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"Would you like some wine?" The king asked, interrupting the awkward silence that had descended since the guard had left to fetch his friend. Elina tore her eyes from the tapestry on the wall behind the thrones. It was beautiful; an amalgamation of textures, stitches and richly coloured threads. Her fingers itched to touch it. Resisting the urge, she smiled back at the king and nodded her thanks.
"That would be nice, thank you, Your Grace." He nodded and reached for a goblet, filling it from the jug on the table on his left hand side. When he held it out, she climbed the three shallow steps onto the stage and accepted it gladly. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was until she'd heard the wine poured, and was drinking it eagerly before she reached the bottom step. The goblet was heavy, the foot weighted, and it felt good in her hands; good, and strangely familiar. Her eyes strayed back to the wolf and scrap of parchment on the king's table as the door to the hall creaked open behind her.
The shuffle of a child's footsteps gives her pause. She turns to see a little girl toddling across the floor, clutching something protectively to her chest; she's all eyes and dark hair. Not for the first time Elina finds her hand drifting automatically to rest across her stomach. She lets it linger as she studies the dark-skinned man following on behind. He's tall, good looking and dressed from head to toe in black. This, she supposed, must be Mallos.
The little girl has clambered up onto the king's knee, her arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. Elina smiled despite herself as the child presented the king with a miniature cup covered in delicate blue flowers. It looked clumsy in the man's full-sized hands, like he was some kind of giant trying to make the best of human kindness.
"Thank you, Ángela," the king said as he freed his arms from her grip.
"Don't worry," the prince told the little girl, leaning across the gap between the two chairs so he could look her in the eye, "I have my own invisible cup." He nodded sagely, and withdrew, making a show of leaning down to pick something imaginary up from the floor. He sets his hands as if holding a cup handle, ostentatiously sticks out his smallest finger and sips noisily at his fantastical drink.
Smiling, the king sits up a little straighter to better see over the top of Angela's head.
"This young lady is in need of some help," he explained to Mallos, moving the little girl over a few inches to make himself more comfortable. "She cannot seem to remember who she is, or where she came from and the only clues we have are these." He holds Angela tightly to stop her from falling as he leans across the table to pick up the wolf pendant and scrap of parchment. He lets the wolf fall and hang from its leather chord. "This really is more your area than mine. The words on here," he rubbed the parchment between his finger and thumb, "look to me like your ancient language."
"Ancient language?" Elina piped up, "what's that?" She moved closer to the steps to peer at the piece of parchment again. It still didn't mean anything to her.
"Anything you could do, Sir," she said, turning to Mallos with her best imploring expression, "even if you just help me find Rhaegar, I would be most obliged. I've been walking around for days trying to find answers. At the very least I need to know who I am! I can't even remember my own name, for Odin's sake..." She broke off, frowning. Odin...The phrase had come naturally, it had felt right, but it didn't mean anything. Elina snorted her frustration and rubbed at her face with her hands. Was Odin another God? "I say things, and I don't even understand why I'm saying them. Can you help me?"
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