For The Day

Niamh came awake sharply, hand going for Niall's sword. She rolled to
her feet and swung the sword up, ready to guard.

Aurelius leaned in the doorway, smirking. "You're jumpy, aren't
you?"

"My Lord," Niamh stammered.

"I heard you had an interesting night at the pages' feast," Aurelius
said.

Interesting was one word for it. Niamh thought a better choice was
'embarrassing', given that she'd almost given herself away as a girl
and been mocked as a coward by the rest of the pages.

"Don't worry - I'm not one of the pages here to play a hideous prank on you," Aurelius said. "I've just come to inform you that, as Ambrosius is busy doing heir-to-the-throne things and I've scared away my own page, you shall be my page for the day. Get dressed and come help me with my armor. I'm training with the master-at-arms."

Niamh bowed. "Yes, My Lord."

Aurelius crossed the room and caught her by the chin, tilted her head up, and she felt her pulse jump. He was ridiculously handsome.

"You've an uncommonly pretty face, for a lad. Be careful - it might get you into more trouble than you're already in."

Niamh swallowed hard.

Aurelius stepped back. "The knights' courtyard. Fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, Niamh skittered into the courtyard dressed in leggings and a tabard marking her as Ambrosius's page. Aurelius stood on the sidelines next to a rack of weapons, fiddling with the buckles
of his gauntlet.

"Allow me, My Lord," Niamh said, hurrying to his side.

He looked up and smirked. "A page who's prompt. Giving your superiors high expectations already, are you?"

Niamh blinked. "Are you suggesting I should be slovenly in my duties?"

"Not at all." Aurelius let his hand fall to his side and watched her work.

Niamh had always been quick with armor, because Niall fussed if it took too long to prepare for the mock-bouts he had with Declan.

The master-at-arms, a grizzled veteran of a knight who was missing an eye, stepped into the courtyard fully armed.

"Good luck, My Lord," Niamh said, and handed Aurelius a sword.

"I don't need luck," he said, "but thanks anyway."

Niamh arched an eyebrow. "Shall I tear a strip off my tabard so you can wear a favor?"

Aurelius threw his head back and laughed. Then he leapt into the fight.