Keldur glared at the massive amount of food before him. A variety of meats, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, and every possible delicious treat. It was everything anyone could want. Only, he didn't want it. In fact he felt quite sick. The very smell made him want to vomit. His stomach was painfully knotted and his throat was clogged by a large lump. “I suppose if I tried to swallow anything I would choke,” he thought glumly while picking at his peas. The ornately decorated table and hall was packed with nobles, lords, ladies, and entertainers. He sat in a large, throne like chair next to his father, the king. His father’s loud, boisterous voice rang out with laughter, wine glass in hand. Keldur heard the familiar clacking of Reglyn’s ugly shoes heading towards him. He sunk deeper in his chair. “I wish I could hide somewhere far far away,” he thought, miserable. Suddenly he was smacked with a wall of perfume. He was barely able to keep from coughing as he leaned back, trying to escape the smell. “Keldur,” Reglyn’s disgusting voice sang. He sighed and slowly looked up, meeting her plain, beady brown and gray eyes, “what do you want Reglyn?” He said, clearly bored. Her large gown swooshed as she shooed away his cousin who was sitting next to him. He glared, grabbed his plate, and stalked away. She smiled at that, took his place, and sitting sideways looked at Keldur. “Don’t you like it?” She asked, folding her hands neatly in front of her and putting on a stupid false smile.

“Like what?”

“My new dress, isn’t it beautiful? Oh, how the colors shine! And it’s so light. It moves so easily, I just can’t wait to dance in it. Mother says it’s the most expensive in all the kingdom, even more than your mothers.” She continued on like this for a long while, but after she said the words “new dress” he no longer cared. Besides he had other things to worry about. He stared into the depths of the hearth. The flickering flames danced to the sound of the flute and harp. The world blurred around him as his thoughts took over. “I shouldn’t keep it from her. She deserves to know. But how would she react? She comes from a middle class merchant family and I’m a prince. How could it possibly work? My father will want me to marry soon, preferably a princess or a distant cousin. I should never have spoken with her, nor asked, nor dared to hope that it could ever be. Now I am stuck.” Suddenly, he felt a hand rest on his. His head jolted up. “What’s wrong my dear?” Reglyn asked in a mocking tone, her eyes faking innocence. He jerked his hand back, pushed back his seat, and glaring at her said, “leave me alone.” Then, not waiting for a response, he stalked away with hands clenched in fists.