Chapter One

Of Twins, Dreams, And Girls Who Dream Too Much

She is waiting for her True Love to come and save her. She’s stranded in the middle of the woods, huddled against a large mossy rock. Her soft face is smiling in half-sleep, her golden hair water falling over the boulder, and cheek pressed against her hand like a pillow. She faintly hears hoovebeats against the forest floor, approaching and slowing as they near her. She opens her eyes a little, and peeks at the knight in shining armor dismounting the white horse above her. Indistinct, yet she knew he had the looks of a god. She smiled a little in her half-sleep, and rose to embrace him--

“Wake up, sis’!”

Saraneth started, her daydream slipping away from her as she felt a strong arm wrap itself around her small shoulders. She smiled faintly and looked up at the face of her twin brother. She and Cas shared their father’s golden hair and lean form, though her brother could prove surprisingly strong. They each shared one of Giacomo Seingalt’s soft blue eyes--the other being a gentle green that had belonged to their mother. They also shared one more feature of their father, something neither of them enjoyed speaking of.

One of the local girls was hovering a small distance behind her brother, and as he hugged her more fully from behind and pulled her out of her chair, she began to scowl. She was growing tired of Cas taking after her father’s old habits and always bringing home strange girls. She usually ended up spending the night in one of the inn rooms whenever he brought in a lady friend--and this particular local girl looked like she was spending the night, judging by the way she was sliding her hand up his tunic.

Her scowl deepened, and she gave Cas a scolding look to which he responded with an innocent smile and a wink. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, slipping out of her brother’s hold and towards her the back room where she kept her lute. She slipped her hand into her dress pocket, the rough fabric scraping against her soft hand, and pulled out the old tavern key. She stepped inside, picked up her lute, and ran her fingers over its wood.

Her father had given her the lute on her twelfth birthday, when he had begun training her on it. She had always loved singing, ever since she was a little girl--the tavern was known for her sweet, childlike voice twisting its way through the rooms and echoing between its walls. Her voice rang clear, though she was so shy she never let anyone but her father and brother listen to her, and even then her voice would falter with embarassment.

She wound her way back into the tavern and plopped down on some cushions in front of the fireplace, laying the lute across her chest. The tavern was empty, save for her father and she brushed a strand of golden hair out of her eyes, then set her fingers atop the strings of the lute, and began to play, humming a song to herself as she did so.

She didn’t realize she was singing faintly, so quietly that only one man -- who had just opened the door of the tavern and closed it quickly to keep the wind out -- heard her. Lucias was his name; noble by birth of Stonereach. Brown hair swept back into a studious tie, his sharp face was set into a small scowl of derision as he glanced around the empty tavern, before his eyes locked on the golden hair girl singing so quietly to the sound of her lute.

He wasn’t one to frequent commoner establishments; none of the nobles were. And he among them was known as one of the more private of the fine-blooded in town. But this night, books and oddities collected and bought at a heavy price did little to keep him company. He was hoping to see what the rest of the town was like, what people were like when they weren’t engulfed by the heartless intrigue of noble life. He dressed himself somewhat simply, though it didn’t suit his tastes, and hoped to simply fade into the background of the local tavern, which his servants told him was the life of the town.

And yet, empty. Perhaps it was a bad night to come--or a bad time? He wouldn’t know.

The girl had not noticed him, so locked into her playing was she. He silently drew up a chair closer to her, where he could hear her tiny voice, the simple beauty of which stopped his heart a moment.

He recovered and fell back into the chair, watching her small hands drift across the lute so skillfully, her eyes flutter with the music as if her entire soul were thrown into it. He couldn’t quite catch any of her words, though he could hear her voice--but it seemed to him a song of such sadness and longing that his scowl softened and a small frown appeared on his face.

A tall blonde man who must have been her father drifted over to him, his eyes resting on his daughter as her quiet singing faded and her strumming began to slow. After a moment she realized she was not alone, and jumped slightly in her cushions, dropping the lute heavily onto her knees.

Lucias smirked, and stood. “You play well, girl.” He commented, quite nonchalantly, and glanced around at the dingy tavern. The roof was leaking in several spots, he might have spotted a rat in one of the holes in the wall, it was dirty as hell. He turned back to the tavern girl and studied her briefly--she carried a strange, alien beauty that was muffled by her baggy, worn peasants clothing.

She nodded meekly, eyes cast downwards, and began to shuffle away from him and back towards the counter. Lucias reached a hand out and caught her wrist tightly. She stopped and looked up at him, frightened--he smirked at this--and he noticed each of her eyes was a different color, strangely enough. One green, one blue.

“Y-yes?” she stammered, quickly looking down again.

He glanced toward her father, and another young man who had appeared in the doorway of their back room, who looked much like the girl and the father. They were watching the scene, each frowning slightly at him and looking a little worried.“Get me some ale, dammit, and your best meal,” he snapped at them. Damn commoners thought they could just sit around and watch things. The men quickly got to work, and he looked back at the girl. “Your name?” he asked impatiently.

Her voice was more of a squeak, and he had to ask her to repeat it. “S-sar-raneth s-sir…”

He nodded, and loosened his grip on her wrist. The fireplace flickered over her gentle features, her golden hair glinting in its light. He stopped a moment, watching it, then explained himself. “My name is Lucias d’Aermaine. You know who I am?”

She nodded, and shuffled her feet awkwardly. “N-noble, yes…”

“Right. I’m also a patron of sorts, of the arts. You play well, as I said, but surely a lovely girl like yourself doesn’t belong in a--” he glanced around the tavern “--sad little place like this, does she?”

She frowned, her small full lips turning downwards and her cheeks puffing out in a sort of pout. His smirk softened slightly. “How would you like to work as a bard of mine, girl?”

Saraneth’s eyes darted up in disbelief and excitement, and she broke out into a small, shy smile. “R-really?” she squeaked.

He nodded, let go of her, and left the tavern without bothering to eat or pay for his finished meal. She watched him go, her heart racing, as Cas and Giacomo drew up beside her, looking worried. They knew the man was trouble--they had heard of him as a cruel and unfair man when it came to commoners--but also knew that they would never be able to convince their Saraneth to change her mind--one of the things she never stopped dreaming of, besides true love, was becoming a famous bardess.

Yet she could barely speak to strangers, let alone play in front of a crowd. They both turned their heads towards her, eyebrows lifted slightly in worry. What would Lord d’Aermaine do when his likely most promising bardess failed to be able to play in front of others?