*Declan*

        Something Larieux had said before he left had stuck in Declan's memory, like a particularly annoying child that tapped him on the shoulder, and then scampered off, giggling, only to do it again a few moments later. So, before the day's council meeting, he made the endless climb to Mary's tower prison, ignoring the uneasy glances of his men as he passed.

        As was her custom, the former princess sat, brooding, in the window, her hands folded in her lap, eyes empty and unseeing even as she surveyed the training yard below. 

        He watched silently for a few minutes, taking in the desolation and icy misery of the tower, never moving from the top step, never letting Mary know he was there.

        Finally, he crept back downstairs, deep in thought. The guards at the base of the tower bowed to him as he passed, and still Declan didn't speak, but made his way through the halls to the residential wing of the palace, the one reserved for lesser nobles.

        Pulling aside the first servant he saw, a timide-looking maid, he ordered that a suite be prepared for permanent residence, preferably not on the ground floor, and with few windows. She curtsied and stepped back, stumbled, and scurried away.

        Declan retreated into his office, to sort through even more official paperwork. The tedium was muderous, and he couldn't even hold a proper council meeting to alleviate the monotony, what with only two councillors left in the capital. Which reminded him...

        He sent a page with a message summoning the High Abbot to his office to discuss the matter of Lady Mary. Plus, he had to get permission to let her visit the temple, traitor as she was.

        The old man shuffled into his office fifteen minutes later, puffing and redfaced after the climb to the fourth floor. His long religious houppelande was wrinkled, as if he'd thrown it on in a hurry, and his ceremonial headdress was tilted askance.

        "My lord, forgiven me," he intoned, bowing stiffly. "I cam as quickly as I could. Old bones, you know." He adjusted the string of prayer beads that hung around his neck. Declan surpressed an eyeroll, just barely.

        "Thank you," he said coldly. He'd never liked the pretentious old fool. "Have a seat." With a muttered thanks, the old Abbot settled himself into the extra chair oon the far side of the desk.

        "One would assume you had a good reason to summon me here?" the old man prodded, leaning forward.

        "Good for one," Declan muttered, and then, louder, "Queen Arabella's daughter, Mary...?" Folding his hands and resting then atop the desk's surface, he watched for a reaction.

        "Mary!" the Abbot clucked and fretted. "Why should I care at all about her, as long as she remains safely imprisoned?" Declan took a deep breath, swallowing a lump of disgust at the man's absolute disinterest and carelessness.

        "She is a child," he said icily, failing, finally, to hide his disliking of this man. "And quiet and pious. I'm moving her into new quarter, and the only permission I need from you is permission for her to visit the Temple–guarded, of course–when she needs to." 

        "She is a confessed traitor," the Abbot said carefully. "It would be... unseemly, if I were to allow her to–"

        "She is not a traitor," Declan hissed, standing. "She's confessed to being a bastard, nothing more. If being born illegitimate has become akin to treason, then I am as great a traitor as she, yet you've never tried to deny me access to the Temple."

        "Your parentage is immateriel–" 

        "Elizabeth was labeled a bastard, yet you bow willingly to he as your queen. You cannot simply condemn one girl because of the mistakes her mother made." 

        "But the queen–" the religious man moaned, only to be cut off again as Declan completely lost patience with the doddering fool. 

        "The queen left me with full discretion in these things, as her regent. If you wish to bar Mary from pursuit of religious absolution, you'll have to find a stronger argument. Now get out."

        The High Abbot sat, stunned, for a beat too long, mouth agape, then pushed back his chair, straightnened his robes, and strode from the room. Declan slammed the door behing him, and leaned against it, cheek pressed against the polished wood. He'd forgotten how much he hated dealing with people like that.

        When he'd composed himself–to a certain extent–Declan ordered the page who waited patiently outside his door to have a squad of the Royal Guard–his men, not the normal Palace Guard who currently had her charge–to bring Mary to his office.

        Taking out paper and ink, and sharpening his quill, he realized how nice it was to have something to focus on, a goal of sorts, instead of just mindlessly shuffling paper. With a wry, ironic half-smile, he began to write up the royal order for Mary's prison transfer. 

        Normally, he would have had to get the signatures of at least three of the six councillors, but with one discharged, another newly dead, and two more away, half the council was literally just Idris, and Idris, a humanitarian to the core, would likely support his decision. 

        Lady Mary arrived in her entourage of ten guardsmen, still in that tattered white dress, in the warm lighting of the office looking even more ill and starved.   

        Declan stood and took her hand, bowing slightly, and led her, not to the extra chair, but to his own plush armchair, closer to the brazier that heated the room.

        When the girl was settled, Declan sent the page for a hot meal for them both–he'd skipped his midday–and heaped more coal onto the brazier, chasing the last vestiges of cold from the cozy office.

        Throughout it all, Arabella's daughter sat, dazed, silent, looking equal parts lost and frightened. Her face was hollow and weary, and the fear etched into its shadows was more uncertainty than true fright. Declan supposed she'd spent too much of her life living afraid for anything new and unknown to scare her much. 

        "My lady, are you warm enough?" he asked, pausing with one hand resting on the back of her chair. Mary met his eyes, startled, flushed, blinked and looked down at her lap, picking at her skirt, and nodded. 

        Declan turned to his desk, bent over its surface, scribbled a few additions to the decree, signed it, handed it to one of the guardsmen to bring to Idris, and shooed the remaining nine men from the room.

        "My lady," Declan said gently. "I am moving you to new chambers, close to the Temple, which you have permission to visit, as long as you have at least two guards with you. The same rules apply to the garden, and court, should you choose to attend."

        Mary looked up, her eyes welling with tears, and held his gaze for the first time. "Why are you doing this?" she asked softly. Her pale eyes still seemed too empty and shadowed, and that was, for Declan, the worst thing to have happened to her. She'd lost all feeling, all hope, and she was just fourteen. 

        So he ignored her question and said instead, "I'll engage the services of an attendant, and a seamstress and her assistants to fix you a new wardrobe."

        Mary smiled tiredly, and thanked him, eyes distant, face blank and hopless. 

        The page arrived just then, with two carts heaped with food, and Declan nodded firmly. "Eat what you like, and leave the rest," he said shortly. Snatching his cloak from its hook by the door, he headed to the practice courts to beat up somestraw dummies. 

        It was all he was good at, after all. 

A/N: Hey guys! So, this chapter is mostly filler, and I'm sorry about that, but I had to work Mary even further into the story, and hence this chapter.

Next week, I might not have an update, because it's Tech Week for the One Act festival I'm involved in, which basically means that I'm in rehearsal until at least nine o'clock every night, and I still have homework and stuff for school. 

I'll try to write another chapter, but I have to get all my homework out of the way first, so it might be awhile until you get an update. Sorry. 

On the bright side, though, this story is getting to the point where things are starting to get exciting! And I will be adding one or two new POV characters in the next few chapters! Get ready for even more intrigue, danger, and maybe even some epic battle scenes! 

Also, how weird is it that we're already 1/12th of the way through 2015?!? Like, I still haven't gotten used to writing the year at the top of my notes, and now I'll have to chage the month, too! Yeah, I'm really disorganized, as you've all probably guessed...

Anyway, don't forget to VOTE/COMMENT and tell me what you think! Thanks for all your support so far! It means a lot to me. Hopefully, they'll be another chapter next week, but maybe not... Sorry!