Chapter Text
It was late at night, and Baileywick was still awake. He would retire soon, but a freak storm appeared out of nowhere only moments ago, and he was rushing to assure himself that all the palace windows were securely shut. With the moon and stars completely covered, the castle halls were very dark, and the steward had to raise his candelabra high to achieve maximum light.
After checking the final room -the kitchen- Baileywick turned to finally go to bed, when a frantic knocking sounded on the side entrance. The castle steward was surprised; who would come to visit so late at night? Normally, the knocking would have been unheard, and using this logic, Baileywick was almost tempted to ignore the visitor and simply retire for the night. But, of course, his good heart would not allow him to ignore someone who might be in need. Especially on a night such as this.
The knocking turned into panicked banging by the time he crossed the room. He quickly unlocked the door and opened it wide, saying, "Who's there?"
"Please, may I come in?" a feminine voice begged, gasping for breath.
Baileywick raised his light higher, and the candles illuminated the porch nicely, revealing a tall, drenched woman huddling forward. Straight, orange hair was plastered to her light skin, and her filthy, mud-ridden robes dripped into puddles by her equally dirty boots. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide with fear, and silently added to her vocal plea.
"Of course, Miss," Baileywick would have genially answered.
At the first syllable, though, another thunderclap crashed through the sky, and the woman leapt forward, as if chased by something. Baileywick could only stare in shock as his new guest shoved him aside and threw her back against the heavy door, slamming it shut.
"Are you alright, Miss?" he worriedly asked, noticing she still hugged herself and shook. He was uncertain if she trembled out of fear or cold.
"Please," the lady gasped, "may I use your fireplace?"
"Of course, you may, Miss," the steward assured. "Allow me to build you a fire."
The stranger shook her head. "I can't wait. I can handle it." Walking quickly toward the cold hearth, she shoved a shaking hand into one of her large sleeves, and pulled out a wand. "Ignem accende!" she cried, pointing the magical tool at the empty fireplace.
Immediately, bright, warm flames were conjured, flooding the room with light and heat. The woman crouched down, and opened the front of her robes a little.
"There you go, Rowena, warm up," she said, softly.
A small, dark, reptilian head poked out from inside the robe, and a forked tongue flicked out a few times, before a long, black and white banded snake slowly slid out and curled up as close to the fire as it dared. The woman sighed in relief as she stood up to face a flabbergasted Baileywick.
"Thank you so much, sir," she said with a small smile and grateful eyes. "I don't really have enough body heat to protect her for very long, and I can't conjure fire outside in this weather." She lifted her wand again, and pointed it at herself, incanting, "Exiccant." Sky blue sparkles, evidence of a spell, flew from the tip of her wand, and circled around her. Seconds later, she stood before the steward as dry as a summer field, though still caked in dried mud. He noticed that she had a wide streak of purple down the right side of her hair. She placed the wand back into her left sleeve, and took one step closer to her rescuer. "Sir, may I ask one more favor?"
Baileywick snapped out of his stupor at seeing competent magic and then a snake in his kitchen. "Well, that would depend on the favor, Miss…?" he trailed off expectantly.
"Rebecca," the sorceress supplied.
"Well, delighted to meet you, Miss Rebecca, I am Baileywick, the castle steward."
"Enchanted, sir. And I only ask that Rowena and I stay here for the night. I promise you, we will leave before anyone comes in to use the kitchen. No one will see either of us."
Baileywick took out his pocket watch to check the time. It was well after midnight, and the kitchen staff will be waking within five hours to prepare breakfast. "Are you sure about that, Miss Rebecca?" he asked. "You wouldn't be able to get much sleep if you did that. I could lend you a room until you're well-rested. Or perhaps until this storm lets up."
At that moment, lightning crashed again, and thunder roared, causing the both of them to jump a little. Rebecca bit her lip before shaking her head. "That's nice of you, but I shouldn't stay long. Unless…" she trailed off a little, before asking hopefully, "Does Goodwyn the Great still live here?"
Baileywick shook his head. "I'm sorry, he retired many years ago. He now resides in Mystic Meadows."
Rebecca looked a little down, but unsurprised. "Yeah, I figured it was too much to hope for. That's where I'm going now. I need to ask him something important. And the sooner I get there the better. Thank you for your offer, but we're used to little sleep. We'll just rest a bit and then be on our way."
Baileywick watched as his guest returned to the warmth of the fire, before glancing back at the downpour outside. "Well, then let me at least lend you some warmer clothing, to better protect the both of you."
"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Rebecca protested.
"I insist," replied the gentleman. "If you will not permit me to give you a proper room, then I shall accept that, but I cannot allow a lady to travel in this atrocious weather without the appropriate traveling garb. If you will wait right here, I shall return shortly."
Before the sorceress could protest anymore, Baileywick turned on his heel and left the room. He was certain that he had a spare hooded cloak in his bedroom, as well as a scarf he could lend. That might be sufficient to keep both the young woman and her cold-blooded companion warm enough. At least until the storm lets up.
Once he reached his room, he opened the chest at the foot of his bed. Before long, he had found a dark green traveling cloak, and a thick, woolen, dark red scarf. He quickly returned to the kitchen, only to find that the sorceress had already fallen asleep, sitting against the wall near the fireplace. Under the watchful eye of the coiled snake, Baileywick silently folded the garments, and placed them next to Rebecca.
"Good night, and good luck, Miss Rebecca," he whispered, before returning to his room, finally able to go to bed.
Rowena, the Blue Krait, sighed in content as the flames warmed her scaly body. "Becca, must we go back outside? As much as I prefer cloudy days, this is just too much!"
Rebecca groaned sleepily. "Yes, Ro. I'm sorry, but there's no way you can stay here alone, and I've got to find him. I can't believe he isn't here, actually."
"But what if Goodwyn can't answer you?" Rowena asked. "They've never had the best of relationships."
"Well, then Winifred should know. Oh, I'll never forgive him for not keeping his promise!" the sorceress angrily added.
"Even if he ends up doing what you ask?" the serpent slyly asked.
"Shut up, Ro," the sorceress said with a smile. "I'm trying to be upset here."
With another sigh, Rowena slithered up to her companion, resting in her lap. "Rebecca, it will be okay," she assured. "You won't be like this forever."
Rebecca smiled sadly as she stroked the tiny head. "Thanks, Ro. You're right. We'll beat this. We just have to find him."
"We will. Now, let's sleep. I don't care what you told that guy, I don't like getting only a few hours worth of rest."
"Good night, Rowena."
