For Lythdom

The men who control the rules

Ivy would be lying if when she was first brought up the prospect of being a royal advisor, she imagined her first two weeks in the role would be spent cooped up in a carriage playing I spy with Olga. However much she enjoyed her company, waking up in a barely stable rocking contraption wasn't on her list of dream experiences- it was even under Cressida's plan to start a pub fight which she said would give her an excuse to smash a glass against someone's skull- and when they'd arrived at the castle located deep in the centre of Abamere, she almost cried in relief at the prospect of an actual bed and time on her own.

Not much changed for the two weeks after that. She'd spent it cooped up in Olga's wing, gazing out of the window when Olga went out to see her brother hopefully pleading to let her be presented to court. Though, she supposed it would be an asset to know the castle layout by heart just in case she needed to help Olga escape. The window she sat by had a view of the back of the castle; hardly an architecturally majestic sight but, it did show a door that had seen better days, it was almost off its hinges and riddled with rust. She would have to mention it to someone.

She couldn't mention it on that day since she was finally being presented to Court. Well, not exactly in the way she nor Olga imagined or talked about in the journey to Abamere. It was to be during a council meeting on the war with Wisteria, seeing as they both had returned to the safety of Skrill, there were no longer any restrictions to what they could do and they were both by custom (and out of the King's avoidance to have Olga annoy him over any decision) to be called upon to advise the King. That environment did nothing to stop the thoughts that had kept her from her beloved sleep the night before, a cycle of her humiliation because of a multitude of things that they could've found wrong with her: her background, her gender, her appearance to name a few other than simply just her opinion. There were always the whispers of court that reached even the fields that she'd grown up in; whispers of the dark deeds that were dealt in the corridors of the castle and left their bloody trail leading into the chambers of the council. Someone like her couldn't go to court expecting many allies.

"Calm your nerves Ivy. I grew up around them and they hold nothing to you," she spoke to her as one of the ladies in waiting, Martha, finished braiding her hair into an elaborate updo that could hold the tiara that had barely left the coils of her hair since they'd stepped foot into the castle. With each new outfit, she always realised the blessing she was given to be able to know her, though her true soul shone through when she was without the armour she dressed in each time anyone other than the two of them disturbed the bubble that they'd built together.

"It is not myself that I hold concern for," her hand strayed from the black material of her skirts and rested against the wall, it was rough like brushing a finger over sand laid above a once smooth surface with ridges and cracks that had been chipped away by the pressures within the room.

"Ladies, leave us," their eyes connected through the mirror; oblivious to the figures moving ever so quickly around them neither wanting to notice that the world was so much more than just them in that room where only worries of what game to play plagued their minds. The door shut, but the walls opened. She stood, careful not to break the silent conversation that tumbled out, "I'm a woman living among the rules of men. My brother is the man that controls those rules," she tried to seek out any ounce of fear in her eyes that radiated from her own chest, but those tendrils were warned away by the winds that surrounded her, encasing her. Only their own control kept them one step closer from each other, "have faith in your oath if not my words."

She stepped away from her, unable to withstand the heat in her stomach. That was not her oath, that was far from it, "I think they'll be needing us now," refusing to catch her glance again, she reached for the door, finding comfort in the cool metal that grazed against her palm and the breeze that rushed in through the open door, searching for the heat that swamped her body.