Stolen Dance | Isolde & Danyl
While Remembrance Day was still far off, everyone at Castle Stafford was buzzing with excitement over the feast day--least of all Isolde Martel. It was her absolute favorite day of the year, and everyone was hard pressed to try and dissuade Isolde from offering any sort of assistance in preparations. There were whispers behind hands from certain groups that the cook, Tom Reston had been the only one who succeeded, and that anyone even mentioning his name elicited quite the charming blush from the castle’s favorite handmaiden.
At least until she would make some sort of off-hand comment and bustle off to find some other chore that needed completing.
It came as little surprise then that Isolde had her arms filled with linens that still had need of airing out before they could be washed and pressed for the main hall tables, seemingly ready to bolt from the washrooms at the drop of a hat. “I’ll just hang these up in one of the extra rooms, Maerynn, then come back for the rest!” She called over her shoulder, cheeks still burning hot as she hurried off towards the vacant section of the castle.
How could they say such things about sweet Mister Reston? Perhaps she did blush, yes, but merely because she could see how they all giggled and stared at her when mentioning him, and Isolde hardly knew why. Thomas was kind to her and she tried her best to reciprocate, even as he often made quite a fuss over her doing as much. What in that had cause to be mocked?
“It’s as if they believe he pays me special attention.” Isolde muttered to herself. “I’ve seen Mister Reston’s kindness extending to everyone... I don’t understand why they feel I am so different. We are merely... good friends.” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the wooden door in front of her that lead to one of the many vacant guest rooms, a sigh falling from her lips.
Yet, she gave herself only a moment to wonder why her heart sank a little at this thought before shaking her head and pushing the door open with her back. “Come now, Isolde. Work to be done. We shall worry about Mister Reston later.”
Isolde was given quite the fright, though, as she turned to see a body lying prone upon the four-poster bed. Nearly dropped the linens she was carrying all upon the floor--until, that is, she heard a familiar snoring sound.
“Danyl Reston, what in the god’s name do you think you are doing?” She teased, setting down the linens upon the bed before gently shaking Danyl from where he lay napping. “If Master Lucian ever took a fancy to touring this section of the castle, he’d have your head. Let alone what Master Rowlin would do.” Isolde laughed gently, shaking her head and placing her hands upon her hips as she grinned down at him. “I will not be afraid to drag you out of bed by your ear as I used to do for Diccon if I must, Danyl.”
