A New Faery Tale

Chapter One: The Meeting

(AN: hello potential readers, this is the first time I've posted anything anywhere at all, I welcome any and all feedback)

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The world, alight with dancing stars. Above them, so far above that one can scarcely even consider it, the gods lay. There they dine, and they dance, and they weave together the stories of great heroes and simple farmers alike. The great tapestry of the world-

BOOM!

With the noise, I am pulled from my recounting of one of the more fanciful lessons I've had. I am forced to remember that I'm in the stables, finishing mucking the stalls and preparing the knight's horse for the evening's patrol. The cause for the disturbance is instantly found. The stable doors stand wide open, and a darkened silhouette stands in the entrance. The night has drawn far closer than I thought. Though the image, I'm sure, is meant to be imposing, I can't help but laugh as the figure draws near. Even with the low light, I know that mess of hair and slouched frame anywhere. Before me, panting, is Angus. He's a fellow stable-hand, the house-gossip, and one of the few I consider a friend. The heavy sounds of his feet thudding across the dirt floor cut through the previous tranquility of my work, and as he steps into view of the nearest sconce, I catch sight of his face and blanch. He's grinning like the cat who caught the canary. This can't be good.

"We have a visitor!" He calls hoarsely. His face is beat red, and shines slightly in the lamplight. Clearly he ran the whole way here, and while I want to give him my full attention, it's proving difficult to focus both on my friend, and on the stallion who huffs and stamps his hooves before me.

"Is that so? One was not expected," if one had, I wouldn't be in the stables. All the women, myself included, would've been pulled from our assigned duties at least a week in advance. We would spend that week preparing the grounds and then, finally, ourselves. We would be scrubbed down thoroughly, and adorned in the formal shifts we received upon employment. Once the guest is to arrive, we would, at the Ladyship's and guest's behest alike, line the halls so that a servant is available to them at all times. It was dull work- to host guests. Boudicca, the house matron who oversaw all the female servants, always built it up to be a big to-do. Opulent parties and the most elaborate dresses, exquisite luncheons that never seem to end, and valiant displays of chivalry. In reality, it ended up being quite a bit of standing around and doing nothing. The Ladyship often hosted guests in her private quarters, and none but her personal hand-maids were allowed in that section of the estate. So, the rest of us would all stand, sometimes silent, sometimes gossiping or chatting, and wait.

Really, it was likely the most economical use of our time, at least in the case of indentured servants like myself. For days on end we could earn back our debt while doing nothing at all, and, as long as the Lord or Boudicca didn't catch us slouching, or talking, we were free from the risk of punishment. But I've come to find I'd rather be caked in horse-muck, drenched in sweat and grime, after a grueling day's labor, than have to stand in the itchy dress of my master waiting for orders that would almost certainly never come. That conviction, I believe, says a lot, considering I absolutely detest the stables.

Still, to have an uninvited guest does seem to raise the possibility of some type of excitement. At the very least, I can perhaps glimpse Boudicca fussing over herself in a fit trying to cobble together what plans she can. That always provides some sort of stimulation, even if it does mean I'm more likely to face the whips end.

"Yes, and she's important," Angus says, his grin becoming all the more pronounced as he joins me at the stallion's side, "Or she seems to be, from the way Boudicca fell to the floor when she saw her. Her face went as pale as the moon, that one."