Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever owned, the characters depicted herein. I merely write for the soul-crushing agony... uh, I mean, for the joy of the craft.

There were a great many things that Richard du Gray enjoyed out of life. Unfortunately, being woken at an unreasonable hour of the morning by the commanding voice of Lord Wayne was not among those things. However, it was because of that exact occurrence that, on that particular early autumn morning, Richard found himself searching for a projectile, in the sleep-logged hopes that such a thing would deter his early-rising mentor.

Of course, he was – as he often was when it came to matters involving Lord Wayne – inevitably wrong.

"I have a task for you."

In five long strides, Lord Wayne had crossed the room and reached the window. His black cloak trailed behind him, flapping dramatically at each step. Richard thought it was a bit affected to wear the thing around the manor like a housecoat, but he was long past the point of questioning the Lord's more eccentric habits.

And after all, how detrimental could they be? He was the second-richest man on the Vespeccian continent, and for good reason.

Still, at this particular moment, Richard had little patience for his antics. He buried his head in the feather pillow, willing the dark shape by the window to disappear.

The universe did not oblige him.

After a moment of prolonged silence, Richard opened an eye.

"You wish me to do what, precisely?"

Richard rolled over and opened his eyes, but instantly wished he hadn't. He was accosted with a wall of bright light as Lord Wayne threw open the curtains.

"I did not detail what you were to do," he said. "Did I speak too quickly, or were you merely not listening?"

"I was trying tosleep," Richard muttered, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his tone. Early morning made it so difficult to keep his tongue civil. So much bright sunlight. So much movement.

Lord Wayne remained at the window, hands clasped neatly behind his back. Even with the ridiculous indoor cloak, he still cut quite the imposing figure, his dark clothing striking against the gold of the dawn. He surveyed the grounds through the window, arms crossed in thought. When after a few moments, Richard didn't bother to offer any further commentary, he turned back around.

"I will have need of your assistance to prepare for the masquerade this evening. As I am sure you know, the Queen's family will be in attendance."

That wasn't exactly news. Richard sat up, stretching with a catlike yawn.

"Yes, and…?"

"And," Lord Wayne continued levelly, "that will include her son and grandniece."

"Son and…" Richard attempted to process, but his thoughts weren't coming particularly quickly this morning.

He thought through what he knew about the Queen and her family. The Queen herself had ruled for a number of years following the death of her husband. Her son, the heir to the throne, was… well, Richard would hesitate to name him a friend of Lord Wayne's – Lord Wayne didn't really have friends. But he was a close acquaintance. And… he thought hard, willing his brain to work at a bit higher capacity than it was currently managing. Did the Queen have another child? A daughter, perhaps? She wasn't much discussed, but if the Queen had a grandniece…

"I wasn't even aware that…" He finished the last piece of his thought process aloud. "How old is she? The grandniece."

"Seventeen. A mere year your senior. Which is why I thought it beneficial to tell His Highness that you would be overjoyed to escort the young lady at this evening's festivities."

Richard groaned, sinking back into the pillow. He ought to have known what was coming.

Lord Wayne appeared not to be fazed by Richard's little outburst.

"She has not spent a great deal of time in the environment of the court, so she may require some guidance in matters of propriety. As you are an upstanding model of courtly behavior, I cannot imagine a better candidate for her edification. I trust this will not cause any difficulty?"

It was well-known throughout the Wayne estate that the Lord's praise was not easily won. As such, when it was offered, one did not simply turn it down.

Even if it was a devious little technique of manipulation.

Bastard, Richard thought tiredly. That was practically a gushing display of affection. How can I possibly refuse?

"When will she be here?" He droned, sitting up once again.

Lord Wayne gave a half-smirk, a smug look that Richard recognized as satisfaction.

Blast that man.

"I suspect the Prince will arrive within the hour. You might want to make yourself presentable."

Lord Wayne swept out of the room, his ridiculous cloak fluttering behind him.

Perhaps in my next life, Richard considered as he untangled himself from his sheets and stumbled to the wardrobe, I shall have the good sense to choose a mentor who is not utterly mad.

It was, Lady Artemis decided, much too early in the day to be engaging in the act of making the acquaintance of anyone, much less the wealthiest man – outside of the royal family – in the realm.

As the carriage bumped along the road toward the Wayne estate, Artemis found herself fidgeting. Perhaps if the Prince would allow her to open the curtains just the slightest bit, she might not be so terribly bored. If she were not so bored, perhaps she would be more awake by the time they arrived. And perhaps if she were more awake by the time they arrived, she could manage to be a more charming version of herself than she was currently able to muster, which ought to please the Prince.

She glanced up at him. Prince Oliver looked to be fully absorbed in the task of sorting through letters from an unknown source. As he read, the frown on his face only deepened; occasionally, the briefest sigh escaped his lips.

He is quite captivated by the letters, Artemis contemplated, inching toward the curtain. Perhaps if I simply look while he's not…

"Don't," the Prince rumbled without looking up.

Artemis's gloved fingers fell away from the window instantly. She slumped back in her seat.

How did he even notice?

After his eyes scanned down the last portion of the page, Prince Oliver folded the letter and regarded her, the frown receding somewhat.

"Artemis, I know the journey is not terribly fascinating," he said gently, "but we cannot risk exposing our presence to would-be attackers."

"Your presence, you mean," Artemis corrected, rehearsing the first lines of a familiar argument.

The frown returned.

"After all, who would recognize me? To them, I would appear just as any other noble, not distinguishable as a member of the royal line."

"That may be," The Prince said, "but we cannot risk the chance that it is not the case."

"But if the whole point of this expedition was for me to witness more of the realm—"

"Not the whole point…"

"—then why can I not witness it? You keep me caged in this ridiculous bubble as though I am some fragile bird—"

"Fragile is not precisely how I would render it…"

"—when I ought to be at least free to peer out the window every once in a while." She finished resolutely.

She gave the Prince a hopeful look, willing against hope that he might concede just this once.

He gave a quiet sigh.

"And you shall be."

Artemis perked up.

"…as soon as we reach the manor."

She slouched back down. Outside, the sound of gravel beneath the wheels of the carriage met her ears. A thoroughly boring sound after listening to it for what must have been hours.

"How soon will we arrive?" she sighed, not daring to believe the answer was one that would please her.

"Soon," Prince Oliver smiled. It was an infuriatingly charming expression.

Artemis crossed her arms, staring at the curtain.

This mission ought to be as important as he claimed, or she was going to be much less amenable from here on out.

Richard was many things, among them a skilled tumbler, an attentive student, and an excellent bookkeeper. After all, there was a reason Lord Wayne remained the second-richest man on the Vespeccian continent.

He was not, however, much of an escort. At least, not this early.

He blinked into the sun, watching the Prince's carriage as it rumbled down the road.

"Anything else you wish to inform me of before I meet this girl?" he asked, glancing over at Lord Wayne, who appeared just as expressionless as ever.

He gave an imperceptible shrug.

"The lady Artemis is not well known, even in the best of circles. She keeps to herself for the most part, though those who have made her acquaintance inform me that she is quick to express her opinion.

"The term spitfire has been tossed about." He added with a slight grimace.

Naturally.

As the carriage slowed to a halt before them, Richard took a deep breath, and adopted his most welcoming smile. If this was the task set before him, he would do it justice, regardless of any ill-temperedness on the part of his guest.

The Prince emerged first. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and blond. He smiled as he stepped down, nodding a greeting to both of them before turning back to the carriage.

The young woman that emerged behind him was not what Richard had been expecting.

When Lord Wayne had described her as a spitfire, Richard had imagined her emerging from the carriage yelling, or perhaps spewing flames. Instead, she descended rather gracefully, her expression carefully schooled as she took her uncle's arm. Her hair was the same shade of tawny blonde as the Prince's, but that was the only respect in which she resembled him. Where the Prince was tall, Lady Artemis was much more compact, and unlike his rather thin face, hers was angular, with dark, almond-shaped eyes.

Prince Oliver strode forward with a jovial grin, sweeping Lady Artemis with him.

"Lord Wayne, we thank you for your generous hospitality."

"I trust your journey was satisfactory?" Lord Wayne inquired.

"Naturally, naturally," the Prince said.

Lady Artemis remained silent at his side, but Richard could have sworn he saw the hint of an eye roll from her.

The Prince appeared not to notice. He turned his gaze on Richard, who gave a slight bow.

"And the young lord du Gray! Well met as always, Richard."

"And you, Your Highness."

"But I forget myself," The Prince swung his arm gracefully forward, bringing Lady Artemis to the forefront. "Lord Wayne, young Lord du Gray, I wish to present my niece, the lady Artemis of the royal line of Vespeccia."

Lady Artemis bobbed a demure curtsy.

"Your ladyship."

Richard bowed over her hand, as was customary, but when he went to look back up, he caught her staring at him.

It was only for the merest instant, but he could have sworn he saw something sparkling in her eyes. Whatever the thought was, she did not voice it, but maintained propriety, allowing her uncle to continue talking as they entered the house.

While Lord Wayne explained Richard's "kind offer to escort the lady for the day", Richard watched Lady Artemis out of the corner of his eye. Though she did not speak, her eyes seemed to take in every sight with a voracious appetite, flickering from tapestry to sculpture with a gaze that was equal parts interest and discernment.

When, at one point, she caught him staring, she gave just the barest hint of a smile.

Perhaps, Richard considered, this task would prove to be more interesting than he had first presumed.

A/N: This is my first venture into the YJ-verse, so here's hoping it's not half bad.

As you might have picked up, this is a medieval-ish (I say this loosely because there will probably be some anachronisms and deviations, and I embrace that) fantasy AU. I don't write a ton of AU usually (I've actually only done one other) but I really like the idea of this one.

Reviews are loved!

- Senka