Your father was king before England was a Republic and his best friend was a commoner with the surname Verney...When he married your mother she demanded he cut ties with him...

Yet your brother Adrian sought out his kin. When Adrian was moved to the English countryside for a summer he made friends with Verney's descendant. Lionel. An "Arcadian" as he said shepard boy.

And rather sweetly it seemed the bonds of friendship between your two familys were in your blood.

Your brother wrote to you, expressing his fondness for his new friend. Lionel was as wild as the countryside he kept his sheep on. He had been raised without care from his parents and felt closer to his shepard's cane and the trees than any device of society. Yet your brother said he was terribly witty, bright and bold...And he desired for you to meet him.

You were going to visit your brother anyways.

The next morning Adrian had brought Lionel to the library in the castle. He was schooling his new friend in politics and literature and romantic languages, hoping to expand on Lionel's good traits and calm down his bad ones...and he let you two run into eachother.

As you walk through the halls admiring the view of the rose bushes and party grounds in the courtyard below you spot a boy coming out of the library...Your age. A young man of about 19 or 20. With a deep rich tan and freckles that suggest long hours in the sun. His dark hair is too long for polite society and half coming out of the bit of cord that binds it back in a ponytail but it somehow suits him, his dark eyes are intelligent and lively and his clothes are rough and patched. He's tall and has deep dimples and smells heavily of clover and rain.

He freezes as he sees you looking at you, wary and curious. And he tilts his head in a rather canine manner. "Are you his sister, then?" He asks, bluntly. His voice deep and accent prominent and unrefined.