The Kept

The Confidant

Though Nerys could not forgive herself for no longer loathing Prince Gereon's company, the time she spent with Trygve returned a flicker of happiness to her burned out heart. He was always interested in hearing about her life before the palace. He laughed with her at Kalea's antics, debated the merits of training within the Esidiem versus training as a personal guard, and most importantly, listened to her speak of her family before Errol's sickness.

So natural was his friendship that, within a few short weeks, there was very little about Nerys that he did not know, though she could not say the same of him. He would tell her of places and things he had seen, or stories he had heard, but intimate details were rare.

"I'm not Ithaan," Trygve confided one morning. "I'm actually from Haolaetia. My family had a small vineyard in the country when I was a child. We wanted for nothing, but my father thought he could wager his way to something better. He was not good at calculating his odds. When the men he owed came to collect, he refused to give up our home. They dropped me down our well and burned the house down with my mother and sisters inside. I was very young, so most of what I know is based on whatever bits and pieces I could learn over the years, but I do remember being dropped; and the screams before everything got quiet. My father's body was never found. It's likely he was taken away and tortured after watching his family die. I'm only alive because I was sitting in the bucket when the villagers tried to put out the fire. I woke up between my mother and sisters' remains, and a priestess of Martyr whispering prayers over us.

No one was willing to take me in. They were afraid that by surviving I had inherited my father's enemies, so they abandoned me in the closest city, still wet from the well. I slept under a broken vegetable crate for a while. Didn't eat much until this old beggar named Theron found me fighting a group of older boys over some bread that had fallen off of a wagon. I was getting my ass kicked, and he just showed up and dragged me out from under a pile of feet and fists by my toes.

He said I was an idiot and would probably be dead within a week if I didn't learn to pick my fights better. Then he brought me home with him and fed me. I don't know why he kept me around, but he raised me better than my father would have. He taught me a little of everything: arithmetic, geography, history, strategy, the old languages- even how to set a table for royals, and dance like a lord. He used to say that any fool can learn to wield a sword, but it isn't worth a damn if your mind isn't as well-honed as your blade.

One day he told me to leave. No explanation or anything. He just gave me a sealed letter, with instructions to head to Ithaam and hand the letter to the first person in uniform that I found. I did as I was told, and they brought me to the palace and gave me work in the barracks. It turns out he was a captain of some renown in the palace guard. When his contract ended, he moved to Haolaetia and worked as a mercenary for a while. I don't know how he ended up begging, or what happened to him after I left, but I worked hard to live up to the reputation he left here."

Trygve was, justifiably, proud of his rise from barracks-boy to personal guard, and Nerys wasn't sure what to say. It was humbling and gratifying to know that he trusted her as much as she did him.

"I can not say I have had much joy in my life since losing my family..." Trygve paused.

Throughout his account, he had remained focused on the fireplace before them, but he now took her hand and looked into her eyes.
"But I am glad that everything since then has led me here."

The moment was disrupted by the sound of the door being unbolted, and Trygve rose from his seat beside Nerys just as Lerah barged into the chamber. She looked back and forth between Nerys and Trygve and smirked.

"You need to leave," she said to Trygve.

"Maid, I am not some kitchen hand washing dishes for scraps. I do not take orders from you."

Lerah balked. "I... I meant only that it is necessary for me to help the princess prepare for the day."

Knowing his humble past gave Nerys a greater appreciation for the respect that Trygve now commanded.

"Next time say what you mean plainly, and without insolence," Trygve said. He bowed to Nerys. "By your leave, your highness?"

Nerys waved him away with the practiced regal gesture that she had been forced to perfect. Lerah helped Nerys into a thin, but surprisingly heavy, emerald dress. Black gems cascaded from her shoulders to her breastbone, and she tugged at the low cut neckline in an attempt to gain a bit more coverage.

"That's how it's supposed to fit," Lerah said. "The prince specifically selected it for today."

"It is beautiful, but it would fit someone with your figure much better. I'm not nearly, uh, shapely enough for it," Nerys complained.

"I know," Lerah said with an expression like she smelled something awful. "But it's what he wants, so you'll have to deal with it, your highness."

She rushed out of the chamber slammed the door behind her. Nerys flopped down on the couch and continued to fuss at the neckline until Gereon entered, wearing a black vest adorned with emeralds over a deep green tunic of the same material as Nerys's dress.

"You look lovely," he said as she rose.

"Really? Lerah and I were of the mind that I am not the right shape for it," Nerys said. She tugged at the dress self-consciously.

"Lerah is a servant. Her opinions of you and your shape are of no consequence," he said. "She should not speak so freely with you."

"I don't have many other people to talk to besides my tutors, and you know they're no good for conversation."

"No, they're certainly not as friendly as your guard," Gereon said quietly.

"What?"

"Is that why you were found alone together when your maid came to dress you this morning?"

He seethed with such pure anger as he spoke that it seemed to draw the heat from the room. Nerys knew she was a terrible liar and had no doubt that Trygve's life depended on her response, so she told Gereon the truth.

"My guard reminded me of the friends I had in the Esidiem. I didn't think anyone else would be interested in the similarities between the footwork in Maestro Vayk's dances and Tiarmni swordplay."

Gereon said nothing for a long moment, then suddenly hugged her to him. Nerys drew in a sharp breath and stood rigidly- not returning the embrace. With the exception of their dance lessons, Nerys had managed to avoid most physical contact with Gereon since the day at the lake. Every touch; every accidental brush of their hands as they walked, or bump of their knees as they sat beside one another, triggered an electric jolt of simultaneous elation and self-loathing that made her want to scream, and hit something, and vomit all at the same time.

"You are probably right about that," he said. "But his duty is to protect you, not to replace your friends. Barring a direct threat to your life, your guard is never to enter this chamber again."

"Why keep a man you do not trust as my guard?" She asked, trying to resist the overwhelming desire to shove him away and cast herself, head first, from the highest point in the castle. Gereon finally took notice of her discomfort and let his arms slip from around her.

"I suppose it is no secret that I have no love for the arrogant bastard, but I do trust him— above all others."

"You have an odd way of showing it," Nerys said.

"Trygve defended my family at time when he had much more to gain by joining the side of a traitor. If it had been anyone else alone with you in your chamber, he would already be dead."

Nerys felt her shoulders relax from the relief that she would not see another friend killed for coming between her and the prince.

"Come now. We don't want to be too late to your first public appearance. The nobility can be somewhat petty about that sort of... well, everything."

"Wonderful," Nerys said with a sigh.

She pulled at the neckline of her dress again.

"The dress suits you perfectly," Gereon said. "Don't allow them to see that you believe anything less."