Sorrow {Odette}

[Tybalt Lyon]

It was around midday. What had started out as an absolutely beautiful day had turned to shit. The morning had been glorious. The sun had been shining brightly, and there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky. However, near noon, the blue abyss had started to darken. Grey clouds seemed to form out of nowhere, making the atmosphere look gloomy, giving the world a dreary feel. A storm was on the way, wind whipping through the streets, and most of the people who had been outside were now tucked away indoors. A few strays still wandered the streets, trying to do some last minute shopping before the clouds broke and released the buckets of rain they were surely holding.

Near the coast the weather was the worse. The ocean was unsteady, the tide slowly coming in, the dark water slapping against the rocks furiously. A few ships were being hurriedly moved into the harbor, people trying desperately to get them out of the dangerous waters before the storm hit and destroyed them, or worse, washed them out to sea never to be seen again. A few men raced across the street, ducking inside the old tavern that rested near the coast. It was a shabby building, boards falling off in places on the roof, the sign on the front crooked, but it was sturdy. It withstood the wind and rain better than most buildings.

A dark-haired man was sat inside that tavern, a mug of ale pressed to his lips. He tilted his head back, swallowing the liquid in the glass. As the men from outside barged in, laughing and shouting, celebrating their escape from the foul weather, he set the glass down to glare at them. Up until now he had been the only one in the tavern, and he had wished to keep it that way. Tybalt muttered something under his breath, slouching down in his seat. He did his best to ignore the loud men around him, trying to pretend that he was still the only one there. It was hard though, with their guffawing laughter.

He lifted the mug to his lips again, taking another swig of the ale. He gulped it down until there wasn’t a drop left and then slammed the mug down against the wooden table. “Get me another,” he mumbled, words slurred together. The tavern owner gave him a look, lifting an eyebrow, but obeyed and refilled his mug. He knew the dark-haired man well enough to know he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. After all, he was a frequent visitor, and the tavern owner didn’t want to lose one of his best customers. So, without question, he set refilled mug in front of the man and then walked off to help another customer.

Once more, Tybalt drank from the cold glass, letting the ale fill his mouth and slide down his throat. He kept saying that this would be the last sip, the last mug, but it never was. He’d be here for a good few hours at least, and then when the sun began to set, as the tavern started to get more crowded, he would stumble out into the streets, as drunk as ever, and then stagger back home. This was how the former knight spent most of his days, locked up inside the bar, drinking his sorrows away. It was a rather depressing lifestyle, and yet it was all he knew now. It was how he spent most of his days. He was rarely ever completely sober. The hangovers were worth it though. At least the throbbing of his head made him forget the bad thoughts, making it impossible to think.

[/blockquote]

[odette]

[/i] much trouble when she got home. She shouldn't be getting in trouble, but there wasn't much she could do about it. Okay, there was, but until everyone was happier with her she couldn't. Maybe at a later date, but not now. At least she wouldn't be beaten or put to chores or grounded - unlike the mass population of the land. That was a blessing, but it could very well be seen as a curse in some ways, since she had more work that she had to do. She would be scolded for running off to play when she had so much to do - but honestly she hadn't been outside in days. They couldn't keep her cooped up forever, like some animal!

After all, she was the Queen.

Okay, everyone called her Princess still, but whatever. She was the heir and sole ruler of the land since her parents were murdered not even a month ago. She knew she had to have been missed by now, but she couldn't risk getting back to the castle, There were too many that would love to kidnap the Queen to make some money - so she couldn't reveal her status. Besides, it wasn't like she was wearing clothing of her status. She was wearing a light pink gown with a white shift underneath it with a brown cloak around her shoulders. The hood was up - though that was a hard feat to continue with the wind blowing and the storm coming.

She had been by the coast, watching the waves - something she'd only done once before - and the storm started brewing. People started running around to secure boats, tarps, and other objects that they felt needed double checking. The cold slap of air on her face had brought the imminent danger to her attention, and she had beat a hasty retreat - only to find the clouds were faster. There was no way she'd make it to the castle before the storm hit - and she wasn't going to travel through such conditions if she could help it. She could get lost, sick, or hurt and no one would know it until it was much too late.

So, she ducked into a building. Why she chose such a run-down looking place she didn't know, but others had been going inside too so it couldn't be that bad, could it? No, the building wasn't bad, not at all. It was what lay inside the room that could potentially be dangerous - and a bother - to her. It was filled with men of all walks of life - fishermen, a soldier here and there, shop keepers. Very few women were within, and most of them were the serving women. She would have turned out to find a new place to shelter in the storm, but a second surge of people propelled her deeper within the building, amidst the laughter and loud voices that were holding conversations upon one another.

She still had her hood up, at least. Maybe not for long, with the way she had to press through the crowd to try to find a place to sit that wasn't overly crowded. Her noise wrinkled at the scent of fish, animal and human sweat, and other unpleasant smells that was prominent around these people. She kept her head down, though, and she didn't think too many people paid her any mind. Quickly, her blue eyes went up for a few moments to scan the area to find some place to sit. The only place that didn't seem to have too many people was the bar itself. Only one man seemed to be there, and he was ignoring his fellows. He'd probably ignore her too - that was fine by her.

She made her way to one of the stools and sat upon it carefully, knowing full well that her gown was visible to any who cared to look at the stranger long enough. There wasn't much she could do for it - her cloak wasn't long enough to cover her completely when sitting anyway. The barkeep came her way, but she shook her head. She didn't want to purchase anything from this place - especially not the alcohol.[/ul]

[Tybalt Lyon]

More and more people continued to pour into the tavern, flooding the once empty room and filling it with noise. Tybalt gritted his teeth in annoyance. What the hell was with all this all of a sudden? The sun was still high in the sky, and usually the tavern didn’t get this crowded until late at night, which was when he left. He muttered something under his breath and then let out a long loud sigh, hanging his head, shoulders visibly slouching forward. Great, just great. The day was ruined. And as if this wasn’t bad enough, some randomer got the crazy idea to sit down next to him. Lovely. His eyes narrowed angrily and he felt frustration rise within him. Couldn’t they have found another damn seat?

Very slowly, Tybalt turned his head to the side, glancing at the person from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t see much of their face, as they seemed to be wearing a cloak of some sort, their head hidden within a hood. He watched the figure suspiciously, all the while praying that they wouldn’t notice him, that they’d just pretend like he was invisible. So far it seemed like that is what the newcomer was doing, but the second they opened their mouth, if they opened their mouth, he would be out of there. He came to the bar to be alone, to get away from all the people. He visited this place every day, almost religiously. He didn’t like that his schedule was being messed up. He hadn’t even gotten that drunk yet. He sighed again, letting his head rest in his hands.

Tybalt sat like that for a while, slumping forward, head just lying in his hands as he covered his face, tried to block out all the loud noise in the background. He really wished those fools would just shut up… They were beginning to give him a headache. Reflexively his fingers tightened around the mug he was holding, gripping it forcefully, squeezing angrily. Without him really realizing it, the glass started to crack. There was a loud splitting sound, and the ceramic material shattered, crumbling in his steel grasp. He didn’t realize what he had done until he felt a sharp pain in the palm of his hand. What the –? He dropped his gaze, lowering it down to the table, and his eyes widened. Damn. He lifted his hand to his face, seeming a little startled to see the blood that had started to seep from his palm, where the glass had embedded itself. He flexed his fingers and flinched. With a quiet growl, the man cursed silently under his breath. This pissed him off even more.

Tybalt sulked over this for a while. He just stared down at his hand, watching as the blood began to spread, oozing out all over the place. How annoying... What else could go wrong? He asked himself this bitterly, tightly balling his injured hand into a fist. Then, he turned his gaze to the person next to him, feeling the need to take out his rage on someone. “Hey, are you going to get something to drink? If not, I suggest you find elsewhere to spend your time,” he muttered under his breath, not really caring what they thought about him. He was rude to everyone, saying whatever was on his mind, no matter how cutting it may be.

[/blockquote]

[odette]

[/i]

Her immediate reaction was to bite back at him - she was allowed to be where ever she wished! It was her country, after all. She bit back on that remark, as she often did. If she ever had any angry remarks that she wished to say, they generally went unsaid. He was angry, she'd seen that, but she knew it wasn't at her. She hadn't done anything - not to this man. However, his voice... it sounded familiar for some reason. Then again, that didn't matter. She could have heard him speak when she was out exploring the city and recalled the voice. She knew he hadn't been to an audience - she'd have remembered his face.

"There's a storm brewing, sir." Odette replied in a gentle tone. She wasn't looking for a fight. "I'd leave, but I won't reach home before it breaks. I'm just waiting until it dies down, then I'll be gone." Her voice was soft so that it didn't carry to the other patrons. One of them might recognize her voice, and she'd rather not deal with the gazes of awe and disgust - awe that she was the ruler and disgust because of the rumors of the daydream Queen would remind them just how much most of them wished her brother to take the throne. [/ul]

[Tybalt Lyon]

"There's a storm brewing, sir. I'd leave, but I won't reach home before it breaks. I'm just waiting until it dies down, then I'll be gone."

The girl’s words froze Tybalt in place. He felt his muscles tense reflexively, and he slowly turned his head in the girl’s direction. It wasn’t what she said that shocked him, but her voice. He knew that voice. He had heard it before, many times. But, it couldn’t belong to who he thought it did. That was just ridiculous. He felt stupid for even considering it. He snorted to himself in an attempt to keep in his laughter, almost unable to control himself. He must be drunker than he thought! He was hearing things now, voices in his head. His brain was playing tricks on him. It must be.

It was only when Tybalt had dismissed the preposterous idea that this girl was, in fact, the princess, that he was able to concentrate on what she had said. Something about a storm. “Is that so?” he muttered, voice uncaring. So that must be where all the people had come from, why they had all seemed to appear out of nowhere. A few clouds gathered on the horizon and they freaked out, diving into the first place they saw, which had just happened to be the tavern. Just his luck. He let out a heavy breath, an irritated sound. Why couldn’t they have chosen some other damn place to throw their little party?

The former knight finally relaxed his fist, slowly loosening his fingers. That’s when he began to feel the pain. It seemed that by getting so angry, by clenching his hand so tightly, he had only made the wound worse. He stared down at his hand with a disgusted expression, mouth curving down in a frown. He could see from the corner of his eye that the tavern owner was giving him a look, a warning not to stir up any trouble. He rolled his eyes at this, glancing back down at his hand, at the shard of glass that was embedded in his skin. It was decent sized. He reached down with his other hand, pinching the piece of protruding glass between his fingers and attempted to pull it out. He flinched at the sudden pain and quickly closed his fingers again, though this time he made sure not to make his fist so fight.

As Tybalt sat there, his thoughts drifted back to the girl next to him. He felt his suspicions nagging at him again and he mentally tried to shoo the thoughts away. He was drunk. It was normal to hallucinate, right? Still, the feeling wouldn’t go away, and it eventually got to the point and he couldn’t take it anymore. Frustrated, he whipped his head in the direction of the person next to him, eyes narrowing. Why the hell did this bother him so much? Whatever, he knew how to solve it. “What’s with the hood?” he suddenly asked, voice demanding. The comment came seemingly out of nowhere. “It’s not raining inside, is it?” He had turned in his seat to face the girl next to him now. Her face was still completely hidden by the cloak.

[/blockquote]

[odette]

[/i] The words sounded rhetorical, so she didn't bother attempting to answer. Instead, she let her head dip into a graceful nod - probably made to look not nearly as graceful by the large hood. Hopefully the storm would break soon - this man didn't seem to be the best of company. She wanted to get home and sit down and read before her fire - that was always the best to do on rainy days. Then again, she'd probably get yelled at by her advisers and then they'd have Council or she'd have countless documents to go through and sign, or some other menial task that went with running a country. She wondered which was worse - what awaited at home or this tavern.

The male moved, drawing her out of her thoughts. He was opening his hand once more. When he tried to pull the shard out, he flinched away and his hand closed once more. She noticed that he didn't ball it up into a fist as much as before, which was probably a good thing. Too deep and he'd need to go see a healer, and they were getting pretty expensive these days. Not that she could complain, since she could get the best - but that wasn't to be said for the rest of the world. Many couldn't afford a healer for even life threatening wounds, much less minor wounds like the one he had in his hand. "Would you like some help?" She offered after a moment. Not that she wanted to get blood on her hands, but she didn't want to watch him suffer with a shard of glass in his hand. Blood could always be wiped away, right?

"What's with the hood?" The man demanded of her, turning to her quickly once more, no longer distracted by the glass. "It's not raining inside, is it?" He was facing her fully, and her eyes widened behind the shadow of the hood. What was this man on about? "I..." What was a good excuse for the cloak, anyway? It was warm in the tavern, so she couldn't say she was cold. There really wasn't a viable reason for her to be wearing the heavy cloak in the room - except to hide her features. But, to admit that would completely ruin the disguise. To tell someone about it pretty much defeated the point, right? Her hands unconsciously pulled the cloth of the cloak tighter around her body, holding it against her - not that it did much for the hood.

She wondered why the man was so annoyed with her. Sure, she could tell he'd been drinking, but she hadn't done anything. She'd merely sat down. Now she was ruing her decision to have picked this spot - surely there was a better location for her to have sat. He didn't seem as angry as he had before, when she hadn't been drinking anything, but that could change. Odette was quite aware of the dagger at her her hip, and the sword at his own. Her weapon would be completely useless against his - if he knew how to use it that is. Well, she'd better not anger him - it would be best not to test that theory.

"I don't plan to be inside long. I didn't think that wearing my hood up would be a problem." Odette replied, her tone guarded. She really didn't want to make a scene. The storm had to break soon; when it did she could go. If it didn't, she'd find herself much wetter than she had intended.[/ul]

[Tybalt Lyon]

“Would you like some help?”

Tybalt just snorted at what the girl said, quickly moving his hand under the table. He suddenly felt vaguely self-conscious. Had she been watching him? “I don’t need your help,” he told her rather sharply, “I’m fine.” It was just a cut. It wasn’t like he was going to die or anything. He’d had much worse than that tiny little wound before, and he felt like a child for allowing the pain to get to him. He didn't need to help of some peasant girl!

“I... I don't plan to be inside long. I didn't think that wearing my hood up would be a problem.”

She was lying. It wasn’t hard to tell. She hesitated before answering, obviously trying to think up some excuse. This annoyed Tybalt even further and he slowly raised an eyebrow at her. She hadn’t even looked this way once, and he hadn’t missed the way she’d pulled the cloak tighter around her when she’d asked the question. She was definitely hiding something, he could see that much. His suspicions from earlier returned as he thought this. He still felt like an idiot for thinking them, for considering such a stupid thing, but he couldn’t just ignore them this time. He was like a cat, and until he knew the answer for sure his curiosity was going to get the best of him.


“I don’t think it’ll be letting up anytime soon,” Tybalt told the girl, leaning forward slightly, as if trying to peer around her hood and see her face. He sat at the edge of his chair, grey eyes narrowed thoughtfully. It was evident she wasn’t going to remove that hood of hers by her own will, so he might as well help her out. In a swift movement, he reached out a hand, the one that wasn’t injured, and grabbed the top of the cloak, yanking the hood back hard.

This wasn’t unusual behavior or the former knight. He was always rude. Not that it mattered to him. He would happily cause trouble for others. Because, after all, he hated seeing people smiling, seeing people happy. It was sickening. He was miserable, so all the rest of them should be miserable too. Then he wouldn’t have to suffer alone, would he? It was a little twisted, but that thought gave him comfort, and it was probably part of the reason why he acted the way he did, so rudely, not having any regard for the feelings of others. Maybe that was part of the reason for his foul mood. Everyone in this tavern just seemed too freaking happy. It was beyond annoying, and he wasn’t sure how much more of it he would be able to take before he stormed out. He didn’t give a crap if it was raining. Rain was better than dealing with these fools. Especially the one sitting next to him.

The hood was gone now, revealing the long blonde hair that the girl had been hiding under the cloak. Tybalt stared for a moment. That hair… He blinked a few times, a puzzled and shocked look coming over his face.

[/blockquote]

[odette]

[/i] The man snapped. Fine, whatever made him happy. She wasn't going to push him - he probably wouldn't take it well. Besides, she was happy not to have to touch blood - not that she'd admit that to him. She'd offered, and she wouldn't have squirmed out because of something like that. In any case, it didn't matter, because now the man was needling her about her hood. It wasn't like she was hurting anyone with the hood, so why couldn't he leave well enough alone?

"I don't think it'll be letting up anytime soon." He told her, leaning forward to try to see around her hood. She tilted her head away slightly, blocking his view. But, in doing so, she didn't see him move. He was faster than she had expected, anyway. Her hood was yanked back by the male, and her eyes widened. He released it just as fast as he had grabbed it. Odette gasped as she felt her hair tug upwards with the violent movement, and she knew her blonde hair was just everywhere. What did he just do?! But she knew, in the part of her brain that was actually keeping up with the events. He'd tugged down the hood that was hiding her identity, damn the man.

She saw him staring at her, a look of shock and puzlement on his face. What was he to be puzzled about? Shock was easy: not many had the long, blonde hair she had. They didn't have the time to care for it or the patience to work around it, so generally it would be chopped off. Not the case with her; she reveled in her long hair. Her wide, blue eyes met his black ones, startled and shocked. She hadn't expected him to do such a thing. Okay, maybe she should have, in all honesty. After all, this was the man who was angry at her over not drinking, of all things. Then, her the rest of her brain caught up with her, and she scambled to lift the hood over her face.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty.

She overbalanced, and the stool tipped backwards, taking her with it. Odette emitted one startled squeak as she fell backwards, taking the stool she was perched on - as well as the one behind her - to the floor with her. She landed in a heap of wood, dirt, and cloth on the floor. Odette shook her head - still uncovered (though that ranked low on her things to worry about at this moment) - and glared up at the man who had tugged off her hood. If it weren't for his actions, she would not be on the floor right now. Odette levered herself up onto her elbows, glaring up at the man.

"Do you see what you've done? Why did you do that?!" Odette demanded, flustered. Okay, maybe she couldn't really blame him for her falling. She'd done that to her own self. But still, she couldn't help being a little angry at the man. He should have left her alone!

She hadn't realized the tavern had gotten quiet between the time her hood had fallen to the time she'd landed on the floor. Odette was too busy worried about having been hurt, and then was more concerned with glaring up at the man, to even pause to think about the continued silence in the large, overfilled room. After all, it had been so loud she couldn't hear herself think not a few moments ago. Her words - which would have been conversation level just moments ago, were now a shout, and she blushed slightly as she realized just how loud she had been.[/ul]

[Tybalt Lyon]

If the girl had not been the princess of Astale, Tybalt would have laughed his ass off. However, the girl was indeed the princess, and he couldn’t bring himself to laugh, not even a little. All he could do was stare down at her with an open mouth, gawking. Was this real? Was he hallucinating? He really hadn’t thought he’d gotten that drunk, not yet anyway. Maybe he had drank more than he’d thought? He gave the girl on the floor a baffled look, eyes wide and shocked. There was no mistaking it. That girl was the princess. He knew that. The blond hair, the voice, and now the face. Yes, he knew that face. He hadn’t seen it in years now, and it was older and more mature, but it was definitely the face of the princess.

“Do you see what you've done? Why did you do that?!”

The blonde shouted at him from her position on the ground, glaring up at him angrily. Tybalt opened his mouth to snap back at he. He was about to say something like ‘it’s your own damn fault!’ but then he thought better of it and stopped, reminding himself who this was. If she was the princess, which he was quite certain she was, saying something like that would be terribly rude, and he found he couldn’t bring himself to insult her. Then again, he was sure that he already had. He’d been anything but polite to her, treating her like any other peasant, even being as disrespectful as ripping the cloak from her head. He bit his lip. Well… shit. “I…” Tybalt started to speak, but he found that he was speechless. For once, no rude remark left the man’s mouth.

As he looked up and around the tavern, he realized that more than just one person was staring. A few of the men had set down their drinks to look over their shoulders. He doubted they’d stare like that if it had been just any ordinary person lying on the ground. Did they know who she was too? Some of them must. “Nothing to see here,” Tybalt growled, waving his hands, trying to shoo the people away, or at least divert their hawk-like gazes. His voice was threatening, just daring them to keep staring. He bent down, kneeling next to the girl, and yanked the hood swiftly back over her head. Then he grabbed her arm and hastily pulled her to her feet again. It wasn’t the most delicate way to handle a young woman, but then again, Tybalt wasn’t the most gentle of people, having next to no experience with females.

Depending on what happened next, how the crowd reacted, would decide what action he took. He stood there with the girl, stepping in front of her, blocking her from view, as if shielding her. While most people, if they realized just who this girl was, would probably be harmless, he knew very well that there were others who wouldn’t. There were some citizens who wanted the princess dead, and wouldn’t hesitate to put a knife to her throat.

[/blockquote]

[odette]

[/i] anything to them! She was making the best of her situation, especially when neither she nor her brother had any idea at how to be a monarch.

Odette found herself wishing she could take her words back as the man opened his mouth to respond. They had been said in haste - something that generally was frowned upon in the higher circles, especially when it was by a higher ranking figure. Then again, it made for good gossip to giggle over later - though they would never admit such a thing to her face. But, instead of an angry retort like she had expected, the man merely said, "I..." His words trailed off, as if he didn't know what to say. The man who had been so brazen with his words not a few moments ago was now speechless. She didn't blame him - there were many terrible things she could have done for him because of his behavior. Not that she was the sort of person to do such a thing.

When his eyes moved from her person to the rest of the tavern, she peered over her shoulder to see why it had gotten quiet. Most of the people in the room were looking at the two of them. Okay, to be honest, most of those people were looking at her with mixed expressions, ranging from smiles to outright looks of hostility. She honestly hoped they would stay over there and leave her alone. She was a long way from the castle and her guards - and there weren't that many soldiers in the room, if their clothes were any indication. They were duty bound to defend her, but she was quite sure that many of these men in the room were their fellows, and she wondered if they'd raise a hand against them if they disliked her. Most likely not.

The man by her spoke while she was gazing at the crowd, schooling her face into a passive state to try to keep the growing dread within her from showing on her face. Even if all of them were well-wishers, they'd want to ask her about this, or if she could do that, or please would she just spare a moment? She had enough of that at the castle during the audiences, and that was when she had her guards to defend her from the fools who believed that they could assassinate her before they were stopped. Here she had no such luxury - and with alcohol in their systems they would be much more volatile than when they were sober. That might help her in a way - if they were drunk they'd have problems moving and swinging weapons, right? Not that she'd know - she generally didn't go into taverns or other places that drunken men would be in.

A rough hand tugged her to her feet after yanking the hood back over her head. The suddenness of it all startled her, and any who could see her face would have seen the shock she felt as the man helped her to her feet - in one of the ungentlest ways possible. As she was getting her bearings after suddenly being yanked off the floor, she saw the man move between her and the crowd. Odette let her hands go up to the hood, pulling it down a bit more to better shadow her face, though she wondered what good it would do. She could hear the whispers from where she stood. "That was her..." "It's the Princess!" and a scornful "What's she doing here?"

Three people, just in her line of sight, rose to their feet at once after conferring together. They didn't look to be the best of company - and they had weapons amongst them, and from the way they held themselves they probably knew how to use them. "My lady," The middle one - the leader of the three it seemed - said in a cool, almost mocking tone. "Allow my men and I to escort you out. I'm sure that there are better places for a woman of your stature to be than a place like this." His tone was next to insulting, insinuating that she had no right to be anywhere - especially here. Odette glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else besides the man before her would do anything to even attempt to stop them. She wasn't even sure if the man would do anything - he might just step aside![/ul]

[Tybalt Lyon]

Great, just great. Tybalt could already hear the people starting to whisper about her. She was covered up now, but the damage was done. It was too late and they had already seen her. He cursed silently. Why’d she have to go and fall off her damn chair? Why? He felt his shoulders slump slightly as he asked himself this. That was partly his fault, wasn’t it? If he hadn’t gone and yanked her hood so disrespectfully from her head everything would be fine now and this girl would have gone unnoticed. Stupid. Stupid fool. He should have just not said anything to her. He clenched his hands into a fist, before remembering the embedded glass. He loosened his hands again, closing his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Just because people had seen her didn’t mean it was the end of the world, he reminded himself.

In fact, maybe it was a good thing that he had discovered her. If he hadn’t, she’d be wandering around the village alone for the rest of the day, which was hardly safe at all, especially during times like this. A few people worshipped her like a god, but majority of the population either hated her or simply wished that it had been her brother that was chosen to rule – not her. For one reason or another, they found her unfitting to be in charge of the country. Why? Because she was a girl? Because unlike the rest of them she wished for peace and not childish war games?

"My lady. Allow my men and I to escort you out. I'm sure that there are better places for a woman of your stature to be than a place like this."

A man’s voice brought Tybalt out of his thoughts and he lifted his head to see a group of three men approaching them. His eyes narrowed as he quickly analyzed them. They didn’t look like good news, no, not at all. He recognized their type almost immediately, and he didn’t miss the insulting tone of voice the man had used. These were most likely some of the princess’s haters, the ones who thought passing the crown down to her had been a mistake. “You’ll do no such thing,” Tybalt snapped, turning his cold gaze on the man in the front, the leader. His eyes were dark and threatening, as if daring the man to try anything. They had weapons, he could tell that much, but in the dim light of the tavern it was hard to tell what types. He would rather avoid a fight, though he wasn’t sure if that was possible. It mostly depended on how the group of men before him reacted.

Tybalt took a step toward the men, putting himself in between them and the blonde. He didn’t say a word, but his stance spoke for him. He would protect her. He couldn’t exactly explain why he was doing this, it just seemed to come as a natural reaction. Maybe it was because he used to serve the king and queen as a knight, and he was reacting on reflex, he couldn’t possibly let any harm come to their daughter. That and… even if he acted heartless, he wasn’t, and he couldn’t just stand by and watch as a young girl was harassed.

[/blockquote]

[odette]

[/i] The black haired male before her snapped at the man, stepping forward between them and her. She nearly sagged with relief, but she remembered the prying eyes on her and kept her knees locked and her back straight. Odette did, however, take a step back - that was all the room she had before her back touched the wooden surface of the bar. She hoped the barkeep wasn't a threat - he'd have the best access to her. Her head turned slightly to see where he was, and found him at the other end of the bar, watching the proceedings. At least he wasn't putting a knife to her throat - that was a blessing in and of itself. Her eyes returned to the men before her in time to catch the leader sneer at the man who was defending her.

"And who are you? Her knight? As if." The man replied scornfully, and his friends broke into malicious laughter. Odette let one of her hands go to the dagger that was at her hip - it was almost as long as her forearm and was sharp enough to cut to the bone. She had enough skill with it - not that it would do her any good against the three there. The other hand held her cloak closed, held tightly from the inside at her throat. Anyone looking at her couldn't tell she had a weapon on her, nor that she was holding it. The leader turned once more to her. "My lady, let's depart, shall we?" He said, a disturbing twinkle in his eye.

Did he think her a fool, like the rest? Daydream Queen or not, she wasn't stupid. She knew a threat when she saw one. "No, thank you." Odette replied in a firm tone, her voice carrying easily across the room in the pseudo-silence; there were still a few whisperers. Odette wondered what would happen if the men moved to violence. Would any others come forward to defend her, or would they just watch as if it were a play for their entertainment? Or, even worse, would they help the men? Odette knew she wasn't the most well-liked candidate, but she was the best one, whether the people knew it or not. Her brother would lead them to war and ruin. She could, once she learned the ropes and could manage on her own, lead them on a safer, more prosporous route. But that was only if they would let her.

"You really should rethink your answer, my lady." The man told her in a dangerous tone, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of some sort of blade - either a dagger or a sword by the looks of it, but she couldn't tell. The men around him did the same upon their various weapons - none of them were an axe or battle hammer, but very few could use such weapons - but they looked to be at least decently crafted swords or daggers. Even at the threat, Odette stood firm. It was probably foolish - but if she showed weakness before this mass of people, it would be even worse for her. "I believe I told you 'no'." Odette told him, enunciating clearly. "He," She gestured with an arm - releasing the dagger momentarily - at the male defending her. "is enough of an escort." She told him, her chin raising in defiance.

"As you wish, my lady." The leader said once more, as he turned to glance at his two colleagues. Then, at a signal unseen by her, they rushed the man protecting her.[/ul]

[Tybalt Lyon]

“And who are you? Her knight? As if. My lady, let's depart, shall we?”

Tybalt stared at the man in disbelief, his expression incredulous. That… that bastard! “You…” He gritted his teeth together, fighting not to punch the man in the face. That is what he wanted to do. Oh, the joy it would bring him to slam his hand right into his nose, to smash it right up into that thick skull of his… He managed to control himself though, just barely. If he did that he would be starting a fight, and that wasn’t a smart thing to do, not now. He would have if the king’s daughter hadn’t been standing here with him, if he had been alone. Those men were lucky there was a girl in their presence, otherwise he would have wasted no time with them. The only reason he didn’t attack was because he didn’t want to chance the girl getting injured somehow. If he held his tongue, they might still be able to walk away from this mess unharmed.

“You really should rethink your answer, my lady.”

Tybalt saw the way the man’s hand moved to his weapon as he spoke. It looked like a sword, or perhaps a dagger. He watched him carefully, eyes never leaving him. The princess told him no, of course. What did he think she was going to say? ‘Yes of course, kind sir! I would be honored if you’d escort me into a dark alley to stab me to death.’ Yeah. As if. It would take a pretty stupid person to do that, and he had faith that the princess was wiser than that, even if these men did not. Then again, there was always just the chance he was just being an ass and giving her a hard time. Maybe he didn’t mean any harm at all. Maybe he was just a little drunk and he wasn’t watching what he was saying. Then again, judging by the way his fingers were resting on the handle of his blade, Tybalt kind of doubted that. If he was juts messing around there would be no reason to use the sword, would there? No. That meant he was probably quite serious, that he probably had something much darker in mind.

Tybalt was about to suggest leaving. As much as he wanted to beat up these scumbags, something told him that the better of the two options would be to get out of there. He was about to suggest this to the blonde behind him, but one of the men in the group spoke first, the same one as before.

“As you wish, my lady.”

He made a small gesture with his hand as he spoke, and with those five words suddenly the three men were running at him. Tybalt barely had enough time to draw his sword. He whipped it out of its sheath, steel grinding loudly against the case. He thrust it in front of him just in time to block the first attack. Had he not seen the signal the leader have given the men to attack, the blade would probably have gone right through his chest. Fortunately for him, he had seen it, and he had been able to unsheathe his sword in time. Steel clashed with steel, and a loud metallic sound rang out through the tavern room. There were a few startled gasps from the crowd, but otherwise the people remained silent, too shocked at what was going on to react.

With a grunt of effort, Tybalt pushed his blade back against the man’s, shoving him back a few steps, sending him stumbling into the crowd. A pained gasp left his lips as he did so, and his grasp involuntarily loosened, causing his sword to fall from his hand. It hit the ground with a loud clatter, and his arm fell limply to the side. Damn it! He should have used his left arm to block the attack. Using his right one had been a foolish thing to do. He hadn’t had time to think though. Everything had happened so fast.

The other two men were nearly at Tybalt’s throat now. He managed to knock one of them off his feet by thrashing out with his leg, boot coming in contact with the smaller man’s shin. The other made a dive at him and Tybalt aimed a punch at his face, catching him in the jaw. The blow was followed by a surprised shout. What? Had they expected to kill him so easily? He may have been partially crippled, but he could still fight. He’d been training his whole life. He’d been a knight in the royal army. If they thought they could beat him, they were gravely mistaken.

The man Tybalt had hit quickly retaliated, swinging his fist right back at the ex-knight’s face. Tybalt was able to dodge the first blow, but as he lifted his head again, a fist caught him right in the eye. That was going to bruise. He reacted by thrusting out with his knee, catching the man in the groin. He followed this move by a swift elbow to the face. One down, two to go. Yeah, it was fighting dirty, but did he look like one to care? He made a move to reach for the sword, which was still resting on the ground, but just before his fingers could grasp it, the leader stepped back in, pushing past his two assistants, and kicked the sword just out of his grasp. A cold smirk lit his face and he raised his own sword above Tybalt’s head.

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[odette]

[/b] Odette glanced up at the room of people, looking past her enemy. "Is no one faithful to their Princess?" Her voice was not nearly as loud as it was before, and it was filled with the pain of the wound. [/ul]

[Tybalt Lyon]

Tybalt let out a grunt as something rammed into his side, sending him stumbling a few steps. The movement was just enough to knock him out of the way of the sword. He landed on the floor with a loud thud, unable to move, too shocked to react. What…had just happened? He looked up just in time to see the princess fall to the ground in front of him, blood flowing freely from her shoulder. It didn’t take him long to work out what had happened, and when he did, he felt his blood began to boil.

That IDIOT! What the hell was she thinking?! She sacrificed herself to save him? Him! Some worthless man! The country didn’t need him. He was nothing more than a drunk, spending all his time at the bar. If he were to die the world wouldn’t give a crap. If the girl, if the princess were to die, that would make three royal members to have been killed in the last few months. The point was; she was the princess, he was a nobody. Stupid stupid girl. She should not give her life so easily! Did she not realize how valuable she was? Besides, he didn’t need some girl to save him! He was perfectly capable on his own. To be saved by a girl was embarrassing, because, that’s what had just happened, wasn’t it? Damn her and making him look bad. He was supposed to be saving her, not the other way around.

Despite his anger and embarrassment, Tybalt managed to reach out and grab his sword again. He used his left arm, as his right one had been rendered useless for the moment. It hurt a lot, but that didn’t matter right now. Besides, the princess was probably in a lot more pain than she was. He’d be fine if he rested his arm. She would need medical assistance for a wound of that severity though, judging by the amount of blood that was spilling on to the floor around her.

“This…This is an outrage!” Tybalt shouted at the group of men, at anyone who was listening. His face was flushed red from anger. He staggered to his feet swinging his sword around dangerously. If anyone had been standing nearby him they probably would have gotten a limb hacked off. “When the royal guard hears of this you will all be put under arrest!” He thrust the sword to the group of three men, memorizing each one of their faces. If they thought that this wouldn’t be reported they were crazier than he had thought. He glared at the three of them, expression contorted in outrage, features almost animalistic. He gave one of them a last shove, sending him flying to the ground hard, and then turned around and ran for the door before the fight could progress any farther. “And the rest of you,” he called over his shoulder. “You all disgust me. Just standing there as your princess was assaulted! Cowards!” On his way to the door, he slammed his sword back in its sheath and then stooped low, grabbing the blonde around her waist and throwing her over his shoulder. With that, he burst through the tavern doors, letting them swing shut behind him as he ran outside into the rain, which must have started to come down some time during the brawl.

“Why did you do that?” he demanded, sounding out of breath. He didn’t stop running until they were a good distance from the bar. Yes, they were soaking wet, but at least they were alive. He would rather be cold and wet than dead. Then again, he wasn’t sure how badly the princess had been injured. He didn’t think that the sword had struck anything vital, but there was always blood loss… For god’s sake! Why the hell did he have to get involved in all this?! It was supposed to be a peaceful day, just him and the ale, and now here he was running through the rain with a bleeding girl slung over his shoulder. And to make it all the more interesting, she wasn’t just any ordinary girl. She was the princess of Astale. What a day.

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