A happy smell

It was a rare occurrence for her to get some time off. Even though the royal family only consisted of a handful of people, it was a fulltime job to attend to their every need. The number of people working in the palace was absurdly high and somehow everybody still considered themselves extremely busy. Guards were walking around, keeping watch at every minute of every single day. The kitchen staff was always present, in the case the royal family got hungry or some unexpected guests arrived who were expected to be welcomed by an exuberant feast. Even the handmaidens, like Ophelia herself, were usually occupied for most of the day. Drawing baths for the Queen, fixing her dresses, helping her get dressed, doing her hair, or just being there for her to confide in every once in a while. Not that she would complain, she loved her job. However, she also loved her time off.

Today the Queen had given her, and the rest of the handmaidens, some time off to go out into the city and amuse themselves for a bit. True to their stereotypes, they’d gone shopping at first, to buy some sweets and relax in the park afterwards. Soon after her arrival in Archeon, she’d come to love the beautiful parks and gardens that were carefully placed around the city. The royal gardens especially had taken up her interest, and she had made sure to take a walk there every single day. Ophelia and her friends had found refuge on one of the benches that were scattered around the plaza and they were currently spending their time talking about the people that were walking around there. Some were familiar to them, and some gossip ensued, some were not. The eyes of the group were drawn to a lone man, carrying nothing but a pie. He looked like an outsider, which definitely seemed to catch the girls’ interest. “I bet he’s from the north,” one of the handmaidens spoke. “I suppose so, too. They all look a little rough around the edges,” said another. Ophelia eyed him for a little bit, until one of her friends addressed her. “You should go talk to him. He’s quite handsome!” she said, with a little giggle. Ophelia shook her head, turning a little red. “What? No. Why?” she protested, hesitantly. Her friend quickly replied that she, in contrary to most of the group, had no plans whatsoever to be married off by her parents yet. Her father hadn’t seemed in a hurry to find her a proper husband, after her mother had passed. Ophelia sighed and stood up. “Fine.” She swallowed her doubt and walked towards the seemingly northern man, putting a smile on her face when she approached him. “Hello there,” she greeted him. “I was wondering if I could keep you and your pie company.” In the meantime, she tried her very best to ignore her friends who were not so subtly watching her.

Outfit

As soon as she approached him, the sweet smell of the pie he was just about to eat hit her. Once he looked up, she greeted him with a polite small. Everything about her was so carefully polite, always afraid to offend. She couldn’t really help it, it was her only line of defence against a world full of men who could easily overpower her. She was always taught to keep her head down and do as she’s told, in the hopes of avoiding any kind of conflict. The stranger moved to the side a little and replied he’d enjoy her company. She sat down next to him, running her hands over the skirt of her dress to straighten it. She bared her teeth in another smile when he asked her if he should share his pie now. “Only if you want to,” she replied. She wasn’t a big eater anyhow, something that was apparent by her frame. He introduced himself as Birvald, a name she repeated to let her tongue get used to the feel of it. “I’m Ophelia,” she then introduced herself. “You’re not from here, are you, Birvald?” She eyed him a little curiously, hoping he’d affirm her suspicion that he was indeed from the north. Other cultures excited her, mainly because she was fully aware of the fact that she’d never get to travel anywhere else.

Outfit

Ophelia noticed his gaze going back and forth between her and the pie a few times, as if he was actually torn between sharing a piece of his pie or not. When she replied that he only should share if he wanted to, it only seemed to confuse him more. She didn’t exactly understand why, maybe he just really wanted the pie for himself. In that case, he could just keep it. After some proper introduction, she decided to ask him where he was from. His name as well as his appearance suggested he was from somewhere in Falkreath, although she wasn’t entirely sure. He wasn’t Valyrian, though, that much she knew. She smiled when he told her he was born in Falkreath, slightly happy at the fact that she was right. “I figured,” she replied, before he handed the pie to her. She took it from him, raising an eyebrow at the words that followed afterwards. “Well, we could do both,” she suggested. It wasn’t unheard of, eating pie and casually chatting about something simultaneously. “May I ask why you're visiting Archeon?” she then proceeded to ask, while taking a piece of the pie for herself. Most northeners didn't exactly like to spend time in the capital, for reasons she wasn't fully aware of yet.

Outfit

Birvald seemed almost surprised that they could continue their conversation and enjoy the pie at the same time, something that struck her as slightly strange. She decided to blame it on whatever cultural differences there were between them, and raised the piece of pie she’d taken from him to her mouth, taking a small bite. As soon as she finished the bite, she raised her eyebrows in excitement. The taste was incredibly good. Her job at the palace usually took so much time away from her that she barely had time left to eat a proper meal. In most cases, she lived off of whatever was left in the kitchens from that day. He turned towards her when he answered her question, telling her that he wasn’t actually visiting. He was here for a far more noble reason, it seemed. She looked at him quietly for a second. “You just… help people for a living?” she questioned him, not entirely sure what it was he was doing here. The people in Archeon were usually planning to do the very opposite of that. They wanted to leech off of you, learn your secrets to use them against you in whatever way they could. To find someone who was actually here to help others, was a nice change of pace. “That's very admirable,” she then proceeded to comment. Her interest in the other man had suddenly grown. It wasn't usual for her to find kind people in these streets.

Outfit

A humming sound left her throat as soon as she took a bite of the pie. She wanted to let him know it tasted good, which was rather difficult when her mouth was stuffed with pie. Ophelia figured a satisfied hum would suffice for now. She looked up a little confused when he claimed to help people for a living. While she found the thought very inspiring, she had no idea how anybody could make ends meet by just ‘helping people’. He shook his head when she called his work admirable. Apparently, he was a humble man, too. Birvald argued that doing good wasn’t admirable, it was simply what anybody should do. Don’t applaud a fish for swimming, and all that. “Is it always crystal clear to you what the right thing is?” she then asked, once she swallowed her piece of pie. Like him, she wanted to be a good person, do the right thing, but she wasn’t always aware of which alternative was ‘right’. She chuckled as she watched him eat his pie. He was definitely from the north. She cocked an eyebrow at him when he asked her what her life was like. Nobody usually asked her such things, so she didn’t really know what to say. “I’m a handmaiden to Queen Dacosta,” she told him. “I help her with her hair, her dresses, her guests. Everything, kind of.” She enjoyed her job, something that was clearly audible in her voice. The Queen trusted her, to some degree, and it somehow made everything feel all the more worthwile.

Outfit

As soon as the words had left her mouth, Birvald nodded. He seemed to be certain in his ability to distinguish right from wrong. She wasn’t entirely sure whether to believe him or not. Provided with superficial actions, separating right from wrong was quite clear cut. Helping people was good, theft was wrong. But once context came into play, things turned rather hazy for her. Rumour had it that her father was planning to marry her off to someone she wasn’t too fond of, and Ophelia wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing to obey and do as he said, or stand up for herself and refuse. To her, neither option felt like the right thing in a way. Maybe Birvald would be able to help her out.

Ophelia told him she was a handmaiden, assuming he knew what that meant. Surely, they had handmaidens in Falkreath, right? Even northern women of status needed someone to help them get dressed and do their hair. Birvald concluded that she was called a handmaiden because she had to use her hands for all the task she’d listed. The remark made her quietly giggle. He was strange, in a likeable way. “I never gave it much thought,” she let him know, still brightly smiling. Her gaze was drawn towards Birvald again, who seemed to be incredibly focused on the pie that was still sitting on his lap. “If you want another bite, you should have it. It’s your pie, after all,” she informed him. She never ate too much, something that was apparent by her figure. She simply wasn’t hungry most of the time.

Outfit

Most people she met whom considered to be strange, were strange in a frightening way. They tended to be cold, creepy, and calculated. She got the sense that they were trying to scare her on purpose, although she never knew why. Ophelia herself couldn’t find any enjoyment in intentionally making people uncomfortable, and she was unable to see why anyone else would find such things amusing. Now, granted, it didn’t take much for her to get scared. At all. Even the man next to her, friendly as he was, would be able to give her goosebumps if he tried. Still, he didn’t seem to have any bad intentions toward her, or anyone, so she felt comfortable with him. She eyed him as he took another bite, after which the pie was offered back to her. He announced she could now have a bite. She couldn’t really help but smile once again as she took the pie from him, having a small bite of it. She was already getting quite satiated. Birvald’s expression had turned rather serious in the meantime, and for a second Ophelia was afraid something was wrong. He told her he got angry pretty easily. A characteristic she hadn’t pegged him for yet. She raised an eyebrow, wondering about the intention behind the comment. He then asked if it was the same for her. She smiled again. “No,” she answered. “I usually get scared or sad instead.” Even when she was angry, tears were likely to well up in her eyes anyway. “I think I only got angry once since I’ve been in Archeon.” An encounter she remembered pretty vividly. She hadn’t been that angry in a long, long time, and even then, she couldn’t help but cry.

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