G.N.O. (Girls Night Out) - A thread of Princesses

[bandach]

Princess Elena! Where are you?!” Came a rather loud voice, “You need to put on your shoes!” A snort escaped her, like that was ever going to happen, she rather die than put on high heel shoes, and that was saying something. Besides, high heel shoes were just…pointless. They were hard to walk in, hardly had any grip, and gave her zero balance. Not to mention, they hardly made her look like a lady at all, in fact, they made her walk awkwardly and often had to have a grip of the wall or else she would fall, no, in her mind, there was no need to embarrass her even further than what she has already accomplished in half of her life time. This business of the high heel shoes was always a problem for Princess Elena of Gawant though, she just did not like them, and often found herself preferring to slipping riding boots on her feet under her gown, or even go barefoot than have to deal with heels. Although, Grunhilda appears to think otherwise and has been prone to chasing her all over the castle to force these shoes upon Elena’s feet, a very dangerous game of cat and mouse for the Princess.

For now though, she had sat herself underneath a table. Probably not the best of hiding spots but at least you could watch for people’s feet as they pass by looking for you, or at least, that is what Elena thought about it. After all, she knew what this shoe business was about and she for one was not entirely thrilled about it. The idea of having to entertain some of the finest women in all of Albion was a little nerve racking, especially when Elena was not the typical princess, more of a tomboy. She was a terrible klutz, had terrible table manners, and often found herself wanting to ride and beat men at their own sport rather than sit around and well, talk. Thankfully, somehow, she got spared Vivian, the idea of having to hear about how wonderful Arthur Pendragon was hardly entertaining, but still, there were many other notable princesses and noblewomen who were going to be here, at Gawant, whom Elena had never met before in her life.

And how on earth are you supposed to entertain a whole group of women when you knew nothing about them?

A huge sigh escaped Elena now, no, she was not looking forward to this at all, “There you are!” came a voice now, and her doe eyes widen considerable as she glanced over to see Grunhilda’s face at her level now as the maid squatted on the ground to see her, “Now you can finally put these shoes on.” One look at the white strappy heels that were being shown to her, Elena practically screamed. Quickly, she scrambled out under the table, “Oh no, you are not getting away this time. You will wear these shoes!” came Grunhilda’s voice as her arm reached out to grab the princess, but Elena was quick and practically bolted down the hallway now. She glanced over her shoulder as she ran, “You can’t make me wear them!” She called back before finding herself tripping over an upturn in the rug. Sprawling out on the floor now, Elena glanced back to see Grunhilda storming down the hallway now, waving those shoes. It was as frightening as coming across a cockatrice in Balor’s woods.

Quickly now, Elena got to her feet and bolted down the hallway without much of a second thought and rounded the corner, stumbling into her room before slamming the door behind her now, and pressed herself up against the wooden door. There was a heavy thump against it now, “Princess Elena!” Grunhilda said now, her voice not entirely friendly and her patience shot short, “I will not where those shoes!” She called back, almost defiantly, but perhaps she was only feeling that way for her father was not around to talk her into such things. There was a defeated groan, for the time being at least, and footsteps were walking back down the hallway. After a moment’s wait, Elena finally took a step away from her door, once she realized that nobody was coming back in, she walked over to the mirror now. Her hair was an utter mess! Her blond hair looked positively wild, as if she had come out off the woods. Picking up a brush, she tried running it through, but of course, it got stuck.

Story of her life.

There was a loud sound of trumpets now sounding the arrival. Elena’s eyes went wild as she glanced towards the window before bolting towards it and stared down. In the glare of the sun, it was hard to see who it actually was, either way though, Elena supposed that she should go down in greet them, “Oh, I don’t want to,” she murmured to herself, dreading that her life was about to end by how awkward the day and night will be for her. As the trumpets sounded again though, the princess knew that she had to go. Quickly, she ripped the brush out of her hair and tossed it aside before reaching under her bed and grabbing her riding boots and started to put them on while hopping towards the door, after all, her dress would surely cover them, it couldn't be that big of a deal. The moment her boots felt secure, Elena flung the door open and hurried down the hallway now and soon was sprinting out the great doors of Gawant Castle and outside to greet her guests.

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Taggage: Isadora de Caerleon, Caitrin de Archer, Avelyn De Beaumont, Luciana le Valios, and Isolde Crichton. Anybody else is welcome to join though!
Setting: Gawant Royal Castle
Time Line: Before Changeling, so pre season three perhaps.

[jezzy]

These days were of strange ones. It had been a fair few since she had last woken up in Celidoine. For the past couple of days she had woken up in Camelot. With most delight. It was a strange new world. That Isolde had only barely asked in her wild dreams. Though she did ask of it and she was in a life she had more expected of her. As always, one cannot have all that one wished and thus, Isolde wasn't quite having it all. No, it meant her family was left back in Celidoine. She couldn't deny she missed them and her visits would have to remain few for the time being. Isolde accepted that, half heartedly. Just as she had accepted to some to the Kingdom of Gawant.

Yet, here she was. Making her way to the kingdom. To how was it put. To make friends. To mingle with princess and noble women, a like. Like Isolde. She smiled subtly at the thought, that they couldn't possibly be the same as she. Isolde was sure her thoughts only accompanied her or well, Tristan. Though not many others. Though, who was Isolde to say that they weren't like her or she wasn't like them. For, here she was doing something. Something expected of a princess. Her eyes tracing the sunset sky above. Maybe, that was what lied at the end of this, friends. Friends. Isolde was open to the idea and had to make herself open minded to the fact. Hadn't it been for the persuasion of Luciana, it probably wouldn't have come to Isolde's attention of this once rare event or the slight push from Tristan.

Isolde was escorted by only a couple of men as Isolde had gone to Camelot for privacy and wished to mourn in peace, at least it seemed publicly. She had Sibéal with her. Whom was one of her close friends and was, yes her maid. She was so much more than that. Isolde had taken to Gawant upon a very fine bay mare named Aine, whom she had brought from Celidoine. It was too much of a fine journey to be stuck in a cart the whole ride up. She wore a full length dress, that had peach colours intwined with some gold pieces and had fine detail upon her shoulders and sleeves. Also a fine belt that hung from her waist. Though it was all in good taste and not over the top. Her hair was done simple with it up away from her face and some left out in the back. Slightly curled. For the arrival she also bore a veil that match in similar tones that of her dress. All were made by Sibeal, as always. She bore no jewellery save her shell bracelet hid under her sleeve.

Isolde had to admit she was taken back at the site of the castle that loomed, now before her. It was, lets say. Impressive. Even if Isolde dreamed she grow old in just a small hand built house, with Tristan. This was still able to take her liking. There were hints of things that possibly could tie all the castles in Britannia together, but still completely it own structure. Soon, made around the corned. The trumpets started. It was a very good and powerful sound. Making Isolde miss her harp. 'Oh, wait. That's right'. Isolde had remembered she had backed her handheld harp with her when she travelled. It had been safely backed along with some of her books. The essentials to Isolde. Of course mixed herbs and what have you in case of an accident. The sounds of hooves scrapping the stone ground began. Isolde was almost sure she wasn't the only one arriving, though it was clear yet. Her small group finally stopped in the court yard before the grand castle. Isolde being helped of her horse, though she didn't need it. Took it. Gracefully coming to her feet and soon the men led the horses to the stables. Isolde left with just her beloved Sibeal beside her, who handed Isolde her bag and bowed, then left Isolde's side.

Isolde was feeling the need to quickly grab Sibéal, need someone to guide her, but she knew she could deal with this. It was just a gathering of women, highly ranked women, how bad could they be. Isolde took sight of a young woman coming out to greet her. Noting, she didn't look all well put together. Who, was Isolde to judge. Not what Isolde had expected to see, but in all honesty, Isolde didn't know really what she was meant to see. Isolde best thought to wait for the woman greet Isolde, before she start introducing herself. Feeling just like a stepped in a world that made her feel, very small. Soon, Luciana would be here. She would be grateful for that. For now Isolde was more or less alone. Away from her family. From Tristan and now from Sibéal.

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Tags: WOMEN THAT RULE THE MEDIEVAL WORLD! [G.N.O.]
Music: Beyoncé - Run The World (Girls)
Location: Castle of Gawant
Outfit:Dress/hair/veil Outfit:Dress/hair/Without veil
Jewellery: Shell Bracelet

[Avelyn De Beaumont]

Avelyn sighed heavily and leant back against the wood of her carriage. The journey so far had been long and unforgiving. The roads had been riddled with holes and bumps and as such her back ached from the strain of trying to stay strait. She had practically begged her grandfather to let her ride a horse along with the men accompanying her, however he had sternly refused and sent her to her doom. Although Avelyn understood her grandfathers reasons for not letting her ride- the journey was too long for a woman of her standing to be riding, a horse would make her smell unladylike, and if it happened to rain she would arrive at her destination wet- she had still attempted once out of sight of her grandfathers lands to switch with one of her guard. Avelyn knew that she should not have tried to talk one of the guard into switching places with her. The moment they arrived back in the de Beaumont territory she knew that one of her guard was going to gallop off back to the manor house and tell her grandfather all about her behaviour. She should probably expect another beating when she returned home.

Avelyn slid the green tight sleeve of her dress up her forearm and prodded the blue and red blemishes that were evidence of her last failing as a granddaughter and a young noble lady. Of course when she thought about it now, running off into the forest to practice her archery without asking her grandfathers permission and without an escort would definitely earn her a beating. But at the time a morning alone had been too much to resist.

When she thought about it, Avelyn didn’t think that her behaviour as a young noble woman was much different or worse than that of other noble women. Not that she had met that many other noble woman. But that was what this was about wasn’t it? The moment her grandfather had received this invitation he hadn’t stopped lecturing her about how he was going to send her to this gathering so that she could learn some manners from the other noble women there. But Avelyn did had manners, and she already knew how to act. Her grandfather just didn’t understand that things like sneezing accidentally during dinner and sometimes being a bit forthright were not bad things for a lady to do. Noble women were allowed at least some sort of personality. Most men she had met in Camelot actually preferred women with more personality that a spoon. Her grandfather was just the exception to that rule.

Tired with inspecting the grain of the wood in the carriage Avelyn went through her options. She could plead with another one of her escorts to see if they would give in and let her ride their horse. Alternatively she could ask the driver if she could sit with him, or she could just refuse to continue whilst sat inside the carriage at all. Whilst all those options were equally and fundamentally better than sitting inside this carriage for however much longer was required, Avelyn suspected that her grandfather would not enjoy hearing one of his men recounting any of these tales. The fourth and least dangerous option to her would be to slide the curtain aside and poke her head out so that she could at least see where she was going. Although she suspected that Lord De Beaumont would not look kindly on this act either Avelyn knew that if she sat still any longer she might possibly scream out of boredom. Tentatively she raised her hand and brushed the curtain to one side. She felt a sharp twinge in the bruise on her arm when she knocked it on the wood of the frame and drew in a sharp intake of breath.

‘Are you okay Lady de Beaumont?’, the soldiers voice showed concern for not only his mistress but also for himself. If she answered inappropriately he would have to report it to the Lord. Although he served under Lord de Beaumont and submitted to his every command, he did not approve of every one of his regimes and his way of treating and keenly watching his granddaughter was not one of the things that many of the guard actually approved of. ‘We are nearly in the courtyard’.

The courtyard? Avelyn could not help smiling at her gaoler. Just a couple more minutes and she would be able to descend from her own personal hell and escape into Princess Elna? Elena’s castle. Maybe once inside she could relax a little bit. It was very unlikely that her grandfather would have been able to place his personal spies in there.

Finally the carriage came to a halt. As was expected of her Avelyn waited the last couple of seconds for someone from her escort to open the carriage door so that she could step out. The last seconds were torture, she tapped her fingers impatiently. When the door was finally opened she was so eager to escape from her prison that she almost forgot how long she had been sitting. The soliders hand was just there for courtesy so the weight that Avelyn subjected on his arm as her legs for a moment refused to hold her caused him to roll his eyes and turn his head away. The sun was too bright and the air was too clean in comparison to the carriage, Avelyn felt like running around the whole of the yard and whooping in happiness at her freedom. Instead she remembered her duty, straitened herself up and smiled before walking as gracefully towards the two other noblewomen she could distinguish.

[Caitrin de Archer]

All in all, the invitation had come as a bit of a shock. A messenger had come with an invitation not personally addressed to her, but delivering a general invite. It was something Caitrin was used to within Camelot, but outside Camelot? That was something she had never had happen before. She had been suspicious at first but the letter and invite seemed genuine, even her Uncle’s beady eyes had been happy with the contents of the letter. With all that in mind Caitrin had bid her Uncle and Aunt goodbye and had set off on the road to Gawant at Princess Elena’s invitation. That in itself felt a bit odd, even though it was not a personalised invitation it felt strange being invited to some form of celebration by royalty of a different kingdom. Her Uncle had suggested, as the invite had specified noblewomen, that it was some way of finding wives for husbands quickly but she had brushed away the idea as the invite said it was only supposed to be women therefore there wouldn’t be any kind of men there, single or otherwise; she was certain of it. Her Uncle would have loved the thought of her catching some rich noblemans eye from a different Kingdom, the advancement of her family was always in the forefront of the de Archer mind. Caitrin despised it, she was certain that if she did ever marry it would be to someone of her choosing, at least that was the plan.

Of course she had wanted to ride out by herself, she hadn’t wanted any company. Her Uncle hadn’t argued with her over the matter, she was having an escort and that was that. She had been shouting at him, through a door, that she would go alone but as she had saddled up her mare ready for leaving, two of her Uncle’s guards had already been waiting on horses for her. She had already been running late so she hadn’t argued. He had however agreed for her to go on horseback, rather than in his carriage. Having won one battle she was sure that her Uncle wasn’t going to go up against her and she had been right as she was now on horseback. They had to stay in an inn on the way to Gawant, it had been too far a ride to manage in one go. The inn had been an experience, only one room was available and she had refused point blank to share a room with the two men so one had slept outside the room and one had slept with the horses. Apparently Rouland had told them that she would try to continue on her own. Caitrin had found it hilarious, it was like having an armed guard. She was the sixth daughter of a Mercian warlord, and she had an armed guard, that kind of thing was only usually for women who had actual standing, like royalty, wasn’t it?

Caitrin was now nearing her destination. She smoothed a hand over her dress, the red silk ran under her fingers and her lips turned into a smile. Her Uncle had a new dress made for her just for the occasion. It was a red, silk dress which was fitted and was cut low across her chest. The front of her bodice was black and had red embroiderer decorating it. The sleeves on her dress were deeply cut and she had a tight red undershirt on under it. She was wearing a silver circlet which had a red jewel in the centre. Her hair was pulled up off her shoulders into a pretty up do with plaits circling a bun at the back of her head. She let out a sigh, as much as she enjoyed riding she hated it at this pace. She looked round at her escort who inclined their heads to her with as stern smile. She turned back to the road,

“Perhaps you should brace yourself gentlemen.” A playful smile curled her lips and they looked nervously at each other before one said sharply,

“My Lady?” Without warning Caitrin nudged her horse into a quick gallop, she was already astride her horse with her hose peeping out under her skirts, therefore she held firmly onto her mare as she began to tear down the road. “Come on Lily.” Caitrin whispered to her horse who responded with a quicker gallop, giving a quick whiney, “My lady!” one of her escort was shouting at her but Caitrin wasn’t listening, she was laughing.

Their destination swam into focus and Caitrin was glad of it, as much as she enjoyed riding she needed a break. Mercifully she slowed her horse down and allowed her escort to catch up with her,

“That was fun wasn’t it?” She asked them both, giving them a wink and began a quick trot into the court yard. From what Caitrin could see she wasn’t the first to arrive, there were three people in total and she assumed one of them must be the Princess Elena. Her horse halted just after they entered the courtyard and she jumped off the horse, not waiting for her escorts hand. They huffed at her but she wasn’t listening. She handed the reigns of her mare to one of her escort, “Look after her.” She commanded,

“Yes Lady Caitrin.” He bowed his head and began to lead the mare away with his own horse. Caitrin turned back so she was facing the small group. She assumed they were making introductions before they were invited inside. It was a rather odd affair, if it was royalty shouldn’t they be being presented? Perhaps this was a more casual affair. Caitrin walked slowly towards the group, her head held high and proudly. In a way she was carefully aware that she held the reputation of her family in her conduct, as well as perhaps the reputations of Camelot and Merica. It was all too easy to judge a kingdom off the conduct of a person, or a group of people and Caitrin was aware of that. She wondered if any other women from Mercia or Camelot were present. Well there was only one way to find out, and Caitrin had now reached the small group of women, waiting for the Princess to make herself known so that she could introduce herself.

[Luciana le Valois]

Through one of the lush forests of Albion, two carriages bearing the Armorican royal standard surrounded by the royal family’s most trusted knights steadily made their way along the worn dirt road toward the Castle of Gawant. Inside one were trunks filled with the possessions of Luciana le Valois, and in the other was the Princess of Armorica herself. Like many of the noble women of Albion, Luciana was on her way to a gathering of princesses and other ladies of high birth. It was certain to be quite an event and one the Armorican princess wanted to “regretfully” miss. However her father had somehow learned of it and sent her a letter, “strongly suggesting” that she attend.

So here she was dressed to the height of Armorican fashion in one of her more expensive ensembles. She wore a magnificent satin gown of red and purple—the color of royalty. A skirt of red and silver brocade fabric showed through a split in the expensive, iridescent cloth. At her elbow, rich crimson velvet billowed into a belled sleeve while a fitted sleeve of the brocade fabric sheathed her forearm. The gown’s final embellishment was the line of miniature rubies that bordered the square neckline, framing the elegant amethyst necklace that hung from her swan like neck. To go with the necklace, she wore earrings embellished with the violet jewel and resting on top of her head was an imperial gold crown imbedded with brilliant cut amethyst. Behind the crown, Luciana’s dark tresses were nestled into a heap of soft curls, and let’s not forget the footwear, a pair of golde brocade heels. No one could say she was not dressed to impress.

Surprisingly enough, the whole journey had not turned out to be totally uneventful. Why just the other day, Luciana’s trip had taken an unexpected turn while she and her guards took shelter at an inn for the night. The princess ran into a dear friend who she had not seen in quite some time, Lady Romily de Braose. Luciana knew of Romily’s escape from her life of nobility and her father and admired the girl’s free spirit to do so. It took courage to leave behind everything one knows and strike out on one’s own. Surely the Princess of Armorica would never do such a thing; she enjoyed royal life too much. So over rich food and mulled wine, the two chatted and gossiped like a pair of school girls; their conversation lasted half the night and ceased when they were too tired to keep their eyes open. Then when it came time for Luciana to leave for Gawant’s Castle, the princess begged and pleaded for her friend to come with her, not wanting to leave Romily’s delightful company. While she practically dragged her friend into her carriage, the dark Armorican beauty spun every positive angle that she could think of, and even making up a few, about the assembly, hoping to convince the runaway lady to come with her. Luciana did not know which words did the trick for she was blurting everything out a mile a minute with amazing articulation, but she eventual compelled Romily to go with her. Not knowing her situation, the Princess of Armorica offered to let the fair haired Carmelide rose borrow any of her dresses and jewels. So when they were finally ready to leave the inn, they were fifteen minutes behind schedule much to the dismay of Luciana’s escort. However, the princess did not mind. That would just mean that they were going to be fashionably late.

With a new outlook on this little venture, the Princess of Armorica sat contently in her carriage, trying to ignore the less that smooth ride. A soft smile rested on her rose tinted lips as she busied herself with her needlepoint. Ever so skillfully, Luciana embroidered a graceful, richly colored peacock onto square of white linen harnessed in an embroidery hoop. As she pushed and pulled her needle through the thin fabric, a soft breeze blew through the Armorican royal coach, swirling through the ladies’ skirts that manifested a sound like the rustling of angel’s wings. For a brief moment, Luciana glanced out the open window of the carriage, surveying the rustic scenery. There was so much green! Even with that one glimpse, it made the gray eyed princess a bit sick of the color. ‘The leave need to change color… give the world a bit more contrast,’ mused the Armorican royal, returning her attention to her needlework.

As she began to fill in the details of the vain bird’s exquisite tail feathers, her stitching almost invisible to the eye, Luciana said with a bright smile, “Romily, I cannot thank you enough for coming along with me. I know this little soirée will be much more bearable with you in attendance. Plus, it’ll give us a chance to catch up some more.”

With Romily there, the Princess of Armorica at least knew she would have someone to carry an intelligent conversation with. Luciana did not quite know who was going to be at the Castle of Gawant. She knew Isolde, the Princess of Celidoine, would be there; it was Luciana who brought it to her attention. She thought it would be a good opportunity for the Celidonian princess to social network and such. One could never have too many friends.

‘I wonder if she’s going to be there…’ thought Luciana, referring to the Princess Isadora de Caerleon of Gwent. The dark haired princess’s lips pursed in aversion at the thought of the Gwentite royal. When Luciana and Isadora first met, it was like hate at first sight. Her Gwentite counterpart’s spoiled and pampered nature turned off the Armorican princess. Not that Luciana wasn’t doted on, but at least she could sew her own clothes. It seemed like Isadora couldn’t do anything for herself. A rivalry then grew between the two princesses, and whenever they were in the same room together, which thankfully was not very often, the sneaky and covert insults flew. As Luciana look back on their last encountered, she prayed, ‘God, please do not let her be there.’

“Hopefully, I haven’t dragged you into a bore.” The Armorican princess continued giving her friend a bit of an apologetic glance.

Then out of nowhere, one of Luciana’s guards knocked on the window, and announced, “Your Highness, we are almost at the castle.”

She thanked her guard for this information and set aside her embroidery. Placing her pale hands on her lap, Luciana began to compose herself to a manner that befitted a young woman of her station. Unfortunately for the sake of appearance, the princess had to discard her unpredictable qualities and revert to her demure and ladylike demeanor. As a Princess of Armorica, she had to be without reproach. Her mother and father would settle for no less, so she would give them no less. Luciana would make sure to honor the Valois family in every respect.

As the princess’s coach drove up to the entrance of the Castle of Gawant, Luciana stole a quick look out of her window, glimpsing a part of the castle’s entrance. She saw she was not the first to arrive, which pleased her. The Armorican princess saw that Isolde had already arrived, recognizing her from her flowing golden hair. Then the carriage slowly came to a stop, careful not to jostle around its passengers too much. The second carriage halted behind the first in a similar manner. Then a footman from the first coach quickly but properly opened the door for the ladies inside, offering his hand in assistance. Gently placing her hand on top of the footman’s, Luciana diffidently stepped out of the coach with a somber expression, which was reserved for such occasions, on her face. When her dainty feet were on the ground, she paused for a moment, quickly studying the ladies that had already arrived. Upon not seeing Princess Isadora de Caerleon, the Armorican princess, thought, ‘So far so good.’ Assuming Romily was right behind her, Luciana then made her way over to the other ladies with a soft but noble smile, moving at poise and dignified gait that made her seem like she was walking on air.

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Tags:

[/color] The Ladies!
Words:[/color] 1377
Outfit:[/color] The Dress, the Jewels, the Hair, and the Shoes
Notes:[/color] Romily gave me permission to drag her into this. She is technically nobility. Just sayin' <3[/blockquote]

[isadora]

Isadora had been looking forward to this gathering since she had received her invitation. It was the first time she would be leaving the kingdom of Gwent since she was kidnapped while visiting Camelot, and she was eager to go. She was in desperate need of something to take her mind off of things, and while it had taken her a fair amount of convincing and arguing with her father, she had eventually convinced him that letting her go was for the best. It would be an opportunity to strengthen their relationships with the other kingdoms, she had rationally pointed out, and he couldn't possibly expect to keep her locked up in the castle for the rest of her life. Besides, would all the other nobles of the realm be sending their daughters if there was a chance anything could happen to them? Of course not. There would be plenty of security to keep them all safe and sound.

She had won the argument, eventually, but only on the condition that the Knight-Commander himself accompany her. Isadora didn't like the idea that both she and Sir Garrett would be outside the city at the same time, worried that something could happen, but her father had pointed out that they wouldn't be gone long, and that the kingdom would be fine in their absence. She always worried about what could happen to her father while she was away from his side, but as she had pointed out to her father, she could not stay cooped up in the castle for the rest of her life, or perhaps more accurately, for the rest of his. And so she found herself out in the open air, breathing deep of the fresh, sweet air gratefully, glad to be outside the stifling stone walls of her home.

It would be fun to spend some time with some women of equal rank to her; too often, she was in the company of men, or else women who were neither of equal status or intelligence. It made things quite boring, at times. She longed for intriguing conversations and witty company, so she was quite excited to arrive at the Princess Elena's castle. This was simply a marvelous idea, in her opinion; a chance for the noble women of the various realms to meet peaceably without having to worry about the sensibilities of men to get in the way.

"You're in a better mood than I've seen you in for a while." Isadora jumped at the voice next to her, as Sir Garrett spoke. He was riding next to her, with several other knights dressed in the standard blue and black armor of Gwent riding in front and behind the pair of them. He laughed at her reaction, and Isadora smiled while rolling her eyes. "No less jumpy or distracted, though, I see." It was true that Isadora had been distracted lately...more than true, actually. She just...had things on her mind. Things that were not going to distract her today, she told herself for about the hundredth time as she pushed those thoughts out of her mind.

"It's the first time I've been let out of my cage for a while, so it's to be expected." She answered with a smile, he couldn't argue with that. Not that she'd really wanted to leave home for some time after the kidnapping, but with time, that sentiment had gotten old pretty quick. She was ready to get out again, and this was the perfect solution to that. Seeing that Sir Garrett's face was troubled at her words, she sighed and interrupted him before he could start speaking again. "I know, I know, my father has good reason for keeping me close. Believe me, I know. I just wish he didn't have to worry so much."

"I should've been in Camelot. Then he'd have nothing to worry about." Garrett had been so ashamed that the knights he put his pride in hadn't been enough to keep her safe from harm; he'd intensified their training tenfold since the kidnapping, and it was enough to make even Isadora feel badly for the knights. "Why, when I get my hands on that brigand, h-"

"I don't want to talk about that." Isadora interrupted in a rush, having no desire to hear what Garrett would do to Alistair if they caught him. Damn druid had better be as good at keeping himself hidden from knights as he seemed to think he was, or he was going to be in a lot of hot water. Garrett nodded with understanding, if a bit of frustration. That had been Isadora's response anytime anyone tried to talk to her about what had happened, or her kidnapper; she just shut down. She didn't want to talk about it, and no one would pressure her about it. They continued the rest of the ride in silence, the time seeming to crawl by as they approached the kingdom of Gawant.

As the castle came into view, Isadora could hear the distant blare of trumpets on the wind, signalling the arrival of other royals. She wouldn't be the first to arrive, then; she could live with that, straightening up in her saddle, unable to keep the smile off her face as they rode through the gates. A smile that dropped off as she saw a woman disembarking from a carriage, an unfortunately familiar woman. Damn. She'd forgotten that Luciana le Valois might also be present at the event. She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for the encounter that now seemed inevitable. She'd never liked Luciana, the woman was so incredibly fake that speaking to her made Isadora's teeth ache with the strain of listening to her...but she wasn't going to let this ruin her day. Pulling her horse to a halt as the castle's grooms approached to take him by the lead, she waited while Sir Garrett hopped off his horse and came around to help her off her horse. "Have a good time, milady." He smiled at her affectionately, and she gave him a smile and a polite bob of her head before she headed off to join the slowly growing collection of noble women.

Isadora's dress was simple, yet exquisite in its design and make. She wore clothing that was obviously expensive and well-made, yet not gaudy or overdone. Her dress today was pale blue, with a white underdress and petticoats and a pair of simple, yet stylish leather riding boots. Around her neck she wore a silver necklace knotted into a druid design, a gift from a strange woman she'd met in the market, and a matching circlet sat upon her dark brown hair, partially pulled back with the rest hanging around her shoulders loosely. It was obvious that Isadora wasn't dressed to impress anyone, as she approached with the easy grace and poise that marked her as royalty regardless of what she wore. Isadora didn't seek to impress anyone, simply because she didn't need to. "Greetings, my fellow ladies. I apologize for my tardiness." She spoke clearly, with a smile on her face and just a hint of humility as she approached the other women, giving a respectful nod of her head to the group.

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[Isabel de Massard]

When the letter had arrived Isabel had read it more times than was necessary, well, of course she had as only once was necessary, but she had read it far more than she probably should have done, and with far more delight. It was not the invitation, or the people, or the place but the fact that this would be her first formal function as Isabel de Massard. This was proof of her new life, proof that Olwyn Caen no longer existed.

She had read it again in the carriage to Gawant while biting the top of her thumb. It was a habit she had adopted as a child and was the only thing that had stayed with her, apart from her ambition of course. Her ambition was the only reason why she had spent the last two days travelling from Cantia, it was the only reason why she was no longer a peasant starving in the street - well, that and her extensive knowledge of poisons.

Isabel sat back in her chair, she had been looking out the window but it all looked the same now. She was bored. It was a word she didn't like to use, she should always be doing something but right now there was nothing to be done. She had reached as far as she could, for the moment, and her stay in Gawant was not likely to improve her situation. She was not a noble in her own right, but one day she would be. All she needed was a man, but she was hardly going to find one here, was she? Not during a gathering for noblewomen.

Still, there was an advantage to her stay. This was her first outing as Isabel, her first taste of the world as a noble and she would not let the oppurtunity go to waste. While she was surrounding by these women she would watch and learn all that she could. She may be able to present herself as nobility to passing acquaintances, but if she fully wanted to exert herself she would have to learn the tricks of the trade, as it were.

She felt the carriage slow down and so leaned forward to look out the window. What could only be the castle of Gawant was in view. Isabel smiled with relief. This was it. This was what she had been working towards. Her carriage came to a halt. She was eager to get out, but that was not how women of her standing behaved so she waited patiently until the door was opened for her and a young man helped her out. She had yet to learn his name, he had only taken a position in her household a week ago, but he was well-mannered and worked hard, so she liked him just fine.

"Thank you," she smiled at him and on finding her feet brushed down her dress. It was pale green in a modest cut, entirely fitting for a woman such as her, or a woman such as she would have the world believe she was. As she looked around she saw several other women had already arrived. Good, she hadn't wanted to be first. She walked over to them, perhaps a little too slowly, but she did not want to appear eager or overexcitable. That would not do at all.

As she approached she couldn't help but think how similar they all looked, not physically of course, but there was no difference between her or them. Why should she not belong in their company? They were all made of the same stuff after all. If anything, they should not belong in her company. She had earned her position. She had risen from the lowest form of society, what had these women done? Nothing, nothing of consequence anyway. But she smiled politely and said, "Ladies," with a small curtsey, "I am Isabel de Massard, what a pleasure it is to meet you all."