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nobles like her so much. Yes she was a noble in her own right,
a lineage as old as his he could perhaps begrudge, but before his
father married her all the court ladies vied for his attentions.
Some beautiful, powerful and not much older than Llew himself. He
didn ’ t understand why his
father chose her, and he didn ’ t understand why there seemed to be absolutely no
resentment amongst those he refused. They just whispered sadly of a
chance at happiness.
    Carved wooden
chairs had been set upon a raised greensward for the royal family,
and there they sat now whilst servants busied about them, setting
cosies beneath their feet, offering warmed wine. He impatiently
waved them all away from him, staring at his parents as they waited
for Mera. His farther was a magnificent man, tall in stature, wide
shoulders and a barrel chest. Llew knew from some of the few
training bouts he had shared with his father that he was very
muscled, his arms as big around as
Llew ’ s waist. It made him
long to be a man.
    A mantel of ombre fur was fastened about his
shoulders to ward to the autumn chill, coal black hair, shot with
silver wings, swept back from his handsome face, held in place by
the Rose Crown. Heavy gold and rubies glittered in the firelight.
He had a close cropped beard, split by a stern mouth. Laughter
lines framed soft brown eyes as he looked down at his radiant wife,
a tender expression on his face.
    Llew hated
the fact they looked so good together. She was leaning into the
curve of his father ’ s arm,
laughing at something he was whispering in her ear. Her pale brown
hair pulling free of its elaborate coif, to float about her face
and she wore the consort ’ s
crown the gold bringing out lighter glimmers in her hair. Her gown
was a dusky purple, heavy silk, its watermark pattern shifting as
she moved. to reveal pleated underskirts in layers of maroon
taffeta. The waistline was cut high beneath her breasts, to allow
for her swollen belly, ripe with his
father ’ s seed. Llew still
wasn ’ t sure how he felt
about having a sibling. Well, a real sibling, not like
Mera.
    He looked about him in discontent, the
earlier excitement forgotten. Where was she anyway? He wanted this
bit over with, it was so boring just waiting about. He wanted to
find some of the boys his age, perhaps Gosmore. They could hunt
down some of the knights, listen to their tales and debate amongst
themselves who they would want to be paged to. Though, obviously,
Llew always got first choice. He just had to remember not to act
surprised when he found out at the midwinter Solstice. His heart
beat faster at the thought, come spring he would finally start
training; to be a man, a warrior, a Knight of the Realm. No more
playing at it with the little boys.
    He let out a
huff, and tried to get comfortable in the stupid seat. His coronet
was chafing his brow, and a strand of hair had got caught at the
back so it pulled every time he moved his head. He
couldn ’ t even stop it
because it would look weak and foolish to fiddle at himself like an
oaf. He didn ’ t suppose
warriors were bothered by a little hair being pulled, and nobles
wouldn ’ t deign to look so
common. He couldn ’ t fight
the scowl off of his face, he
couldn ’ t see Gosmore, or
anyone else nearby, he had no one to talk to and his wine was gone.
Where was Mera?
    As if his
thoughts had summoned her, he wished it was that easy to get her to
do what he wanted, she appeared through the crowd on the arm, as if
she were already a lady grown he scoffed to himself, of what looked
like some scruffy beggar. The tall
man ’ s clothes were dirty,
the cut and style way out of date. You
couldn ’ t even recognized the
colours! Who was he and how dare he approach the king like this?
What was Meredith doing with him? He knew she was stupid, and
didn ’ t understand how the
Court worked, but surely she should know not to bring her urchin
friends here? He felt a smirk curve his lips. Surely now she