Compared to Faisuri, Meara's face was an open book.

Daud had to commend her for the effort, but he'd learnt from the best of liars. He'd spotted quickly the slight tremble of her lower lip as she repressed a scowl, the small twitch between her brows as she attempted to keep the facade of serenity. There was the shadow of sullenness that hung across her demure face like the wings of a vulture circling over her head. All this, coupled with her reticence in his company, gave him the distinct impression that she might have disliked him.

It was awkward, to say the least.

He felt less the Sword of the King and more like a pack mule as he pushed through the crowd milling about cramped stalls with bags in his hands. Truth be told, he was not a stranger to such a duty. It was, for him, a mark of gallantry to offer his service to a lady — no matter how inconsequential such service may be.

Still, he'd at least appreciate it if Meara would talk to him. Faisuri gave him twice the load he was carrying, but she kept him entertained.

"Milady," he piped up, the moment the crowd dispersed to give him a leeway to the queen-to-be. "May I ask what has been bothering you?"

Meara stiffened. She gracefully turned her head, painting a smile over her delicate features. "Why, what do you mean?" she asked.

Daud smiled, wryly. "Let's not feign ignorance, milady. It's fairly obvious that something is wrong."

The lady's mask of sweet calmness crumbled in an instant, exposing the gloom that had dwelled behind it. It almost surprised Daud how easily it shattered, considering that he'd usually need a lot more poking to get Faisuri to reveal her cards. Perhaps Meara was designed to express her innermost feelings on her face.

Not that he minded — having to guess got tiring really fast.

"It's... nothing," she mumbled, quickly averting her face from him. "I- I should not burden you with my personal concerns."

Daud almost laughed. He opted to shake his head instead. "Milady, Faisuri, His Highness, Jonathan... you really are all of the same breed — always putting up a strong front for others." He sighed. "You should let out those pent-up concerns of yours every now and then. I'm here to lend an ear to your concerns... even if said concerns happen to stem from my company."

"Ah, no, it's not your fault," Meara hastily denied. She pursed her lips and allowed her chin to drop. "It's my father," she mumbled, sullenly.

Had others not affirmed the lord's identity upon his introduction, Daud would not have thought he was Meara's father. The man, who had come to the palace to discuss matters with the former king Reghan and the new king, bore a tall, slender silhouette. He'd always kept his broad shoulders back, his hard-set jaw angled slightly upwards, boasting an aura of cold authority.

If Meara was like the delicate flowers that grew in Solium Lucior, home of the faeries, Lord Friell was the mountains of Djarnfell — frigid and unyielding.

"I can't believe he would demand me be escorted everywhere I go," Meara continued, her fingers clutching at her gown furiously. Hot red frustration tinted her face. "What does he take me for — a helpless child? Even when he sent me to be married?"

"I understand your frustration, but there may be those who wish to see you harmed, milady. I think he's only concerned about your safety," Daud explained, in as gentle a tone as he could muster. He certainly did not want to get on the future queen's bad side.

"Yes, but... forcing the Sword of the King to accompany me to the marketplace?"

"Don't underestimate the lengths people would go to seize power. Those too drunk on the prospect of authority would not spare even a child if it would give them the throne." He thought of young Faisuri, on the night she was brought to his estate, in bloody tatters. Even now, the memory sent a chill through his veins.

The horror in Meara's eyes brought him back to his senses, and he quickly forced a smile. "Besides, is my company really that bad?" He asked, his tone bearing a playful cadence.

The tension left Meara's shoulders. "No, definitely not," she decided. "You've been very kind to me, Lord Raine."

"Kind? Such an honorable compliment, coming from the embodiment of grace and mercy herself."

Red still painted the lady's cheeks, albeit for a reason other than frustration. "Oh, please. You exaggerate."

"I grew up alongside the embodiment of drama herself. It would be more surprising if none of her antics rubbed off on me."

An undignified snort escaped Meara's lips, and she quickly clasped her hands on them in embarrassment. Daud gave a louder one, followed by hearty laughter. If one were to make a fool of oneself, it was better to do it with a friend.

The lady finally joined in, the two of them laughing like giddy children in the middle of a bustling marketplace. Daud ignored the surprised glances shot their way. The sound of Meara's genuine laughter was like a freed bird's song — wild and full of joy.

For that few, fleeting seconds, they were not the future queen and the Sword of the King. They were two dunderheads giggling over nothing. And it was strangely liberating.

Meara pulled herself together, clearing her throat.

"Ah, oh, what were we laughing about again?"

"I have no idea. I think you started it."

"No, no, it was definitely you."

"But what exactly are we talking about?"

The two fell silent and hung their heads, scrutinizing the pavement, which had witnessed their spectacle, for answers.

"I... think we're idiots," Daud said, lamely.

"Our sense of humor has regressed..." Meara agreed.

Although they walked to the next stall in silence, Daud noted the comfortable way Meara held herself, the lack of tension in her posture. The shadow of sullenness had dissipated, like rain clouds blown away by the wind. He lingered back as Meara browsed the stall and talked to the vendor with an easy smile.

"Deirtha Daud!" A high, childish voice called out to him from down the road, followed by the growing sound of pattering footsteps.

He saw a blur of color barreling towards him on two little feet. Two red braids flew in the air like a fiery streak behind her head. A broad grin found its way onto his face.

"Sheila!" Daud greeted in the jovial manner of a big brother greeting his younger siblings. Sheila was, in a way, a sister to him in anything but blood, in spite of the vast difference between their lives. Her, and all her 'siblings'.

The red-haired girl quickly latched onto the young man in a ferocious hug, basket dangling uncomfortably from her arm. Daud, his hands full, could only spread his arms to the side like a hapless chicken. After a few seconds, she detached herself, patting down her simple frock. Daud quickly noted the frayed ends of its skirt and sleeves and the various stains from Thieros-knew-where that displayed her brutal use of the clothing. He immediately thought of buying her a new dress, while he was at the marketplace, until he considered that her 'siblings' might think of him as picking favorites.

He would have to send a generous donation to their 'mother' at his earliest convenience.

Sheila searched their surroundings. "Where is Deirphi Faisuri?"

Deirtha and Deirphi — Big Brother and Big Sister. That was how the children saw them.

"Sorry, Sheila. She's busy," he replied, with a sheepish grin.

"Who's that?" Sheila pointed to Meara.

Coincidentally, Meara was finished with her business. Visible surprise struck her face for a moment when she turned around to see Daud conversing with a peasant child, before a smile took over her face.

"Who is this sweet child, Lord Raine?" she asked, bending down to Sheila's height. "Friend of yours?"

"In a manner. Sheila, mind your manners. This is Lady Friell — our future queen. Please tell me Irayani taught you that much."

Sheila froze for a few seconds, gaping at Daud like a confused fish, before turning to Meara and offering her a very awkward curtsy. "You're really pretty!" The girl exclaimed, without forewarning.

Meara laughed at the compliment. "Why, thank you! You are quite a lovely little girl yourself. Sheila, wasn't it?"

Daud looked thoughtfully between the two girls, before directing his sight to the distant spires of the castle watching over them. The sun was still high in the sky. There was time to spare, perhaps, until Meara had to attend to her other duties for the day.

Besides, if he knew anything about his cousin, he could imagine she was already whirling up a storm in the future queen's stead. That girl was highly efficient — almost frighteningly so — when she put her mind to it.

"Milady, would you be interested in a little detour before we head back?"

Meara raised a brow.

"I'm sure the rest of the kids would like to meet the future queen of Althewyn herself," he persuaded. "It would certainly bring a smile to their faces."

"Would my presence alone be able to instill such a reaction?" Meara wondered, shocked. "I shall very much like to see that."

"More than you'd imagine," the young lord replied, bemused.

Sheila skipping delightedly at his side, he led the lady away from the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, taking roads uncommon for people of their status to set foot on. They soon arrived at a building of fair size, with three distinctive gabled rooftops. A small garden, tiny and disorganized compared to the extravagant royal gardens of the palace, lay between the gates to the main building. The structure itself was in more disrepair than Daud had remembered, with cream-colored paint peeling off from its outer walls.

Meara stared, a mix of incredulity and bemusement on her face. "Why have you taken me to such a place?" she asked.

"Don't tell me you've never seen an orphanage before."

Daud strolled to the door, giving a few knocks. The dull sound of heavy footsteps echoed from within, before the door swung open to reveal a plump woman with a flushed face. Ashen streaks ran through her black hair, which was pulled up in a rounded bun. Her slanted dark eyes — a testament to her eastern heritage — widened with surprise at the sight of the Sword of the King standing so casually at her doorstep.

"Daud!" the woman exclaimed, tripping over her words. "What a surprise! What brings you here?"

"I met Deirtha in the marketplace." Sheila hummed, rocking herself on the balls of her feet. "He wanted to come here with the pretty lady."

"Pretty..." The Halimunese woman's jaw went slack at the sight of Meara, who had been standing quietly behind the Raine lord the entire time. The older woman almost fell apart on herself, her hands running from her hair all the way to her skirt as if trying to fix her disheveled appearance, her lips quivering with the effort to form words. She quickly caught herself, bowing so low that Daud could almost see all the gray hair on her scalp.

"Y-your Highness! I-I am humbled by your presence!" the lady stammered.

"Rise," Meara commanded, kindly. "I am here on the Sword of the King's request."

"Milady, this is Irayani — formerly my mother's retainer from Halimun, a nursemaid to both Faisuri and I in our youth, and now mother of the motherless children in this orphanage," Daud introduced. "Faisuri and I have occasionally visited this place ever since moving to the capital. We owe so much to her."

"Stop!" Irayani yelped, covering her face, which was red as if the Primeval Flames themselves were illuminating her cheeks, with her palms. "You flatter me in front of the queen! Why did you not warn me in advance of Her Highness's visitation? You and your sudden reckless impulses!"

"Ever the nursemaid for you, too, I see," Meara remarked, turning to the sheepish Daud with the barest hint of a smirk.

"My apologies, Irayani. May we go visit the children now?"

Taking Irayani's incoherent blubbers of astonishment as consent, Daud allowed Sheila to lead them to the main hall. Upon arrival, he was immediately greeted by a chorus of ecstatic cheering. In a flash, he was swarmed by children of various ages and appearances, eager to be the first to greet him. He took the time to greet all of them, warmly, almost forgetting for a moment that he was with Meara had one of the children not inquired on Faisuri's whereabouts.

"Everyone," he hollered, making himself heard over the din of excited youth. "I'd like to introduce Lady Friell, future queen of Althewyn. She has kindly graced us with her visit today."

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted. The warm euphoria that had filled the room suddenly grew cold and stilted, as the orphans registered the young woman's presence. They shifted awkwardly, casting glances at each other, unsure of how to act about this stranger amidst their cozy family.

Daud began to wonder if he'd made the wrong choice bringing the future queen here.

Meara coughed. "Perhaps I should leave," she whispered, a little hurt by the chilly reception.

Without thinking, Daud grabbed a lute that laid on a table within arm's reach. He'd often played for the children here. The familiar feel of the wood against his palm felt right. Unconsciously, he sat down and began to strum a tune. The melody filled the air, disrupting the haze of awkwardness in the room.

The children and Meara watched him, perplexed.

"Since the queen and I don't have much time to spend here, we would just like to treat you all to a song," he announced, with ease. "Isn't that right, milady?"

"What?"

"You should all consider yourself lucky — not everyone has gotten the chance to hear the queen sing, you know! Now, if you could all sit down..."

The orphans dropped to the floor, cross-legged. They watched him with confused anticipation. This was familiar to them — Daud and Faisuri had often done this in their own visits — even if they usually did not give such an abrupt preamble.

But music had a strange, fascinating way of building bridges where words or even pictures could not. The tune Daud had played was a common lullaby in Althewyn, that both nobles and commoners had listened to in their childhood days. When Meara joined in with her voice, her very soul was reflected through it. The children soon sang along as they always did, with their untrained voices of various pitches, creating a dissonance that was somehow harmonious in spirit.

And after the song ended, the children saw Meara in a different light — no longer the queen-to-be on a pedestal too high for them to reach, but a deirphi with the sweetest voice.

"My father would be most displeased if he knew where we went," the lady said as they journeyed back to the palace. She wrung her hands. "He always tells me such places are unbefitting of those of my status."

"Well, my father tells me that a ruler should best endear themselves to their subjects. What do you think, milady?"

"I..." Meara paused, biting her lower lip in hesitation. Daud could sense a conflict start to brew within her. "It was entertaining," she decided.

Daud raised a brow, having a feeling that she had wanted to say more, but decided to leave it at that.

"I did not imagine Lady Faisuri would have an affection for orphans," she mused. "But then again, I've heard a few strange stories about her as of late."

"Oh?"

"Rumors circulate quite fast in the royal court, you know. There are some who whisper that Lady Faisuri is a bastard of Lady Farisa of the East. They say this because they believe there is not a hint of Lord Allister Raine in her."

Daud simply laughed. Let those people believe what they want. Officially, the Raines had stated Faisuri to be Daud's younger sister, to obscure the truth of her origins in order to protect her.

"However, a new story has cropped up."

"Really now?" What sort of fairytale had Faisuri cooked up this time?

"Do you remember that Halimunese king that was assassinated around a decade ago, reportedly in the First Runemaster's land?"

Daud's heart gave a jolt. He did not like where this was headed, but he nodded. He needed to hear more. Meara seemed to have realized something, as she withdrew with a small wince.

"Ah, I'm sorry. He was Lady Farisa's brother, wasn't he? Which would make him your uncle," Meara apologized, hastily. "Word has gone round that Faisuri is actually his daughter — not your mother's nor your father's. Would that not make her a crown princess to the eastern kingdom, then?"

The Sword of the King quickly forced a laugh and waved his hand dismissively. "You'd do well not to believe in every bit of gossip that floats around, milady."

"I suppose you're right."

Meara moved onto other topics, but the young lord's mind remained on the little bit of truth that had wormed its way into a nest of lies. Faisuri was careful, he knew, and so were his parents. They would never let this secret be divulged.

Not unless it was on purpose.

Faisuri, you idiot. What are you trying to do?

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Chapter Writer: VeryBigMess

AN: I'M ALIVE