This is five year groups (a few ages in each) of Gunther's life around Christmastime.
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Fandom: Jane and the Dragon Pairing(s): Jane/Gunther; mentions of Rake/Pepper; mentions of Jester/Lavinia Words: 2,223 Warning(s): implications of past child abuse; past domestic abuse; Gunther's POV
YEAR GROUP A
When I was a baby, things were perfect. I had mommy at my side, baking delicious crumpets and tarts in the kitchen while daddy went to the wharf to deal and trade with the local village. He would always come back early so we could play. He would help mommy craft special ornaments and decorations around the house. Not only decorations, but he also crafted my mobile and a beautiful locket for my mother. Even at two, I would always reach for it when I was held.
Daddy crafted a great many of my toys and mommy would spend hours sewing my clothes while entrancing me with stories of her youth while I played by the guarded fireplace. It was a beautiful time. She could never run out of stories, even divulging stories her parents told her of the times she doesn't remember when I was her age. By the time I was three, I was quite adept at charades. I would help decorate and bake the treats. It was great fun. We didn't have much but we wouldn't have it any other way, because we had each other. How na ve we were.
YEAR GROUP B
As I turned four, I began to learn as a child. I wandered around more, exploring my freedom. I began to learn my luxurious life was anything but. Still, I didn't understand a lot of the things happening, but I could see my parents' marriage falling apart. They would spend less time together, except around holidays. Then, everything would seem to glue back together. We would be a miraculous family but only for so long.
I was given a sundial when I was five, and I began to count down the hours each time a holiday rolled around. There were no more crafted toys except the ones under the tree. Even those wouldn't hold up very long. My clothes had begun to unravel, keeping it no secret that Mama was distracted. At these times, I was put into a pen while they went to have loud conversations with harsh words I shouldn't have been privy to.
By age six, pens no longer kept me. I would be placed into a closet, locked. I could not rebel against a closed door, but I could press my face against the cold wood to eavesdrop. Swindling. That is a word I would hear again and again. Cheating bastard. Selfish whore. I never quite made the connection of what these phrases could mean at the time, but I knew what would follow. The ruthless smacks, the devious lashes I could hear as if cattle were being branded. The long string of profanity, accompanied by my mama's screams. Her begging. Her prayers.
At seven, I had grown accustomed to this. One little spark was needed to ignite the feud between my parents. Often it was either his or her fault, but at times it was someone's reaction at the wharf or how she would defend someone who deserved a good tongue-
lashing. I would be sent to the closet, forced to listen to the brutality. I had taken a buckle fro my shoe and a pin from my hair, creating a makeshift key. I had found my way out of the closet, forcing myself to my parents' room. I remember screaming in horror at my mother's battered face. She hadn't had the time to conceal the dreadfulness that had come by matrimony of my Papa.
By eight, they had separated. She still lived in the house, but they avoided each other like the plague. They would take turns taking me out. Suddenly, I was barely in our house at all. Papa would bring me to the wharf, teaching me to deceive the hard-working people of the village. He would force me to act my sweetest, performing a magic trick or dance for the attention while their pockets were being pilfered. Sadly, I believe he had never been more proud of me. When Mama would take me out, we would visit the castle. She had been friends with the queen as a child. The king and queen had just birthed their second child, a daughter, and she had been the chubby talk of the area. We never visited any other part of the castle than the royal quarters.
YEAR GROUP C
Mom had disappeared the day after Christmas the year I turned nine. We had a small social we had been invited to. When I had awakened, everything of hers in the house had been gone. Dad told me when I asked that she'd left us. He had said it with such conviction, but I couldn't force myself to believe it. She would never leave me with him. Without Mom around, Dad would drink. Hard. If the slightest thing would trouble him, he would turn his insecurities into anger. Fury. Aggression. I had begun to lose hope. On Christmas. On Dad. On Life.
At ten, I continued to knock tricks at the wharf. Though my heart wasn't in it, Dad terrified me enough with his vigorous threats. I got quite good taking after him, the silver-tongued devil in plain sight. I was a kid, but I was not being treated like one. Dad was sleazy and sadistic toward everyone especially me if I did not follow his directions to the letter. If I mentioned Mom. If I squelched on a task. If I hid a chunk of change for my own being. I would tend to the wharf as he schooled me to the best, I suppose, of his ability.
At eleven, I began to be taken to the castle for knight training. I met a boy my age, a weakling. The gardener's son, Drake. He would be out helping his father plant the herbs in the area I would practice my fielding. The arts of training with a staff and shield against a wooden dummy. The prince would sometimes watch. Cuthbert. He was five by then, with a three-year-old sister. The princess would remain hidden from sight.
When I turned twelve, I was rewarded with training armor. I had respected the king and queen, and Sir Theodore to a lesser extent. Everyone else had become fair game. I learned of a ten-year-old lady-in-waiting named Jane. I hadn't met her, but learned of her through her father, the chamberlain. I had begun to grow an egotistical streak. I hadn't meant for it and wished to suppress it, but that had not been how I was brought about. If I suppress it, I would be weak. Vulnerable. Instead, I was slowly forming into a miniature version of my vicious dad.
YEAR GROUP D
Thirteen came quickly. A dragon had appeared that Christmas and had had officially met the court jester. No one seemed to know his name, and I didn't mind much. I hardly ever talked to him unless we were both in the presence of the princess. Lavinia had been five then. She would curtsy, feminine, but I could sense a longing for adventure in her. Her brother would bother the young cook in the kitchen. Verbena. She was only eleven, but her mother had fallen ill to an untreatable sickness, so she had taken place. One spice she knew about and often used too much during her first year in the kitchen, had been Pepper. I called her on it, and the name had stuck.
Fourteen had been a memorable year. The dragon from the previous year had swooped down in our barn. The castle's that is. Spooked the horses. Befriended a pig, of sorts, and pinched the prince. Well, he's a trainable sort and the younger lady-in-waiting, Jane, had taken it upon herself to fight him. Instead, though, they'd become friends. Jane had been given a grant to battle alongside me, for knight-in-training. That year, as the turmoil of the prince's safety had risen, I had been informed my mom's disappearance had been not on her fault. She had been murdered. Instantly, I had put up a metaphorical shield and distanced myself from my father, almost at the extent of fully escaping the hell that comes from home.
At fifteen, the gardener's son became the gardener and dropped the 'D' from his name. Rake and Pepper had gotten closer, and had mistaken my attempt at being cordial to Jane to my courting her. I had tried to be very cordial to make up for how things had been in the past, with my hectic homelife that I had never opened up about. When she had accused me of what had been misconstrued, things fell completely out of place and I had urges. I had terrible, sociopathic urges. I acted out.
At sixteen, my rebellion had increased a tenfold. I would fight her, not like I would at fourteen. Now, I had reason to fight. I was still pained at home, which had grown considerably. I was still under oath at the castle. I had no place to let my emotions free unless it was on the court. I had been angry at everyone and wanted to be left alone. I wanted others to feel my pain. At times, I would bait Dragon, nearly sacrificing my own life through heated exchanged remarks. Jane would intervene, or at times, even the eight-
year-old princess.
Seventeen had come and I had been ceremoniously knighted. However, my behavior had prevented me from leaving the castle. I was still underage and governed by my father's wishes. He would still torture me at the house. I would in turn torture the lives of those I felt deserved it. Jester had come up to me at one point, demanding I stay away from Jane. I had been appointed the fiery girl's instructor. I had been given an actual sword. I hadn't taken kindly with the entertainer's words and things had escalated very quickly. I had shoved him against the side of the tower, pressing my blade against his throat. I could feel his heart beating extensively but I could not move away until I heard Pepper's voice calling for supper.
At eighteen, I was no longer administrated under my father's hand. I could never step a foot into that house any longer. Still, I would see him lurking around the castle at times. My aggression had died out remarkably with me no longer living at his side. The others could see. I still wore a mask of stern attitude, but much of my force had dissipated unless something truly aggravated me to the point of my break. Dragon had found others of his kind just before Christmas and I could see the painstaking decision Jane gave to consent her best friend's freedom. He had left to join them in the skies and I had grieved with her. For the first time, I had opened up about my mother and I had shown her the locket. We had become more than rivals. It seemed she had always considered me a friend of sorts.
At nineteen, Jane and I were an item. She was seventeen and knighted officially. Rake and Pepper had become an authorized couple, scheduled for wed by the following year. Jester had remained at the castle. He had been amorous with eleven-year-old Princess Lavinia. It had been a secret, though I and Pepper had known. While I hadn't gotten along with Rake, Pepper and I had constructed a dysfunctional friendship. Jane and I had a dynamic connection. Prince Cuthbert had been thirteen with zero affliction of ever leaving the castle. He had been greedy as he was as a child. Christmas Eve, I had run into my father at the wharf. He was planning a sketchy agreement with the head of an opposing kingdom of the land. He had caught me and I was rewarded with fierce punishments and a promise for Kippernia's upcoming destruction.
YEAR E
I am currently twenty. Rake and Pepper are married, holding the fort down alongside the queen and Jane's parents. The king is regrouped with Sir Ivon. The fourteen-year-old prince and twelve-year-old knight-in-training princess are across the way with Sir Theodore. I had been leading our strong and stealthy yet outnumbered army against the soldiers of my father's command. Magnus. He doesn't deserve the title of father.
Jane is eighteen. She is highly skilled even without the assistance of Dragon. I sometimes miss him, if I were to be honest. Jane is helping me open up, but I've hardly even touched the surface of the many years of abuse lying at Magnus's fingertips. Hatred boils in my blood as I watch in desperate silence while our foot soldiers are roughly murdered. Something snaps in my memory, a flush of the daily beatings and the battered surface. I lead a merciless attack, forgoing our planned procedures.
Jester had already been injured, but he had risked another possibly fatal wound by jumping from his bunker, rescuing me front unfriendly fire. Fire. Dragon would have roasted the army lest they think of causing harm to Jane. I think back to what I've learned by sneaking around the castle as an aloof teenager. Wails of dangerously accessible, unobtainable ingredients I had gathered from Pepper about lamasery peppers and useless information on combustible weeds and grassed I had learned from Rake.
Foolishly, I retreat to find the young prince, leaving Jester and Jane to gather the plantlife. Cuthbert is not willing to share the treats I had no doubt he'd taken. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, I am able to resort to my aged methods of tomfoolery to distract him long enough so the princess may aid me in swiping the goods. I collect a sheaf of iron from Sir Theodore's metallic armor as well before withdrawing to my supportive group.
We strategically place the peppers from the food along the ridge of the plantlife, firing it in rocket lines toward our enemies. I inaudibly warn the others to back away, but Jane remains at my side. Christmas is almost among us and I recall my first one without my mother. It had been almost unbearable. However, thinking of life without my father isn't quite the same. I feel as though a great deal of relief with only a small bout of regret will come to surface. Keeping this in my thoughts, I utilize the shielded armor against the grass and the sun, igniting my eco-friendly weapon.
The fields of our enemies are alight, and Jane is pulling me into the bunker, away from the drawback. Just before she manages to do so, I lock sights with Magnus. His are full of acknowledgement, but absolute hatred and disgust as well. He raises his weapon and fires. An arrow is aimed more toward my torso, where I find Jane leaning. I push her away. She falls into the bunker with a gasp, and I hear and angry shout from Jester just before the weapon pierces my chest. I fall into the foxhole as well and the war ends in a crying, fiery pit.
Nearly two weeks later, it is Christmas Day. I awake in the infirmary with immense pains in my body. Jane is to my side, patches along the side of her face. Jester is also in the room, in an improvised wheelchair. Both feet are in casts, as well as a wrapping on his head. The queen is currently on call as nurse overseer and she gently smiles to me when she sees I've opened my eyes.
"Merry Christmas, Warrior."
She hands me a cold glass of water before I try to speak. I accept cautiously, though I am unable to move. She places it at my lips so I can sip the cool, refreshing liquid. She helps me to sit up successfully as I see Pepper walk in with Rake. At her unsuppressed squeal of delight, Jane and Jester are alerted of my predicament. They all join me at my hospital bed. I smile. They are actually concerned over my well-being and health. This has never happened before.
Several hours later, I am able to talk. I am placed in a chair not unlike Jester, and wheeled back to the castle courtyard. The royal family is there to express condolences. It is more of an accustomed thing, as I am aware no one had cared for my father. I had hardly had any cares left for the man before his death. I had also been given an award for saving the kingdom. I hadn't thought of it like that. I had let my aggressions get the better of me, but there is no refusing the honor. I take it with a smile. And with Jane at my side. We started off as enemies, but we have grown to something indescribable. We are together as one. We need each other and desire to be with each other. I've never had that and I am never letting it go.
[][][][][] I miss this show. If you don't know, it came on qubo and lasted one season. It was worth so much more than that. It was great. Today was day 38 of 45. Christmas is almost here! Love reviews! Love my readers! [][][][][]