"Well, He's obviously well trained." She says, their eyes locking.
"You flatter him." He chuckles. "He's a smash and grabber, nothing more." He says as he shakes his head.
In which Lady Dahlia of Nottingham has to make difficult decisions between fa...
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"Took you long enough, daughter." her fathers voice greets her as she comes through the doors of the dinning room. "But I see you took a bath so I will let it slide this ones. At least you look presentable for later."
The urge to roll her eyes was high, but she knew better. Simply saying. "Good morning, father." as she takes a seat opposite to him. Her plate already filled with food. Scrambled eggs, some toast and two small sausages. It almost looked like a face with a crooked smile, mocking her as it stares at her face. "What will be happening later?" she asks her father as she eyes him carefully.
He was writing something, a letter perhaps, ink touching the parchment as the feather hits it. His tea steaming next to him. "I will be giving a speech to my people. Taking about things you do not understand."
There it is again, that urge.
"Alright then father." Dahlia says as she sips her orange juice as her tea is still steaming due to being hot. Her father looks up from his parchment. He narrows his eyes he did not like the tone in her voice. "And why do I need to look presentable for that?"
"Why do you think you foolish girl?" the crack in this voice indicating his anger. "The people expect you to stand by my side. I am your father. What will they think of us? Of me?!"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"No matter. Finish your food, we'll be expected soon." his chair screeches against white tiled floor as he stands. "And leave the sausages. You definitely don't need them. I'll get myself ready. Meet me at the balcony entrance at eleven bells." he leaves before she can even reply but she is happy that he did.
Dahlia finishes her plate in peace. Sipping her tea, buttering her toast and drinking her juice. Slowly her mind wanders back to her fathers words. What things will he be talking about?
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The yellow material of Dahlia's dress flows against her ankles as she walks up the steps that lead to the balcony. The whole point of having the balcony in the first place was when eons ago, years before her father was even born and Nottingham was still a small village, one of the old lords had it build so his wife could reach the apple trees. Now the trees are gone and the ground layered with cobblestone, the balcony used to announce the morning callings, wanted criminals and to make speeches to the people below. Eyeing up to the sheriff, lords and other richer individuals.
Dahlia makes her way to her father just in time to see him put on his long leather coat. His physique a dark contrast against her spring coloured dress. "You walk behind me. Just smile and nod. Don't say anything." Her father instructs her before he walks to the door. She doesn't even have time to respond to him. She hangs her head low as she walks behind him with cautious steps, slight angry fire in her eyes. Here goes nothing.
