Thread: Lords and Ladies (LingeringDesire & Greeneyed23)

Relief rushed through the princess upon seeing the womans husband and childs father. Her smiled warmed tremendously. She didnt recognize him but waved him over just before Neebo pulled him into their troupe. A sidelong glance told her that Neebo felt her jealousy and it caused her to blush. The child almost didnt release her hand as she was lifted to the high shoulders of the knight. The action pulling her up close to his side. The warmth emanating off his body was comforting but she knew to appear too familiar would be unwise. It is forbade under the right of marriage is the only way it would be allowed but even then the choice is out of my hands Clasping her hands in front of her, she stepped to the side a bit so only her sleeve was brushing against his body. What she would have truly delighted in was wrapping her arm around his and allowing her to guide her more possessively toward the arena. Giving up a wistful sigh, she moved along listening to the little girl chattering upon his broad shoulders. Once Trala was on the ground, her hands slid into the princesses and the knights, as though binding them together. This posed a problem at the raised dais. Releasing the girls hand, she lifted her skirts and wrapped her shaking fingers around the offered ones of Neebo. Her heart nearly burst out of her chest at the innocent touch of their fingers. She gave them a squeeze and kept her eyes forward, smiling at both her father and the Archbishop. She moved to stand at her fathers side, unwanting to sit as of yet. After hed gone, she pressed the kissed hand to her breast but ceased the action when she saw Mathilde eyeing her. Fenice smiled down at her little companion, her hand running through the childs hair gently before resting upon her shoulder as the Archbishop stepped forward and gave his prayers. Crystalline eyes fell to the dark male, a soft smile playing on her lips. Typically, she was not one to notice certain males or pay them any special attention. However, this case was different. The attraction was there and strong. Her mind had never been thrown for such a loop, she always saw herself with a prince but the money for a dowry to offer a prince could not be brought together. Fenice knew this was an attempt to kill their lineage of rule. Hence, the tournament for her hand was put in place by her father and the archbishop. This was the only way to ensure she married a strong warrior and not someone that the advisors chose. They had attempted and failed at several arranged marriages. Fenices thoughts are disrupted by the thunderous clapping and cheering going up to praise her father. Clapping the princess sits, a small stool retrieved for the child. Her eyes linger on the tables holding Neebos weapons. Some she recognizes and others shes never before laid her eyes on. She watches in awe as he, with ease, takes the lead and shows the other knights how it is done. Fenice watches, eyes wide and a smile on her lips, holding back on cheering. Fascinated with the bulge of muscles and the sheer fact that it is little to know effort for him to easily take the lead, she is sure of it. Pride and desire well up in her and she rises to her feet with the crowd. The beams split and shattered looking like they were old, when in reality they were the newest posts. Ignoring the lords, she sat next to the child, giddy with possibility. Fenice watched the show from the squires, her eyes moving between Neebo and the activities. When the spear moved through the boys leg she didnt gasp, too preoccupied with thoughts of the knight. She understood the next challenge, had caught the rings herself in toying with her father. Learning to ride was a joy of hers, that is until her horse was sold by the lords saying he was a frivolous luxury that wasnt needed. She cried in Mathildes arms but never showed the lords her anger or tears. Yes dear one, Fenice stated pressing her lips to the girls temple. She hoped, her heart thundered behind her breasts. Worry entered her blue gaze, as she looked him over. Her fingers gently squeezing the girls. She sent up a prayer for him and sat on the edge of her seat. The joust would take every ounce of strength she had to stay seated and not rush forward if he stumbled or fell. He was the hero in her heart, win or lose.