Sitting on his bed, unused in his years away, Eiren stretched his legs before him and leaned back against the headboard. The covers were thick and warm, welcome to his aching body. He moved far less than Lorian ever did; the exertion of packing and walking all around the estate was taking far more a toll on Eiren than he would have expected.

As he lay there, he took in a deep, aching breath and held it as long as he dared. Spots jumped before his eyes, and his heart shuddered, but he kept the breath suspended, until at last, it escaped, rushing out into the room like a heavy storm. Lungs empty and shaking, he closed his eyes and let the day's events wash over him.

Caelony, arm clutched tightly in Eiren's, had ushered him inside with all the excitability of someone half her age, and laughed loudly at his expression when he saw the inside of the castle.

"It's undergone a bit of... renovation, let's say, since you last visited." Renovation was not the word that sprang to his mind as he looked before him. The main hall was as bright and colourful as the outside world was grey and dismal. A staircase to his left spiraled magnificently above him, paintings and lights alike adorning the curving wall beneath it. Red carpet and red walls spun out before him, with rich, chocolate-coloured dressers neatly pressed against the walls. The stairs to his right, similarly spiraling out of sight, were the same dark brown as the furniture, with thin, elegant vines painted in a cool mint along the rails. The room looked nothing like he had remembered. Caelony laughed at his expression and pulled him along.

"This is just the entrance, darling," she smiled, and she gestured her chin towards a dresser on their right. "Shoes off!" Unwilling to remove his feet from what little warmth he had access to, Eiren reluctantly leaned over, prised his shoes free, and placed them in the dresser Caelony indicated. There were only two other pairs inside - a black set of peculiar, pointed shoes with buckles on them, and a more severe-looking pair of gentleman's shoes.

"Whose are these," he asked as he stood, and Caelony grinned. He wondered privately if she hadn't completely changed in the last decade, or if she merely expressed every emotion through smiles and laughs. The thought unsettled him either way.

"Mine and my father's," she replied, turning her head away and frowning slightly. "As you can see, I haven't much use for mine." She stuck out a bare foot and shook it before grasping his arm once more and pulling him rather roughly along.

Forced to keep up with her, Eiren ran along the hall and out into the more open area of the dining room. Before he could give much attention to the impressive table, the candles, and lamps, or the heavy, silver chandelier, she had pulled him around a corner and behind a door easily missed.

"This is my room!" She pushed open another door after a very short hall and faced him in the doorway, hands behind her slender waist. "I'm sure you don't remember it," she explained, as he raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I don't believe you ever made your way down here, not when we spent so much time in the garden." She winked and closed the door. "You already know where your room is, so we'll explore the rest!" Eiren held back a remark; he did not, in fact, remember his room. All he could dredge up about the entirety of the castle was its horrid, grey appearance, and how the inhabitants seemed to suck the life out of all who stayed within its walls.

"Caelony," he said instead, stepping to her side as they turned to the stairs on their left, where they had entered from the main hall, "You do recall that I never actually lived here, yes?" She smiled, exposing several sharp teeth, and rolled her head to look at him.

"Of course, dear. You've made that quite plain these recent years."

"Come now, you were just as eager to be rid of this place as I was," he retorted hotly.

"Indeed, but it was not I who left."

"It was never my place to stay, Caelony."

"It was as much yours as mine, the day your mother and my father decided we were to be wed."

"To be," Eiren said, feeling himself grow cross. "We still aren't married, and it's been almost twenty years since they decided that." Caelony stopped walking to face him fully. She still carried a smile, but there was a darkness in her eyes that made Eiren swallow hard. She continued walking, taking him past a hallway with hundreds of portraits. All of them had the family's signature black hair, piercing brown and blue eyes, and the same sort of simmering fury beneath their posed smiles. That is, when they smiled; very few of the subjects had offered anything more than a look of annoyance. Especially next to these stern faces, Caelony's resemblance to the family she wanted to be rid of so strongly was quite impressive.

"Don't anger me, darling. I find it quite difficult to arrange an appropriate date when my intended runs across the country and buries himself in the coattails of his lover."

"Lover!" It was Eiren's turn to stop walking, and he pulled Caelony to a stop with him. She waved an irked hand at him and he released his hold on her elbow. "Just who do you think I took as a lover?" She raised an eyebrow and snorted.

"You're not the only one who knew where you went, or who you stayed with." She sniffed and regarded the portrait of a brooding young man next to her. "This was Anton," she said, frowning. "He, too, had a bride-to-be awaiting him here, but he ran off, the next town over, and took refuge with a fellow from his university." Eiren rolled his eyes heftily and groaned. "His father found out," she continued, giving him a cold look that said she would not be interrupted. "The poor young man was shot! Of course, Anton killed himself, with the same gun when he was escorted home."

"Caelony," he said, holding up a hand and grasping his head with the other, "Whether your great-uncle Anton took another man for his lover, or not, I can assure you, not only have I not taken a lover, but Lorian and I were only friends. He was to be wed next fall, anyhow." Caelony's eyes twitched, and she burst out laughing.

"Lorian, is it," she gasped between cackles. "So amusing you had a name ready!" Eiren felt his face burn and he glared ahead.

"You told me you already knew who I was living with!"

"No, silly, I said you're not the only one who knew who you lived with." She stood up straight and calmed herself down, her cheeks suffused with a healthy red glow. "You always were the romantic," she smiled, and they continued to an open room. She pulled him inside and waved her hand. Still cross, Eiren followed, but as soon as he stepped in, his glowering face melted into an expression of admiration and joy.

Too young to care for the expressions of music, Eiren had never known there was a piano room, adorned richly with hanging lights, shelves of music, and a solitary, black piano. It sat in the center of the room, sparkling lightly as it reflected the silver candles perched about the room. The walls, too, were black and bordered with a light, greyish colour. The effect was immediate - moonlight appeared to settle in the room, tranquil, as though the piano was afloat at the center of a vast, gentle ocean.

He approached the piano with an expression bordering on reverence. Caelony stood nearby and smiled softly at him, hands patiently behind her back. Hands reached out and tentatively brushed a key, and with a boyish smile, Eiren pressed down. A deep, clear note sprang to life, and he looked back at Caelony, forgetting his anger with her as the simple happiness of music warmed him.

"Well? Can you play?" She smiled and nodded towards the piano. "I've nobody to practice with." Her voice soured as she explained. "The babbling idiot outside has apparently renounced any expressions of life, to include singing, laughter, and music; and I highly doubt the mighty and proud Elmund Van Wyk has the time to entertain anyone." Eiren frowned and looked at the key he had struck.

"No," he said slowly, "I cannot play. Unfortunately, the practice does not come naturally, and I felt it would be a waste to devote the time necessary to become proficient." He looked back at her and gave an apologetic shrug, feeling almost sorry that he shouldn't afford her a partner.

"If you hadn't run away, you shouldn't have lost the opportunity to learn," she replied smartly, and she made her way to the instrument, seating herself on the left of Eiren. He slid to the right and looked down at her hands. It struck him again that her hands were unusually clean; for a woman who spent her time running outdoors, barefoot and poorly dressed, her hands did not reflect such a careless, improper way of living. Strangely still, he found that the contrast of her masculine dress, with her ladylike hands, suited her.

She stretched her fingers for a moment and closed her eyes. In an instant, a soft intro made its way into a rich and brooding tune. Eiren knew nothing about the specific names for music, being largely a passive admirer of the sounds over the vernacular, but he found himself hypnotized by her skill. He, too, closed his eyes and unconsciously leaned forward. The notes painted a story, and, pressed along by the insistence with which Caelony played, a dark story indeed swept its way across Eiren's mind. He found his heart struggling to keep pace with the insistence of the notes, and after a moment, he sat up and forced his eyes open. Caelony stopped at once, her fingers spreading and tapping noiselessly.

"Was that not to your liking?" Eiren shook his head and took in a deep breath.

"My heart," he said haltingly, and he stood. Unsure why the music affected him so strongly, he turned and faced the shelves. Absently pulling down a piece and flipping through the pages without seeing anything, he tried to slow his breathing.

"Eiren?" It was the first time she had called him by his name, and he flinched.

"I... I'm fine," he said, and he slid the pages back in their place. "I'm fine."

Caelony closed the door as they left, slipping a key out of her overall pocket and quietly turning the lock of the door. Eiren, too shaken to notice, continued slowly down the hall, his feet cold against the floor. Over the next hour, she led him along the upstairs - past many rooms that had nothing at all - and into various sitting rooms and art rooms and still more sitting rooms. Eventually, they traipsed into the library, and Eiren tried to take note of how to make his way back. It was an impressive room, with shelves and cases stacked high to the ceiling in all directions. Plush chairs were conveniently placed around the room, and the soft glow of candlelight gave the air a sort of coziness Eiren wouldn't have expected.

"I'd be careful in here if I were you," he was warned by his guide, and she gave him a significant look as she issued her warning. "Elmund's room is in this wing, and he makes frequent stops here." Appreciative, he pressed her elbow and gave the room a firm look.

"I take it as no surprise that your room is on the other side of the building." She smiled and tossed her hair about her shoulders. Most of it had come undone from running about the stairs, and now fell loosely over her arms.

"Perceptive, though I may not say always," she replied smoothly, and she pulled him past the room. She pointed out the stairwell that led to her father's hall, to include his bathroom, bedroom, and closet - "It's nearly as big as my room," she had confessed in a gossip-like whisper. Hardly able to keep track of all of the little rooms and half-hidden stairwells that led to attics and observatory towers, Eiren was soon overwhelmed, and he tired of all of the walking. Taking a small measure of pity on him, Caelony at last looped him around the upstairs, leading him to his room and pointing out the bathing hall as she did so. She explained that their rooms were directly above and below one another.

"If you are seriously in need of me," she said with a smirk, "you shall just have to throw yourself upon the floor, and I might take notice of your commotion to arrive."

"I'm sure I'll be settled enough to avoid such a scenario," he had replied with another roll of his eyes.

She took leave of him, telling him she and the priest had already dined, but lunch was in just a few hours. "Take care to expel all of your nervous energies, my love; the chef takes no pity on upset stomachs!" Unsure if that meant he was going to be poisoned, or merely well-fed, he had taken this advice nervously.

Too tired to recollect where he had hidden things or stored favourite toys of his youth, he had lain at once on the bed, glad to at last rest his feet. He wondered absently if he would be able to send for any clothes from the Lutton's place of residence, as he hadn't lived in Kenton Abbey - a mere three miles away - or the Estate in so long, that his clothes would all be small and quite useless. His mental ramblings soon gave way to a heavy drowsiness, and before Caelony had left him five minutes, he was deeply asleep.