The life of a page was relatively routine, it involved waking up, collecting a variety of bruises from different weapons and training sessions, sitting through lessons that sometimes are of little interest (and have little practical application), and trying not to fall asleep while sitting upright in the page's mess. While not having friends helped Alexander to stay on task and get his work done, it also meant that he had no one to turn to when he found his literature homework particularly challenging. The heat didn't help at all, while the night could only be described as 'balmy' (not 'sweltering', that adjective could be saved for early July at least), the humidity made it hard to concentrate on anything, nevermind poetry from the earlier part of the first century.
Alexander yawned and stretched his arms over his head, delighting in that single moment of distraction. If he didn't finish the work now, he wouldn't be able to move onto the mathematics problems he had been assigned, or the study of an exciting battle from twenty years earlier. But it's too hot, he thought to himself in a slightly whiny tone. Well then, the sensible part of him retorted, go somewhere with a breeze. His small window faced the entirely wrong direction to be able to provide him with relief, but pages were free to sit where they liked until lights out. With that in mind he packed up his homework, a pot of ink, and a quill. It wasn't raining tonight so he would amost certainly be able to find a nice spot in the gardens to sit and complete his homework.
Within minutes of setting out from his room he found it, the perfect place. The kempt garden of his chosing seemed to sprawl in all directions, without high hedges or walls to keep the breeze from getting to him. Best of all was the fact that the bench he chose was level, so his ink wouldn't tip precariously at the slightest touch. Yes, this place was much cooler than his rooms had been. After using his small bit of gift to create an orb of light that hovered above his page, Alexander was set. "Who cares about poetry anyway?" Alexander asked aloud. Poetry was really only created to entertain ladies, they didn't have to be fact or include important information. Effectively, poetry had no practical use apart from to catch some lady's heart, and Alexander couldn't see himself trying to do that any time soon.
"Stupid poetry," said twelve-year-old Alexander, "stupid literacy lessons." As a polite young lad it was very unsual for Alexander to voice such things, even if he privately thought them. He had been so certain that he was alone in the garden that it was a surprise to notice someone nearby, and Alexander immediately flushed with embarrassment at someone hearing him be so rash.
{Open}
Full Version: A Grand Night for Homework
It wasn't much of a surprise to find that Kaira of Conte, the youngest Princess of Tortall was again out in the Gardens. It was her special place, and the training yards and courtyards just didn't really come up to its standards. Sure, in the training yards there were people fighting, but Kaira wasn't extremely fond of watching people prodding each other with sticks or fists or whatsoever, and the courtyards were just plain boring. Inside her rooms and lounges, there were toys, but the Gardens of the Palace had a special spot inside Kaira's heart, and she had some fond family memories there. So, to restate the obvious, it was common to find Kaira out there on a day with good weather.
The thing that was a surprise though, is that it was late. Past the girl's bedtime, it was, and to find her outside at this time was a shame on her Governess. See, the reason she was out here at this time was because something inside her had been urging for a nighttime stroll, and because she knew her parents and Governess would never allow it, she sneaked out at night. It wasn't something she often did, but the little girl did sometimes stir up mischief. Plus, she knew she could sneak back before anyone knew anything. It was also an attempt to copy Lynn, though the six year old would never admit it, because Lynn was a big sister and little sisters, even if Princesses, often really admire big sisters, no matter how much they get teased by them.
By the light of the moon, Kaira had been walking around, relaxing and enjoying herself, when she saw a bright light. Realizing it was someone who was using his gift, she came closer, quietly, hoping it wasn't someone who would scold her. She heard him say something about stupid poetry and stupid literacy lessons and grinned to herself. She would hate being forced to do those too, especially if she was a boy, like she noted this person was. She approached him with a little grin.
"Hello," she told him, coming towards him from his side. "Girls care about poetry." She grinned at him and came closer to him, now in front of the boy who looked about twelve, twice her age. "At least that's what I used to hear my Mother tell my brother who's a page. Do you mind if I sit down?" She gestured slightly to the space next to him with a ruffle of her simple blue dress.
The thing that was a surprise though, is that it was late. Past the girl's bedtime, it was, and to find her outside at this time was a shame on her Governess. See, the reason she was out here at this time was because something inside her had been urging for a nighttime stroll, and because she knew her parents and Governess would never allow it, she sneaked out at night. It wasn't something she often did, but the little girl did sometimes stir up mischief. Plus, she knew she could sneak back before anyone knew anything. It was also an attempt to copy Lynn, though the six year old would never admit it, because Lynn was a big sister and little sisters, even if Princesses, often really admire big sisters, no matter how much they get teased by them.
By the light of the moon, Kaira had been walking around, relaxing and enjoying herself, when she saw a bright light. Realizing it was someone who was using his gift, she came closer, quietly, hoping it wasn't someone who would scold her. She heard him say something about stupid poetry and stupid literacy lessons and grinned to herself. She would hate being forced to do those too, especially if she was a boy, like she noted this person was. She approached him with a little grin.
"Hello," she told him, coming towards him from his side. "Girls care about poetry." She grinned at him and came closer to him, now in front of the boy who looked about twelve, twice her age. "At least that's what I used to hear my Mother tell my brother who's a page. Do you mind if I sit down?" She gestured slightly to the space next to him with a ruffle of her simple blue dress.
If Alexander was embarrassed about having been overheard, he was absolutely mortified to discover that the person he had been overheard by was a princess, because surely this girl was Roger's younger sister. How did Alexander manage to keep bumping into royalty? First that dismal situation with Princess Líadan and the archery contest, now here was Princess Kaira witnessing him curse his classes! Alexander quickly jumped up because to be sitting down when the princess was standing was very rude. "No, Your Highness. I don't mind, Your Highness. Please sit down, Your Highness," this rush of words came quickly and in a somewhat higher pitch than Alexander usually spoke in. He performed a jerky bow before snatching the ink pot off the bench and setting it down on the ground, leaving the bench clear for the girl to sit on.
"I think you're right about girls liking poetry, but tonight's homework for one of my classes is tricky, and I'm irritable because of the heat, Your Highness," Alexander had regained some of his usual composure, but he was speaking more than normal in the hopes that if he offered an explanation, the princess might forgive him for being so uncouth. The boy was mildly aware of just how many times he had used the words 'Your Highness' in the past minute, but wasn't that what was owed to a princess? He would have rathered being pulled up for using the term too much than for using it too little. Maybe the princess would take insult to Alexander not liking poetry, and the overuse of 'Your Highness' would appease her. "I'm sorry if my words offended you, Your Highness," Alexander said softly, "I didn't know you were there."
From what he had heard of the princess, and what he had garnered himself through glimpses of her whenever she came to visit Roger while he trained, she wasn't a creature of absolute fury. With Alexander being twice the princess's age it wasn't too sensible to be nervous of her, but he was. The royal family were of the purest blood and made Alexander self-conscious of his own history. Prince Roger had originally held the same power over Alexander, the power to turn him into a clumsy brat, but it had lessened over the past few months. Alexander poured more of his power into the light orb, but even so the light blue glow was nothing compared to the great lanterns and torches inside, "Your Highness... should you be out here when it's so late?"
While Alexander was relatively good a majority of weapons the pages practiced with he didn't think that he could stop any questionable person pulling off an assassination attempt on the girl. Despite assassination attempts being rare, weren't they something that the daughter of a half-blind King would be careful of? Alexander would never think of sneaking into the Naxen gardens when he was Kaira's age, though he had done so when he was much younger and lived as a kitchen wench's son (but that was a different matter entirely). He fidgeted with his homework, rolling up the parchment so that he could hold it in one hand without it flapping about.
"I think you're right about girls liking poetry, but tonight's homework for one of my classes is tricky, and I'm irritable because of the heat, Your Highness," Alexander had regained some of his usual composure, but he was speaking more than normal in the hopes that if he offered an explanation, the princess might forgive him for being so uncouth. The boy was mildly aware of just how many times he had used the words 'Your Highness' in the past minute, but wasn't that what was owed to a princess? He would have rathered being pulled up for using the term too much than for using it too little. Maybe the princess would take insult to Alexander not liking poetry, and the overuse of 'Your Highness' would appease her. "I'm sorry if my words offended you, Your Highness," Alexander said softly, "I didn't know you were there."
From what he had heard of the princess, and what he had garnered himself through glimpses of her whenever she came to visit Roger while he trained, she wasn't a creature of absolute fury. With Alexander being twice the princess's age it wasn't too sensible to be nervous of her, but he was. The royal family were of the purest blood and made Alexander self-conscious of his own history. Prince Roger had originally held the same power over Alexander, the power to turn him into a clumsy brat, but it had lessened over the past few months. Alexander poured more of his power into the light orb, but even so the light blue glow was nothing compared to the great lanterns and torches inside, "Your Highness... should you be out here when it's so late?"
While Alexander was relatively good a majority of weapons the pages practiced with he didn't think that he could stop any questionable person pulling off an assassination attempt on the girl. Despite assassination attempts being rare, weren't they something that the daughter of a half-blind King would be careful of? Alexander would never think of sneaking into the Naxen gardens when he was Kaira's age, though he had done so when he was much younger and lived as a kitchen wench's son (but that was a different matter entirely). He fidgeted with his homework, rolling up the parchment so that he could hold it in one hand without it flapping about.
Anna was walking through the gardens, an attempt to calm her temper. She had met with several rather picky nobles who had taken pleasure in reciting the Law to the Queen, finding holes in every one to their own benefit. In the end, Anna had reminded them that she knew the Law rather well and that she saw that they suffered no more than any other family. In fact, they were some of the richest families in Tortall, if not the whole known lands, which she mentioned as well. Surely if your businesses suffer so much you would not profit so much, she had said. It was not quite inappropriate, but it would come back to her one day. Still, she was glad she had spoken her mind. Too many nobles took advantage of her kind heart, her closest friends constantly reminded her.
The cool breeze and serene surrounds did much to calm her, and after only several minutes, Anna found herself enjoying the evening. It was late, and very few were not abed. Servants still scurried about, ensuring all was cleaned and ready for the following morning, but they were well practised in doing so quietly.
She continued her stroll through the gardens, halting occasionally to inhale the scents of the summer flowers. She had just bent down to sniff the lilies when she heard a voice, a young and irritated one. She followed the noise, curious as to how someone so young would be up at this hour. A page, no doubt, she thought. When she heard a young girl's voice say that poetry did matter, Ann halted in surprise. It sounded awfully like Kaira, her youngest, but surely the princess was sleeping.
Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, she took a short-cut through several oaks. She peeked from behind a tall hedge, only to gasp in surprise to see that it was indeed her daughter. Her gasp quickly became a soft giggle as Kaira said, totally unaware that such a comment might be inappropriate, that her mother, Anna, had told her that poetry did matter. Her grin widened to hear the lad's response. He was indeed a page, in his first or second year, Anna judged. She found the lad's comments amusing, too, as the page's literacy master, _____, was very fond of teaching youngsters about poetry. He had tried, once, to educate Anna on the finer points, but she'd spent so much time trying not point out that no child could understand what he was saying that he had given up in disgust. It was an amusing memory.
Quietly stepping out from behind the hedge, she agreed in a firm voice, "No, she shouldn't be out at this hour." She turned to her youngest and scolded, "I will hear no complaints from you tomorrow, dear. And I expect you to stay awake over dinner." It was hard to keep a firm and concerned expression, especially with Kaira. The child was adorable, in both appearance and manner. Turning back to the page, she asked with a warm, comforting smile, "And who might you be, young sir?"
The cool breeze and serene surrounds did much to calm her, and after only several minutes, Anna found herself enjoying the evening. It was late, and very few were not abed. Servants still scurried about, ensuring all was cleaned and ready for the following morning, but they were well practised in doing so quietly.
She continued her stroll through the gardens, halting occasionally to inhale the scents of the summer flowers. She had just bent down to sniff the lilies when she heard a voice, a young and irritated one. She followed the noise, curious as to how someone so young would be up at this hour. A page, no doubt, she thought. When she heard a young girl's voice say that poetry did matter, Ann halted in surprise. It sounded awfully like Kaira, her youngest, but surely the princess was sleeping.
Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, she took a short-cut through several oaks. She peeked from behind a tall hedge, only to gasp in surprise to see that it was indeed her daughter. Her gasp quickly became a soft giggle as Kaira said, totally unaware that such a comment might be inappropriate, that her mother, Anna, had told her that poetry did matter. Her grin widened to hear the lad's response. He was indeed a page, in his first or second year, Anna judged. She found the lad's comments amusing, too, as the page's literacy master, _____, was very fond of teaching youngsters about poetry. He had tried, once, to educate Anna on the finer points, but she'd spent so much time trying not point out that no child could understand what he was saying that he had given up in disgust. It was an amusing memory.
Quietly stepping out from behind the hedge, she agreed in a firm voice, "No, she shouldn't be out at this hour." She turned to her youngest and scolded, "I will hear no complaints from you tomorrow, dear. And I expect you to stay awake over dinner." It was hard to keep a firm and concerned expression, especially with Kaira. The child was adorable, in both appearance and manner. Turning back to the page, she asked with a warm, comforting smile, "And who might you be, young sir?"
Alexander felt much better when the princess was seated, and when he could settle himself back down into his place. The original nervousness was starting to wear off as he realised that the princess was in quite a good mood. If the younger child had an ounce of meanness, she wasn't letting it show tonight. With answers like 'nevermind', 'it's fine', 'you're forgiven', all said in a sweet and kindly voice, Alexander didn't feel as though he had much to worry about. The princess was only six years old, so maybe she hadn't had the chance to grow into a horror yet. Hopefully, she never would. Her eyes darted around the garden when he asked whether she should be out so late, and she made a small noise which Alexander supposed might have been an answer, or at least an admission of guilt. He was about to press the matter again when someone else answered, sending the boy yet again into a nervous state.
The queen of Tortall was lovely in face, it was true. While her figure was the kind that everyone said was attractive, it was her kind expression that Alexander thought was her most attractive feature. He half-leapt from the bench as soon as she spoke, and Alexander was so very glad that she wasn't speaking to him in that tone. He had been spoken about and to in firmer tones, but never by the queen. He hoped that she didn't think it had been Alexander's fault that Princess Kaira was out so late. Later Alexander might marvel over how silly he had been to fear the queen, but right now he wasn't sure how to feel. Mildly terrified to say the least, but she was so very nice that the page was also in awe.
Princes and Princesses were one thing, but being addressed by the most powerful woman in Tortall was another. Alexander's mouth clammed shut and his tongue went dry even as she looked at him and waited for his answer to such a simple question. His name? He had to tell her his name, and then she would turn away in disgust that her daughter was ever found talking to a bastard son! With only a small catch in his voice Alexander bowed, "Your Magesty is kind to ask," he started. "I'm Naxen-- I mean, Alexander, ma'am, Alexander of Naxen." The page threw in another bow for good measure, then studied the woman's face. Had she heard of him? Alexander was sure that all of the court had been told at one time or another by some busybody, but there were always those that hadn't paid enough attention to court gossip and had no idea.
Alexander had never failed to realise the harm that court gossip did. With some idle men and women having nothing to do other than discuss the lives of other people, gossip was almost like a virus. It could spread so rapidly through a community, as it had when Alexander had first been adopted and Father and Mother had to take refuge in Naxen for months and wait for some other scandal to come along before rejoining the court. Before starting page training Alexander had harboured a wish that the boys there wouldn't how about his past, that they would accept him as he was, but Tris had taken care to ensure that wouldn't happen. Whenever Alex met new people he ran the risk of them already knowing about his heritage and leaving the discussion immediately, but the alternative (becoming friends only to be enemies later) was worse.
{Permission to skip and puppet from Lea}
The queen of Tortall was lovely in face, it was true. While her figure was the kind that everyone said was attractive, it was her kind expression that Alexander thought was her most attractive feature. He half-leapt from the bench as soon as she spoke, and Alexander was so very glad that she wasn't speaking to him in that tone. He had been spoken about and to in firmer tones, but never by the queen. He hoped that she didn't think it had been Alexander's fault that Princess Kaira was out so late. Later Alexander might marvel over how silly he had been to fear the queen, but right now he wasn't sure how to feel. Mildly terrified to say the least, but she was so very nice that the page was also in awe.
Princes and Princesses were one thing, but being addressed by the most powerful woman in Tortall was another. Alexander's mouth clammed shut and his tongue went dry even as she looked at him and waited for his answer to such a simple question. His name? He had to tell her his name, and then she would turn away in disgust that her daughter was ever found talking to a bastard son! With only a small catch in his voice Alexander bowed, "Your Magesty is kind to ask," he started. "I'm Naxen-- I mean, Alexander, ma'am, Alexander of Naxen." The page threw in another bow for good measure, then studied the woman's face. Had she heard of him? Alexander was sure that all of the court had been told at one time or another by some busybody, but there were always those that hadn't paid enough attention to court gossip and had no idea.
Alexander had never failed to realise the harm that court gossip did. With some idle men and women having nothing to do other than discuss the lives of other people, gossip was almost like a virus. It could spread so rapidly through a community, as it had when Alexander had first been adopted and Father and Mother had to take refuge in Naxen for months and wait for some other scandal to come along before rejoining the court. Before starting page training Alexander had harboured a wish that the boys there wouldn't how about his past, that they would accept him as he was, but Tris had taken care to ensure that wouldn't happen. Whenever Alex met new people he ran the risk of them already knowing about his heritage and leaving the discussion immediately, but the alternative (becoming friends only to be enemies later) was worse.
{Permission to skip and puppet from Lea}
The boy looked a little unsure of what to say--dumbfounded, even. The Queen had learned many, many years before, that laughing at such a situation was not only inappropriate, it was socially unacceptable. She had felt the same way when she had first met her husband's parents. She feared she would shake so much that she would fall whilst curtsying, but of course, she didn't. Having experienced that, she found little difficulty in maintaining a warm, patient expression while the boy finally told her his name. Her thoughts where interrupted when the young boy finally spoke.
Alexander of Naxen, is he, Anna thought. Ah, this must be the boy who was the subject of that horrible gossip years ago, the illegitimate child. She shook her head at the memory. Anna believed that no-one had the right to gossip about anyone, especially one they didn't even know, and there was nothing wrong with illegitimate children. It was something she had tried to improve in her years as the Queen, but unfortunately her opinion had only caused a mild change (mainly that of people being a little more quiet about such things).
With a small nod of her head, she replied with a smile, "It is an honour to meet you, Alexander. You are the son of such a good man, and I hear much praise of you from your training masters. I look forward to your presence in court as a knight." The compliment was from her heart. She saw little of pages, much to her dislike, and every chance she did get she seized as if there would be no other chance. And usually she would ask that she was, at least in private, addressed as Anna, not Sire or Majesty. After years of being addressed so, she was bored of it, almost frustrated. Yet, she would not ask Alexander to call her by her first name, simply because he was so young (and also because she wasn't sure he would oblige).
However, she did ask, "Ma'am, please, Alexander. And please, sit. I have heard so many stories from my husband of exhausted bodies and sore feet in training years that I can almost imagine it. I'm not so cruel as to require my young subjects to tire themselves further." Her eyes smiled more than her lips; the corners of her eyes crinkled in mirth. She gathered her daughter, Kaira, into her arms, and seated them both on the bench, Kaira straddled in her lap, in a motherly fashion.
While she held her daughter in a brief but tight embrace, her eyes fluttered down to the work Alexander had been working on, and she noticed the unmistakable patterns of poetry. "Many ladies love poetry, it is true, but others only accept it politely because they are supposed to enjoy it. I'm not terribly fond of poetry myself, but don't tell anyone I said that," she grinned. She had found that children were more relaxed if you gave them a reason to believe you trusted them--and what appeared to be a secret, even if it wasn't, was one such way of gaining trust. "So, I wouldn't stress about it, young man. I'm sure any lady lucky enough to catch your eye wouldn't need such superficial gestures," she teased lightly. She cocked her head in curiousity, then asked, "May I ask what poetry you are studying?"
(I'm not really one to puppet- but I hope what I've done suits Lea. There's still plenty of room to move around ^^;; )
Alexander of Naxen, is he, Anna thought. Ah, this must be the boy who was the subject of that horrible gossip years ago, the illegitimate child. She shook her head at the memory. Anna believed that no-one had the right to gossip about anyone, especially one they didn't even know, and there was nothing wrong with illegitimate children. It was something she had tried to improve in her years as the Queen, but unfortunately her opinion had only caused a mild change (mainly that of people being a little more quiet about such things).
With a small nod of her head, she replied with a smile, "It is an honour to meet you, Alexander. You are the son of such a good man, and I hear much praise of you from your training masters. I look forward to your presence in court as a knight." The compliment was from her heart. She saw little of pages, much to her dislike, and every chance she did get she seized as if there would be no other chance. And usually she would ask that she was, at least in private, addressed as Anna, not Sire or Majesty. After years of being addressed so, she was bored of it, almost frustrated. Yet, she would not ask Alexander to call her by her first name, simply because he was so young (and also because she wasn't sure he would oblige).
However, she did ask, "Ma'am, please, Alexander. And please, sit. I have heard so many stories from my husband of exhausted bodies and sore feet in training years that I can almost imagine it. I'm not so cruel as to require my young subjects to tire themselves further." Her eyes smiled more than her lips; the corners of her eyes crinkled in mirth. She gathered her daughter, Kaira, into her arms, and seated them both on the bench, Kaira straddled in her lap, in a motherly fashion.
While she held her daughter in a brief but tight embrace, her eyes fluttered down to the work Alexander had been working on, and she noticed the unmistakable patterns of poetry. "Many ladies love poetry, it is true, but others only accept it politely because they are supposed to enjoy it. I'm not terribly fond of poetry myself, but don't tell anyone I said that," she grinned. She had found that children were more relaxed if you gave them a reason to believe you trusted them--and what appeared to be a secret, even if it wasn't, was one such way of gaining trust. "So, I wouldn't stress about it, young man. I'm sure any lady lucky enough to catch your eye wouldn't need such superficial gestures," she teased lightly. She cocked her head in curiousity, then asked, "May I ask what poetry you are studying?"
(I'm not really one to puppet- but I hope what I've done suits Lea. There's still plenty of room to move around ^^;; )
Alexander could hardly believe what he had been reduced to. In just a few moments, almost all of his composure had disappeared. Right now, he thought, you're acting so unlike a Naxen that you're proving them all right. He could so clearly hear the voices of so many telling him he was naught but a scullery maid's get. If Alexander were a true Naxen he would be at ease in the company of royalty. Tristran wouldn't bat an eyelid at conversing with the queen, would he? In truth Alexander didn't really know for sure, but he was so used to assuming that Tris could do everything that Alex couldn't.
Queen Anastasya's compliments helped Alexander to recover a little. The queen liked Alexander's father and spoke the truth about Roald being a good man. Lord Roald was perfect and honourable, two facts that seemed to be so rarely acknowledged in Alex's presence. Alexander found it was easier to speak once he had got past the original hurdle of telling the queen his name. She hadn't recoiled or even given the look that meant she felt embarrassed on his behalf. "Thank you," Alexander replied in a tone that was almost relieved. "I only wish to be a credit to my father and teachers, and be useful to the crown of Tortall, Your Majesty." If Alexander also proved sceptics wrong at the same time then that would be even better.
Queen Anastasya’s request was an odd one to make, wasn’t it? For Alexander, a mere page, to not call her ‘Your Majesty’-- at least she didn’t expect him to call her by name. The boy was put out by the sudden realisation that etiquette wasn’t as easy as remembering when to bow and what to call people. He now faced the dilemma of deciding which was ruder, not addressing the queen as her title required, or not following her request. Of course, Alex had already set the precedent in his earlier bungle so he nodded obediently.
Tonight the queen didn’t seem to be the most powerful woman in the realm, instead she was acting the part of a mother, appearing almost human. With Princess Kaira sitting in the queen’s lap, and the woman seeming so caring, Alex eased himself onto the bench. "Thank you ma'am," he said, though it was hard to believe that the king was ever a page. In the moments of silence where mother and child nestled against each other, Alexander felt awkward. Evette, Alex’s step-mother, had never hugged him, and as much as he liked strict Aude, his Tyran governess, she hadn’t been very affectionate.
Alex fiddled with his paper, fixing his gaze on the poetry there instead of the tender moment that was happening next to him. He hated poetry, he was almost certain of it. However, apparently if Alexander ever wanted to get a wife he had best start liking it. It wasn't as though Alex wanted a wife right now, in fact he wasn't sure that he ever wanted one, but it was best to keep one's options open. He had clearly resigned himself to the fact that poetry was a requirement of marriage, so the queen's admission startled him. The queen, the most important female in the country, said that not all ladies liked poetry! The queen said that she didn't like poetry (and Alex would take the secret to his grave if need be). "Are you sure?" he questioned, "the literacy master says poetry is one of the most important things we learn as pages."
It escaped Alex's attention that the mathematics master would say the same about his subject, or the Master of Ceremonies would declare to be true of ettiquette. "Romantic, ma'am. We don't know who wrote this one," he replied. A private thought that he had was some dead person but aloud he said, "it was written almost a century ago, and if the author was ever known, no one remembers." It would be nice if the queen was telling the truth and that remembering and decoding a poem written over a hundred years ago by someone who (for all anyone knew) could have been a goatherd, was not as important as the masters had been letting on.
The companionship of royalty wasn't almost as stressful as what Alex had first thought.
{Same. I had to research by reading every Kaira thread before I felt confident enough to post. I figure she's tired, and that accounts for her being more quiet than normal
}
Queen Anastasya's compliments helped Alexander to recover a little. The queen liked Alexander's father and spoke the truth about Roald being a good man. Lord Roald was perfect and honourable, two facts that seemed to be so rarely acknowledged in Alex's presence. Alexander found it was easier to speak once he had got past the original hurdle of telling the queen his name. She hadn't recoiled or even given the look that meant she felt embarrassed on his behalf. "Thank you," Alexander replied in a tone that was almost relieved. "I only wish to be a credit to my father and teachers, and be useful to the crown of Tortall, Your Majesty." If Alexander also proved sceptics wrong at the same time then that would be even better.
Queen Anastasya’s request was an odd one to make, wasn’t it? For Alexander, a mere page, to not call her ‘Your Majesty’-- at least she didn’t expect him to call her by name. The boy was put out by the sudden realisation that etiquette wasn’t as easy as remembering when to bow and what to call people. He now faced the dilemma of deciding which was ruder, not addressing the queen as her title required, or not following her request. Of course, Alex had already set the precedent in his earlier bungle so he nodded obediently.
Tonight the queen didn’t seem to be the most powerful woman in the realm, instead she was acting the part of a mother, appearing almost human. With Princess Kaira sitting in the queen’s lap, and the woman seeming so caring, Alex eased himself onto the bench. "Thank you ma'am," he said, though it was hard to believe that the king was ever a page. In the moments of silence where mother and child nestled against each other, Alexander felt awkward. Evette, Alex’s step-mother, had never hugged him, and as much as he liked strict Aude, his Tyran governess, she hadn’t been very affectionate.
Alex fiddled with his paper, fixing his gaze on the poetry there instead of the tender moment that was happening next to him. He hated poetry, he was almost certain of it. However, apparently if Alexander ever wanted to get a wife he had best start liking it. It wasn't as though Alex wanted a wife right now, in fact he wasn't sure that he ever wanted one, but it was best to keep one's options open. He had clearly resigned himself to the fact that poetry was a requirement of marriage, so the queen's admission startled him. The queen, the most important female in the country, said that not all ladies liked poetry! The queen said that she didn't like poetry (and Alex would take the secret to his grave if need be). "Are you sure?" he questioned, "the literacy master says poetry is one of the most important things we learn as pages."
It escaped Alex's attention that the mathematics master would say the same about his subject, or the Master of Ceremonies would declare to be true of ettiquette. "Romantic, ma'am. We don't know who wrote this one," he replied. A private thought that he had was some dead person but aloud he said, "it was written almost a century ago, and if the author was ever known, no one remembers." It would be nice if the queen was telling the truth and that remembering and decoding a poem written over a hundred years ago by someone who (for all anyone knew) could have been a goatherd, was not as important as the masters had been letting on.
The companionship of royalty wasn't almost as stressful as what Alex had first thought.
{Same. I had to research by reading every Kaira thread before I felt confident enough to post. I figure she's tired, and that accounts for her being more quiet than normal
}
Anna pretended to not notice Alexander's lack of composure. It was perfectly natural, especially for young pages. In time, most learned that royalty didn't bite. Or at least, Anna didn't. For now, she would try her best not to make the boy uncomfortable, which, she realised, could be because she wasn't the gruff and mean queen she was supposed to be. Or perhaps it was because of Alexander's older brother. Anna hadn't talked with the other Naxen boy before, much to her regret, and she'd not heard much from servants as to the half-brother's relationship. She suspected that they didn't get along terribly well, as most siblings in such a position would, and perhaps Alexander was worried of his brother's retribution. Either way, she would wait it out-- she didn't want to jump to conclusions.
"I'm sure you will be, Alexander," she replied. Her mind drifted in thought for a moment. She had heard rumours about this young boy, mostly bad, and had heard older lords talking him down into nothing. That he was still here, really, was a miracle, and evidence that he had courage and a strong will. She looked at him curiously, this realisation giving her a new outlook on the boy. What was he thinking, too, of her request for less formality? He had nodded in reply, but that didn't mean that he understood why. Deciding that he probably didn't, she informed in an almost wicked tone, "If you're wondering why I asked for less formality, it's because I hear those words all day, every day. A change is nice. And besides, even those two words puts a distance between royalty and everyone else. We're human, not gods. Does that make sense?"
Anna laughed a little at the question, as most people would say that. "If he didn't believe so, he wouldn't have a job" she replied, eyes crinkled in mirth. "My husband and I chose training masters who would devote themselves to teaching, and doing it well. Unfortunately that does mean you poor boys get bored to death at times, but you all seem to learn well." Thinking back on Alexander's question, she continued, "Poetry is important to the world of chivalry, which we live in. However, it isn't to anyone else, so a balance must be maintained. I wouldn't suggest that you don't attempt to learn anything of it, as poetry is one of the columns of chivalry, but I wouldn't stress over it. In ten years, no-one will care how well you did in your page years in poetry, so why sweat blood and tears over it?"
With a small nod of understanding, she looked over the piece. It was indeed very romantic, and the perfect example of how one might write such a piece. It was well structured--whoever wrote it was well aware of the both the official and unofficial rules of poetry-- but it was complicated, very complicated. Anna was surprised the young pages had been asked to study such a piece. Without knowledge of romance and experience, one would have trouble understanding it, and for that, she pitied the young page. The piece brought back memories, memories of how young men wanting to be in the queen's favour would present her with poems (which seemed to become more complex every time, almost as if the young men were competing) along with gifts. It was perfectly natural, of course, and Anna had taken it in good humour. It wasn't natural, however, for the Queen to remember who went to such lengths. Years later, some were good friends, and it was a useful tool to tease the lords with.
Her eyes flickered back over the young man. He had been having trouble with the piece, she knew, and possibly with others. "Are there any sort of poems you enjoy, Alexander, or find interesting? I know it might sound strange or not worth the time, but if you were to study poems you thought you would enjoy, and submitted them as extra work, your training master might allow you to continue to study ones you choose, with his approval." What she had said was true; years before, she had asked the training master that, if boys had trouble with poetry, they were allowed to study pieces they could relate to. He had accepted, on the grounds that the pieces they chose would coincide with what he was teaching at that point. Victory won, the Queen had been quick to make sure the young pages knew of the development. Two decades later, she doubted any of the pages knew. She hadn't worried about reminding the training master before now, simply because there had to be a balance between doing as ordered and initiative.
"I'm sure you will be, Alexander," she replied. Her mind drifted in thought for a moment. She had heard rumours about this young boy, mostly bad, and had heard older lords talking him down into nothing. That he was still here, really, was a miracle, and evidence that he had courage and a strong will. She looked at him curiously, this realisation giving her a new outlook on the boy. What was he thinking, too, of her request for less formality? He had nodded in reply, but that didn't mean that he understood why. Deciding that he probably didn't, she informed in an almost wicked tone, "If you're wondering why I asked for less formality, it's because I hear those words all day, every day. A change is nice. And besides, even those two words puts a distance between royalty and everyone else. We're human, not gods. Does that make sense?"
Anna laughed a little at the question, as most people would say that. "If he didn't believe so, he wouldn't have a job" she replied, eyes crinkled in mirth. "My husband and I chose training masters who would devote themselves to teaching, and doing it well. Unfortunately that does mean you poor boys get bored to death at times, but you all seem to learn well." Thinking back on Alexander's question, she continued, "Poetry is important to the world of chivalry, which we live in. However, it isn't to anyone else, so a balance must be maintained. I wouldn't suggest that you don't attempt to learn anything of it, as poetry is one of the columns of chivalry, but I wouldn't stress over it. In ten years, no-one will care how well you did in your page years in poetry, so why sweat blood and tears over it?"
With a small nod of understanding, she looked over the piece. It was indeed very romantic, and the perfect example of how one might write such a piece. It was well structured--whoever wrote it was well aware of the both the official and unofficial rules of poetry-- but it was complicated, very complicated. Anna was surprised the young pages had been asked to study such a piece. Without knowledge of romance and experience, one would have trouble understanding it, and for that, she pitied the young page. The piece brought back memories, memories of how young men wanting to be in the queen's favour would present her with poems (which seemed to become more complex every time, almost as if the young men were competing) along with gifts. It was perfectly natural, of course, and Anna had taken it in good humour. It wasn't natural, however, for the Queen to remember who went to such lengths. Years later, some were good friends, and it was a useful tool to tease the lords with.
Her eyes flickered back over the young man. He had been having trouble with the piece, she knew, and possibly with others. "Are there any sort of poems you enjoy, Alexander, or find interesting? I know it might sound strange or not worth the time, but if you were to study poems you thought you would enjoy, and submitted them as extra work, your training master might allow you to continue to study ones you choose, with his approval." What she had said was true; years before, she had asked the training master that, if boys had trouble with poetry, they were allowed to study pieces they could relate to. He had accepted, on the grounds that the pieces they chose would coincide with what he was teaching at that point. Victory won, the Queen had been quick to make sure the young pages knew of the development. Two decades later, she doubted any of the pages knew. She hadn't worried about reminding the training master before now, simply because there had to be a balance between doing as ordered and initiative.
Alex would have thanked the queen for her belief in him, if only he'd been able to speak. Without friends to spur him on he had to be the one to provide his own encouragement. To tell yourself that you were going to achieve all of your dreams was affirming, but to hear it from the queen of all people, one of the people you wanted to serve, that was certainly different. It made him bashful and confident all at once and he didn't have any words to say how it made him feel or how grateful he was, so he simply nodded.
He felt less uneasy now that the queen had explained herself about the formality. Alex wouldn't quite say that he understood her logic, wasn't being better than their citizens the entire point of royalty? Prince Roger was human but Alex had always been certain that Roger would grow out of it, that he'd morph into someone who was completely unnaproachable and infallible. That was the encouraged opinion of royalty, wasn't it? So it was easier to keep fusses down and order people around. And then, when they got to that, easier for kings and queens to have a say in the teaching of their pages.
Alexander looked up in surprise, he hadn't realised that the king and queen had such input about his training. He had previously hought that their duties towards pages didn't extend further than being seen by them and giving speeches every now and then to remind pages that their ultimate duty was to the Code, and to the crown. He hadn't ever thought that the royals took an active role in the selection of the masters. Privately, Alexander wished that the queen might have settled for a literacy master who was a little less pedantic, though he wouldn't trade the history teacher or weapons masters for anything.
"We do, ma'am-- learn I mean, not get bored to death," Alexander agreed. Poetry still didn't have much of a practical use to him, if not all ladies liked poetry then Alex wanted a wife (if he had to have one) who didn't, one who was sensible like the queen, but less intimidating. Alex liked straight-forward direct things, and the romantic poetry like they were studying now wasn't straight-forward in the least. It was all squiggly and windy, objects and phrases were supposed to mean something that they didn't and Alex had no interest in counting syllables and monitoring pentameter. It was all well and good for the queen to say not to fret though, but what about Alex who didn't want to do badly in any class? Doing well in his training was all he had going for him, it was what helped him to carry on with being part of the noble class despite being a bastard son, he couldn't not fret about it. He couldn't mention that to the queen, she wouldn't understand and she might try to make a discussion about it, so Alexander just nodded again and let out a soft spoken, "yes, ma'am."
Conversing with royalty really wasn't Alexander's favourite past time, but when the queen was at him with questions which he had to give more than a two word answer for, he had to reply or seem rude. He did like some poetry, just not this romantic stuff. "I like the ones about battles and epics, your highness, majesty, ma'am. Ones that mean something, that don't chase their tales 'round and 'round," and nothing about flowers, he added to himself. "I'll try that ma'am," not tonight, but maybe he'd have enough time over Sunday to do his given work and find a poem that he actually liked so that he could pick that to bits, too.
"You're very kind ma'am, if you don't mind me saying so. I-" he paused, uncertain of what was acceptable to say, "-appreciate your spending time to talk with me, but you needn't to, not if you're busy." She had to have more pressing things to do than talk to Alexander, the bastard child whom his own peers barely had time for. He had earned the respect of some nobles because they could see he was polite and earnest, but he hadn't ever thought that the queen might ever spare the time to speak to him, even if she hadn't known who he was at first.
He felt less uneasy now that the queen had explained herself about the formality. Alex wouldn't quite say that he understood her logic, wasn't being better than their citizens the entire point of royalty? Prince Roger was human but Alex had always been certain that Roger would grow out of it, that he'd morph into someone who was completely unnaproachable and infallible. That was the encouraged opinion of royalty, wasn't it? So it was easier to keep fusses down and order people around. And then, when they got to that, easier for kings and queens to have a say in the teaching of their pages.
Alexander looked up in surprise, he hadn't realised that the king and queen had such input about his training. He had previously hought that their duties towards pages didn't extend further than being seen by them and giving speeches every now and then to remind pages that their ultimate duty was to the Code, and to the crown. He hadn't ever thought that the royals took an active role in the selection of the masters. Privately, Alexander wished that the queen might have settled for a literacy master who was a little less pedantic, though he wouldn't trade the history teacher or weapons masters for anything.
"We do, ma'am-- learn I mean, not get bored to death," Alexander agreed. Poetry still didn't have much of a practical use to him, if not all ladies liked poetry then Alex wanted a wife (if he had to have one) who didn't, one who was sensible like the queen, but less intimidating. Alex liked straight-forward direct things, and the romantic poetry like they were studying now wasn't straight-forward in the least. It was all squiggly and windy, objects and phrases were supposed to mean something that they didn't and Alex had no interest in counting syllables and monitoring pentameter. It was all well and good for the queen to say not to fret though, but what about Alex who didn't want to do badly in any class? Doing well in his training was all he had going for him, it was what helped him to carry on with being part of the noble class despite being a bastard son, he couldn't not fret about it. He couldn't mention that to the queen, she wouldn't understand and she might try to make a discussion about it, so Alexander just nodded again and let out a soft spoken, "yes, ma'am."
Conversing with royalty really wasn't Alexander's favourite past time, but when the queen was at him with questions which he had to give more than a two word answer for, he had to reply or seem rude. He did like some poetry, just not this romantic stuff. "I like the ones about battles and epics, your highness, majesty, ma'am. Ones that mean something, that don't chase their tales 'round and 'round," and nothing about flowers, he added to himself. "I'll try that ma'am," not tonight, but maybe he'd have enough time over Sunday to do his given work and find a poem that he actually liked so that he could pick that to bits, too.
"You're very kind ma'am, if you don't mind me saying so. I-" he paused, uncertain of what was acceptable to say, "-appreciate your spending time to talk with me, but you needn't to, not if you're busy." She had to have more pressing things to do than talk to Alexander, the bastard child whom his own peers barely had time for. He had earned the respect of some nobles because they could see he was polite and earnest, but he hadn't ever thought that the queen might ever spare the time to speak to him, even if she hadn't known who he was at first.
Anna couldn't resist a soft laugh at Alexander's reply. She knew what he had meant, but he'd explained himself anyway. It was also very typical of pages, to be so wary of themselves around royals. "I wouldn't be offended if you were bored, but I'm glad you feel you're learning something," she chuckled lightly. Learning, in Anna opinion, was very important. It was the learning in childhood that defined how a person would act and simply be when they were adults. A good upbringing and at the very least a decent education encouraged civilised conduct, a sense of respect and a knowledge of right and wrong.
A very brief reply, she thought to herself, a little concerned. Perhaps I've made him even more confused, or worried. She sighed to herself, a tad frustrated with her own lack of thought in the matter. Maybe she had been a little too fast, or had approached in the wrong manner. Anna found it hard, sometimes, to treat other youngsters as they would expect to be treated, especially when her own children were usually very relaxed in her presence. It was hard simply because she found it comforting to be friends with all her subjects, and such a distance that was required to be respected during page and squire years usually carried on to knighthood. Yet, she had a feeling she should leave it be. Her motherly instinct told her that the lad didn't want to venture into any sort of conversation of similar sorts, and she usually followed her instinct. Her thoughts wandered back to the present as she shrugged her feelings away, just in time to hear Alexander's reply.
"I like the ones about battles and epics, your highness, majesty, ma'am. Ones that mean something, that don't chase their tales 'round and 'round."
The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled in understanding. They were the sort that Anna and her children enjoyed. She could remember, many years before, of cold, winter nights by the fire, telling stories and reading poetry to her younger siblings, and then decades later with her own children. Her older siblings thought it beneath themselves to read about the great heroes and heroines of ages past, but Anna disagreed. Such stories and writings were inspiring to know that, even in the hardest of times, there would always be hope. She had also found it intriguing that it wasn't just kings and queens and nobles who made history--even the simplest of commoners had changed many, many things. It was strangely comforting, but she'd never figured why.
A small nod signalled her agreement, and she replied, "A wise choice of words, and excellent taste, if you don't mind my saying so. Sometimes I think the Gods encouraged romance and romantic poems so we'd appreciate the more exciting and certainly less dull parts of life," she joked.
"You're very kind ma'am, if you don't mind me saying so. I--appreciate your spending time to talk with me, but you needn't to, not if you're busy."
A small frown creased Anna face as she thought over what Alexander had said. She was always busy, yes, but it was also important to talk and have social contact. And maintain the support of the subjects of the Crown the duty-minded part of her added. She tried to grasp words which would make sense to the page, provided she put them in the right order, and ones that would explain what she wanted to say. It hadn't occurred to her that the page might have just been trying to shoo her away so he could do his work and get to bed at a decent hour, but even if it had, Anna would have swept it aside easily, as the boy seemed to cautious to risk offending the Queen. "My duty is to my people, Alexander, and you are one of those. Spending time with people is part of that duty. Besides, I like making friends,” she finally said, adding the last part with a small smile. Befriending children and young adults was almost a hobby of Anna’s. She loved it, and not just the feedback she received from those youngsters. It was refreshing, seeing such life and wonder in the eyes of ones so young.
A very brief reply, she thought to herself, a little concerned. Perhaps I've made him even more confused, or worried. She sighed to herself, a tad frustrated with her own lack of thought in the matter. Maybe she had been a little too fast, or had approached in the wrong manner. Anna found it hard, sometimes, to treat other youngsters as they would expect to be treated, especially when her own children were usually very relaxed in her presence. It was hard simply because she found it comforting to be friends with all her subjects, and such a distance that was required to be respected during page and squire years usually carried on to knighthood. Yet, she had a feeling she should leave it be. Her motherly instinct told her that the lad didn't want to venture into any sort of conversation of similar sorts, and she usually followed her instinct. Her thoughts wandered back to the present as she shrugged her feelings away, just in time to hear Alexander's reply.
"I like the ones about battles and epics, your highness, majesty, ma'am. Ones that mean something, that don't chase their tales 'round and 'round."
The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled in understanding. They were the sort that Anna and her children enjoyed. She could remember, many years before, of cold, winter nights by the fire, telling stories and reading poetry to her younger siblings, and then decades later with her own children. Her older siblings thought it beneath themselves to read about the great heroes and heroines of ages past, but Anna disagreed. Such stories and writings were inspiring to know that, even in the hardest of times, there would always be hope. She had also found it intriguing that it wasn't just kings and queens and nobles who made history--even the simplest of commoners had changed many, many things. It was strangely comforting, but she'd never figured why.
A small nod signalled her agreement, and she replied, "A wise choice of words, and excellent taste, if you don't mind my saying so. Sometimes I think the Gods encouraged romance and romantic poems so we'd appreciate the more exciting and certainly less dull parts of life," she joked.
"You're very kind ma'am, if you don't mind me saying so. I--appreciate your spending time to talk with me, but you needn't to, not if you're busy."
A small frown creased Anna face as she thought over what Alexander had said. She was always busy, yes, but it was also important to talk and have social contact. And maintain the support of the subjects of the Crown the duty-minded part of her added. She tried to grasp words which would make sense to the page, provided she put them in the right order, and ones that would explain what she wanted to say. It hadn't occurred to her that the page might have just been trying to shoo her away so he could do his work and get to bed at a decent hour, but even if it had, Anna would have swept it aside easily, as the boy seemed to cautious to risk offending the Queen. "My duty is to my people, Alexander, and you are one of those. Spending time with people is part of that duty. Besides, I like making friends,” she finally said, adding the last part with a small smile. Befriending children and young adults was almost a hobby of Anna’s. She loved it, and not just the feedback she received from those youngsters. It was refreshing, seeing such life and wonder in the eyes of ones so young.
Kaira sat in her mother's lap, following the conversation, trying to look as awake as possible despite her sleepiness. In her young mind, it was much more fun and excitement to stay up and listen to her mother and the page talk, than to have to go to sleep. Her yellow dress reflected slightly off of the light of the moon for a second as she played with her hair and the yellow ribbon in it. She was interested when the boy said he liked poems of battles and epics, poems that mean something, and also when her mother made a joke about the Gods and romance poems, though she didn't say a word. The garden had grown darker, but with the light of the moon she could still see both her mother's face (if she looked up) and the pages face, Alexander of Naxen was his name. The littlest Princess decided she liked him. After all, her mother had a good judgment of people and if the Queen liked Alex, then Kaira probably should too.
Soon, she began to get a little more tired. Her mother's lap was comforting and the voices, not too loud but not murmuring either, were too. It was due to these things, then, that the little girl couldn't help but yawn a little. A small, cute yawn, that any adult would take to mean that the child who yawned was tired. Which, Kaira, was. She looked up at her mother. "I'm not tired Mother, really, I'm not." She said this in her most innocent voice, in a pause in conversation after her mother had said she liked making friends. With nothing more to add, she waited. Kaira did hope that her mother would not send her to bed, though if she did, it would be okay. At least her mother had not gotten mad at her for coming out so late. Well, no one really got very mad at Kaira, it was hard. But still. Coming out late was fun, and although it was the most fun when she didn't get caught, it was also nice when she got caught, and then didn't get punished, rather got a comfy lap to sit on. So she waited. With that little smile on her face of pure angelic innocence.
[you guys did fine with your puppet stuff.
thank you.]
Soon, she began to get a little more tired. Her mother's lap was comforting and the voices, not too loud but not murmuring either, were too. It was due to these things, then, that the little girl couldn't help but yawn a little. A small, cute yawn, that any adult would take to mean that the child who yawned was tired. Which, Kaira, was. She looked up at her mother. "I'm not tired Mother, really, I'm not." She said this in her most innocent voice, in a pause in conversation after her mother had said she liked making friends. With nothing more to add, she waited. Kaira did hope that her mother would not send her to bed, though if she did, it would be okay. At least her mother had not gotten mad at her for coming out so late. Well, no one really got very mad at Kaira, it was hard. But still. Coming out late was fun, and although it was the most fun when she didn't get caught, it was also nice when she got caught, and then didn't get punished, rather got a comfy lap to sit on. So she waited. With that little smile on her face of pure angelic innocence.
[you guys did fine with your puppet stuff.
thank you.]