The next couple days went by in a flurry of excitement and disbelief. Eirian was full of adrenaline the entire time. Anxious, but unbelievably enthused. One moment she was watching Robert depart down the steps from her doorway, the next she was seated in front of a council, hands folded in her lap and back straight as she answered her questions with nothing less than the utmost respect and seriousness. Suddenly she was fighting the Princess, both to her surprise and even (she had to admit) a measure of eager delight. There was a moment, however, shortly after the duel, when she found her weapon—fortified by charms—sliced through like it were rope, where Eirian felt a twang of remorse. Holding the broken pieces of chain delicately in the palms of her hands Eirian reflected upon the day in question it had been given to her as a gift by her father…but then quickly forced the soft memory back down her throat. The Princess assured it would be repaired. This was no time for sentimentality, in any case.
She had been approved as the new guard for the Princess Alarice, and was beyond elated. As stoic a mask as she continued to keep, there was a brand new light in her eyes as the young royal invited the blonde to join her for tea. As it were, Eirian wanted nothing more than to run home, rip off her corset, and gush to her mother about what had happened so she could reserve only her most composed form for her new coworkers and …she supposed, charge. It was an odd word to think. Even underneath the heavy cumbersome fabric that was foreign to her body, she could feel the butterflies fluttering in their giddy stupor. Regardless, she politely accepted the invitation to stay the night before returning home, as well as the invitation to join the other young woman for tea. How could she refuse?
It was a difficult thing to have her expectations so utterly smashed to the floor within the first hour of your dream job. Eirian wanted to strangle herself for even thinking of making such quick judgments…but it was hard not to be particularly put off of her tea when her new immediate, dark-haired superior insisted on flaunting his evident right to impropriety with the young royal. Of course, royal or not, watching anyone act the way that Herbert Dubhan was…well, it made her severely uncomfortable. She hoped, for the sake of their coexistence, she could acclimate herself as well as the Princess assured Robert had.
Robert. It was odd…watching him get as fired up as he had. She couldn’t exactly say that she disagreed with his concerns…but the Princess’ (frustrated) responses held just as much merit. If not more, Eirian found herself conceding. She was used to his strict guidance at the Academy. The blonde had to assume that it was witnessing Robert get reprimanded that startled her. It was not a sight she was quite accustomed to. One moment, she was being almost helplessly smothered by—possibly unintentional—compliments from her mentor…and the next she was watching as he got chastised like a belligerent student while she sat in her chair, doing her best to subdue the ever-increasing levels of discomfort that threatened, at this point, to actually show more wholly.
The chaotic tea party had ended quite as abruptly as it had begun. For a moment, Eirian was left alone with Robert. They shared assurances of their beliefs that the position would run smoother with time, but before long Robert had to return to the Princess, and Eirian was left with nothing to do but return home and pack. Pack, and enjoy her last evening for the next few weeks of being able to breathe normally. Of being able to talk without extending a concentrated effort to do so. But Eirian could sacrifice comfort more than easily in favor of being the Princess’ guard and companion.
It was harder to deal with her mother’s hysteric tears when Eirian announced she would be moving into the palace. They were sobs of pride just as much as sobs of despair at the idea of her daughter moving out their home for who-knew-how-long, and it took Eirian much longer to pack than it probably would have, what with Guinevere Lindval clinging to her incessantly and showering her with as many kisses as tears. Confused Turner mimicked his mother, having no idea what everyone was so upset about but assuming it must have been something awful. Eirian had to practically drag herself back-and-forth about the house, weighted by bodies and flushed to exhaustion.
As tedious as it felt, the blonde knew when the next morning came that the memory could never be filed as an unpleasant one. She supposed, in fact, that she’d rather miss it. Well, Eirian knew she’d miss her family. But she bit her lip and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to shed a tear. The dress would come back on, and the corset, and she’d be a guard. For real. There was no room for weaknesses anymore.
I am a young woman now. Not a girl. Not a cadet. There were things she had to sacrifice. The first, and hardest, would be being a daughter. Eirian knew, of course, that her family would always be there…but they were now a luxury. Not the steadfast home she could count on to return to night after night.
And Eirian knew she was ready. She was so ready that she could feel her heart pouring into her fingertips when she flexed her hands. Of course, the blonde could concede that could have simply been a lack of circulation.
***
The next day found Eirian smack in the middle of a military review. Although she had never been on the side of the line that sported the Princess, somewhat awkwardly astride a horse (fairly embarrassed that Robert had had to help her up thanks to the still unfamiliar way in which the skirts inhibited her movement), it was an event that Eirian felt thankful she at least had decent knowledge of. What kind of guard would she be if she had never been present in the lineup of a military review? Of course, she had never been of a rank important enough to brag about. Just a notable cadet standing her place, as ordered.
The ordeal in general went over without trouble. It was longer than the young woman expected, due to the Princess’ decision to dismount and greet far more than her fair share of soldiers—but it was an action that caused Eirian’s heart to swell in admiration. Alarice was going to make a splendid queen, and it would be an honor to guard her.
It felt like there was more to take in after Robert was wrapping his hands around her tiny waist and assisting her in dismounting from her horse (Eirian felt a bit flush for an instant where their bodies touched) and she was back on her two feet than before. Now there were names and faces to remember. The young Francois Morreau and his bodyguard, who lurked behind them like a sullen tower as the guards kept a close eye on the purple-haired gentleman walking arm-in-arm with the Princess. The handsome lieutenant Chand who greeted the Princess at the door of the stables that had become their destination.
And then, most of all was the Elephant Protocol. Or rather, the question of whether or not it existed. Eirian hadn’t learned much about elephants in the form of a steed. And the one that the Princess petted fondly certainly seemed harmless enough. Eirian watched silent but troubled as Robert and Herbert argued over the correct form of action—and the Princess simply took charge for herself and mounted the large animal. She wondered if she should say something, but when Herbert actually noticed, he just laughed. With a joking nudge into Eirian’s side, he winked.
“First rule of guarding: pay attention to your charge.”
She could practically feel Robert’s blood boiling, but just nodded serenely.
The three (or four, rather, but Eirian found it was hard to really count Edouard, he was so unnervingly quiet) followed the couple on the elephant as they rode slowly about the grounds—thankfully not straying far. But Alarice seemed to be having fun, and that was what mattered, right? She certainly wasn’t in much danger. Every time she threatened to slip, her male companion gently helped her back into position on the elephant.
Suddenly, that was over as well. The sound of Orion’s guard approaching (Eirian was sure she’d grow accustomed to it quickly) sounded just in time for the two to dismount, and soon she found herself bowing in line with the rest of her party. Silent and observant as the exchange was made, Eirian tried to pick up as many subtlties as she could—but everything was so new to her in the palace such a task was more easily said than done, and before she could reflect on anything said the group was being escorted (it seemed odd to her that another was necessary given the amount of guards already available, but who was she to question the motives of the King) back to the palace.
And then she was left alone with the Princess. Eirian stood stock-straight, even after her commanding officers had left the room. Regardless of the casual way Alarice sat, Eirian didn’t even think or ask of sitting until it had been offered to her. Still, the blonde felt a tad awkward as she accepted the invitation, carefully sitting across from the regal brunette.
Eirian gave a polite nod. Friends. It wasn’t a word Eirian would have chosen, if she had been speaking. In her years at the Academy, she hadn’t found any use for friends, instead studying independently where she was able. She had no qualms working in a team, but outside of duty…such bonds had never really occurred to her to pursue. As the Licia School’s Hall Monitor, the notion of friends became even more troublesome. Eirian couldn’t afford to feel soft toward other students lest they turned out to be a troublemaker or idle gossip. However…it seemed wrong to voice such thoughts in response to the Princess’ serene wish. So, instead, the words she chose were more carefully picked—but not necessarily untruthful. After all, she did want to be able to work well with the individuals she’d be spending most of her time with from now on.
“That would be most agreeable.”
As the two headed toward the dining room, Eirian couldn’t help but relax, if a little, at the explanation that the men would not be joining them for their meal right away. She had nothing against them, certainly, and it was no less intimidating to be sitting alone with the Princess…but already, the blonde found herself appreciating the brief reprieve from Herbert Dubhan. Although, she couldn’t imagine anyone would need a reprieve from guarding the Princess Alarice, of all people—but didn’t have the opportunity to make that thought known.
“I think it might help to get to know each other better if we were to ask each other some questions about one another—by all means, you first.”
Eirian couldn’t help the flush that made its way to her cheeks. She hadn’t—couldn’t think of any questions. Wouldn’t that be inappropriate? Her asking silly questions of the Princess? And what was there for her to even find out? Eirian doubted she’d gain all that much from leaning the other girl’s favorite color…and then the unthinkable happened.
As if of its own mind, Eirian heard the words come out of her mouth.
“How long…did it take you to…get used to wearing dresses like these…”
Eirian wanted to kick herself. What kind of a question was that? Yes, she wanted to know, but most, if not all women at court seemed graceful in their gowns, drifting through the halls effortlessly, as if they didn’t even need their lungs. Surely, the Princess had had plenty of time to get used to. Eirian felt foolish. She knew she was going to get laughed at. What kind of silly, inexperienced girl asked about dresses?
“I was luckier than most…during my…childhood I was not required to dress as one must at court. But they started me on corset training quite young so…I’d say there was a year of discomfort around…14 or so and then it became much more natural.” A pause, then with a tiny laugh, “well…about as natural as one can be when one’s organs are compressed so.”
Honestly, Eirian was floored. She wasn’t really sure what sort of response she was expecting—after all, she had to admit that the Princess seemed far to courteous a character to flat out laugh…but she had actually answered it as if it were a perfectly normal question. In that moment while her brain whirled in circles attempting to catch up, Eirian found herself blurting, “but how can you manage to fight in them the way that you do?”
“They are quite cumbersome aren’t they? I suppose it’s because I started learning swordplay in a dress and here at court. I can only practice in approved attire. If I’m going to spend my life in gowns Herbert and I persuaded the King I should be allowed to continue learning to defend myself in them.”
Finally, Eirian felt herself able to return the smile that the Princess seemed to wear so easily. “I believe everyone should be given the right to defend oneself,” the blonde assured, firmly but agreeably. Guards or no, everyone could do well to know ways in which to protect themselves; one never knew when they may end up alone with an adversary. Eirian knew she may have been a minority opinion on this matter, particularly where nobles were involved, but it didn’t seem right to her to think that people of wealth could very well be helpless without their guards. If they needed guards, it only seemed reasonable that they’d want to be able to ensure their own safety without needing to rely on others.
“I quite agree,” the Princess started, “though…I must warn you that it’s not common knowledge outside of school and the King’s private council that I practice swordplay. …It’s not…hrm…considered very appropriate for a female royal.”
Eirian’s face took on a hard—but much less severe than before—mask once more as she readily complied, “I understand completely.”
The blonde cleared her throat as what threatened to be an awkward silence began to encroach upon their conversation—not being able to think of any further questions, Eirian was going to offer to answer anything that the Princess wished, when an enthusiastic whoop from the other side of the doors interrupted her train of thought.
Eirian turned just in time to witness the doors opening with a dramatic crash. In his hand, Herbert held a large (and fairly dusty looking) book. A huge grin was plastered across his face as he bellowed, “We found it!”
When both the girls seated at the table responded with nothing but a thoroughly perplexed countenance, the man elaborated: “Elephant protocol.”
Eirian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.