His father had been adamant about the ball. Penril knew it would cause a disastrous ripple across the kingdom, but what the heck, it was the only way to ensure his legal ascension to the throne. All the other High Seats of the Houses of Olencia had to know there was still a Taran living, and as long as a Taran was alive, the throne was safe from their clutches.

The ball. Damn it. Penril liked balls, yes, but not highly formal ones. He liked to be able to dance however he felt like it, with the music of the lute, some pipes and some drums.

Well now, he was sitting in the garden, clad in a simple dark blue robe with gold-thread at the hems. There was a couple of letters from the Pony, and yet a long railing on parchment from Iffalna from Slayer's Keep. She ranted about almost everything since he left her the burdens of being Ablest, but she never asked for advice. Penril knew he did not make a bad choice. Master Zruti would forgive him.

He also had a new book with him there alongside the letters. He heard the familiar clack of boot heels and looked up to see Hadrian.

"Oh," he said. "Good morning, Lord Hadrian."

An incoming ball meant that Penril needed lessons. Well, he was quite sure Penril could handle himself in that department, but there was one other reason why he was approaching the Prince right now.

Yes. Advice. Can you actually believe that? He was freaking 40, NOT OLD, but still needing advice. Oh yes. Well, he'd do this the OLD way. I have a friend, you know...

...

OKAY SO IT WAS LAME. HE HAD NO CHOICE. HE'D DARE NOT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT HIM BEING INVOLVED IN THIS.

...

It was a FORMAL BALL. Formal MEANT HAVING A PARTNER, and for the last FEW YEARS HE'D MANAGE TO DODGE THE RESPONSIBILITY BY SENDING ANOTHER PERSON IN HIS PLACE.

Well, this year he wanted to go there HIMSELF. And bring Ranna alon too.

...

Or maybe not. She might not cope at all...

His thought infused wandering brought him to the gardens. Ah. The Prince.

"Oh," he said. "Good morning, Lord Hadrian."

"Good morning, Sire." Hadrian gave the necessary bow.

... AWKWARD SILENCE. He'd been having a lot of those lately. Add to the fact he somehow forgot his armor this morning...

...

He really had to stop being so preoccupied. He put his hands behind his back.

"Say, Sire..." He began, and then tugged on the edges of his gloves. Okay. How to say this?

...

GET IT OVER WITH YOU SORRY EXCUSE OF A HUMAN BEING.

".... I have a young recruit..." OH THERE IT GOES. Insert awkward shuffling of feet here. ".... who told me this morning he'd quite like to go to the formal dance, but unable to tell it to his .... attachment."

He coughed. "Being single, I know nothing of this matter." He said flatly. "Any suggestions, Sire?"

Penril looked up at his overly-loyal guard and waited. There was something amiss. Tension and embarassment rolled off Hadrian in waves, he could almost feel it with his fingers. This kind of tension, Penril knew it well. The corners of his lips twitched...

".... I have a young recruit..." Hadrian began. Penril noted awkward shuffling of feet here. ".... who told me this morning he'd quite like to go to the formal dance, but unable to tell it to his .... attachment." The man coughed. "Being single, I know nothing of this matter." He said flatly. "Any suggestions, Sire?"

Penril slowly closed his book and stared at Hadrian. And then the Prince started to laugh and pointed a finger at the High Commander's nose.

"A recruit?" Penril laughed. "I can see right through you, Hadrian Evaristus! So tell me." He said, moving sideways so that the guy could sit down beside him. "Who is the lucky lady, hmm?"

The Prince's chocolate brown eyes glittered with amusement.

Penril slowly closed his book and stared at him.

... NOTHING GOOD WILL COME OF THIS. I SWEAR TO GOD.

... and then the Prince started to laugh and pointed a finger at the High Commander's nose. Yep, there it was. Point and laughing. You've hit an all time low, Evaristus. AN ALL TIME LOW.

"A recruit?" Penril laughed. "I can see right through you, Hadrian Evaristus!" Insert ridiculous looking pout HERE. Right here. Yes. He was pouting. SO WHAT, GOT ANY PROBLEM WITH THAT?

...

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU FOUND ME OUT! GOD. I WAS SO FREAKING STEALTHY AND SMOOTH ON THAT BIT.

"So tell me." He said, moving sideways so that the guy could sit down beside him. "Who is the lucky lady, hmm?"

The Prince's chocolate brown eyes glittered with amusement.

Hadrian tried to keep in his composure. Yes. He twiddled his thumbs behind his back.

...

Yes. Staring at your boots is a really effective way of avoiding the topic, isn't it? YOU ARE SUCH A FREAKING GENIUS INDEED.

".... It's not important Sire." He said, finally.

".... It's not important Sire."

Penril gave another laugh. He could not believe it. Lord Hadrian Evaristus, High Commander of the Kingsguard... well here he was, losing his wits because of a woman. Strange, but then, women tended to do that to you. They addled your head with their movement, their voice and their scent - their names were like an imperious summons to all of your being, and you could not help go to her.

Yes.

And Penril knew women well, all right.

"Of course it's important, Hadrian!" He said, motioning for the Guard to sit down. ""Sit down and tell me about her - otherwise I will not be able to give you some help. It varies, you know. Varies a lot." He gave his insanely loyal bodyguard a wink. "Come now, sit..."

Hesitantly, reluctantly, the man sat down. He did not speak, seemed very unsure of what to do. Penril laughed again. He was like a confused kitten searching for it's mother's warmth...

"Come now, your tongue won't do the talking!" Penril said as he took up his book.

Penril gave another laugh. Hadrian drew back and pulled on his gloves again. No. Just no. Okay? Stop that. You’re making me look so sheepish and weird. He pulled on his collar. Yes, this was just so weird and awkward, isn’t it? Oh yes.

…

Emo.

"Of course it's important, Hadrian!" He said, motioning for the Guard to sit down. "Sit down and tell me about her - otherwise I will not be able to give you some help. It varies, you know. Varies a lot." He gave his insanely loyal bodyguard a wink. "Come now, sit..."

… something told him no good will come from this. He spent at least a minute pondering why he would sit down and then hesitantly did so. Okay. How to start? Froth at the mouth? Proclaim utmost shame and throw himself off a cliff? Oh, that could work.

He pulled on his gloves again. Okay, no seriously. What’ll he say? Um…

GARK.

Penril laughed again. OH GOD CAN’T YOU SEE I’M DYING HERE!?

"Come now, your tongue won't do the talking!" Penril said as he took up his book.

…

Wait, that didn’t sound right.

…

He pulled on his collar again. How do I put this? Okay, let’s start with personality. What DO you know? Nothing much. Okay, looks? Yes, you know a lot about that, but then again…

Let’s start with personality then. She’s… nice? No, nice has got to be one of the most overused adjectives ever. Let’s switch to fair. Yeah, that could do. Fair and…? Funny? Still overused, let’s switch that to uh…. Unique. Yep, that’ll do.

Oh screw it, spit it out and be damned.

“She’s… unique.” He said this carefully. “To an extent, like me.” Oh REALLY now? “Bakes for a living, doesn’t go out much except to walk the dog…” Okay, now you’re freaking blubbering. FOR SHAME. “… pretty, has some common sense…”

….

Okay. That was longer than what you initially planned out in your head…

“She’s… unique.” He said this carefully. “To an extent, like me.” Penril made an indistinct sound in his throat that sounded like a snort and a laugh forced into a hasty cough. “Bakes for a living, doesn’t go out much except to walk the dog…… pretty, has some common sense…”

Penril opened his page again and gave a nod.

"Yes. Women are pretty and nearly all of them have common sense. This balances out our frequent need for brutish ways to solve things, I think." He said. "Well, those traits aren't enough for me to draw a picture of her. Did she hit you? Does the water slop all over the place when she scrubs the floor? What does she think of the kingdom? Is she educated?"

He turned the elegant page.

"And you've lost me a bit. On what department do you need help exactly?" He said. "There are many facets in inviting a girl into a dance."

"Yes. Women are pretty and nearly all of them have common sense. This balances out our frequent need for brutish ways to solve things, I think." He said. "Well, those traits aren't enough for me to draw a picture of her. Did she hit you? Does the water slop all over the place when she scrubs the floor? What does she think of the kingdom? Is she educated?"

Whut? Hadrian blinked. Eh? What? How? You’ve freaking lost me, Sire. The High Commander blinked again/

"And you've lost me a bit. On what department do you need help exactly?" He said. "There are many facets in inviting a girl into a dance."

Wait, what? Did he say that? After a moment’s pondering, oh yes, he did. He did.

“Well, she’s… temperamental.” He said this slowly. Stepping into uncertain ground, Evaristus. THREAD CAREFULLY. “Uh… don’t think she likes horses… educated in baking, I guess, and…” When had he ever seen her clean a floor? Never. “She’s blind.” He tried to supply that helpfully.

Oh yes, yet another freaking snit. And did you jus say that inviting women to a dance was DIFFICULT? Oh god, noes. “Everything?” This was accompanied with the normal pleading tone people used on him before he went all High Commander-y and poked them with a stick.

:look

~

“Well, she’s… temperamental.” Hadrian said this slowly. “Uh… don’t think she likes horses… educated in baking, I guess, and…She’s blind.”

Penril's eyes stopped moving on his page.

Aha. Very interesting...

“Everything?”

The prince shut his book and looked at his high commander with a quirked brow. "She's blind. I see." Pen tapped his lower lip thoughtfully and frowned for a bit. "Well....I suppose she's middle class. I guess you can just ask her if she wants to come with you to this dance...." He steepled his fingers together. Why, that made him think. He had never dealt with blind girls before.

"But she will ask what kind of dance it is, or if she even dances at all...." this was more to himself now.

"But she will ask what kind of dance it is, or if she even dances at all...."

Insert gloom. Insert floating balls of fire that seem to appear in every single anime you have EVER seen in your entire life. Picture those little manga lines that go down a person's head when they are down.

...

Pictured yet?

...

Good, because that's exactly what was happening to Hadrian. That AND he was practically emoting in a corner of the garden, or HE WISHED AS THE CORNER. Rather, he was just crouched and thudding his head rhythmically on the wall.

Bang. "Angst." Bang. "Angst." Bang. "Angst."

...

...

"... you are not helping, Sire."