Aggie stood in Lord O’Farrell’s chamber, as he paced in front of her with his hands behind his back. She was waiting for the barrage of insults to be thrown her way with calm impatience, that he predictably ignored. As the minutes waltzed on without a word however, she became bored, and focused instead on how long she had left in the O’Farrell house. Judging from the sun beginning its descent in the sky, it would only be a matter of hours, and there was still more to do to prepare.

Ms. Kathleen stood in the corner of the chamber, a silent shadow watching both her Lady, and the frightening O’Farrell Lord prepare to berate his betrothed. Despite her only being present to be sure that no improper behavior occurred, Ms.Kathleen’s heart was still hammering. It was somehow more unnerving that Aggie didn’t seem bothered at all, and was instead daydreaming while staring outside of the window.

“You threatened a fellow lady?” Lord O’Farrell barked at Aggie, making her jump at the suddenness.

“I had to address her disrespect.” Aggie kept her answer short, and decided to try and sway the conversation onto a new path.

“You were near my chamber earlier, you must have wanted to discuss something with me.” She saw him look at her almost guiltily, and had it been any of the previous days; she would have pestered him further. Today was not like the others though… not by a long shot.

“I had wanted to talk to you about the engagement dinner tonight.” He said gruffly, resuming his pacing in front of her.

“The guests are already arriving, and I want your word that you will behave appropriately.”

“My behavior isn’t what people are questioning right now, my Lord.”

Sean O’Farrell’s eyes bulged as he stared at her with a strange mix of rage and shock. Aggie didn’t let her emotions show though. Instead she focused her eyes on the mantle above the fireplace in the room. She was feigning being unable to see her fiancé practically steaming from the ears.

“Get out.” Lord O’Farrell hissed at her.

Aggie didn’t waste time as she dipped her curtsy, and turned to leave.

“Don’t cock up the dinner tonight, or I will consider exiling you more seriously.” He said it to Aggie’s back, and she knew she should have let it go. Freedom was within her grasp, but she really did hate bullies.

She turned around again, and looked at her betrothed.

“Threatening me does not reflect well on you, my Lord.” She would’ve sworn at him if she could, or thrown something at his dower face. Anything that would make him stop being an ass.

Somehow though, her mild comment made him go pale all the same. Satisfied, Aggie nodded her head towards him again, and ducked out the door.

***

Arlen and Aggie were going on another stroll, but this time around the parameter of the keep. Talking idly of the guests arriving, but every now and then, an odd comment was slipped in that only the other would understand the purpose of.

“I see they haven’t trimmed the long grasses by the kitchen door for the first engagement dinner tonight.” Aggie commented as a set of guards marched by them.

“Indeed, even the murder hole has been cleared of its webs and dirt.” Arlen nodded at the small space that jutted out above every door to the keep. Its purpose, was to deter attackers by pouring boiling oil on them as the entered the keep through one of the rectangular holes in its floor.

It was also a space that could fit a woman of average build, carrying a small bag of supplies from within the keep down a single level to the outside.

“Have you met any of your guests yet?” Arlen asked as they continued their stroll.

“Only a couple of new courtiers from the North King’s lands.” She watched as 2 of her maids nodded to her from their stationed positions at every entrance to the keep.

There were 4 entrances of the keep in total. The side kitchen door on the West wall they had passed, the South wing entrance where Aggie had arrived at, the grand North entrance that she wasn’t allowed anywhere near with its pristine sprawling gardens and hedges, and the Servants East door that was around the stables and armory.

Arlen didn’t respond.

“I can meet you in your chamber after the excitement, and help you prepare for your night.” One of the maids heard and frowned. Servicers didn’t help in any of the Lady’s preparation, unless he perhaps helped with Lady Agnes learning the guest names…? That had to be it, she reasoned as the two continued strolling by.

“How short?” Aggie asked when she was certain no one could hear the question.

“About my length.”

“Absolutely not.”

“My Lady-”

“Just above the shoulders. I can shove the rest under a cap.”

He shot her a tenuous glance.

“Very well. I will make it choppy to make you more unseemly.”

“Whatever needs to be done.”

“Other than a man’s haircut you mean?” He asked softly, trying to convey he was teasing with his voice.

Aggie didn’t answer, only continued walking.

“Thank you.”

It was all that was needed to be said, and Arlen understood that though she didn’t fully comprehend what she was doing, she it warranted expressing gratitude to those who helped her. Arlen resisted scratching the back of his head as his nerves wanted. He feared the regret she would face, but had to admit she had been right that it seemed no matter what, the house of Lord O’Farrell seemed resolute in its dislike of her. Regardless of the pity they felt for her, the serving staff still blamed her for Lord O’Farrell’s monstrously bad mood, and the courtiers were now treating her like a dunce to be laughed at. He knew she wasn’t doing the brave thing, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t face up to Lord O’Farrell later.

A retreat didn’t mean surrender.

***

Aggie stared at her reflection, and sensed the high energy swarming around the keep as maids popped up everywhere fussing over the state of the keep. Lords and Ladies were arriving in their gowns and fine coats, and with them came their incessant demands and expectations of quality service.

Contrastingly, Aggie felt like a stone sitting in the ocean. Everyone was rushing and running around her, but she felt still amongst the blur of faces. No one really noticed or cared that she was so despondent, except for Arlen.

He stood in the shadows watching her lost eyes stare off to some place distant. Perhaps he had been mistaken in thinking she was unaware of the dangers; she certainly seemed to be bearing the weight of her decision appropriately.

Aggie stood in a gown of pure white satin that cut close to her throat, tight across her shoulders, and flowed down to be less confining by her waist, but despite the finery and elegance of the gown, it made Aggie look pale, and tired.

Gold earrings dripped from her earlobes, and a gold ring was placed on every finger.

She was dressed like a princess, but Arlen could plainly see that it didn’t suit her. There were only 2 other people in the room who seemed to see this disconcerting vision. One was seamstress Rose Sweeney, whom frowned at her creation and its owner. The other was Head Maid, Bertha Brady.

“Lady Agnes this is the first of two engagement dinners, but after this we really should let you rest properly from your journey to the keep, you are looking quite pale.” Bertha had been the only person, aside from Lady Josephine and her husband Lord MacDermott, who seemed gentler towards Lady Agnes. This information Arlen filed away in his mind, wondering if the observation might prove useful later.

“Thank you Bertha, I do feel quite weary.” Arlen noted her honesty. She clearly trusted the Head Maid enough to speak comfortably with her.

“Lord O’Farrell will come to your chamber to escort you to the banquet hall.” Bertha was eyeing the young Mistress with great concern, and almost… anger? Arlen wasn’t sure, but he wondered if Maid Bertha was more astute than most at sensing the damage the Lord had inflicted on the young woman.

“I thought Lord O’Farrell was already greeting guests.” Aggie’s tone was flat, and Bertha became uncomfortable.

A Lady being presented by her soon to be husband signified an inability to present herself. Normally, it fell to the father of the bride to introduce his daughter at the first engagement dinner. By the second engagement dinner, the night before the wedding, a Bride was supposed to present herself.

However, if the father was unable to present his daughter, it was up to her to arrange a sufficient entourage, and face the new household by herself both times. Signifying the strength of her heritage and family.

“He is downstairs greeting them yes-”

“Then I will go down immediately.”

“My Lady that is not-”

“Thank you Bertha, I am ready now.” Agnes’ tone was dismissive, and Head Maid Bertha bit back her tongue.

“Yes my Lady.” Bertha knew this would not quell Sean’s dislike of his future wife. If anything, it might make him lash out again.

The old Sean O’Farrell Bertha had known when they had been children, would never have behaved so boorishly towards Agnes. As he had aged, he was gruff and sometimes rude because of his bluntness, but he had rarely been unnecessarily cruel. The new side he had exposed recently was unsettling to Bertha, and it set knots in her stomach as she felt as though she was losing someone important to her.

The Servicer stepped forward, and took Agnes’ hand, allowing her to step down from the small stool she had perched on to be dressed and her hair to be combed until it resembled a gleaming stream.

Instead of following the procession of maids and Agnes herself, Arlen took the lead himself. He would be the one to announce her, and then she would be the one to address the guests. He would make it so.

*

Sean O’Farrell discussed grimly his plans to travel in the summer months, and leave his new wife at home, with his Lordly guests. He would strategize with the neighboring houses his intentions for the future, and hopefully begin coordinating the most efficient rise of his power.

Travel didn’t bode well with him, and he was reluctant to do so, but then again he wasn’t fond of having to interact with Agnes more than was absolutely necessary either. The woman simply rubbed him the wrong way, and even he had to admit he was beginning to see what Bertha had said. His bride was not stupid. He had overheard how she handled the trollop Deborah, and had been surprised at her gall.

If only she could learn to obey he would-

“Announcing; Lady Agnes Elizabeth Quinn Beatha, of the Southern Kingdom, County O’Malley.” Lord O’Farrell’s face froze, and slowly turned away from the 3 Lord’s he had been in discussion with, and watched as the aisle of maids parted, and bowed across from each other as Agnes appeared in the gilded doorway, and floated down between the maids.

Lord O’Farrell was turning red in the face from trying to quash the roar he was holding back, and many of the nobles around him ‘awed’, thinking he was taken aback by the beauty of his bride.

Little did they know, he was attempting to not froth at the mouth, and was waiting until he could speak more directly at his betrothed.

As his mouth began to open, he caught the gaze of the Servicer, Arlen, who was standing at the end of the aisle of maids. For once the Servicer was not wearing his black coat, but instead a long tunic black tunic that seemed of inferior quality to his previous coat. Arlen had been the one to lead the precession in, and announce Agnes’ arrival; meaning he was closer to Sean than she was at the moment. When Lord O’Farrell locked eyes with him, his mouth beginning to form words, he saw a look bordering on murderous from the Servicer, so he closed his lips tightly.

When Agnes reached Arlen, he took his gaze from Sean O’Farrell, and then he too, bowed to her.

Aggie gazed around the room calmly, for all the finery of her clothes and jewelry; she looked small, and almost sickly. Despite this, when she spoke, she spoke clearly, and calmly.

“My Lords and Ladies, I thank you all for venturing to this event from the many corners of this fine Kingdom. It bodes well for my future husband and I, that we share our fortune with such esteemed individuals. I am new to this Kingdom, and I’m sure many of you have heard tales of me already.” The tension in the room was suddenly thick enough to cut off oxygen, but no one moved a muscle.

“I look forward to leaving my own impression on you this night, and to getting to know you all a little bit better.” She held out her hand as the breathing in the room gradually started again, and Arlen gracefully hander her a goblet

“A toast; to new beginnings!” She raised her drink, and sipped it as the rest of the room chimed in:

“To new beginnings!”

There was polite clapping, and then the music began to play again. The maids filed out, and Arlen had already melted into the shadows, leaving Agnes standing toe to toe with her new husband.

No one dared approach them. Not because they knew the animosity they bore towards each other, but because they thought the new lovers would need a moment.

“You. Were. Supposed. To. Wait.” His teeth were grinding as he half whispered the words to her.

Aggie’s eyes fluttered briefly, she really did feel tired. Tired of his horseshit.

“You. Were. Being. Very. Rude.” She whispered back mimicking his tone, but keeping her docile smile in place.

His cheeks deepened in color, and he was about to hiss more at her, when Lady Josephine, and her husband Lord MacDermott interrupted them.

“You two should start the dancing! All the Lord’s and Ladies seem uncharacteristically shy this evening.” Lady Josephine beamed at them, pretending to be unaware of the tension. Lord MacDermott however, knew his wife was trying to save the young Lady from being publically shamed again.

Aggie turned a genuine smile to the couple. She hadn’t known when she had first met Lady Josephine, but she was in fact expecting hers and her husband’s fifth child come the fall. The knowledge of their new family member, explained the Lady's layered gowns, and Aggie was more impressed with how well the gown was tailored. That evening, Lady Josephine cleared a respectable circumference around herself with a light green gown, with gold lace sewn into the edges. She looked radiant, and her husband clearly thought so as well.

“I do not dance, Lady Josephine.” Lord O’Farrell seemed to be struggling to not snip at his friend’s wife, but if either of them noticed, they pretended not to.

“Nonsense! You are hosting this party, it would be rude not to.”

Before they knew it, the couple was ushered to the middle of the wooden dance floor that had been set up for the evening.

The performers began playing a very slow Minuet, and so Agnes found herself swaying awkwardly with the man she planned to abandon in a matter of hours. Soon, other couples took to the dance floor and joined in, but they all made sure to give a lot of space towards the couple.

With her ear so close to his mouth from the negligible height difference, Lord O’Farrell could finally whisper more freely.

“Why do you insist on being defiant?”

“Because you insist on being tyrannical.” Aggie answered breezily, and tried to ignore how awkward it felt having his hand on her waist.

“Are you saying I am unreasonable?” He demanded, unintentionally gripping her hand a little tighter.

Aggie winced, not noticing Arlen’s body tense in a nearby corner. She waited a few quick angry breathes before replying, finally seeing Arlen beginning to move along the shadows.

“If you want a wife to be obedient to your every word without question, marry a dog.”

“A bitch would certainly be an improvement to you.”

The music stopped, and the dancers around them stopped. Lord O’Farrell’s words had been spoken and not whispered, but despite their conversation not being loud, the amount of eavesdropping that had been happening was significant. Ergo; everyone in the room knew what had been said after a brief wave of whispers.

Aggie stepped back from Sean O’Farrell, and stared at him. He was silent. He looked at her, and then at everyone in the room. Even he had the common sense to looked somewhat abashed at his own words.

Aggie didn’t curtsy to him as manners dictated, but she stepped away from him, and transferred her gaze to the doors that remained open, and slowly began walking towards them. As she passed Lady Deborah with her group of friends, a glass of red wine was sloshed on her, staining her gown. Perhaps it had been her imagination, but Aggie could’ve sworn she heard an angry squeak from somewhere in the room.

Aggie paused, and stared at Deborah who was giggling already with her friends, they didn’t even bother to apologize. Why would they apologize to someone who was seen as inferior to themselves?

The future Lady O’Farrell resumed her retreat from the hall, and exited. Her maids were nowhere in sight, as they had not anticipated being needed until the end of the party, and so she returned to her chamber, calm, and alone.

As Aggie closed the door behind her, she saw Arlen standing in the middle of the room pale, and unsteady on his feet from adrenaline, but he smiled when he saw that Aggie was grinning ear to ear.

“I have to admit; I was wondering how you would exit so quickly.” Arlen threw a bag into her arms, and she hastily pulled out the clothing that he had procured for her.

“I have a way with angering people here.” She said it with a small laugh, and given that it was the first time Arlen had heard any kind of enjoyment in her voice, he was quite taken with the sound of it.

He then realized that Aggie was beginning to wriggle out of her dress, and so he turned around hastily.

After a few sharp tearing sounds, Aggie stood before him wearing men’s clothes, and without a speck of jewelry. Brown trousers, and a gray tunic belted at the waist to keep the garment from being too loose on her small frame. Perfect for being invisible.

The gown laid crumpled on the floor; a useless item now.

“We have only a few moments, I will need to cut your hair quickly.” Aggie nodded, feeling each second tick by slowly, and yet not slowly enough.

Arlen procured a sharp blade, grabbed a chunk of her hair, and began chopping.

He kept what he cut in his hand, and after what felt like eternity, had cut her hair to shoulder length with the occasional chunk being a little shorter than others. He then stowed the hair in his bag. It would need to be disposed of elsewhere.

He would have tied her hair back, but already could feel that they had wasted too much time. How long had it been? 5 minutes? 10…?

“Quickly my Lady.” He ushered her into her governess’ connecting chamber, and out the chambers exit. He didn’t want to risk a servant coming up the main stairs and seeing them escaping from Aggie’s own room.

They flew down the servant stairwell that existed on the other end of the hallway, which lead them down to the second floor above the kitchens.

This was the most dangerous part of their escape.

Aggie and Arlen entered the second floor corridor silently, and found it as cold and dark as they’d hoped it would be. This was the servant’s quarters, and all of them were supposed to be downstairs catering to the nobility.

Arlen and her crossed the hallway from the stairs in two steps, and found themselves in a small rectangular room that had small rectangular holes in its floor.

They were right above the kitchen doorway, and the cold night air wafted up to their clammy faces. When they would jump down, they ran the risk of someone exiting at that time and seeing them. Aggie stepped forward and crouched down by the hole on the right, enjoying the freedom of movement the trousers gave her. Before she could start her decent however, Arlen grabbed her hair, and shoved it under a cap.

Aggie didn’t even acknowledge this, as she braced her body, and lowered herself down through the hole.

She landed in the long grass that she had observed earlier that morning, and other then the air leaving her lungs in a soft ‘oomph’, she had been silent. Then again, the din that was coming from inside the kitchen helped cover any noise.

There was shouting, and clanging pots, as food was being prepared and delivered with both great care, and haste.

Aggie did as Arlen had subtly explained she should do, and pressed her body against the keep wall in the shadows, but began side stepping further away from the door. In the event that someone came out, she could stay still, and pray they didn’t see her.

Arlen dropped down from the hole next, landing with a more notable thud in the grass- given his larger size, and the weight of supplies he carried with him.

He had just joined Aggie at her place by the wall when the kitchen door opened.

“Greg I’m just takin’ a piss! I’ll be back in a moment!” One of the head cooks that had no hair on his head, but a thick read beard, exited the door. He was a giant of a man, standing head and shoulders over most men, with a burgeoning belly to add to his imposing frame.

Before Aggie knew what was happening, Arlen had turned his body and was pressing against her into the wall, hiding her from view.

“Oyy! Who’s that?” The call from the surprised cook broke the night, and Aggie’s already pounding heart began to double its speed.

“S’noff your business iffa man takes a leak yeah!” Arlen’s voice was very convincing as an uneducated servant, and were Aggie not terrified, she would’ve been impressed.

“Get back in there when you’re done! The place is gettin’ insane. Bloody Lady Beatha at it again.” The cook grumbled as he lumbered to the other side of the open door out of sight from the two of them.

Arlen wasted no time in springing away from Aggie, and wordlessly making her run.

They ran at a dead sprint, as quietly as they could in the already chilly April night. They had to get to the trees before the search came out. If they made it into the forest, they had a chance.

As they ran, Arlen thankfully had the presence of mind to pull out her hair from his bag, and toss it under the library window they ran past, that was situated up in one of the highest towers.

Though they slowed their pace on occasion for brief seconds to regain their breath, for the most part, they ran the entire way.

They were approaching the trees, and not even the distant howl of some unknown creature registered to their ears, as blood roared through them, screaming in triumph as they began to realize they may actually make it.

It wasn’t until they entered the forest, that they finally slowed their pace.

Arlen had been impressed at Lady Agnes’ stamina. For being a courtier, he had not anticipated her being able to run the majority of the 4 miles, but then again, she had surprised him greatly in a lot of her ideas concerning her escape.

In fact, he was quite certain, that the last idea she had had, was the reason there was no emergency search racing out behind them.