Symmetry
Part One
A/N: The second and last part is now in queue. I orginally started this as another chapter to a different story, but it grew into something of it's own. Because I can't help myself. It's been a minute since I played the game and I've never read the manga, so I'm sorry for any inconsistancies.
One more tired thing
the gray moon on the rise
When your want from the day
Makes you to curse in your sleep at night
"He lays in the reins" by Iron & Wine and Calexico
She was utterly oblivious of the depth of a father's love. How her first few breaths to hours she spent cradled protectively in his broad arms, pale wisps framing the newly developed face, only lighten even further as the days wore on.
"Hello, Chris." He'd whisper occasionally, delighted at the sound of the sentence.
When Anna opened her eyes it was a miracle by the doctor's word. Impeccable clear blue reflected the hint of sun peaking through the clouds of a rather dull day. Her frail condition only worsened throughout the pregnancy and she'd lost a considerable amount of blood during the birth.
She parted pale lips and verbalized a demand to receive her child immediately.
Some years later, a sharp burning pressure from sore muscles caused her to wince as she lowered herself into a chair at Galahad's desk. Recent days had gotten her into a solid rhythm of sorting paperwork, escorting, recording his every meeting, delivering messages, and of course vigorous encounters in the training yard. Of course, it was never in the same order.
"Something on your mind?"
Chris Lightfellow whirled around clumsily to the sudden interruption, causing a stray bottle of ink to tumble dramatically from the spastic jerk of her fingers and shatter into various shapes of glass shards and puddles of black onto the stone floor.
"S-Sir Galahad! Good morning!" She stood now, eyes frantically scanning the room for a spare towel.
The older man watched in amusement as his squire snatched a sheet of scrap parchment and proceeded to soak the runny streams of ink. "You're usually not up this early." She stammered pitifully, "I'm sorry.".
Wyatt's daughter or not, she certainly had a distinctive way of impressing him. As a young child she resembled her mother in most ways, with delicate blonde curls and pastel colored dresses. During a visit to Brass Castle, she was even frightened by the unfamiliar smells and large quantities of knights in armor, causing her to cling to her father's leg the entire time.
Fear had apparently turned to curiosity and curiosity to interest, as she started training only several years after that. He had to admit, it was impressive that a young woman who seemed to be the epitome of status and beauty would choose a path where her such traits would put her at a disadvantage. Luckily for her, he thought, she had certainly inherited her father's skill, making her an ideal candidate for knighthood.
"I didn't intend to." He chuckled, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly as he passed, seating himself where she was previously occupied.
She had successfully gathered the remainder of the ink and glass, disposing of it in a nearby rubbish bin that had previously only contained rejected parchment.
"Give it no more mind." He sighed as she advanced toward the remaining dried ink. "The maids will be in later today."
"I'm sorry," She replied again, eyes straying with embarrasment, only darting to his for a second, "It was clumsy of me-"
"It was. But no fuss is necessary. Ink is easy to obtain. Banquet chairs and wine bottles however…" He paused, amused at the sudden realization that spread across her face. She was obviously astonished at the speed at which gossip traveled.
"How?"
Galahad shook his head. "If it weren't Lilly Pendragon, I'd be very disappointed in you."
Chris said nothing, bluntly unsure of how to react, freshly black stained hands clasped nervously.
The snow was falling thicker than they'd previously anticipated on the deceptive winter forest floor. From atop her steed, she estimated the snow to be level just below her knees had her feet been on the ground. A persistent wind blasted cruel fleck of snow through the defenses of her hooded face.
"Chris!" Galahad bellowed, and she urged the disgruntled beast forward to be in better earshot.
"Up a little further!" He called to her. Although they where close enough to touch, she was only able to catch every other syllable.
Another gust struck, creating a white powdery dusting. Chris allowed herself to shiver beneath the layers of fabric, fur, and armor. She was unsure of what it was that was up a little further', but she only obeyed. Vinay Del Zexay would be a half day's worth of travel in this weather at the very least, surely he was well aware of that. No one in their right mind would travel in such weather, save for the urgent bidding of the Council, which was exactly the occasion. In such an event Galahad found it unnecessary and foolish to travel with more than his squire. And so their predicament resulted.
The bitter cold was getting increasingly unbearable.
Think of something else… She chose the nearest distracting thought she could muster and cursed herself for her behavior lately. Perhaps there was reason why womanhood was discouraged among the knights. She was aware that outside of the training yard, she was but a pretty face and strong name. And with developing curves came periodic bouts of obscene lower abdominal pain and muscular weakness. If anything, Chris Lightfellow found womanhood infuriating.
Her Captain halted and dismounted, and she did the same. They were now on a slope, winding downhill from the road.
Her thoughts were strained now, recalling the sensation of a hot bath, or even a hot cup of tea. Tea at the dining room table in her own home. Portraits of her grandfather. An empty dining room table, save for her setting. An empty table in a mess hall packed with cadets, save for her.
Ahead, Galahad's destination became clear. Anna Lightfellow was a loyal Sindarin enthusiast; and the geometric, solid stone structure up ahead was undoubtedly that. Memories of her first recognizable book pages in the Lightfellow study were distorted in her mind, yet present nonetheless.
The opening was wide enough to fit the arch of the gates to the capital, and they were able to escape the wind and guide their steeds only with an occasional (but never complete, to her relief) loss of footing in the depths of the snow and ice.
Galahad stopped as soon as protection from the wind was evident.
"We'll have to wait for this to pass before we press any further." Galahad spoke softly, as if speaking only to himself.
"Yes, sir." Chris pushed back the hood of her cloak, shaking the snow dusting from it's crimson material. She scowled as feeling regained in her gloved hands. Her hair had been tied in a rather hasty bun at the base of her neck before they departed, and it now was a matted, wet mass of platinum blonde tangles.
Galahad only stood nobly with arms crossed, eyeing the opening from where they'd come in the distance, as if willing the weather to calm.
"You know how I learned of this place?"
Chris shook her head. "No, I don't sir."
He chuckled. "It's not odd to you that an ancient entrance exists in the depths of a forest we travel in so often?"
He was right. She'd been so distracted from the relief and strange familiarity of it all that it didn't seem the least bit strange.
"Sindarin ruins?"
"So your mother passed that on to you as well? She had Sir Wyatt going on about that for months. He was always impressed by her intellect on such unusual things.".
Chris smiled reflexively at the familiarity he'd awoken in her. "She studied Sindar at Greenhill."
"So you are well versed on such obscure places such as this?"
Outside, a shrill howl sounded from the seemingly bright light of the outdoor storm. A wall was visible behind them, forbidding them access to any deeper part of the complex labyrinth. The wall were lined with neatly placed ancient stone, arranged in symmetrical patterns along the tunnel wall.
"Not quite. I simply know they exist throughout Grassland." She paused as more realization dawned on her, "How did you know of this place in particular?"
Galahad sighed. "Strange coincidence. You see, I found myself here with your father just before you were born. I always recognize the way when I pass through."
She stood, crossing her own arms across her chest. Not out of poised dignity like her senior, but out of sudden increasing sensation of cold.
"Not under the same circumstances of course. It was late Spring. A messenger from your mother's household arrived at Brass Castle to say your mother was nearing labor. Let's just say your early impending arrival had him a little hurried." He chuckled. "He was taking shortcuts through these woods left and right. We most likely added hours to our journey in the end."
Her steed shuffled impatiently, obviously uncomfortable as she was, but for different reasons.
"A wrong turn took you here?"
Galahad continued. "Yes. Amidst his understandable madness, he actually stopped here. Perhaps he wanted to remember it for your mother."
"Oh.".
He longed to continue. Unknown to the girl before him, speaking of Wyatt and Anna made him just as reminiscent, and he longed for them to materialize from the storm.
He wanted to tell her more. He wanted to tell the things she might have been too young to remember or to witness. How her first words left him buoyant for weeks afterward even during the most dreary of days, how he uttered her name in prayer before battle, or even how much he anticipated a son.
But that was years ago, and this was now. The dead always find a way to arouse such emotion unattainable to the abilities of the living.
He'd heard the rumors just like any other, the accused instances of favoritism or occasional scandal. The fact was that Galahad could not deny being drawn to Wyatt's only child. She was undoubtedly superior in skill and speed to her peers, save a few instances, yet he would occasionally wonder if he could ever look at her as he would any other candidate. There was also the presence of obligation to his former Captain and mentor to look after her and endure her success.
It was almost as strange on that mild weathered, clear day. Sir Wyatt had been drawn to this place, the very obsession of his lover. The mellow breeze rattled through newly greened leaves. He'd dismounted his horse and whirled around to face his squire, eyes wide.
"Looks like it's letting up. Are you ready to press on?"
Chris's head snapped up from where she'd fallen deep in thought amid the view of the earth-toned floor. "Yes sir."
"Good."
He watched as she leaned forward to adjust her sword at it's hilt amid her many bulky layers, and began the trek forward into the fresh glittery terrain of snow.
Having no children of his own, he figured she was the closest thing to compare.
"My Anna has always wanted to see such a place for herself." Sir Wyatt's voice rang soft and clear, "I ought to show her one day."