The Lost Gem (On Hold)

Liam

Liam knew something was not right.

Mornings were just dreadful anyhow. Things he could perfectly do on his own, like combing his hair, pinning his cloak and strapping his belt being done by a legion of mute men. And at their head was the annoying valet who smiled charmingly and wouldn't leave his side at any cost. The very first time Liam had been back from the Drill, the dreaded military training institute: he'd been a complete mess. Or so it had seemed to Atreus - the newly appointed valet, only a couple of years older to him. For about an hour, he had lectured Liam on the delicacy of "fashion". If in the midst of his drone, Liam had reached for his sword hilt, Atreus had just clicked his tongue and said the gesture was manly but too aggressive to be fashionable. After Alexandra's explanation of Mileva's nature, he had been convinced that the two would form an excellently fashionable pair.

Now, after half a century, Atreus had lost two of his teeth (and had the gaps filled with fashionable gold), but he hadn't lost his inclination to groom. Even today, he had tired to bore the life out of Liam with his monologue of "one hundred and sixty three ways to fasten a cloak". And while usually he listened politely, this morning was peculiar. Liam had experienced this restlessness only once before and he had met Alexandra that day.

He was sometimes tempted to wonder who had named him.

The realization oddly amused him: why would anybody have bothered to name him? Despite all that, he liked that name - because it linked him with Alexandra in an unique way. Liam meant "a powerful warrior, a protector". He didn't know if it was a co-incidence or not, that Alexandra meant "one who comes to protect warriors".

He just liked to believe that it was not a co-incidence.

Setting names apart - right now - he knew that the persisting disquiet was not because of any of his frequent nightmares - a few horrid childhood scenes revisiting him. This time, it had something to do with Ophelia. On grounds of morality, they had decided to leave her alone. And though there was usually a week's gap between two of his talks with her, he felt uneasy. Liam wouldn't have waited so long - he trusted his intuition. He would have gone ahead and checked for himself; but a father entering his young daughter's chambers was not considered something very "permitted". That was just as well, he could simply ask Alexandra to do it.

Alexandra. Alexandra. Alexandra.

Sometimes, Liam was himself surprised by the way she appeared in his mind, no matter what he was thinking about. The very first time he'd seen her - he had been on his way to the Cartanian coronation: the reigning Vedessan monarch would have to, in person, acknowledge their new King. Since riding with an entourage had never appealed, he had let them move ahead, preferring his own, leisure pace.

He had been pondering upon the best way to win Doveland's support: his rejection of their eldest princess without even a reason, was bound to have antagonized them. And as far as Liam had known, the Ethorian Queen had been visiting them at the time. The Espionage had informed him that ten to one Doveland and Ethoris would collaborate very soon.

He had feared Sabel ever since Ariston had told him of the way they were connected. Ethorians had been giving him trouble, anyhow. The previous year, their armies had infiltrated common Vedessans - settling down in their midst in an attempt to stir up a civil war. It was good they hadn't been well-prepared. The moment they had opened their mouths, the thick Ethorian accent had come tumbling down and identified them as intruders.

He could give the Dovish anything other than marriage - but that they wouldn't accept. Then, they had been on the verge of joining hands with Ethoris. It would have complicated so many things...