Chapter Text
A small girl, four years old, sat on her father's shoulders as they entered the huge gates of Castle Ostia, her big, amber eyes wide. Her two brothers walked close together, close to their mother but not holding her hand, for eight and six were far to old for that in their opinion.
"You three be on your best behavior," said their mother, brushing a piece of her long, curly, dark blonde hair that had escaped her bun out of her face again, "Castle Ostia is a grand place, so remember your manners."
Her husband nodded, "It won't be as dull for you as last time though," he added, "I hear that the young Lord Hector is home this time, and Marquess Ostia doesn't mind if you four play."
"There's a little girl, the daughter of a count from Eutria, as well as the children of the people attending, or at least that's what Isobelle says," added their mother, referring to their aunt, who served as the housekeeper of the castle and had invited them, "You should have fun."
A few hours later, in the crowded main hall of the castle, Elle found her small self in the company of a large group of kids ranging from babies to early teens, apparently the teenagers where expected to join in the talking and such going on in the main hall. A ballroom, one of the older girls had whispered excitedly to a friend. The group ranged from noble's children to the servant's kids, and everything in between, as some relatives to the servants, like Elle and her family had been invited. The boys had already started a rowdy game of some sort, the young Lord Hector leading the pack, though most of them were just shouting, 'hey you' to get each other's attention. The older girls had made a ring and were playing a game of some sort, leaving Elle stuck between the two groups. Her brothers, her normal playmates, were in the loud, running mass on the fringes of the room, but all the girls were talking of asking to be allowed to watch the dancing later. Four-year-old Elle thought that seeing such a grand thing as a ball must be the pinnacle of life's joys at the moment.
"Hey!"
The girl jumped, turning to the voice. A rather spoiled-looking girl stood there, her pink hair set off nicely by a large satin bow. Her dress, thought it only came to her knees, was a masterpiece of ribbons and frills, in white and deep blue.
"Hi," said Elle.
"I'm Serra," said the girl, "the daughter of Count Glanin of Eutria," she smiled widely, "I'm four, and I have a pony," she stated, then as if remembering, "Who're you?"
"Adelle," after a tiny pause.
Serra tilted her head a bit, "Never heard of you. Which house?"
House?
"The one way off away from here," explained Elle, "It's white, with brown trim."
"I see, you're a servant, aren't you?" disdain filled the childish voice.
Elle grinned, "Not yet, but someday, my brothers are gonna be the best spies ever. And I'm gonna be the best Sage you've ever seen!"
"So you're a servant."
"Better'n being a prissy girl dressed up all like a doll," Elle wasn't sure what made her say that honestly.
Serra's face went red, "I'm a lady! Servants don't talk to ladies like that!"
"You're not my lady, that's Marchioness Ostia."
"How dare you!" Serra stormed off.
For some strange reason, it had felt good to goad the girl reflected Elle with a smile.