Good day!
Thanks for taking the time to read this little story of mine. While I've abandoned this account in favor of school, it's been such a long time... I decided to publish a story that I wrote years ago because of the new updates in this fandom. (Yes, please, talk to me about it, I'm still hurting and I have way too much pent up...) It isn't centered on the main characters of the manga (yet) and I'm still iffy on how to tie in the story with them, though I promise, they will come, eventually. For now, you get to deal with an OC, Narcissa Eyrie, with a past that isn't what it seems. Please, read, and if you like or if you don't,
If you don't want to do either, it's ok, but please, pm me - I need to talk about the new chapter or I'lldie!
Chapter One: An Odd Welcome Home
No.All these children.
We have to – it's the only fit sacrifice. For the coming of Glen.
Voices…People. A big, black hole… a pit so deep I can't see inside.
Do it, Maria.
No!
Mama… where are we going?
Just one. I could only save… just one.
She died to save you.
Stupid, naïve girl.
Child of misfortune.
Her eyes aren't red.
An abomination, nonetheless. She should be destroyed.
Return her to the abyss!
Falling.
I am lost.
I need to get back!
There are memories… short ones. I haven't lived my life. Feelings… I've been loved.
Go ahead.
I've had many friends. They came before you. They got out… so can you.
One way or another.
A bitter laugh. A lonely soul.
What do you want?
Your memories. I want to see them. I… want to have them.
Protect it. I must protect it. What reason will I have? How can I trust…?
But… if I don't remember… then I'll want to stay.
I won't hurt.
Take them. Take them all.
Screaming.
Red, red, red. You hurt. You hurt. GO AWAY.
No! They're beautiful! Don't throw them away!
Then take them.
Take them all and go.
The carriage jolts to a stop, and I rouse.
"Milady. We have arrived."
I must have fallen asleep. My dreams…
They've been getting worse. I've always had them. Whenever I go somewhere new, like my first few nights at Ottgarden, or my first few nights back, they disappear completely. And then they return. But this is a new level of intensity.
The door swings open, and a bright light flashes, hitting my eyes. I wince. Gathering up my skirts, I climb down the carriage, taking the coachman's hand. I give him a tentative smile. He looks confused, as he loads down my baggage.
"Is… nobody coming for you?"
We both glance at the entryway, empty of any welcoming party. He might have been expecting a maid or two, in the least. A mother or father, if I wasn't…
"They… they're probably away."
His face is a mixture of confusion and uncertainty, until it eventually dissolves into pity. I hate it.
"Would you like me to wait with you?"
"No, I wouldn't. Thank you." I imbibed the last phrase, not with gratitude, but the ice of dismissal. It feels strange, off my lips, and a part of me is angry that I'd do something so rude… but he shrugs it off, like he's used to it. Poor man.
Gathering a deep breath, I look at my things and try to figure out how to bring it all inside.
Though it took me a while to bring everything to the door (I didn't want to leave anything behind), past the gates and past the gardens, I managed it, pushing and pulling, most likely looking ungainly in my gloves and dress and stupid hat. Pressure was lax, in the country… I got away with more than I should have, in manners of dress, but it looks like I got too used to it.
I lift the heavy brass knocker, rapping twice before I rest against the door. I'm not weak. But having to see family, I have to steel myself first.
What the-
The door gives way and I feel myself start falling backwards. I don't have time to brace myself, but I land alright – in my brother's arms. I breathe a sigh of relief.
"Don't lean against the door! I was just coming out!" Huffing and red-faced, he straightens, pulling me along.
Crossing my arms, I retort. "It's not my fault. I was just knocking. And, I'm tired."
He looks me over, his arms on my elbows. "You're not supposed to be home until next week."
"Is that what they told you?"
Our eyes lock for a moment, and I see it – right there, in his gray eyes, until he looks down to avoid me seeing. I start to recoil, but a maid arrives, obviously chasing after my brother. She has on a slightly crazed expression, and it intensifies upon seeing me.
"Oh my!" She screams. Ben grabs my arm. "My lady, you have returned EARLY!"
"Cissy, run." he commands.
I don't have any time to protest, as he dashes off, pulling me along with him. "Ben, what is going on?" I gasp. "My things…!" As we run, there's nothing I can do but watch them get smaller and smaller, farther and farther.
"No time for that, we'll have it picked up later. You're going to live with me, for a while. Won't that be fun?" He stops running briefly to bless with me a blazing grin. I sigh, but the ground starts shaking, and we hear a big, rumbling sound, the kind that comes before an earthquake.
Oh, hell.
There is an army of servants – gardeners, lady's maids, – are there people from the kitchen? – coming after us, brandishing brooms, pans, rakes and bush clippers. The headmistress Cleves is running madly in the lead, accompanied by her small, strange yapping dog. She opens her mouth, letting out a battle cry.
Help.
"Look! My carriage! Right on time, my good man!"
Ben cheerfully lifts me up, over his shoulder, and marches into the car.
"To the Teese mansion, if you please! And a little speed is in order!"
"Of course, sir," says the chauffeur, bowing slightly as he closes the door.
What is going on?
Not long after we arrive at his home, Lady Mathilde has strong-armed us into settling down and having tea.
I wanted to freak out some more, just a little bit – it was fun. Something I don't have at the family home. Running from the servants; that's new. Nevertheless, there was something about the beautiful blonde angel my brother had given his heart to.
Mathilde Eyrie, nee Teese, possessor of gentle blue eyes and a thoughtful smile. She is infuriatingly beautiful. And terrifying, when necessary.
"How is the tea, Narcissa?" she asks, settling on a chair across from me. My brother is pacing, orbiting my seat and Mathilde's.
"It calms me down, thank you." I sound like a little child. I didn't mean to.
Her face lights up, like I just presented her with a basket of flowers. Damnit. My heart just fluttered a little bit. Despite my frustration, I feel my face flush, so I look down and concentrate on getting my voice to return to normal.
"They couldn't recover your luggage. The household is holding them hostage."
I turn to my brother, eyeing him suspiciously. "You never left the room. How could you even know that?"
"It's true, dear." Even with her sweet tone, Lady 's face is a thousand times harsher than it appeared to be moments ago, though aimed at Ben. He doesn't even stop pacing to see it.
She turns to me, a placating expression on her features. "My… maid. Told him, a while ago."
Ben pauses by her chair, pecks her cheek and resumes his revolution.
Resisting the urge to stamp or whine, I gulp down the entire cup of tea. Mathilde automatically reaches out to pour more for the both of us, but I beat her to it, murmuring an apology. She shakes her head, offering me a smile that says she understands.
With a plaintive tone, I finally ask. "What's going on, Ben?"
He doesn't stop pacing, even though Mathilde is well past shooting daggers with her eyes – I could swear she's throwing cannonballs.
"It can't be helped." Proclaiming that, he stops his pacing behind me, leans over my chair, positioning his head beside mine. His gloved fingers manipulate my face (squishing it) and swivels it to face Lady Mathilde.
I don't get it. "Oudonk gudduh."
"I love her," he wheedles. "I'm in love with her, that lady, that woman, that fantastic and bombastic girl, and I am married to her." Abandoning me, he makes his way over to her side, kneeling and taking her hands. Meanwhile, the insanely attractive wife in question looks like she's trying to hold back tears. Or laughter. Why not both?
My brother, with his gray-green eyes and dark dark hair, is a bright, cheerful light of a person. His smile has been enough, a hundred times over, to pull me out of my darkest times. He deserves Mathilde; he used to be carefree and annoying, courting girl after girl after girl. However handsome he was, he obtained a reputation as a joker and a lawless flirt. Many ladies were turned away from him, deeming him a non-prospect.
Despite all this, and after countless other conquests and efforts, Lady Mathilde said yes. She's stuck by him.
And they were perfect. A union of two Great Houses, the eldest children of two old families, they painted quite the picture on their wedding day. That was seven years ago, same home and hearth, and no trace of any heirs.
They can't have children.
"Oh, Ben. Mathilde, dear."
As they grasp my understanding, a few teardrops trickle down Mathilde's cheeks, over her stagnant smile. I put down the tea things and hold out my arms, rising. "Come here, you sweet woman. Only a fool wouldn't love you."
Tears now falling freely, she runs over to me, burying her face in my shoulder. I rub her back, watching Ben, who has approached us, enveloping both of us in a crushing embrace. She feels so delicate, so tired, this strong woman who can't conceive.
It probably isn't her fault. But both of my brothers are accounted for, Dane engaged, and Colin married. With two children. This piece of information, though ordinarily a delight to an aunt, must prove to her positively damning. A constant weight, despite the pull of my brother's love.
As it ends, Mathilde pulls away, smiling at me gratefully. My brother tugs her towards him, stroking her hair.
"Has… has father called for you to remarry?"
However painful, the situation must be addressed. Mathilde seems no worse, and it hurts – I imagine she must've dealt with this, already.
My brother holds his wife closer to him, sighing. "He's already called for representatives from the four duchies. I believe, we have left, only weeks. A month, gods willing."
I look up at him, and down at her.
I shake my head. "There has to be some other way. This is… this is too old a tradition. It's outdated, and disadvantageous to you, Mathilde… I know, for a fact, the Rainsworths won't stand for this."
"They only need two votes, my dear," she whispers.
I huff. "Have our brothers heard?"
"They are on their way as we speak," says Ben.
And, here it is. Thank you, so very much, for getting this far. The next one will not take long. Feel free to drop a comment or a review, I love feedback. If you want me to put anything in the story, I'll do my best to fit it in, so please... just ask!