Her factions strained, Sult gave a pearly smile as she nodded to the comments of the people surrounding her. She did her best to hide it beneath her perfect demeanor, but deep inside she was seething.
She had missed everything. The princess, the dolled up knights, Fanilly in a dress, Garret in a ceremonial suit. Swarms of fly-like would-be pretenders had flocked around her, and were once again, courting the thorny Rose of the Sunfield. Some idiot had spread a rumour that she had finally settled her head and would not refuse advances any longer. It didn't help her dress caught the eye of a lot of them, white and blue with certain highlights, which emphasized her bust and gave her quite the hourglass figure. Long, elbow length gloves with a blue ribbon completed the suit, as her hair had been tied up in a bob decorated with a white, fragant rose. Her fine, porcelain-like white shoes clapped rythmically, as the diamond earrings and pendant sparkled so slightly.
But fragant roses always have bugs droning about, as she bit her lip and politely dejected the newest suitor. She was improving, at least this time she hadn't soaked someone's face in wine.
She had the deep suspicious that the one who had started such a farce of rumour to hamper her had been her brother, Nero. At the very least, he was enjoying her personal struggle to not be buried in droll suitors. The smug knight was even swirling a glass of wine, savouring the moment! The nerve.
And unlike her, not many people were trying to bother him. He had chosen a bold choice of clothes. His battle, black armor, polished until it could be used as mirror, was his formal wear. But it was clear, because of the sparse decorations and dents, that unlike some armors, this was far from a ceremonial armor. He completed his garbs with his sword at his hip, and a luxurious cloak of black raven feathers, which rested atop his shoulders and back. He wasn't wearing any helmet, and he had combed carefully his tresses.
It was you, you bastard.
Sult would give anything to distract the insistent males.
And then her wish had been granted, in an awful manner.
"WHAT?" Most of the nobles looked in the direction of the princess, giving Sult's cue to sneak away from their encirclement and approach her fellow knights.
It was a no brainer on who she stick to, standing tall amidst the chaos in the crowd. Delicate gloves took the muscular arm of Sir Garret.
"What's going on, Sir Garret?" Sult said, concerned and relieved that she had finally managed to shake off the male crowd his brother had summoned. "Is...that..Tyaethe??" She added, her eyes widening.
Meanwhile, Nero's wine cup had stopped swishing, as he looked with half boredom, half annoyance the attempt on the princess. Well, talk about bad luck. Fanilly and her knights seemed to be hogging the spot as royalty's favorites.
Torn between ignoring it, and making a last attempt to save face, Nero chose the later, as he raised his hand and voice. "Ravens! To arms! Support the Roses and protect the princess!" He beckoned to the few scattered men he had around the party, as he himself trounced forwards the center of the chaos, hand in the sword pommel.
Someone dying messily in this circumstances would be quite troublesome, even if by supporting the Roses he would probably lose funding opportunities to his knights.
She had missed everything. The princess, the dolled up knights, Fanilly in a dress, Garret in a ceremonial suit. Swarms of fly-like would-be pretenders had flocked around her, and were once again, courting the thorny Rose of the Sunfield. Some idiot had spread a rumour that she had finally settled her head and would not refuse advances any longer. It didn't help her dress caught the eye of a lot of them, white and blue with certain highlights, which emphasized her bust and gave her quite the hourglass figure. Long, elbow length gloves with a blue ribbon completed the suit, as her hair had been tied up in a bob decorated with a white, fragant rose. Her fine, porcelain-like white shoes clapped rythmically, as the diamond earrings and pendant sparkled so slightly.
But fragant roses always have bugs droning about, as she bit her lip and politely dejected the newest suitor. She was improving, at least this time she hadn't soaked someone's face in wine.
She had the deep suspicious that the one who had started such a farce of rumour to hamper her had been her brother, Nero. At the very least, he was enjoying her personal struggle to not be buried in droll suitors. The smug knight was even swirling a glass of wine, savouring the moment! The nerve.
And unlike her, not many people were trying to bother him. He had chosen a bold choice of clothes. His battle, black armor, polished until it could be used as mirror, was his formal wear. But it was clear, because of the sparse decorations and dents, that unlike some armors, this was far from a ceremonial armor. He completed his garbs with his sword at his hip, and a luxurious cloak of black raven feathers, which rested atop his shoulders and back. He wasn't wearing any helmet, and he had combed carefully his tresses.
It was you, you bastard.
Sult would give anything to distract the insistent males.
And then her wish had been granted, in an awful manner.
"WHAT?" Most of the nobles looked in the direction of the princess, giving Sult's cue to sneak away from their encirclement and approach her fellow knights.
It was a no brainer on who she stick to, standing tall amidst the chaos in the crowd. Delicate gloves took the muscular arm of Sir Garret.
"What's going on, Sir Garret?" Sult said, concerned and relieved that she had finally managed to shake off the male crowd his brother had summoned. "Is...that..Tyaethe??" She added, her eyes widening.
Meanwhile, Nero's wine cup had stopped swishing, as he looked with half boredom, half annoyance the attempt on the princess. Well, talk about bad luck. Fanilly and her knights seemed to be hogging the spot as royalty's favorites.
Torn between ignoring it, and making a last attempt to save face, Nero chose the later, as he raised his hand and voice. "Ravens! To arms! Support the Roses and protect the princess!" He beckoned to the few scattered men he had around the party, as he himself trounced forwards the center of the chaos, hand in the sword pommel.
Someone dying messily in this circumstances would be quite troublesome, even if by supporting the Roses he would probably lose funding opportunities to his knights.