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Everything was a blur. She remembered snatches of color and beauty, she knew her name, how old she was, but everything else seemed to be lost in a fog that she could not seem to clear. Her dress was brown, ripped and torn and several places, dirty from her many falls, her blonde hair braided neatly and there was no adornment on her person except for a very beautiful silver necklace, who's pendant was a diamond studded set of wings, like that of a butterfly. Where was she? What was this place? Caitriona didn't have an answer for either.

Some memories came to the surface, of a man and woman, handsomely dressed, wearing beautiful colors and jewels, fawning over her, and then darkness until a few moments ago. No matter how hard she thought, how hard she tried to recall anything, nothing occurred to her. She was disoriented, lost in a strange place, with no memory of how she had gotten to where she was.

As she walked, a sound broke through the silence of the forest. Horses, their hooves slamming into the earth, causing it to vibrate beneath her feet, the sounds of men shouting and dogs baying. She froze, glancing around the forest, trying to discern where the sounds were erupting but she didn't know. All she knew was that it was getting closer and closer.

She took off at a run, rushing through the trees, and yet the sounds only grew closer. They were frightening sounds and it only made her run faster, bare feet hitting the ground, her run almost unearthly and then that run ended suddenly as she found herself falling down a hill bank, and landing with a harsh thud in the middle of a dirt road just as horses and dogs charged toward her. The horses stopped and the dogs seemed to corner her, growling and barking. She gasped, scrambling up and away from them but they only followed and growled. Her green eyes were wide with fear at their aggressiveness toward her only to fall again as her ankle gave out, full of searing pain. She must have twisted it in her fall.
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Prince Aleksander Dunham didn’t particularly enjoy hunting. He loved horseback riding, the sense of freedom he could only get from pushing his gentle horse in full gallop, the world streaking by. He enjoyed spending time with his dogs, these obedient, intelligent hounds that were ready to defend him under any circumstance. He cherished spending time in the forest near his castle home, away from expectations and rules and the pressures of social and political confinement. All these things together, however, were a tedious exercise at best. Trying to keep up and keep track of his noisy dogs in dense thickets was a chore, and there was nothing thrilling about barreling through a forest chasing after some creature for the name of sport. But hunting was his father’s favorite pastime, and every adviser insisted that the kingdom, in wake of the king’s recent passing, would feel more at ease to have their future king take up normal castle activities, especially those of his father. It symbolized his preparedness to be king, they said.

Except he didn’t feel prepared at all.

Not knowing a tactful way to push aside their arguments, he agreed to at least try this sport, hosting it with a bunch of noblemen in an effort to keep relations with the aristocracy of the kingdom.

Unfortunately for the prince, these men had galloped off in one direction after a wild boar, while his dogs were after who-knows-what, something they could not ignore. He had no choice but to follow them, hoping that he could round them up and get them back on course with the other men…

Until a woman fell onto the middle of the road from a steep hill beside it. Aleksander yanked hard on the reigns of his horse to prevent the poor girl from getting trampled on.

The dogs, however, had other plans, switching their focus to the girl, barking and growling as they backed her against the hill. Aleksander found this highly unusual; his dogs were trained not to harm humans unless someone was trespassing in the castle. So why were they intimidating this helpless woman so far from home?

“Corvin, Spot, Manchester, heel!” Aleksander barked as he swung himself off his horse. The large beast shifted her weight nervously, also on edge over being near this woman. And the dogs ignored the prince entirely, something they had never done before.

He frowned, pushing back his dark, heavy cloak that framed a tall, lean figure dressed in a dark-brown leather tunic over a woolen undershirt, black trousers, and sturdy brown boots. He pushed back from his face some of the long, chestnut-brown hair that had gotten loose from the braid, grey-blue eyes narrowing as he assessed the cowering woman before him.

“Back, dogs, back!”

Only after he stepped beside the dogs did they cease their barking, pacing anxiously behind Aleksander, never taking their eyes off of the girl.

Aleksander thought her beautiful despite her disheveled appearance but thought little of this stranger’s beauty beyond that passing thought, more focused on how frightened she seemed. He gave his best warm smile as he took a few steps forward. “Please don’t be alarmed,” he said gently. “My dogs are just over excited. I’m here to help. Are you lost? Injured?”
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She watched the stranger come off his horse and the dogs abated eventually, though they still eyed her with suspicion. She was grateful when they finally moved back, sitting and watching her. She slowly looked up at the man. He was tall, much taller than she was and as she stood, she realized the top of her head barely reached under his nose. His hair was the most wonderful color too and she found herself blushing when she realized she was perhaps staring too long at him. "Forgive me...I...the dogs, they startled me...the injury it's all my fault...being foolish..." she stammered out the words. They felt foreign on her tongue, as though the words hadn't ever been uttered before. She sighed and lowered her gaze, arms wrapping around her middle as she kept her head down. "As to the being lost...yes...I..." she trailed off, looking around then back at him. "I don't know what's happened. I don't know where I am...what I'm doing here...if I'm being quite honest with you...aside from my name and age, I haven't the slightest idea of anything else about me...It's like...it's like I woke up and everything before now was some dream I can't remember...every time I try to remember, my head aches...I feel as though I've gone mad..." she admitted then bit her bottom lip, bringing her hand up to her head as if trying to force herself to remember.

"I...I suppose that you can do very little to help me remember..." she sighed, looking at him, trying to keep herself upright on the uninjured foot. "I'm sorry...I'm not meaning to be a bother. Truly I'm not..." she swore then looked around again. "It's just frustrating..." She ran her hands along the chain of her necklace, unaware of where she'd gotten it, of it's origins. Aside from the necklace was a very distinct birthmark on her shoulder, the shape of wings much like the necklace, dark brown in color, a contrast to her pale skin and visible thanks to the tears in the sleeves of her dress. There was only one person known to have possessed such a birthmark, and such a necklace, but she was unaware of that. "I know my name is Caitriona, I know I'm eighteen but everything else...it's all one big giant blur..."
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Aleksander listened to this girl’s fragmented speech to the best of his ability, concerned with how disoriented she was. How could she not know where she came from or what happened to her? Perhaps she had been kidnapped? Drugged? His mind began to sink into the worst possible scenarios.

He frowned when she mentioned her injury, his gaze searching her form for any sign of it. From the way she favored her weight on one leg, he assumed it was a leg or ankle injury, perhaps not too bad considering he saw no blood and she was still coherent.

Caitriona… He knew that name. The hairs on Aleksander’s neck stood on end as his gaze followed the movement of her hands along the chain of her necklace…and a very familiar pendant attached to it…

Two other riders approached on horseback as the prince gaped at the woman, the horses kicking up dust as they halted, the accompanying dogs picking up a fuss of barks, snarls and whines, much like Alaksander’s dogs had.

The prince ignored them as though they weren’t even there, his gaze transfixed in shock on the girl. “Caitriona,” he murmured below the noise of restless animals and their humans. He approached her cautiously, his eyes drinking in every detail of her—her hair, the features of her face, the birthmark on her shoulder…

“Oi, Sander, where’d ya go? The boar’s the other way,” one of the nobleman said, a portly fellow that exuded confidence from the proud way he sat on his horse and grinned.

“There’s a girl, Peter,” the other man mumbled, lanky and sullen with a hood over his head.
“Just some peasant girl. A boar’s more exciting.”

“Not according to the dogs. Not according to the prince.”

One by one, they dismounted.

Aleksander seemed not to care. “Princess Caitriona?” He stopped directly in front of her, so close he could scoop her up in his arms, tempted to do just that. From here, there was no mistaking the birthmark.

“Is she alright?” Peter asked, peering around Aleksander.

“I think…I think I know you,” Aleksander remarked to Caitriona at the same time.

“Who is she?” the other nobleman asked.

Aleksander continued to ignore them. “That birthmark, that necklace… I’ve seen paintings, been told stories.”

“Is he even listening to us?” Peter grumbled.

“I think you’re…you’re my betrothed…”
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She watched him come closer, the look on his face, being one of confusion and shock. She didn't understand why he was looking at her like that, and watched as he finally moved so close there seemed to be only a hair's breath between them. Others came riding up, dogs barking but everything seemed to melt away as her gaze met his intense one, so focused on her. Princess Caitriona. Was she a princess? His eyes went to the mark on her shoulder and her necklace and then her eyes widened as he said that he thought she was his betrothed. It seemed...right.

"Betrothed?" she asked, hardly believing it. "Princess?" If she was a princess, why on earth was she dressed like this? She glanced down at her attire and then ran her hand over her birthmark before looking back at him, eyes wide at this strange revelation. She was so lost, and here he was telling her that she was some princess.

"That seems...impossible..." she said, stepping back only to cry out and nearly fall before catching herself, grabbing onto his arms to steady herself and hissing in pain. "I'm sorry..." she said and then winced again but she was far too unbalanced to let go of him.

"What's going on?" Another man spoke, having ridden up, glancing at the two, Peter and Sander before nodding his head toward the Prince and the girl dressed in rags.

"Come on now Your Highness...I'm sure the lass is fine...we've a boar to catch...I want to impress my Moira," he chuckled, adjusting himself in the saddle before moving closer to the pair on his horse. "Your Highness..." he called again, meaning to snap the man out of his revelry.
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As Caitriona stepped back, Aleksander took a step forward, catching the girl in his arms. He flushed as soon as he held her, his arms instinctively wrapped around her.

This was Princess Caitriona of Aronia; the necklace and birthmark made him sure of this. But she had disappeared in the forest as a child, and everyone had presumed her dead. So where had she been all these years? And why show up now?

She smelled different—not unpleasant, but not like anyone he had known. The scent of her hair reminded him of fresh rain, of pollen on a warm spring breeze, of fresh, open air and clear sunlight… things he could not describe but somehow knew for what they were. She smelled of the pleasantness of nature.

The call of his name eventually filtered through his thoughts, and the prince pulled his attention away from the girl just long enough to notice his comrades staring at them.

“The rest of you can finish without me,” he declared as he scooped Caitriona in his arms bridal style and hoped she didn’t object. “I need to take princess Caitriona home.”

“Don’t be daft,” Peter said, suppressing a snicker and an exasperated look. “She’s been missing for years. More than likely dead. That is just—“

“Look at the necklace,” Aleksander snapped, firm resolve hardening his expression as he turned around to face the other men. “Only royalty ever wore this necklace, and as far as I know, none have been stolen or missing aside from the one that went missing with Caitriona. Look at the birthmark on her shoulder. Only one person has a birthmark like that. This is her, the lost princess.”
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Catriona gasped as he swept her up into his arms then looked wide eyed at the man holding her and then at the trio of men observing her skeptically. None of this seemed real...and yet, this stranger holding her was adamant that she was a princess. Saying nothing, she just tucked her head down into the shoulder of the prince carrying her and let him take her wherever he could. After all, he seemed to know more about her than she knew of herself.

As they situated on his horse and took off, she glanced at him then the passing landscape, the thick forest giving way to fields and pastures. It was beautiful. She glanced at the stranger who said he knew her and flushed. "Forgive me....but I don't know your name...." she said softly, flushing with embarrassment. She should know his name. Her gut told her that she should, and yet, her mind could only draw blanks as to what it was.

Was she truly a princess? His betrothed? It seemed right but the more she tried to recall, the more her head ached as if there was some invisible force stopping her from remembering. "I know I should know it, but I dont...and your men seemed rather...angry...perhaps you are mistaken about me," she whispered.
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"I am Prince Aleksander of Perrault," he murmured, speaking as though they were not allowed to speak to each other. On the contrary, he knew he could do whatever he pleased, but somehow the thought of the others butting into the conversation unnerved him. He knew in his gut that he was correct, that the girl situated in front of him--against him--on the horse was Princess Catriona of Aronia, the girl he was supposed to marry, the girl that went missing years ago and was presumed dead. Yet he knew that the others doubted the claim, and he did not feel like arguing the validity of his proof. Not now. Not while he was still trying to wrap his own mind around the concept.

"I am not mistaken," he hissed, his declaration absolute. "That birthmark on your shoulder is proof, as is the necklace. No two people could bare both unique markers; you are the princess." And a grown woman at that, unable to help but feel the shape of her body against him as she shifted to the horse's gait. It didn't help that he held his arms around her in order to hold the reigns. It was a struggle to keep his mind off of such things. "How do you not remember anything? Not where you've been all these years and how you came here? What do you know, besides your name and age?"
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She grimaced at his tone, as he told her that he was not mistaken, and further explained how he knew the truth of her origins, even if she did not. She flushed as he held her against him, gasping at how fast they were riding through the forest, down a well beaten path back toward civilization. His name sounded familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly why it did. Then he started asking questions, and they were questions she had no answer for.

"I don't know why I don't recall anything, only that I don't. It's like some cloud is hanging over that part of my memory, and I can't see through it..and I...I vaguely recall two people dressed in fine robes...I was a small child, and I recall a woman calling for me as I ventered into the wood, but that's it...I remember nothing else...not until an hour or two ago...I was just laying in the middle of the forest...I don't know how I got there, what happened between those memories...it's all darkness..." she answered, shaking her head, trying to remember, only for her head to ache, the harder she pressed through that fog. She sighed. "I'm sorry..."
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Two people dressed in fine robes in the middle of the forest, calling Catriona's name... Aleksander struggled to recall anyone that might fit that description, but it was so vague; it could be anyone, anyone that already knew Catriona.

"You don't need to apologize," he stated as he slowed the horse to a walk down a sloping hill, his castle and the village that surrounded it looming into view. "You may have hit your head when you received that leg injury." It crossed his mind to inspect her scalp for injuries but held back, finding it inappropriate and rude to do that to a woman. It was bad enough how they were riding together without invading more of her privacy.

"It sounds to me like you were abducted by people that know you. I'll ask around, see if anyone knows anything. Whoever took you must be nobles of some sort. Do you remember anything about what they looked like?"

As they rode into the village, peasants and merchants greeted the prince with smiles, bows, or greetings of well wishes. Children ran alongside the horse, laughing and teasing Aleksander. All of them gazed at the girl in his arms curiously, and Aleksander knew there would be gossip floating around later. He tried to roll such things off his shoulders; the important thing was getting her home safe, mending her, and trying to figure out what happened to her.
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She looked ahead, seeing the palace, biting her bottom lip as they moved into the village, people coming to the side of the road to wave and bow. She took a deep breath and then glanced back at him. "I think the people that I'm recalling are my parents," she said gently then bit her bottom lip. "Perhaps we could contact them to find out if I remember them or not," she suggested, unaware of her parent's death in the past few years, or that the kingdom she was to inherit had fallen into disrepair and broken factions. Her childhood home was no longer a whole kingdom. "And no...I don't remember what they looked like...I think...the woman had the same hair color as me, which is why I think they were my parents, but I don't know anything else," she said miserably then sighed as they rode further into the village surrounding the palace, the cottages turning into two story shops and finer homes for the town's more affluent members. Guards stood at a gate that they passed under and soon they were in the inner courtyard of his palace.

She glanced up at the towering structure then took a deep breath, not even trying to hop down off the horse, thanks to her injured ankle. Servants were stopping in their tracks, looking wide eyed at their newfound King as he entered with a strange girl, and nobles were looking on crossly, as if he were being inappropriate but no one said anything to him. He was a King after all, and such men were not to be questioned. At least not so openly.

"Your palace is very beautiful," she remarked, eyes wide as she drank it all in.
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"My father knew this place well," Aleksander murmured, the way Catriona looked around making him also observe his surroundings. He had grown up here, the ivy-covered stone walls, tended cobblestone courtyard, pruned bushes, and lush atmosphere nothing new to him. But if Catriona somehow spent most of her life in a forest without being found, he could see how sturdy walls could be impressive, careful order would be reassuring, and care to detail would be considered beautiful. "The servants he picked to tend to this place were all hand picked by him. Loyal. They love this castle as much as he did. I hope I could instill that same sense of passion and commitment in them." His voice sounded a little tight, holding back emotions he dared not release here and now. "As for your parents..." He felt that now was not the right time to reveal to her the fate her family and her kingdom.

Instead, Aleksander carefully dismounted the horse as one of the servants took the beast's reigns, ensuring that he did not jostle Catriona too much as he did so. Then he carefully helped the girl down, holding her in his arms. "This girl needs a physician," he called to the entourage of servants that came to greet him. "And have a hot meal prepared for her. And a bath. Get a bed chamber ready."

"Who is she, Your Highness?" one of the maid servants asked, she and all the others doing their best to be polite as they gawked at the strange and unruly girl in Aleksander's arms.

"She is Princess Catriona," Aleksander remarked in a stiff tone as he began to march forward into the palace, in no mood to answer twenty questions to the servants. Gasps bounced around the courtyard, more attention drawn to Catriona as everyone near Aleksander tried to puzzle out their king's statement to a girl that looked like she was plucked from the streets.
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As he announced who she was, there was a gasp from several of the servants present, a tittering of whispered voices, some wondering if the King was mad for such a thing, though they surely said nothing to his face. An older woman in servant's garb was the one to set things in motion, ordering servants to quickly air out a fine guest chamber for her, while another went to fetch a physician. The exterior of the grand palace was lovely but inside was truly exquisite and Caitriona looked at the high ceilings and beautiful tapestries with awe, her mouth even parting slightly, gaping at the massive artwork and architecture. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before.

Her gaze moved back to the stern faced Aleksander. "It's so beautiful," she said then looked back around again, another servant coming up as the entire place seemed to be in uproar over the king's return and the appearance of the girl he held in his arms.

"Your highness...perhaps I should have someone send for a tailor...to get her as quickly as possible into more...proper clothing?" the woman mused while others rushed to the kitchens in order to start heating buckets of water for a fine bath. Caitriona looked down at her appearance. She did look rather out of sorts compared to the rest of the palace. Even the servants were far better dressed than she was. the thought made her blush in embarrassment. What they must think of her, she thought, looking back at Aleksander for his answer.
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Aleksander's first reaction was to snatch a glance at Caitriona. The flurry of activity didn't bother him; he even expected it, always a little proud that his servants were so eager to do their jobs, a little humbled by their hard work, and a little embarrassed that they fussed over him so. He was not his parents. Until they died, he was just a quiet boy trying to find his identity. Now that identity had been thrust upon him; he had no choice but to be king. He had to learn to get used to suddenly being fussed over and coddled, and he suspected that this sudden attention must be like a tidal wave crashing against the lost princess.

He broke his stern demeanor, his expression softening. "Do you want new clothes?" he asked. "Something to eat? A bath? Some rest?" He frowned a little. "Or are you not sure, perhaps?" He glanced at the maidservant. "She'll need new clothes eventually; might as well fetch the tailor," he murmured. Then, to Caitriona: "This is your home now. Whatever you need, all you need to do is ask."
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She looked at him, biting her bottom lip as he asked her several questions only to look at the maidservant asking about a tailor. As the woman curtsied and made off, Caitriona looked back at him. "A bath sounds nice...and something to wear...and of course the physician will look at my ankle...I don't think anything's broken but I do think I twisted it quite a bit...." she said then flushed, looking around again as a servant came down announcing that a bath was being prepared in a set of chambers, and that a physician was on his way.

As she departed, Cait looked about her, in awe of this place. "My home," she repeated then looked at him with a flush to her cheeks. "It's really lovely here," she admitted warmly and then saw several men and women properly dressed making their way through the entry hall. Courtiers, if she had to guess, though she didn't know where the word came from. Obviously though, they were wealthy lords and ladies by the state of their outfits. They all seemed to be going out to the gardens or something but a few women did pause, turn and glance at her in Aleksander's arms but then hurried off before asking questions.

"Is this place always so busy Aleksander?" she asked, looking at him again. It was a little overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people, but with such a large palace, it was little wonder that there would be so many people living in it.
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“It is,” Aleksander replied with a nod and an apologetic look her way. “We’re kind of important to trade in the underlying regions, ever since—“ Ever since the fall of her kingdom.

Alek shifted his weight uncomfortably before taking Caitriona to the nearest room with a place to sit, a great conference hall, its space taken up almost entirely by a long oak table, framed by several chairs. Carefully, the prince set Caitriona down on one of the chairs before straightening and looking around awkwardly, swinging his arms in a nervous gesture.

“We should probably talk about your parents before long,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “Their fate, and—“ He cut himself off as a servant woman, in the white-and-brown uniform dress of her station, slipped into the room, Alek’s expression a brief reflection of relief before he smiled and moved to embrace the slender woman. She embraced him back warmly, a touch of grey in her bound brown hair, laugh lines framing her blue eyes as she smiled. That kindness only faltered a little as Alek gestured towards Caitriona, turning the woman’s attention to the mysterious girl.

“This is Princess Caitriona,” he said, pride in his voice despite the blonde girl’s disheveled appearance.

The woman responded with an appraising look. “I see.”

“Princess, this is Gilda. She’s the head servant here in this castle. She’s been around since I was a tiny boy. She’ll take care of you.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Gilda said, her smile forced but not unkind. She approached Cait and bowed courteously. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. Now…” She glanced to Alek for help. “Where is she…?”

“Her foot,” he said quickly.

“Ah.” Gilda turned her attention back to Caitriona. “If you’ll just let me examine your foot. I normally take over such things before the physician gets here.” She dropped to one knee and waited politely for Caitriona’s signal.
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Cait's brow furrowed in confusion at the way he hesitated when discussing the fate of her parents. Before she could ask what he meant, the door opened and an older woman came in. Caitriona bit her bottom lip, giving her a soft, shy smile before looking down at her foot and then brushed her fingers through her unruly hair, so unkempt from her fall. She must look like a wild thing compared to those around her.

As the woman, Gilda, offered to examine her foot, she drew up the skirts of her ragged clothes, revealing the ankle in question. It was a little swollen and tender, but not as badly as it had been when she'd first fallen. "Thank you," she said, slowly lifting her foot up for the woman to look at. "I...I think it's a sprain at worst. Likely just a little twisted..." she suggested, not wanting to be a bother. She glanced at Aleksander then back at Gilda.

"It's all my fault I ended up hurt. It's lucky that His Highness was there to catch me," she said then felt herself blush as she looked at the woman as she examined her foot.
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Gilda first examined Caitriona's foot, taking it firmly in her hands. She applied gentle pressure, nodding as the girl explained the possible issue. "That seems to be the case," she murmured before looking up, watching the girl as she mentioned what happened to her. Gilda's eyes narrowed when she caught that furtive glance towards the prince, and her hands stilled upon seeing the way she blushed after looking at him.

Gilda stole a glance over her shoulder at Aleksander, who eyed Caitrona's foot with some concern. "It is indecent for a man to oggle such exposed skin," she snapped, her tone sharp.

Aleksander startled and immediately straightened to attention; one would wonder who really ran the castle around here. "I wasn't," he stammered with an exasperated look. "I didn't. She--"

"Never you mind. I'm sure there are other things in this castle that require your attention." Gilda managed a slight smile, genuine even if sparsely given. "Caitriona will be just fine with me and the others, I promise."

Aleksander nodded slowly before casting Caitriona a reluctant look. "I must take my leave," he murmured to her, "but you are in good hands with Gilda. I'll... come for you soon, then we can catch up." He waited for her answer, hoping the lost girl reassured.

"Aye," Gilda added impatiently. "Now go, go! This is no place for a man to be."
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"Is it really wrong for a man to look at a woman's ankle?" Caitriona asked curiously, frowning a little. "That's certainly a strange custom..." It did seem rather silly for a man to not look at an ankle. There wasn't anything very attractive about an ankle after all and her skirts weren't so hiked up you could see past the knee. Wincing, she set her foot down on the cool linoleum then bit her bottom lip as she glanced at Gilda.

"I'm honestly sorry for my appearance...I don't know how I came to be where I was...or...how I...ended up in a dress with so many rips and tears. There's quite a lot I don't recall..." she said with remorse, pouting a little as she tried to work past that fog clouding her memories with no avail. That was the most frustrating part about this entire ordeal honestly. She hated not knowing anything about herself, only what she'd been told. She certainly did not feel like a princess or future queen. She just felt like...well felt like a lost girl.
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Gilda paused just long enough to give the girl a scrutinizing look, one eyebrow raised. "I suppose I've heard stranger things in my lifetime," she remarked. "Women disappearing for all hours of the night, coming back disheveled and smelling like some man, claiming that some devil-creature possessed her. You..." Another scrutinizing look, this one more sympathetic. "You've been gone for a very long time."

Gilda looked around, sighed, and grumbled to herself as she began to loosen a long sash bound around her hair. "Where is that bloody doctor?" she grumbled as she began to bind Caitriona's foot with the sash in an attempt to alleviate some of the girl's pain. "I have a feeling he'll be late, and 'tis not fair for you to wait all hours as you are. Come."

With the sash fastened in place, Gilda rose and bent over Caitriona, hooking a shoulder beneath the girls' arm. "Lean on me, love, and I'll help you to your room. I think you just have a sprained ankle. We'll give you a proper bath, put you in proper clothes, and bandage you properly. What do you say to that?"
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