August 10, 1095
Her eyes were unfocused as she stared blankly at the wall. Her mind was both reeling and moving in slow motion. Aregan knew. Aregan knew of their valley. They had not been there but five months and he knew. Inside, Padme cringed, surely it was her fault. She had boldly ridden in the nearest town, asking for people to join her. Instead of quietly building a rebellion after her loss, she had effectively declared open warfare by recruiting people. It would be on her head when these people died. Why, oh why, hadn’t she asked for more soldiers? Now they would need to raise an army; the men would have to be taught to fight. She dug her fingernails into her palms to keep her from crying it. Another army. What she should do, Padme did not know. She would have to foolishly ask the Baron, but her pride would have to be swallowed. Her people mattered more.
She was surrounded by her people, dancing and laughing in the warm summer air, yet, she was apart. She was apart, sitting on her throne, eyes unseeing, pondering the many many years ahead of her and the fate of her country. It was the eve of her coronation, and she should have been pleased and dancing with her people, but she was not. She should have been lighthearted and gay, but she was not. She should have been aware of the dark eyes of Severus de’Lorraine on her, but she was not. He was lurking in the shadows, nearly hidden from view, but she did not notice him.
A long time passed before Padme noticed anything at all.
“Nay, I!” shouted Sir Sirius. Padme jumped, her revere broken.
“Nay, it will be me!” Wilhelm Tubbs declared passionately.
“Nay, I shall have the pleasure,” General Tubbs said eagerly.
Padme swung her attention to the three bickering men.
“We shall let our fair lady decide!” Sir Sirius cried.
He gracefully strode up to her seated form and bent to one knee. He bowed his head in respect.
“Oh fairest lady, will thou dance with me?” He asked, daring to take her hand in one of his own. His blue eyes twinkled up at her.
“Dance? Is that what all the fuss is about?” she demanded, placing a mock frown upon her face.
“A fuss?” Nay, only ladies fuss. We men…brawl!” Sir Sirius said, making Wilhelm and General Tubbs laugh.
She snorted.
“Perhaps a challenge, then. To win your lady’s favor,” she said slyly. “A challenge of tongue and wit, not swords and brawn.”
“Aye, for then I shall surely win!” Wilhelm called.
The ladies around her tittered with excitement and Padme chuckled.
“Aye, and so you may start,” she offered sweetly.
“Thy hair shines like woven silk against a lady’s breast!” he said, boldly. The modest ladies gasped and the immodest ladies laughed out right with the men. Those in between hid their amusement.
“Thou art quite vulgar, Lord Wilhelm!” She said, pretending to chastise him. He grinned to the dismay of his pretty wife, Electra.
“Thy skin is like the reflection of the moon upon my sword,” General Tubbs called out.
“Aye, but thy hands are tiny, like little mouse paws,” Wilhelm stated.
“Nay! Thine eyes are like two sparkling topazes, rich and warm,” General Tubbs exclaimed.
“Nay, thy lady’s will is a strong front, just like our beautiful valley!” Wilhelm said. The ladies cheered and clapped.
“Which we shall all measure our will against,” Sir Sirius interjected, his voice soft. The ladies leaned in closer, the better to hear him.
“Our lady’s heart gleams brighter than the buried crystals in the snow on a sparkling sunny day. It is a forbidden love, I have, for both our Lady fair, and winter, for they are both brazen and wild, cold and unforgiving and both are underestimated and strong. I must humble myself to admit my love, but alas there it is!”
Padme was not fond of poetry, nor did she understand it, but she was aware of the clapping of those around her. She recognized Sir Sirius’ eloquence with word, but did not commend him for it. She preferred the blunt harshness of warriors to the sweet elegance of knights.
She pulled her face into a smile for Sir Sirius and offered him her hand.
“Music,” she called out, her voice a little hoarse.
His fingers curled about her waist, and her hand found his shoulder. They moved into step and turned in time for the music.
Shall I tell thee how beautiful thine hair looks by candlelight?” He teased, his breath tickling her ear.
“Nay,” said Padme, giving another tight smile to Sir Sirius. She was not one for dancing either; she feared she would tread on his boots.
“Not a fan of poetry, Your Highness?” He asked.
“I do not have time to read poetry, much less understand it,” she admitted.
“You have never been properly wooed then, Your Highness,” Sir Sirius said idly, as though he were chatting about the weather.
Padme snorted at him. When did she have time to be wooed?
“Your Highness needs time to play,” Sir Sirius said, reading her mind.
“Your Highness would like to see her country safe, before she plays,” Padme pointed out.
Sir Sirius chuckled and started to speak. However, the dance called for them to breifly move away from one another, and his words were lost upon her. His mouth moved, but Padme was spinning and spinning, his voice lost in the music.
“What say you, Your Highness?” Sir Sirius asked when they met again. His hand replaced itself on her waist and he pressed himself to her again.
“What say I to what?” She asked, her heart pounding. It was quite warm and her cheeks flushed pink, though she suspected it was not from being warm.
“To a little play, Your Highness,” he whispered.
“You forget yourself, Sir Sirius,” Padme said coldy, pulling away. He smiled down at her.
“Aye, I do. Your winter beauty has swept me away, Your Highness,” Sir Sirius said and bowed. He disappeared into the crowd. She could not help but smile a little.
The Baron, however, did not smile.
