Post by Deleted on Apr 7, 2015 6:37:55 GMT -5
“Your highness, please keep your head covered and your eyes averted. I am very much against taking you to such a place, but it is only under the certainty that the gentleman that you seek will be in attendance at this place of recreation this very evening. It is reported he has been there the past two nights and plans to return this eve. I will take you to the kitchen door, and you will speak only to a man by the name of Geralf. He will take you to a room where you may safely await the arrival of that gentleman.” Harry was not overly thrilled to take the young princess to such a place, but his wife had assured him time and again that the princess would not rest until she was certain the exiled prince was safe. They had accompanied the retinue to Lavigne, he as footman and groom while his wife was Princess Olyvia’s lady’s maid.
“I will do as you say, Harry, and you will return before the stroke of midnight to collect me once more?” Olyvia fidgeted in her homespun dress and heavy shoes. She had dressed simply before, but never had she crossed the threshold of some place such as the one they were to traverse to. Leaving the castle of her hosts had not been a simple feat, and had been in the guise of servants running errands for the Deveraux party, but it had been accomplished upon the back of a borrowed nag that swayed back and forth as it ambled towards the city.
“It may be shortly after, but you will be safe there nonetheless. Your brother will escort you to my keeping, of this I am certain.” No matter how many times the prince in question had brought about mischief, he would never do anything that would truly put Olyvia in danger. Their pranks did not venture that far beyond the norm. It was only for that reason that Harry would even consider being a party to this. Lucien might be a rascal but to put his sister in true danger would not cross his mind.
Through darkening streets and darker sins, the pair made their way south, her tell-tale blonde braids hidden within a charcoal grey hood. On occasion, at the sounds of scuffling nearby, she pressed closer to the manservant, her arms tightening around his thick waist. She had been adventurous before but not with quite so much on the line, specifically her life in the direst circumstance and the preservation of her person at the very least. This had been foolish. She should have known better than to sneak away and yet, the lure of seeing her eldest brother and assuring herself that he was safe was strong. She had coins tucked beneath her feet, carefully ensconced in the confines of shoes that cost nothing compared to the weight of wealth they held secure. It made walking painful and might cause blisters on her soles, but it was not so difficult as some of the fashionable shoes she had worn when making an appearance at her uncle’s court. It was lucky for her one of the castle servants had been more than happy to offer the use of the horse or the blisters would already have blisters of their own.
As they rode closer to the port, the rowdiness of those on the streets replaced the dark shadows that had claimed the city after sunset. Olyvia swallowed hard and on several occasions had convinced herself to just turn around. Instead, she squared her shoulders and bolstered by the size of the servant in front of her, they made their way closer to the rendezvous point. This like so many other things in her life, was merely another adventure. She inhaled a steadying breath as the horse approached the rundown building, circling around to the alley door that led to the kitchen. From within she had heard the sounds of drunken revelry, of men hooting and hawing, laughing and perhaps a great deal of sobbing or bellowing as fortunes were lost and gained. The sounds were muffled in the alley, joined by the cacophony of the banging of pots and pans and the calls of those hard at work within the busy establishment. This was no place for a prince, and certainly not for a princess.
@raphael
“I will do as you say, Harry, and you will return before the stroke of midnight to collect me once more?” Olyvia fidgeted in her homespun dress and heavy shoes. She had dressed simply before, but never had she crossed the threshold of some place such as the one they were to traverse to. Leaving the castle of her hosts had not been a simple feat, and had been in the guise of servants running errands for the Deveraux party, but it had been accomplished upon the back of a borrowed nag that swayed back and forth as it ambled towards the city.
“It may be shortly after, but you will be safe there nonetheless. Your brother will escort you to my keeping, of this I am certain.” No matter how many times the prince in question had brought about mischief, he would never do anything that would truly put Olyvia in danger. Their pranks did not venture that far beyond the norm. It was only for that reason that Harry would even consider being a party to this. Lucien might be a rascal but to put his sister in true danger would not cross his mind.
Through darkening streets and darker sins, the pair made their way south, her tell-tale blonde braids hidden within a charcoal grey hood. On occasion, at the sounds of scuffling nearby, she pressed closer to the manservant, her arms tightening around his thick waist. She had been adventurous before but not with quite so much on the line, specifically her life in the direst circumstance and the preservation of her person at the very least. This had been foolish. She should have known better than to sneak away and yet, the lure of seeing her eldest brother and assuring herself that he was safe was strong. She had coins tucked beneath her feet, carefully ensconced in the confines of shoes that cost nothing compared to the weight of wealth they held secure. It made walking painful and might cause blisters on her soles, but it was not so difficult as some of the fashionable shoes she had worn when making an appearance at her uncle’s court. It was lucky for her one of the castle servants had been more than happy to offer the use of the horse or the blisters would already have blisters of their own.
As they rode closer to the port, the rowdiness of those on the streets replaced the dark shadows that had claimed the city after sunset. Olyvia swallowed hard and on several occasions had convinced herself to just turn around. Instead, she squared her shoulders and bolstered by the size of the servant in front of her, they made their way closer to the rendezvous point. This like so many other things in her life, was merely another adventure. She inhaled a steadying breath as the horse approached the rundown building, circling around to the alley door that led to the kitchen. From within she had heard the sounds of drunken revelry, of men hooting and hawing, laughing and perhaps a great deal of sobbing or bellowing as fortunes were lost and gained. The sounds were muffled in the alley, joined by the cacophony of the banging of pots and pans and the calls of those hard at work within the busy establishment. This was no place for a prince, and certainly not for a princess.
@raphael