Setting
Knowing that there was no way of finding out where he was without taking a look around, Adam went to the window and looked down upon a bustling metropolis of towering buildings (that were also in white and gold, what a surprise there) and orderly streets. He also spotted a few guards on patrol here and there with assorted weapons and armour. Some had chain mail, others were simply clad in leather armour. Many of them carried spears, but there was the occasional sword or axe. Nearer to the building Adam was currently in, some of the guards were even mounted on... gryphons? Uh... yes. Yes they were.
Moving swiftly on from that, Adam gradually realised that he was in the city's castle, which did explain the lavishly decorated bedroom. The only question was... who did it belong to?
Well, luckily for him, he was soon to find out the answer to this question! This answer came in the form of footsteps that definitely sounded like they were headed straight for the door. Thinking fast, Adam hid himself inside the best available hiding spot: a large oak wardrobe. Hiding among several glamorous dresses wasn't very comfortable, but it was better than nothing. At that moment, he heard the door open and quietened his breathing, tensely waiting for the coast to be clear...
"He's old," Damali hissed, wincing as her mother's bony fingers pulled on the laces of her corset. She sucked in her breath as the stays tightened across her back and dug into her ribcage. "Ow! You're hurting me."
"Stop whining," the queen riposted, shooting her a glare from behind her seat reflected in the vanity mirror. Damali could swear there was a glimmer of pleasure in the woman's eyes as she continued, deliberately jerking on the lace, "The Viscount is thirty-eight. I hardly. Consider. That. Old."
"Ouch!" Damali squealed and tore out of the seat, indignantly smoothing out the blue rouching of her gown. Turning back to the mirror, she scowled, scrunching up her face. "I don't like the way he looks at me. He's a pervert. He's old enough to be my father."
"Stand still," the queen responded sternly, her expression stony. She grabbed at the lace, pulling Damali toward her, and fixed the ends into a long-tailed bow. "Here, let me fix your hair."
The princess glowered in silence for a few seconds as her mother scooped up a handful of tiny pins from a container on the dresser and began securing her hair in a tight bun, smoothing down stray blonde wisps with her fingertips.
"Well, you won't hardly give attention to any boy your own age," the queen said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
Damali pursed her lips and shook her head vigorously, loosening enough locks to hang freely around her face.
Her mother gave an exasperated sigh and threw up her hands. "Must you be so obstinate?"
"I can't even have an intelligible conversation with any of them!"
"It isn't proper for women of our stature to dither on about nothing. Men do not appreciate a gossip."
"I'm not a gossip," Damali answered, lifting the hem of her dress to slip into a pair of matching blue slippers.
Her mother bent down, intercepting before she could lower the dress again, and fiercely narrowed her eyes. "Your stockings are rumpled... stained! What did you get yourself into this morning? Gods, they aren't even matching! You're supposed to be attending dinner in two hours. What is the Viscount going to think when he sees how poorly you're dressed?"
"What?" she gasped. "No one told me the Viscount was to be at dinner!"
"It isn't your business to know."
"Yes it is," Damali shouted, crossing her arms in defiance. "I'm not a child anymore. You can't just order me around as you see fit, and as long as he's there, I'm not going."
The queen jabbed her finger toward the door of the dressing room and stared her down. "You are still my daughter, and as long as you are living under this roof, you will do as I say. Now, march to your room this instant and change!"
The princess scrunched her face into the deepest scowl she could before muttering 'fine', and stomped out, slamming the door in the middle of her mother making some comment on wiping the ugly look off her face. Hurrying down the hall toward her room, she started to realize she had acted childish. Still, it's not as if she listens anyway. All she cares about is making me into a perfect little doll that she can do with as she pleases. Damali unlocked her bedroom door and closed it behind her, a bit harder than she intended. She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily as she leaned against the frame.
Her gaze fell on her reflection in the full-length mirror next to her wardrobe. "If she thinks I'm going to dinner at all like this, she's mistaken. I look like a big, frilly peacock... Well, she did tell me to change, after all."
Already slipping out of her shoes and untying the stays to her corset, she made her way to her wardrobe and let the wretched thing fall to the floor before flinging the doors wide open. As she reached into her closet for the flowy dress she so loved, she stopped short when she spotted something reddish partially concealed within the folds of white and gold fabric. Damali shook her head, blinking as she did a double take. Her eyes widened when she saw that tangle of red had a face. A boy's face.
"W-what?" Her jaw dropped in utter shock, and she stood there, frozen in place, both hands pressing on either door, mouth moving as she tried to formulate a coherent response.
He grabbed one of the less extravagant dresses from the rack and pushed it into her hands. "Uh... there's nothing to see here," he said, as if that would actually make her doubt the fact that there was a strange boy wearing strange clothes inside her wardrobe. Without warning, Adam also shut the door, leaving the girl most likely wondering what just happened. Well, if she wasn't thinking about that already, of course.
At first, it seemed like that crazy move had gotten him out of danger... until the girl opened the door again about a minute later. And it didn't look like she was going to be convinced that Adam was but a mere figment of her imagination.
"Listen, I know this looks really weird and all, but... uh... can you keep a secret?" he asked, inwardly praying that she wouldn't rat him out to the guards.
"There's... there's a..." she stammered, chest heaving as she struggled to come to terms with the situation. "There's a boy. In my closet!" Afterward, she turned around again, slowly opened both doors and peered inside at him, eyes practically popping out of their sockets. "You... you're in my closet! How did you get in my closet?"
She briefly glanced over her shoulder at the bedroom door, and then leaned into the wardrobe, narrowing her eyes at him. "What's more, how did you get inside my room? I'm pretty certain that door was locked. I'm not even supposed to have boys in here! If my father finds out, he'll have you hanged. Sneaking into the bedchamber of the king's unwed daughter is practically a death sentence."
Her bewilderment gave way to a look of irritation followed by one of genuine puzzlement. Arching one brow, she straightened, holding the gown to her breast, and tilted her head to the right.
"Who are you, exactly? What are you doing in here?"
"Why am I...? Look, it's all a big, complicated story, okay?" Adam sighed as he climbed out of the wardrobe and leaned against the wall. "One moment, I was just sitting around, reading a book. Nothing special. Then out of nowhere I'm suddenly in this weird room with some guys wanting to test out some science project of theirs, and then... then... I woke up here. In another place, in another time. Maybe even another universe too." As the shock of the spatial and temporal displacement finally settled in, Adam's back slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, staring blankly ahead.
"I dunno what else to tell you, okay?" he muttered, half to himself. "That's all I know."
Several minutes later, he was aware that the princess had also asked for his name. "Name's Adam, by the way. Adam Kingston," he said out of the blue.
"Look," she offered, calmly and in as soothing a tone as she could muster, beginning to realize there wasn't much of a rational explanation for his being here. "Do not fret. I am sure... from wherever you hail, we could find some way to get you home again." There was a certain weight to her words that said she believed them, but even she was not entirely convinced, and after a moment or two, she stood, sighing.
"Her Royal Highness Princess Damali Marwick of Sol," the princess answered his introduction, dipping into a curtsy and offering her right hand, feeling a trifle silly and unaccustomed to introducing herself formally to her peers. She lightly cleared her throat. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance Sir Adam of... Kingston? My friends... you may call me Dali."
Briefly returning her gaze to the door, she remembered why she had come back to her chamber in the first place. The thought of having to see the Viscount again made her wrinkle her nose. I can't miss dinner. Everyone is expecting me to be there. She turned to Adam and shyly glanced down at her garments.
"Do you mind, will you do me the kind favor of... I mean, please, turn around."
Occasionally glancing back to ensure his eyes were where they were supposed to be, she proceeded to replace her ungainly dress with the purple one he had handed her. In her head, she was already formulating ideas on how best to sneak him out of the room, though the thought of having to sneak a boy out of her room seemed ludicrous.
"I have a dinner to attend. You cannot stay in here, I'm afraid. The maids make their rounds thrice: in the morning, noon and eve, and they are sure to find you. In any case," she paused in adjusting her sleeves to eye him up and down, "before figuring out what to do with you, we ought to find you something more... suitable to wear."
"I'm not a knight of the realm, Dali, so you don't have to call me Sir or whatever. I'm just Adam Kingston. Always have been, always will be," he said after the princess had finished getting changed. He wasn't much of a fashion expert, but even he had to admit the dress looked great on her. Better than the other one, in fact. Probably something to do with that old saying, "less is more".
Damali then told Adam that he couldn't stay in the room for long without being caught, so a disguise of sorts was needed. "Maybe you could nick a robe from somewhere? That kinda thing would be great for covering up what I'm wearing. And if it had a hood, that could conceal my face, right?"
"I think you'll need more than a robe to cover up that ridiculous outfit," she replied, placing both hands on her hips in an attempt to appear serious, but she was unable to suppress a smirk. "Is that what all boys from the future wear?"
In her mind she pored over mental images of rooms in the wing and came up with an option that might prove viable. If they could get past the servants and her father's patrol without running into trouble.
"Well, then, Adam Kingston," she said, grabbing him by the arm. "Come with me, I know just where to take you."
And so this little plan of theirs was set in motion. Well, more accurately, it was something along the lines of Damali dragging Adam along to find a suitable disguise while trying not to get caught. Must've been the first bit of real fun the princess has had in ages, Adam thought.
"Y'know, it's fine if you just call me Adam," he said to her as they sneaked down another hallway. "And where exactly are we going, anyway?"
"Girls! Wearing trousers? Have you gone mad?" she blurted about a minute later. Glancing down at his legs, she added, thoughtfully, "Though, admittedly, they do look... er, comfortable."
Hearing footsteps at the end of the next hallway, she stopped almost dead in her tracks and shushed him with a finger. "We're almost there."
Damali waited until the echoing footfalls faded into silence, and then peeked around the corner.
"I think the coast is clear," she whispered back, almost excitedly.
The princess lifted the hem of her dress with her free hand and stepped out, first one foot, then the other. She sidled alongside the wall, putting one arm across his chest to keep him from leaning out. "Wait here."
"This isn't the first time I've gone sneaking about through the castle. One time, when I was little, my mother caught me and swore if she found me where I wasn't supposed to be, she would tan my hide and feed it to the gryphons. Though, after Father's guards found me trying to ride one out of the holding pens, mum hasn't spoken a word of it. They're not entirely carnivorous, you know. A little manuka honey on your fingers will do the trick."
Damali let go of his arm and inched across the hall toward the nearest oak door at their diagonal, and turned her head to inquire if they even had gryphons in the future when she heard the handle creak from the other side of the door.
"Quick, over here!" she exclaimed in a stage-whisper, waving him over.
She held her breath as the door opened outward. A statuesque, hooded figure clad in belted gray robes exited, plodding away from them into the torch-lit passageway.
"Whew," she exhaled, resting one hand on her chest, "That was close."
After nearly getting spotted by an almost sinister-looking person in hooded robes, Adam's heart was beating as fast as if he'd just done a hundred-meter sprint. Still, the attire looked like a clear winner for a disguise, and the room the guy exited just might be the place where said robes were kept. Unable to say anything at the moment, Adam nodded to the princess, indicating that he was ready to move on.
From a private closet at the back of the altar room, she pulled a folded set of hooded robes off a shelf and handed them to Adam. "Here, put these on."
The gray fabric skimmed the floor, draping over his slender frame and leaving just enough space for him to walk without tripping over the hem, and the large hood fell around his face, effectively concealing his features.
"You look fine," she said as he tied the thick, braided rope around his waist. "Just don't say anything to anyone, and no one will even know the difference."
...
Their journey downstairs toward the dining hall went unhindered until they reached the last stretch of corridor where one of her father's guards, a tall man adorned in leather armor bearing the royal crest, nearly passed them. He halted, doubled back and dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Princess, you are late. His Royal Highness anxiously awaits your arrival at the dinner table..." the guard paused to stare down at the hooded figure. "I see you brought along another guest. Is she one of the new initiates?"
Damali hesitated a beat before responding cheerily, "Oh, why, yes. The, um, hieromonk asked me to... show her around."
The man's eyebrows went up briefly. "Well, I wasn't aware of any new initiates arriving at the castle today, but then again," he continued with a shrug as he lowered his hand. "The Watch never tells me anything. Run along."
"The Order of Truth are all female, aren't they? Why didn't you tell me this?" he asked Damali. "If I get caught impersonating one of 'em then I'm done for. I hope this dinner thing's not gonna last for too long..."
Trying his best to keep calm, he continued to walk down the corridor with the princess in silence, just like the monks he was pretending to be. However, there was one question on his mind that he decided to ask before they reached their destination.
"Dali, these Order of Truth people... do they take vows of chastity as well, by any chance?"
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