First day of Alans, year 1030

She was flighty. There was no other way to describe Lady Eleanor Lacholm.

Her laughter came in pearls of mirth, over nothing. A slight comment about the weather, a furrow of ones eyebrow, and there was that shriek of laughter, spouting from a slash in her face.Her words were full of nothingness. Meaningless blather about dresses, horses and babies. ‘Twas enough to make one want to stick a sword through their gut. She was too busy gossiping about the next lady’s dress to realize her silliness. And every sentence was followed with, “When I am Queen that shall not happen!”

When she was Queen, she would get a sound behind lashing, Lance would be sure of it.

Her behavior was not what was expected of a future Queen. Thought it was not strictly her fault, he mused. She had not been brought up in his household, as a proper queen would have. Children raised to marry royalty were nearly always sent to live in the royal household. However, her mother had begged and pleaded with her father, and Eleanor was not sent to live in Koven Castle, instead she was brought up by an equally silly mother, with no nursemaids or fathers to instill poise and discipline in her.

She was fairly pretty, he mused. She had soft brown hair that cascaded down the curve of her back, and accentuated the heart shape of her lovely face. Her skin was soft and the coveted pale pink, the envy of all the noble ladies in the land. Lady Eleanor’s brows sloped elegantly downward, bringing out the vivacious and laughter-filled blue eyes. Her hips were wide, a good sign, as Prince Lance hoped for many sons and a few pretty daughters.

Currently her pink lips were formed again in that awfully pretend coy smile. She held one hand over her mouth, poorly hiding her giggles, as the Prince bent to kiss her tiny hand. Her hair was pinned up on either side of her head, making her look childish and goofy. He gladly bent over, lest she see the annoyance in his face. She continued to giggle and snicker the longer he bent over her hand. A mixed mask between servitude and mock admiration, though he doubted she’d take it as such, was placed on his face as he stood up before her. He bowed once more and his father, King Alistair, called for Lord Blade, Sir Jonas, Lady Avelina, and Lady Eleanor to join him and the Royal Family in sup.

During the meal the Lady Eleanor was seated between himself and her brother, Sir Jonas, the Prince’s own squire.

A fine man-to-be, Lance thought to himself. Jonas often made the half a mornings journey just to ride and hunt with the Prince. They talked about all manner of things. Women, maidens and kitchen maids, weaponry and war and the like. Jonas shared his taste in women and in strategies. They were well matched, often drawing in games of chess. Jonas was his favorite companion because he was unafraid to be himself. He also shared the opinion of his sister’s vapidness.

The loud braying of his bride-to-be interrupted his thoughts. “How wonderful this food is!” She said, glancing in his fathers direction, with a disgusting simper on her lovely face.

Jonas glanced over Eleanor’s head and met Lance’s eyes. His expression was exasperated at his lady sister’s unbecoming conduct. King Alistair, however, was most amused and he smiled warmly over at Lady Eleanor.

“You must thank Cookie on your way out, Lady Eleanor,” he chuckled as he sipped on the broth in front of him.

“Oh I shall, Your Highness,” She fluttered her lashes at him.

Lance hunched down further in his chair and let his spoon clatter loudly against his empty bowl. The entire table turned and looked at him, his father in particular. King Alistair glanced warningly at Prince Lance and turned back to his sup.

Beside him, his mother, Queen Jenet picked at her food, staring silently into the reflection of the broth. She was paler than normal, and very quiet.

Only Lance seemed to notice his mother’s broodiness.

After what seemed an eternity, King Alistair rose, and with him everybody else did as well.

“Come guests!” He boomed. “Let us give you the tour of Koven Castle.”
Lance rolled his eyes. He was quite sure that the Lacholm’s had seen the castle on previous occasions. His father just liked to show off his pride and joy.

Later that night Lance propped himself up in bed, trying to get into a comfortable position.

He tossed and turned, but still his mind whirred with thoughts. Lady Eleanor was such a simpleton, he could not believe he was to marry her next year. He hardly felt physical attraction to her, much less love. He wanted to have what his mother and father did, he reasoned with himself, it should not be required that he make a great match. He was going to be the king of Kieran one day.

Lance leaned back his arms crossed behind his head He stared moodily at the ceiling. It wasn’t fair, he thought, to either of them. He should be able to have a bride of his choosing. Not just a pretty flower of a thing, but a woman of intelligence, with the capability to be Regent in his place. He rocked his foot back and forth, nodding at his own thoughts. Of course he was right, and his father would surely agree with him.

Lance sat up abruptly. Perhaps his father had chosen a bride for him based on his muteness on the subject. His father thought he didn’t care about the matter, so he wasn’t consulted. He would go and tell his father right this moment that he did not want Eleanor.

He dressed hurriedly. A foot was placed in his boot, when a small noise came from his bedchamber window. With one booted foot and one bare foot he made his way carefully to the window. His barefoot made loud slapping sounds against the stone, against the cold spring night. But it was nothing more than a bird, perched on the sill, staring back into his own reflection.

Lance sighed, pushing his soft brown hair back with both hands. The hour was late. It would do better to seek an audience with his father in the morning. It would not be too late, he reasoned with himself, doubts rolling over his mind like the sea crashing into the sand.
The betrothal had not even been announced at court.

Nay, it was not too late.