, but by capital standards, I may as well have been naked! I snatched up a large green tunic and threw it on carelessly, face burning in spite of myself. "It's fine, by the way," I muttered, "You can look." He lowered his hand slowly and looked up at me. His eyes took my breath away. They were shockingly blue, especially against his sun-bronzed skin. He had a gentle energy about him that should have put me at ease. Instead, it made me suddenly very self-conscious. I forced myself to look away. "Can I help you?"

He coughed quietly and looked at the floor. "Yes, Your Highness. If you'll pardon me, Princess, I have a message from-"

"Stop that," I snapped.

"What?"

"My name is Lilly," I waved a hand at him, "All these titles and rules are starting to drive me crazy."

He blinked twice and seemed to relax. "Ah… right. Ms. Lilly," my stomach lurched when he said my name! I almost missed his next words, but lucky for both of us I caught them, "I have a message from the king."

I chewed my lip as I tightened my sword belt around my waist, "Get it over with."

"He says that your lesson with Lord Morzan has been canceled, as he had to leave on urgent business. Instead, you may report directly to His Majesty's study as soon as you are able."

I swore. The training field was a much shorter walk, and Morzan was infinitely more forgiving of latecomers. "Then I need to leave already!" I snatched up half a sandwich from the table and crammed it in my mouth. "Thansh! Wash yur nahm?"

He laughed again, but it wasn't the wheezing guffaw of before. It was soft and warm; he had a voice made for telling stories around campfires on cool summer nights. He bowed respectfully as he said, "Ish Anshony, msh."
I almost choked on my morsel. When I finally managed to stop giggling enough to inhale, I gasped out, "Anthony?"

"Yes."

"It's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Anthony. Hopefully, I'll see more of you," I gave my sloppiest curtsy and dashed past him out the door.

I just barely caught the smile curling his lips, "Pleasure's all mine."

Yes, everyone with more than two brain cells to rub together can see where this mess is going, and that includes the inevitable failures. I wish I could have been one of those people. Unfortunately, the first test of my new station was not one for which any of my lessons could have prepared me. The only people I'd seen since I was six years old were the forsworn, the very maniacs who raised me. So, yes, I developed an immature little crush on the very first person who spoke to me like a human being. I got incredibly lucky; the world is full of people who wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of an idiot stumbling around a big city for the first time. And, make no mistake, I was still nothing more or less than that. So many facets of my life had become dangerous and convoluted… some more than others.

-:- -:- -:-

Of all the arenas in Uru'baen, none was quite as intimidating as attending court. This obligation only represented a handful of hours every few days, but they were some of the most grueling hours of my life. The throne room's size and location near the main entrance of the castle mostly serves to facilitate this function: everyone with even the vaguest claim of notoriety would attend religiously. The only requirement to attend was either: 1) having enough land to be classified as a noble, or 2) receiving an invitation from someone who did. Here the king could announce new policies, address changes in station, and (most crucially) be approached by his subjects.

It was this final aspect that made it such a vital part of capital culture. This was the one and only time that Galbatorix made himself available to the gentry at large. Speaking order was strictly regulated by rank and influence, so it was commonplace for lesser nobility to seek sponsors higher up the ladder to advocate on their behalf. Nobody was of higher rank than the king, followed by the forsworn and (by default) me. This made it all the more hilarious that I was strictly forbidden from speaking publicly.

As much as I raged against this at the time, I've completely changed my opinion in my old age: I had very little understanding of how capital politics actually functioned. I spent a frankly egregious amount of time in those days just memorizing family trees, crests, alliances… and that's to say absolutely nothing about economics, military tactics, agriculture, and a thousand other things I needed to know to be of use to anyone. In short: my presence in court was purely superficial, I wasn't allowed to interact with the nobility directly, and I traveled almost everywhere with a personal army of guards. They existed more to protect me from friends than from enemies; nothing deters acquaintanceship like a contingent of heavily armed babysitters.

In time, I found a benefit to this arrangement; of which I took full advantage.


The first time I saw him, I thought I was half mad. I saw no more than a glint of blue beneath his helm and a lazy smile as our eyes met. He stood in formation along my right side, and I returned his grin easily. We didn't have an opportunity to speak with all of his comrades also marching with us, but I couldn't resist focusing on him in my peripheral. He had a relaxed stride; a far cry from many of his fellows' more mechanical steps. How did he end up in this group?

Why do you care? Katana was sequestered away in a thicket of tall scrub, cleansing her claws after her recent meal. Through our bond, I felt her pride in her handiwork and the rustle of her rough tongue on her scales. He seems like he'd be clumsy in a battle.

Perhaps not. Morzan could hardly be commended on his posture, and yet…

'Could hardly be commended on…'? Who are you? Katana's mental jibe faded into a gentle rebuke, Don't let these toothless jackals change you too much. I don't want to be bonded to any of them.

I'll keep it in mind. But still, my point stands: looks aren't everything in a fight.

They aren't everything in other areas either. She growled and puffed smoke in merriment, frightening a flock of birds near her into sudden flight.

And how exactly would you know?! I was scandalized by her crude innuendo. Katana was nearly seven by this point, long past dragon maturity, but she knew even less about the topic than I did!

Instincts. I know not to trust a mate purely on the sheen of his scales, or the size of his wingspan.

Oh, so this is about wingspan? I think Mr. Anthony might disappoint in that particular area…

So you remember his name? I felt warmth creep up my neck at that. I shooed her away, but she left me with a parting, You need to test his mettle if you really want to know him!

Taking flirting advice from a dragon… I shook the embarrassment off as best I could. And besides, it's not as if I can tackle him and force him to duel me right here! Or can I? Obviously not a literal strength test… but maybe just a test of interest? Madame Tutor explained in passing how young ladies had secret codes to communicate with suitors (everything from hand fans to handkerchiefs). At the time it all seemed ridiculously vague, but under pressure of discovery, I wondered if it would be vague enough to go unnoticed. I plucked a square of cloth out of a fold in my skirt, dabbing my neck oh-so-daintily (really, my tutor would have been proud!) before letting it tumble out of my hand. I halted, the contingent all froze around me… save one.

Anthony was on one knee before anyone else even realized what had happened. Those stunning eyes held mine, a bold stare most soldiers wouldn't dare risk. He held the kerchief delicately as he offered it back to me. My fingers brushed against his calloused ones as I accepted it. He swallowed and bowed his head, embarrassed and suddenly very nervous, "My apologies, Princess."

I still didn't like him using the title. My stomach churned as I thought, I want him to say my name again . I banished the thought, tipping him a proper nod in thanks. I took the chance to peek down at him, and I realized just how nervous he really was. I said, "There is nothing to forgive, sir," and marveled at how his already precious smile bloomed into its full radiance.

"Not sir yet, Your Highness," he said bashfully, bowing even as he stood. His comrades chuckled good-naturedly at his obvious enthusiasm; some of them had served longer than he'd even lived.

"Yet?" I asked innocently. I caught sight of a familiar crimson glow creeping up his neck. I lifted my chin and turned my attention back to the path, but offered a parting, "I look forward to following your career. I'm always looking for skilled hands."

He swallowed hard and bowed again before resuming his previous position in line. The rest of the walk was uneventful, court even more so.… but the impression of brilliant blue eyes following my every move made even that trial seem bearable.


And so begins my "untoward" courtship of the soon-to-be knight, Sir Anthony. After this day, I would often spot him on patrols beneath my balcony, in hallways I was likely to pass, and especially in contingents assigned to guard me. I got the impression that being among these groups of soldiers was a particularly unlooked-for assignment: Galbatorix and I were in near constant danger of imminent death in that first year. Soldiers around us could go from being bored out of their minds to slaughtered in a heartbeat, regardless of their skill. Anthony put himself on that roster every chance he got, just so we could see each other. He was a rare and wonderful man; earnest, honest, and kind.

I claim no responsibility for falling; only how I behaved on the way down.

AN: Sir Anthony has benefitted greatly from the efforts of my wonderful wife~ In this as in everything, I would be lost without you, Love.