There was barely any daylight left when Arabella arrived at the tourney grounds. With Ren walking by her side, they were greeted by a tranquil field of candlelit tents which glowed warmly in the darkness like paper lanterns, the various colours of the heraldic symbols bathing the surrounding grass in a kaleidoscope of chromatic brilliance. Traces and wisps of smoke hung in the air, still carrying the scents of the campfires that had created them, even though the flames had either died out or dimmed to a few embers by now. A chorus of crickets chirped all around as they moved between the tents, and Arabella even glimpsed the occasional insect hopping around amidst the grasses and flowers.

Thankfully, with the two of them being elves, they could see in twilight as if it was the middle of the day – even the faintest glimmers of light were brightened by their eyes, and as Arabella turned to Ren, his eyes seemed to shine like a pair of pale grey moons. The two of them had spent a delightful day together in Thalmont, mostly passing the time by shopping. They had intended to return and meet back up with the others before the afternoon was over, but time flew like a swift, and before long, they had suddenly realized how late it was and rushed back after Ren had been the one to look out the window of the shop they were in and realize it was nightfall.

With the excitement and buzz of the tournament in the air, many of the shops had been remaining open for as long as possible to try and make the most of the extra foot traffic. And, truth be told, she and Ren had fed more than their fair share of gold into the local economy.

She had tried not to spend too much today, and she still had plenty of coin to spare. But sometimes, a girl just had to go on a shopping spree.

As such, she and Ren were each walking with a bag full of items; Arabella had mainly gone for foodstuffs for their journeys as a group, along with a good few items of clothing, while Ren had mainly purchased books. Thalmont didn't have any of the magical variety, but he seemed content just to purchase books about Milisevran legends and folk tales as pleasure reading.

When Arabella asked "Would you mind if I had a read of them sometime?", Ren replied with a bright and cheerful "Of course!"

The high elf princess smiled at that - it had surprised her quite a bit how much and how quickly Ren had opened up to her, but she wasn't complaining in the slightest. to onlookers, it may very well have looked like they'd gone from strangers to best friends forever in the span of one afternoon. And frankly, she hoped that was the case.

From the moment she'd first met Ren in the Cockatrice, she could tell that he had been keeping something in; the way he was so withdrawn, jumpy and silent screamed to her that he was a gentle but troubled soul looking for help. And while Arabella wasn't sure exactly what troubled him, she had endeavoured to give him what he clearly needed most right now – someone he could trust enough to feel comfortable opening up to.

Once his guard was down following their initial chat, Ren had become far more outgoing and friendly. As they went around the shops and stalls of the Weaver's District, another one of the boroughs of Thalmont, they had shared information about the different kinds of materials that could be used for dressmaking, and Ren had been very helpful in helping her choose the fabrics, thread and dyes she could use for her latest fashion project. And then, at a café near to the statue of Dame Aveline de Vorleans, the district's patron knight, they had spoken quite extensively.

Arabella had told Ren about her own backstory – with searching for something to help lift her mother out of her state of depression, but she chose not to press Ren about his reason for being a wandering adventurer. She knew it was too soon for that, and she didn't want to ruin the relationship she had built with him so far by making him think she was being interrogatory.

Instead, they mainly spoke about the sights and sounds of the city. The immaculately-carved fortifications, the gates and towers worked with ornate patterns depicting dragons, angels and pegasi. The houses whose sides of smooth, pale stone were painted with bright, heart-lifting colours like yellow, orange, bright blue and pink, as well as ornamented with hanging flowers or lattices of carefully-controlled ivy that added a touch of nature's beauty to the city streets.

And of course, the clothes. Within the Weaver's District, she had seen ladies wearing some of the finest dresses she had ever seen outside of the royal court of Evermeet – silk, velvet, samite and satin died in the most gorgeous and often garish colours, many of them low-cut or bare across the shoulders, and almost all of them tightly cinched about the waist. She wasn't so keen on the ones trimmed with animal fur or bird feathers, but they were still a delight to behold.

No doubt the ladies came here to visit the local tailors and dressmakers to be fitted for such garments, for each one looked bespoke and made to order in the extreme. Even the men were well-dressed; while those in their finely-painted armour looked spectacular undeniably, what really caught her eye were the men in their eye-catching, multi-layered doublets, wrought in the richest red and deepest blues with split sleeves, white ruffs about their necks and gold or silver wire weaved into the fabrics.

Arabella had caught herself looking and sighing dreamily at some of the clothing worn by both genders, though for different reasons. The women because she longed to wear something similar, though maybe not so revealing, and the men because she appreciated a sharply-dressed young stud as much as the next girl.

Truth be told, she did also see a couple of young men looking at her, giving her smiles, winks and taunting kissy-faces... to which she courteously smiled and looked away, as she felt a lady should.

No need to cause a scene, after all.

Ren had also been looking at the men in their fine attire, which made her smile, and wonder if maybe down the line, if they found one who was kind and gentle, she might encourage Ren to make a move.

She was a cleric of the goddess of love, after all. And even if she wasn't, she wanted Ren to be happy.

When they returned to the tournament grounds, the two elves weren't totally sure where to look for their companions... but thankfully, someone came to their aid.

As they walked through a collection of tents, a mass of tangled yellow strands suddenly sprouted up from within a nearby swathe of long green grass. And almost immediately, a huge mass of leaves burst up from the ground as well as Finnan bounded in her direction and threw his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly.

"Arabella! Ren!" he said gleefully. "You're back!" As he said that, he also leapt over to Ren and gripped him tightly around the waist. Ren chuckled nervously, his face paling slightly, but he was unable to stave off the halfling's infectious glee and reached down to pat him on the head.

Beaming, Arabella gently moved to ease Finnan from around the wizard's waist and bent down to his level. "Have you been good, Finnan?" she asked, unable to stop her maternal instincts from making her say that.

The halfling nodded eagerly. "Yeah! And we got up to a lot of things while you were gone!"

"Oh really?" Arabella asked him, smiling softly. "Do tell." She wanted to know all the details.

Finnan grinned, showing teeth full of green specks – seems he'd been eating grass again. "Well, it's actually 'Sir Finnan' now! Romain knighted me in this big cave full of stone lizards and people in robes! He touched me on his shoulders with his sword, and after that, he said I was a knight now!"

Arabella was unable to keep herself from giving a soft chuckle as he mentioned the 'big cave' and the 'stone lizards'. Due to being a hermit for almost all his life, Finnan's understanding of the world was rather limited. He tended to refer to buildings, especially stone ones, as caves since, up until she met him, that was all he ever understood people to live in. She understood why he did, and was sympathetic to not knowing these things – after all, he'd had nothing even resembling a normal life.

Ren hadn't seen these, but in her Bag of Holding were some children's books she had bought and flash cards she'd made to help teach Finnan these things. She didn't want to seem like she was patronizing him, but at the same time, he did need to learn that a carpet was not 'indoor grass' and that his reflection in a mirror was not his long-lost twin brother, nor her long-lost twin sister.

Finnan continued to excitedly explain everything that had happened to him, Romain, Logan and Stalk during the day, his mouth moving at a million miles a minute and never seeming to pause for breath. "And then we spoke to a man who told us about the King, and then Logan tried to lift a really big block on the end of a stick, and then some old man on a crutch came up to Logan and talked to him about something, and then we ended up down here!"

Arabella tried her best to pay attention to it all, even as the unceasing tide of information swept through her and by the time she'd absorbed one story, another has escaped Finnan's lips.

Beside her, Ren was doing the same thing, and when Finnan finally finished, the wood elf seemed no worse for wear, simply nodding as he pursed his lips before saying "Wow! Well, it seems like you all got up to a lot while we were gone!"

Hearing this, Arabella couldn't help but giggle before asking Finnan "Is everyone here now?"

"Yeah!" Finnan replied, nodding so fast that she feared she might give himself a neckache. "Technus came back some time ago, but he didn't talk to any of us after we got here. And Romain and Stalk have both gone to bed..." However, as the halfling's words came to an end, his face slowly fell and the light of enthusiasm in his huge green eyes suddenly began to dull.

Immediately, an alarm went off in Arabella's mind, and she dropped down to her knees before Finnan and put a hand on his cheek, her nails brushing against the yellow hairs of the druid's chin-beard. "What is it, Finnan?" she asked softly, hoping he would tell her what had happened. "Did someone get into a fight?"

Her little friend turned her way, and then nodded. "Logan did. He and Romain rode at each other with big sticks, and after Logan got knocked off, he and some other men got angry at each other..."

Ren looked confused, and then worried as the words "Got angry?" seemed to inadvertently pass his lips.

Finnan's eyes began to well up, and all he was able to say was "He was scary..."

Arabella's heart melted, and she pulled Finnan into a tight hug, tenderly shushing him as she stroked his mess of corn-coloured hair. "It'll be alright... ssssh, it's okay..." She then stood up and turned to Ren, and upon seeing the fearful expression on his face, decided she would go and check on Logan alone. "Ren, do you think you could put Finnan to bed for me? I'll go and find Logan."

Ren nodded, despite looking incredibly nervous. But thankfully, Finnan's emotional state meant that he was calm – a rare sight indeed. And as her two friends walked off together, Arabella then glanced around, looking for navy colours somewhere in the tourney grounds in the hope that might be Logan's tent.

It seemed like no-one was around, or maybe even awake, to help her... until a sound made her ears prick up. The loud 'thunk' of something impacting against... wood?

Arabella had no idea what that was, but it was her best lead to find someone to point her in the right direction, and so she trailed after the noise. It felt like she was able to feel each impact as she heard it, and as she drew closer, the sensation shooting through her became all the more potent and powerful.

Then, she started to hear another noise – the sound of hoofbeats.

As she moved, changing direction and weaving between the tents until she found where the sound was loudest, Arabella came out onto the jousting yard, all set up and prepared for the tournament tomorrow. Moving between the stands to the barrier that marked the entrance, she saw a lone knight charging back and forth within the lists, despite it being last light and the entire field almost entirely swathed in darkness. He was charging full-speed at a quintain – something Arabella had heard of before from stories about knights, but seen little of them in-person.

The knight's lance struck the quintain's shield, and then sped past in a blur as the bag of rocks on the other end whirled around, missing him but a good few feet. Then, at the end of the tilting yard, the knight yanked on his horse's reins, causing the steed to wheel about, as if to prepare for another run.

The horse was unmistakably Thunder – Arabella could recognise the stallion they had borrowed from Romain – and when the rider turned around, her eyes immediately locked onto the sigil on his shield. And when she did, her heart jolted in alarm.

"Sir Logan!" she called from the sidelines.

Immediately, the rider turned his head her way, then lolled forward slightly in his saddle as he dropped his lance and raised a hand to pull off his helmet.

"Arabella?" Logan's deep voice, unmistakable as the golden irises that glittered within her view, replied.

"Yes, it's me!" she called, trying to make sure she was heard. After struggling for a moment for what to do, she found she had no choice but to vault the barrier – no easy feat in a dress, but thankfully she managed it and was able to make her way over to him and Thunder, holding up the skirt of her dress as she crossed grassy ground that was so smashed up by hooves that it resembled a field that had been ploughed in early spring.

As she drew near to Logan, though, a sinking feeling began to form in the pit of Arabella's stomach. As her darkvision illuminated Logan's face, his eyes of molten gold were the only assurance that she was talking to the right person. The healthy young man she had parted ways with earlier that day now seemed gaunt and hollow as a walking corpse; his skin pale as bone and gleaming grimly from the sweat that poured down his face, his lips chapped and thick, heavy bags hanging beneath his eyes. As his shield hung from his left arm, she saw it shaking and trembling, as if he was struggling to even hold it up. In fact, his whole body looked feverish, like he was on the verge of collapse.

And yet his eyes seemed to burn bright in the darkness, determined to do something and to keep going.

"Logan..." she said gently. "Are you alright?"

Logan looked down at her and replied quickly with "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You-"

"I said I'm fine!" the paladin snapped, suddenly regaining a small burst of his intensity. "Just... getting some practise in before tomorrow."

Hearing this, Arabella might have been inclined to let him continue... if in that very moment, his shield didn't drop from his arm and clatter to the floor. Even worse, as he leaned to his left in order to pick it up, Thunder's reins slipped out of Logan's right hand and he started to topple out of the saddle.

Her heart in her throat, Arabella dashed forward and threw her arms around his broad shoulders, her thin arms straining as the weight of his armour sagged down upon her. A jolt of pain ran down to her legs as she caught him, and as this happened, she knew she couldn't just stand by and let him keep doing this.

"Well, I think you've practised enough..." she told him, gasping even as she tried to sound a little more firm. "Let's get you to your tent."

"I... I..." Logan murmured, his eyes falling closed and his speech slurring with exhaustion. "I can't."

"Yes you can..." Arabella told him, giving him a smile as she pushed him back upright in the saddle, though it took all her strength to do so. "Just focus on staying up, and I'll do the rest."

Then, the high elf clicked her tongue at Thunder, who looked just as worn down as his rider, and took the stallion's reins in her hands before leading the two away...

~~~

Every part of Logan's body ached, his heart most of all. He had staggered from Thunder's saddle back into his tent at Arabella's insistence, and now sat the pieces of his armour scattered all around him and his shirtless body bared for Arabella to see.

He knew what his wounds were like just from the gasps she made as she fussed over him – the back of his neck was raw, and probably black from bruising where the quintain had hit him. He also could see as he glanced downwards that his right shoulder was red-raw and swollen from the number of times the impact of the lance striking its target had forced the hilt to smash into his skin. His hands were shaking, his bruises scorching his flesh, his arms feeling so heavy that it was all he could do to simply sit down hunched forward, never mind upright and proud as a knight should be.

Behind him, though, a sudden sensation soon swept his pain aside. It was a heat, but a very different one from the burning agony of his injuries – this was a lighter, soothing heat that seemed to brush across his bruises and sweep them out of existence. Within seconds, he could move his neck again without crying out, and his armpit no longer felt like a gigantic oozing cyst.

As Arabella finished her prayer to her goddess, a glowing candle from among his belongings resting by her side, she then lifted her gentle hand from his upper back and moved around to sit at his side. Logan was painfully aware of the porcelain-smooth skin on the princess' delicate hands, and of the curve of her hips and breasts as she remained so close to him. The scent of her perfume also filled the air within his tent – a sweet and floral fragrance that brought to mind orchids and roses.

His left hand tried to subtly conceal another part of his body that ached at her presence... while she then took his right hand in hers and lifted it, holding it tenderly as she whispered another prayer in her soft, demure voice, the sound and her magic both seeming to sooth the trembling in his limbs.

And when she finished, she asked him. "Tell me – what happened?"

Logan sighed, his breath feeling as heavy as both his limbs and his heart. There was no use in hiding it; Arabella clearly knew that something was up.

"Fine". The words sounded like they'd been pried from his mouth with hot pincers, but he told her everything. "Romain and I had a match to determine who would take part in the mounted joust on our behalf tomorrow," he said, briefly taking an aside to explain the rules before he continued. "I lost, and there were some knights in the stands who were mocking me..." he paused before continuing. "And I lashed out. Broke one of their jaws."

Arabella's eyes widened a little as she heard that, though the small gesture conveyed a mixture of both shock and empathy. "Do you regret it?" she asked him. "Finnan says that you scared him – he came to me about it after Ren and I came back."

Logan gritted his teeth. "I admit, I lost my temper. Bad." he said, feeling nothing but guilt after he heard how Finnan felt about his outburst. "I won't make excuses. I know I went too far... but I still couldn't let them stand by and insult me like that."

Arabella paused. "Could you not?" she asked gently.

Logan shook his head. He knew that failing to lift the Hammer of Taureau, the 'helpful' pep talk from Ser Porthos and the loss to Romain in their practised joust had all stoked the fires of his rage and made him overstep his bounds... but even if all of those hadn't happened, he would still have challenged Amadis and his friends to a duel for their snide comments. And as he explained this to Arabella, he told her as much. "If I'm representing my family here, I can't turn a blind eye to their slander."

He then went on. "And it's not just that. If you want to know why I kept jousting for so long... I wanted to practise. To make myself better after the loss I suffered."

A crease appeared between Arabella's brows, her turquoise eyes blinking slowly as she seemed to try and understand. "Running at a target until you collapse?" she asked, her tone bearing the faintest lilt of incredulity. "How will that make you better? If anything, you'll exhaust yourself.

"Because-!"

Logan's words came out as angry and frustrated before he stopped himself, took a breath and quickly changed his tone. Arabella was trying to help him where most people wouldn't – and he wouldn't treat her like she was in the wrong here.

"Because I have to win tomorrow, Arabella. For my own sake and for other's. This is my chance to prove myself as a knight and a paladin. To go on the quest for the Lake of Virtue is the greatest honour I could ask for here and now. And I'm not going to let it slip through my fingers," he said fiercely.

But then, as he thought of the next reason, his tone softened and he rubbed his temple as his face began to turn from determined to forlorn. "I also know that this means a lot to Romain as well, and if I don't pull my weight, we both lose this opportunity..."

He didn't know if, after today, he and Romain were even friends anymore, but Logan continued to see in the young Milisevran a mirror of his own struggles. A young paladin of noble birth, eager to prove himself to his lineage, mocked at times by his peers, and fighting to make his mark on history. The knight of Chateau Toussaint was of a gentler disposition, but they both admired the great heroes of the Realms and wished to be counted amongst their number. And Logan feared that if he didn't make the cut in this tournament, both of them would lose out.

After Romain had given him the chance to do this alongside him, Logan feared the idea of repaying that honour with inadequacy.

As he said this, he saw Arabella lean in close to him, brushing a lock of his black hair away from his face before touching his cheek and turning his head to look her way. Then, when they were face-to-face, only inches apart from each other, she told him:

"I believe you will win greatness, Logan. Both in the tournament, and in many more adventures and battles to come..." she told him as their eyes met and her hand reached to run her its gentle fingers through his hair. "Just try not to lose yourself on the way there... for me, and for everyone else."

A moment of silence passed between them, with Logan torn two ways – on what he should say to her in response, and whether he wanted to kiss her then and there. A gentle sensation of pleasure lingered on his skin as her fingers, and it influenced his thoughts just enough to make him consider it.

But then he came to his senses in more ways than one, taking a deep breath. He had overreacted – not for the first time today, but Arabella had managed to talk some sense into him.

Looking away as she spoke to him, he pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "I'm sorry. About all this offloading and such. I'm just dedicated to my goal, I suppose."

Thankfully, when he looked back at her, Arabella was starting to smile again

"It's no trouble, Logan," she told him. "It's alright to have goals, undeniably. So long as they don't consume us." As she said that, Logan remembered her quest to find something that would help her mother, Queen Amlauril's, deep depression.

"Did you find anything today?" he asked Arabella, hoping he would catch on to what he meant.

Arabella shook her head. "Sadly not. But I'm not worrying too much about that right now. The merchants who were around today will have other things I need to look out for, other goals I'd like to fulfil."

"Oh really?" he asked, his voice suddenly taking on a more playful tone. "Tell me - what are your other goals in life, Princess?" he asked jokingly before his heart suddenly ended up in his throat. "Sorry – Arabella."

He quickly corrected himself, remembering what she had said about wanting her royal status to be kept secret.

But his question persisted, and he asked more seriously, "Is there anything else you'd like to do with your life? Either now or after you return home to Evermeet?"

Arabella giggled. "Well, in the short term, my goal is keeping you boys in the tournament on the straight and narrow. Helping Ren come out of his shell, teaching Finnan about the world... taking care of a certain paladin who will not be named," she teased, her smile a bloody infectious one that soon had Logan grinning and blushing

"But after making sure my mother is back on her feet..." the princess went on "... I have a few ideas. I would like to continue travelling the Realms and seeing the famous sights – being in mainland Faerun has given me a taste for adventure, actually. I'd love to see all these wonderful other places I've heard of beyond the Sword Coast, like the glaciers of Icewind Dale, the desert cities of Calimshan..." she looked into his eyes with an eager expression, "...and maybe even Cormyr."

That last part caught Logan off-guard. "Really?" Logan asked.

"Of course!" Arabella told him, her voice almost sing-song with joy. "Even before we met, I've heard some wonderful things about Cormyr while I was in places like Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate."

"What sort of things?" Logan asked, unable to keep a smile off his face.

Arabella propped her hand up in her hands. "That it's a beautiful place, for one. I've heard that it's known as The Forest Kingdom, and that it lies on the borders of ancient elven kingdom of Cormanthyr..."

Logan's golden eyes glimmered as his thoughts faded through the ebb and flow of time – though he had only left his homeland a few years back, the sights and sounds of his homeland seemed like such distant memories.

But they were happy ones, undeniably. The emerald reaches of the King's Forest, the trees rustling in the icy wind that blasted through the Storm Horns, carrying the mountain snow and ruffling through his hair as he remembered climbing the peaks in his teething years. From those great heights, you could also see right the way to the Dragonmere, the inland sea to the south of the kingdom, its surface glittering like a bed of sapphires upon which bobbed a multitude of ships.

The looming and mighty structure of Castle Obarskyr, seat of the royal family, watching over the vast metropolis of Suzail, the capital city. And the Purple Dragons, their nation's famous army, marching in perfect lockstep through the streets and across the roads, ready to defend their people from any danger.

"All of those things are true..." Logan told her with a smile. "And I definitely think you'll like it there, Arabella," he told her before, suddenly, an idea sprang into his mind. "Also, word of advice – if Finnan gets in trouble again, have him turn into a cat," he said. "It's actually illegal to harm cats in Cormyr under any circumstances."

Arabella gave a soft gasp of disbelief. "Truly?" she asked, mouth slightly agape. And when Logan confirmed it with a nod, she giggled and said "Now there's a law I can get behind! I mean, how heartless would you have to be to harm a kitty?"

Her words made Logan chuckle, his mood continuing to lighten. "I take it you're an animal lover then, Arabella?" he asked her, smirking slightly.

The princess made no effort to deny it. "Oh, certainly! I used to spend hours in the company of animals when I was at home on Evermeet. Horses, cats, rabbits... even farm animals like sheep at times. But dogs are my favourite by far – give me a basket of puppies, and I can't help but want to keep every single one of them!"

Logan grinned. "Well, let's be fair – that is a hard choice to make!" he joked.

Arabella met his gaze. "Do you like animals too, then?"

"I'd say so..." the paladin replied, wondering if his ears were red. "I spent a lot of time with horses and hunting hounds when I was young. Haven't got so much experience with cats, but I know I like them too..."

The high elf beamed, and as she did so, he knew his ears were bright crimson. However, Arabella's expression then became more pensive and pondering as she spoke again.

"Returning to the topic of my long-term goals, though... after I return home, I suppose my main goal would be to settle down, get married, and start a family."

When she said that, Logan wasn't sure whether to be excited, surprised, or worried. The more he thought about it, though, the 'surprised' feeling quickly faded faster than breath on a mirror. Arabella was obviously a very maternal person – you could see that plain as day in how she interacted with Finnan – and she was obviously very caring beyond just him. As they had first entered Chateau Toussaint yesterday afternoon, Logan had glimpsed her speaking gently to a few children who had gathered around to see the corpse of the chimera.

The other feelings lingered, however – excitement that she might find happiness in a family, and worry that it might not be so dreamy and blissful as she might expect, nor as an amazing woman like her deserved.

'She's not for you, Galehaut' he quickly reminded himself before he gathered his courage again and asked her "Are you sure about that, Arabella?"

The princess smiled at him. "Absolutely!" she replied. However, when she saw his face, her beaming smile faded a little. "Why do you ask? Are you... worried for me?"

Logan met her gaze. "It's just that..." He paused, wondering how to put this delicately. "Was your mother arranging any matches for you by the time you left Evermeet?" he asked.

"I don't believe so," was the reply Arabella gave him. "I've received a lot of proposals from nobles over the years, and while I am aware that arranged marriages are the norm for nobility, and royalty especially... it's not what I want for myself."

Logan knew where this was going, and he didn't disagree with it in the slightest. "You want to marry for love," he stated.

Arabella gave him a warm smile and nodded, fingers twirling the gold heart amulet that hung around her neck. "I do," she said, her cheeks turning pink. "You must think me terribly naïve, but I hope that I shall find a man who I love and that he will ask for my hand. Or at least one who I will grow to love in time."

Logan shook his head. "Not at all, Arabella," he said. "Actually, I think we could use more women like you. People who believe in the importance of love and don't just marry for advantage."

A memory of his stepmother coiled in his mind like a serpent when he thought of that, but Arabella saying "Thank you, Logan..." and brushing a lock of hair behind her ear quickly distracted him. His heart rate still high as a kite, Logan soon found himself blurting things out without thinking – something he did when he was nervous and especially did around girls. One of the many reasons why he was single.

"And after your marriage?" he asked shyly.

Arabella replied immediately with "Children," then made an adorable expression of longing, looking like she was moaning. "Pardon me for saying, Sir Logan, but baby fever is real," she told him, eyes sparkling with mischief even as she tried to remain proper.

Logan managed a small smile and said, "I've no doubt it is..." before his curiosity got the better of him and he opened his mouth again. "Dare I ask how many children you want?"

"Oh, at least four. Maybe five or six," Arabella told him, her response made Logan's eyes widen.. "My mother had fourteen children, my brothers and sisters, and I dream of having a large family of my own someday."

Unsure of whether he should be surprised by this or not, Logan did manage to soak in the fact that the thought of being happily married and with children clearly made Arabella happy, for her fair skin was glowing throughout this entire conversation, illuminating him and lifting his spirits a little...

But then, and he wasn't sure where this came from, but as he looked into Arabella's eyes, a thought struck him. And that thought grew from an inkling to a realisation faster than a spark in a dry forest starts a wildfire.

She knew what it was like to have an unpleasant childhood, to feel lonely and unloved, just as he did. And she didn't want that for her own children.

It was a feeling he deeply sympathized with, more so than most would be able to. For he'd suffered that much the same.

"What about you, Logan?" she asked, looking into his eyes. "Getting married and having children... is that something you'd like to have in your future?"

Logan felt his shoulders and neck stiffen a little once more as he heard that, her question catching him completely off-guard. "No," he quickly told her, shaking his head and looking down as he gave a half-truth. "Absolutely not. With the life I lead, it wouldn't be... practical." His fingers flexed uncomfortably, each joint aching uncomfortably. "I wouldn't be able to give them the... life they deserve."

A brief jolt of happiness and contentment swept through his body at the thought of having children... but in its wake came a tide of anxiety and doubt. Doubt that he would be a good enough father, any better than the one he had.

And that doubt continued to plague him until he felt Arabella's warm hand on the back of his own. Turning around, he saw her looking into his eyes as she told him, "If it means anything at all... I think you'd be an excellent father."

She said it as a statement, calm but firm, a though it were indisputable. And frankly, Logan wished it was.

"You flatter me, Arabella..." he replied with a nervous smile. "I appreciate the compliment, truly. But right now, I need to be an excellent knight more than anything."

The princess gave him a smile. "Who's to say you're not already?"

Logan wasn't sure if he could answer that question. He certainly didn't feel like a great knight after today. In truth, he didn't feel like a knight at all. And despite Arabella's attempts to raise his spirits, his stubborn ass dragged them right back down again.

He didn't know if other people felt this way, but it seemed like whenever anyone offered him any kind of compliment, he found himself unable to trust it. More often than not, he found himself assuming that they were lying and coddling him in order to protect his feelings.

No, the fault lay with him. He would take responsibility and strive to be better.

"Well, if I was, I wouldn't have lost to Romain..." he told her. "But I think we should drop this topic here, else our conversation keep going full circle. As for whether I have what it takes or not... I suppose we'll find out tomorrow."

"That may be so..." Arabella told him, rising to her feet and quickly smoothing out the skirt of her beautiful white and gold gown. "But Logan... I believe in you. In you, and Finnan and Romain and Stalk. And even if you don't win... there'll come a time for you to prove yourself again."

Logan felt his face seem to catch fire under her gaze, but he couldn't bring himself to disparage her. In truth, despite his earlier comments, feeling that there was at least one person still in his corner after today was a huge relief, and made him feel less like his whole world was coming to an end.

"You know, Arabella..." he said as he looked at her, glancing quickly at her holy symbol over her chest. "... you were made to be a cleric of Hanali Celanil. Because you have a heart of gold."

Arabella's face flushed, and she giggled lightly before telling him, "That's so sweet of you to say, Logan..." and then quickly adding "And you said I was a flatterer."

"Oh, I don't flatter, princess..." he teased right back. "I call things like I see them."

That was his best attempt at flirting. Not his strongest suit, he knew.

Still, Arabella beamed, her cheeks still pink as she seemed to anxiously with the hanging sleeves of her dress. She then whispered to him "Goodnight, Logan."

Logan managed a small nod, feeling a pang of relief and a small din of sandess as the gorgeous high elf left his company, her hair like a fountain of molten gold shimmering as she left the aura of candelight around him.

"Goodnight, Arabella..."