This child is a princess? The King pursed his lips. Now that doesn't make a lick of sense... unless... These must be her play clothes! "Ah! Right- well, lead the way!" She smiled hopefully. 

The little lady... no, the little princess nodded and eyed her maid with a suspicious look of confusion- but without wasting another moment, the little girl turned away from the decadent palace, and headed towards a fruit orchard in the distance. Millaray laughed a bit uneasily as she looked about. Was there another wing to the palace that curled around the gardens on the other side of the fruit orchard?

Princess Roisin looked up at her. "What's the matter?"

"What? Oh nothing! I think... I'm feeling a bit out of sorts..." she grimaced. "I must still have some water in my head..."

The Princess squeezed her hand. "It's going to be okay," she said, now repeating the reassuring words Millaray had said not minutes ago. "We'll get dry clothes and be bright as triangles..."

Well, it's Right as Triangles... but that's close enough... the king thought as he continued to follow along the garden trails. But it wasn't a peacful walk in the garden- it was one filled with question upon question that the king wasn't ready to ask the little Roisin. Cheif among them, however, was where they were going and why. He could see plenty of people around the main palace behind them... He wracked his brain to try and reason out why, instead of going THERE, they were walking below these grand old apple trees, past several hedgerows of lavendar and even a couple vegetable and butterfly gardens. Finally, after what seemed like at least a hundred apple trees had slowly drifted by, another palace came into view. It was much smaller but still beautiful and built similarly to the main one on the hill. With relief, Millaray started to wander towards it, but the princess kept on the path and unnoticingly, pulled her maid back onto the trail.

We're not going to the outer palace? Millaray thought nervously. What in the world if going on at this place? What was the real Millaray doing all the way out here with this little baby? How much farther must we go?

The gardens ended here, and a small forest within the palace grounds began. They wandered past an archery field surrounded by old oaks, crossed over a few horse-riding trails which were well maintained, trim, and populated with purpose-planted flowers to liven up the trees. They crossed a cute, but clearly unkept little foot bridge made of stone and curling vines, made their way through a field with only the thinnest foot-trails and rabbit furrows here and there amid tall grasses and old wheat, and at last, the two stopped outside a little groundkeeper's cottage, so far away and forgotten that they couldn't even tell they were on Palace grounds at all! There were NO signs of it anywhere- just a wildly growing forest, and... this.

"We're back..." Millaray whistled uneasily as she pretended to know the place.

It was not beautiful like the palaces and out buildings. It was not big and grand or well-kept. It was little, and warm, and cute in it's own way- but overground with choking vines, looked to have at least one troublesome spot on the roof tiles that would likely leak in a rain storm, the garden outfront was overridden with thorny weeds and brambles of shaggy, lumpy grasses- the gate to the little courtyard was rusted and sitting at an angle, so that it was clearly broken and probably wedged shut- and the front window was covered with a plank of wood... it was likely that the glass was broken.

And yet... among these poor conditions were signs of life and possibly little sparks of happiness... Millaray stared at it maybe a bit too long. She saw where a section of the garden had been cleared and several vegetable plants were doing their best to grow. There was a row of stones carefully stacked which had paint on them to make them colorful and bright- as well as a rag doll sitting on a tree stump onto which charcoal curls of floral decorations had been drawn, marking it as furniture for the little dolly. There was a rope swing hung in the tree that looked well used but nervously precarious... and there was a set of laundry hanging out to dry that fanned in the gentle breeze and spoke of clothes for the maid and princess which were a bit too similar- not nearly regal enough for a child princess... just like this cottage. Simple, and out of the way.

This wasn't a palace- but it was the princess's home. It was Millaray's home. The king took it all in and began the process of accepting it as it was, while the back of his mind was already trying to work out ways to make it at least more livable. Millaray looked down at the little princess who was starting to lead her in. This poor little thing... Somehow I know this isn't going to get much better inside...