It's been a rough week, ya'll, and I share this with the hopes you enjoy it. Please remember to review.
Chapter Six
The Great Hall was large enough to hold several hundred people. With the addition of fifty or so servers, the room was nearly beyond capacity. Conversation was a constant thrum beneath the clinking of cutlery, interrupted only by demands for more wine or bellows of laughter. In a far corner, someone plucked a harp.
Long tables had been set up that held twenty guests each and in the front of the room, beneath an elaborate tapestry of a red dragon, sat Uther Pendragon on a raised dais, along with his high ranking guests.
Several burly, male servants had just carried out the sixth roasted hog on a thick plank and set it among baskets of bread, bowls of steamed vegetables, and platters of cheese and sausages. The mouth-watering scents intermingled with the hundreds of beeswax candles that dripped from special stands all over the hall as well as those which flickered high above on a great, iron chandelier.
It was strange, Buffy thought as she filled a goblet with wine while nodding to another guest that she'd heard his shout for more drink. The hall was packed yet the atmosphere felt more like an intimate gathering. Perhaps because everyone was in such a good mood. Everyone, that is, except Crumbley. The king's manservant looked as dour-faced as ever, but luckily for Buffy and those at her table, he tended to linger near the VIP guests at the front of the hall.
As she finished pouring his drink, a man tossed a bronze coin in the air. With near-Slayer speed, Buffy snatched the coin and shoved it into the leather pouch at her waist. It was already heavy with coins. She smiled her thanks and moved on. The people at her table may not have been the most influential, or wore the finest garments, but they weren't cheap, either.
After filling the next goblet, Buffy held the pitcher high and upside-down to indicate that it was empty and that she was off to the kitchens for more. She chuckled at a few disappointed groans, from both the men and women. A college frat party wouldn't be able to compete in a drinking competition with her table, although they had a few things in common. As of last count, she'd turned down five propositions for sex (all very robust yet respectful) and two drunken marriage proposals (one from a man who was already married; his wife had just rolled her eyes and apologized to Buffy).
Buffy burst through the swinging doors into the chaos of the kitchens and immediately jumped to the side as a harried-looking girl went by with a platter of cheese. Buffy's stomach growled at the sight. She hadn't stopped moving since the feast had begun, and she was starving. A table of food had been set up for the servers and kitchen staff but when Buffy turned toward it, her hunger shriveled into frustration.
Lavonia was there, wolfing down a plate of food. Buffy squinted at her, noticing for the first time that the other girl's uniform looked different. Nearly five buttons from the collar down had been undone, exposing an alarming amount of cleavage. The material containing the lower half of Lavonia's breasts was stretched taunt; the button straining within its hole. One good sneeze and they'd burst free.
Probably right in the king's face, she thought sourly, narrowing her eyes further. There was probably a little jealousy, too, but Buffy refused to acknowledge it. It wasn't like she was flat-chested herself. But still . . .
"Buffy! Hey!"
Winnie stopped next to her with a full pitcher. "Got this ready for you," she said, sounding out of breath. "You have time for a bite? I'm starving."
"Next time," Buffy said pointedly, jerking her head toward the table while they traded pitchers.
Winnie looked and made an annoyed face which, ironically, soothed Buffy's irritation. "Yeah, I can wait. How's it going out there?"
"Totally epic," Buffy answered, feeling suddenly re-energized. "Seriously, Win, you have to be a server with me next time. Frannie was right: the money's so freaking good!"
"Yeah, but no," Winnie said, hugging the empty pitcher. "The last time I served was on New Year's Eve. One of the nobles got drunk and by midnight he was running around the lawn without any pants on. And guess who had to go fetch him? That's right, Winnie." Her face went slack at the memory. "I made vanilla moonpies for weeks after that . . . couldn't bring myself to take a single bite." She shook herself then and blinked her way back to the present. "So, yeah. Like I said, no."
Buffy's mouth closed with an audible click. "Thanks so much for that mental image."
"He was a big man, Buffy," Winnie lamented again. "Not in the muscle-y nice way, either, if you know what I mean."
"I do! Seriously, stop." Buffy held up the pitcher. "I gotta go. But when I get back: you, me, food."
But as soon as she stepped through the swinging kitchen doors, a male servant grabbed her by the arm and drew her close. He had to shout to be heard over the din of the kitchens and the laughter from the nearby tables. When Buffy heard him, her heart gave an anxious flutter.
"The king requires more drink!"
Buffy turned back toward the doors, intending to shout for Lavonia, but the servant pulled on her arm again. "What are you doing, girl? I told you the king requires drink!"
"Yeah, but I—I can't—I mean, Lavonia has to—"
"Go!" He gave her a rough shove forward and Buffy nearly stumbled. She felt like a soldier behind enemy lines as she made her way to the front of the room. The women here wore gaudy silk wraps and too much rouge. They shot each other thin smiles that seemed both brittle and hard. While the women were bone-thin, the men were heavy and round, bordering on obese, with flushed faces and sweat stains creeping out from underneath their arms.
Not all of them were like that, of course. Some of the knights were sitting among the guests. She spotted Sir Percy with his perfectly styled hair whispering something into a young woman's ear. He leaned back and took a long sip from his goblet as the woman blushed bright pink. Flirt, Buffy thought.
She spotted Trumbell, too, but he didn't notice her. He was busy scraping the bones from his plate into a small cloth. For his dog, she realized, remembering the puppy they'd brought back from the slaughtered village. It warmed her heart to see him, and she suddenly longed to be riding the trails again.
Instead, she found herself staring at the steps that lead up to the king's table with a growing sense of dread. If she were quick about it, Buffy reasoned, then Lavonia would never know she was here. Which meant no more hesitation. Clenching her teeth, Buffy climbed the stairs and immediately her eyes fell on Uther. His hand rested on the table, just short of his goblet, but he was facing the frail-looking man, leaning in close to hear the man's whispery words.
If she was quick—if she was careful—even the king would be oblivious as to who refilled his drink.
She had thought long and hard about her encounter with Uther that morning. Just because he shared similarities with her Watcher (her heart had leapt at the sight of all those books), it didn't mean that she knew this version of him. It was hard to believe but the closest she could figure was that Giles had been a bit of a bad-ass in his youth. She had tried to imagine what that might've looked like but found it impossible. It was just too weird, like seeing a picture of her parents as teenagers.
Buffy had finally come to the bitter conclusion that, for now, it was better for both of them if she kept her distance.
And that's going oh-so well, she thought sarcastically. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she stopped next to the king's chair. Refusing to hesitate any longer, she sucked in a breath and reached for the goblet.
Closer.
Closer.
She was so close . . .
And then Buffy stopped. She blinked. She blinked again, unable to believe her eyes. The goblet was full.
Swearing silently, her eyes darted around the room for the male servant. Had he simply made a mistake or had it been some cruel trick on his part? Was he trying to get her in trouble with Lavonia? Buffy's mind raced with paranoia and fear. Perhaps Lavonia had devised the whole thing herself. If Buffy annoyed the king, he'd likely put her in the stocks. She'd never get the smell of rotting vegetables from her hair without her favorite shampoo!
The servant was gone. No matter. Buffy needed to leave. Now. But before she could pull away, Uther's hand shot up from the table and seized her wrist. The movement was performed in complete contrast to the rest of his body: he was still facing the ambassador, even chuckling at something the man had said. Then he politely excused himself and turned to study her trapped hand, like some sort of curiosity.
"Hello, again."
He didn't sound angry, but all the small hairs on the back of Buffy's neck stood on end. Her other hand tightened on the pitcher helplessly; she was trapped like a bird in a snare. "M'Lord," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I was told you required more drink."
"As you can see, I do not." Uther waited a beat, cocked his head to the side as though he could hear her hammering heart. "What I required . . . was you."
Buffy's mouth opened and closed as she processed his words. "You mean Lavonia."
"I mean you," he repeated, sounding slightly annoyed. He tugged on her wrist so she had to squeeze between the two chairs. Buffy cringed as she felt her backside press against the man behind her. She heard him make snuffling sounds of appreciation and hoped fervently it was from a slice of pie.
"I am curious about something," Uther continued, his blue eyes locking onto her green ones. "Your face—what happened?"
"My face?" Buffy repeated dumbly. "I don't . . . Oh." The cut. She felt sudden surprise. Had Uther noticed that? When? How? Had he been watching her?
"It wasn't like that this morning," he added.
"I . . ." Buffy bit her lip then, unsure how to answer him. It was hard to think when he was holding her wrist. And if school had taught her one thing, it was that no one liked a snitch.
Snitches get stitches.
Her eyes darted across the room as her anxiety spiked. Lavonia was still in the kitchens but for how long? She had—what? Minutes? At most. Panicking, she snorted loudly and blurted out the first coherent thought that popped into her head. "You must be the last person in the castle to know by now."
Uther barked a sudden, dry laugh. "You'd be surprised how often that is the case." Without his glasses, Buffy suddenly noticed the lines that creased the outer edges of his eyes. Laugh lines, they were called. And, at the moment at least, Uther did looked amused. It calmed her slightly.
"Nobody ever tells the king any of the good stuff," he went on casually. "Just boring matters of state. Which reminds me, you didn't answer my question about the state of your face." He arched an eyebrow to show that he was waiting and Buffy swore silently. Giles could be mulish at the worst possible times!
"Your Majesty, I would be super-happy to tell you everything you want to know," she lied quickly. "But if I stay up here, you won't need me to. You'll see a repeat performance of just how it happened. Probably with the added bonus of a black eye or a broken nose. So unless you want blood on that"—she glanced down at the snug jerkin he wore over an expensive-looking linen shirt—"surprisingly well-cut and fashionable leather you have on, I need to beg off. As in now."
The corner of Uther's mouth grew pinched and Buffy immediately switched to the pleading tone she used on Giles whenever he caught her blowing off patrol. "Your Majesty, please . . . I-I really do have to go."
It was the little stammer at the end that got him. Buffy could see it. Uther glanced down at her wrist then, one-by-one, he uncurled his fingers. He no longer looked amused. "Later then."
Buffy bolted. She scrambled down the steps, splashing wine as she went, and hit the bottom just as Lavonia came strutting through the kitchen doors. Someone grabbed her and pulled her away from the steps and back along a darkened section of wall.
"Now I know why you're single," Jinx hissed, yanking the pitcher from her trembling hands and setting it on a nearby table. "You're out of your flippin' gourd!"
"Huh—wha—?" Buffy watched Lavonia as she paused near Sir Percy to flick an invisible speck from a colossal boob. Percy had been reaching for his drink at that moment but was distracted by Lavonia's gesture. His hand overshot, knocking the goblet over and sending wine into the noble girl's lap. Lavonia's lip curled into a wicked smile before moving on.
"Frannie told me what happened this morning," Jinx continued, sounding exasperated. "What were you thinking, going up there?"
"I wasn't thinking!" Buffy shot back. "Because I didn't have a choice, Jinx. He asked for me."
Jinx frowned. "The king, as in Uther Pendragon, asked for you? Specifically?"
"No, the other Buffy that looks exactly like me." She grunted in irritation. At least her hands had stopped trembling. Now if only her heart would slow down. "I don't think Lavonia saw anything, do you?"
"No," Jinx said, but he sounded grim. "You were up there a long time though. A lot longer than it took to pour a drink. I would say that 'people noticed' but I don't categorize Lavonia's friends as entirely human."
"Just what I freaking need," Buffy groaned, rocking her head back against the wall. "Snitches, stitches, and big ol' booby-bitches. What am I supposed to do now?"
Jinx scratched his head. "Steal a horse and make a run for it? Hide in one of the towers, grow your hair out until it's long enough to use as an escape ladder? Or, hear me out, you could stay with me in my room. After a few years I doubt Lavonia would remember you. Yeah, sure, you're crazy but we could be a couple of crazy kids in love. How about it, Buff?"
She stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Okay, I'm having another thought," he went on smoothly. "We give her someone else to be pissed at. Say, a bigger target. One with a thicker hide and a bone to pick."
"Who?"
"What can I say"—Jinx flashed her a dazzling smile—"I'm like a bad rash after an indiscreet encounter: annoying and hard to get rid of."
"Jinx, no. And ew! What are you—!"
But he had already pushed away from the wall and was skipping to the open area in front of the king's table. He flapped his arms above his head, making the bells sewn into his jester outfit jingle loudly. The room grew quiet at the sight of his odd appearance.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Your Majesty!" Jinx bellowed. "Has the hour finally come for a little . . . entertainment?"
Instantly the entire hall erupted into cheers, shouts, and whistles. Guests pounded their fists against the table and somewhere a plate shattered against the floor. Jinx basked in the spotlight, strutting back and forth like a male peacock showing off his feathers. Despite her worries, Buffy couldn't help but chuckle at the sight; Xander always loved being the center of attention.
Jinx strummed a small lute that hung from a shoulder strap and the crowd fell silent. "Shall I sing a little song first? Or"—suddenly he was holding several colorful balls—"perhaps a little feat of wonder?" The guests cheered again as he flung the balls in the air. He caught them easily and before long, there were twice as many balls. Jinx plucked them out of pockets, pulled them from sleeves, and even popped one from the top of a boot.
A whirling blur of color hovered over him, his hands moved like the wind to keep the balls airborne. They were flung higher, higher, until the room fell silent in disbelief. Perspiration coated Jinx's face; he frowned in concentration until, finally, all the balls seemed to hang suspended in the air. As a grand finale, he swung a leg out, twirled once, then caught the balls as they fell.
Plop! Plop! Plop!
Jinx caught each one expertly and in the blink of an eye, they disappeared back into their hiding places. Except the last one. Jinx held this one over his head like a trophy and the Great Hall went wild.
Impressed, Buffy shouted and applauded along with everyone else. Even the king stood briefly and clapped. And then, for the first time, in a very long time, Buffy realized that her face hurt from smiling. She couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Jinx looked at her and Buffy waved. He was grinning. She was cheering. And it was in that moment that she realized it was the first time she'd seen him truly happy, as well.
In Sunnydale, when she caught sight of him alone, she sometimes thought he looked sad. But as soon as she approached, it would disappear behind a veneer of wise-cracks and immature flirting. Willow had mentioned once that his home-life wasn't the best—apparently his dad drank a lot—but Buffy had never asked about it. She regretted that now. Being the Slayer made it difficult to be a good friend sometimes.
The hall erupted in laughter and Buffy looked around, startled. It sounded like Jinx had switched to telling jokes. Retrieving the full pitcher, Buffy hurried back to her table. There was still room in her change purse for a few more coins yet.
The jokes started out innocent enough, but as the wine flowed and the hour grew late, they took a decidedly more adult turn. After an extremely graphic limerick about a knight who fell in love with his jousting pole, Jinx stopped abruptly.
Lavonia had walked across the open area, carrying a pitcher to the king's table.
"You!" he cried suddenly, startling her so badly that wine splashed over the rim of the pitcher. She stood still, like a frightened deer. Even from the back of the room where Buffy was serving, she could see the other girl's eyes dart around the hall. Some of the more sober guests realized something was amiss, too, and fell silent.
"Clap for the beautiful Miss Lavonia, everyone!" Jinx announced with a flourish and a tight-lipped smile. There was a smattering of applause and Lavonia gave an awkward curtsy. A pink blush bloomed across her cheeks and chest. She took a step but Jinx stepped in front of her, preventing her from leaving.
"You know, I heard a little something about our lovely Lavonia," Jinx continued in a theatrical whisper. "Apparently she's been visiting the seamstress and having all the collars on her dresses lowered." Someone whistled and Jinx made an obvious glance at her chest. "And clearly wanting to show off her best—and some would say only—features, she went back and had them lowered again."
Lavonia's eyes narrowed but Jinx continued, doggedly ignoring her. "And then one day," he said. "She had a thought: had she lowered the collars too much? So she asked the seamstress what she thought." Jinx switched to a high, warbly voice to answer as the seamstress. "That depends—do you have hair on your chest?"
"Certainly not, Lavonia cried!" Jinx paused, clearly relishing the moment—and in Buffy's mind, very probably his last—and answered as the seamstress again. "Then your dress is too low!"
Abruptly, Jinx grabbed the crotch of his pants and yanked it up as though to cover himself. The crowd roared with laughter and pointed at Lavonia. Her chest had gone from pink to beat red, and with a furious shriek, she upended the pitcher of wine over Jinx's head and stormed from the hall.
Buffy tore her eyes away from the swinging doors that Lavonia disappeared through and back to Jinx. He was shaking the wine from his clothes like a dog as the crowd continued to laugh. Buffy didn't feel sorry for the other girl—Lavonia was mean and deserved what she got—but she was worried for Jinx. If Lavonia was telling the truth, and she was the king's lover, Uther would be furious.
But when she looked to the king's table, Buffy saw that the king was gone. He had slipped from the room while everyone was distracted.
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Cooper
