Isolitary (old/unfinished)

Chapter One

Ah, I'm late.

Lyrin looked away from the clock and tried to focus on not tipping over in the long hallway. A headache had burst through as soon as she left her room that evening, and the bright lighting overhead wasn't making it any better. She clutched the side of the wall and directed herself towards the dining hall, not eager to arrive, but rather, worried about her tardiness.

No one walked down the corridor beside her, and she assumed it was because of the major help the nobles would need for their dinner. As if anyone could need that much assistance with eating their food. The servants usually ran about the halls and passageways, careful not to get in anyone's way while they worked. They held fit presumptions about her family--almost everyone who was hired to work there did--and they knew not to bother the Lady and her people.

Nearing the door to the dining hall, she checked her dress's skirts for any ruffling or marks but found none. She rearranged her mess of thick curls so that some of them were idle on the fronts of her shoulders and the rest spilled down her back, not counting for the ones pulled into an intricate braided knot at the back of her head. She shouldn't have been so thoughtless while preparing for the dinner, she knew. Then she wouldn't have been so worried now. But she pushed the thought away and only headed straight.

Lyrin halted in front of the large maroon door sealing the hall. She took in a deep breath and grabbed the handle.

Here goes nothing.

She turned the handle and pushed open the door, revealing the inside of the dining hall. The room was enormously spacious for what seemed to be a small place at first, and the long, wide table spread out in the middle made it look even more so. It was a perfect area for events, talks, and negotiations, and Lyrin assumed it was one of the latter choices.

"Lyrin. Glad to see you finally decided to humble us with your presence," a sharp voice sneered. It belonged to her mother, the woman with high authority who sat at the end of the table farthest from her. She gestured at an open seat not far away. "Care to sit?"

Of course she was mad. She was always mad. And to be late to a dinner such as this one...Lyrin saw how she was to blame for it, and yet, for some reason, she wanted to justify it. To give some reason so she wouldn't be on the receiving end of her mother's spite. But there was no use. It wouldn't ever work, and it never had in the past, so she stayed silent and moved towards her seat.

A man a couple seats down remarked, "So this is your second daughter, Lady Solental?"

"Yes, it is," she said, averting her attention from Lyrin to the man. "I do apologize for her being late. She is quite troublesome compared to her siblings."

"No, it is alright, my Lady. Anyway, where were we? I do remember that there was something we needed to discuss." The man quickly lost interest in her and her temporary absence in the room, to which Lyrin was relieved. It was just one less thing to worry about.

The Lady took a small sip of the red wine set in front of her and nodded. She leaned back against her black-stained wooden chair. "The western lands. I believe you needed to inform me of an issue?"

"Ah, but of course. You see..."

The man kept talking, but it was all a mix and jumble of words to Lyrin. She lifted her fork and picked at her food, freshly roasted turkey garnished with spices and the fakest-looking marbarries she had ever seen. There were other side dishes laid on the table, mainly baked items and bowls of stew, but she didn't want any of it. These discussions always made everything seem unappetizing.