This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please be nice. I may develop it further, if people seem interested.
Disclaimer: Anything recognisable - Heralds, Companions, Velgarth etc -belongs to Mercedes Lackey. Any mangling of the aforementioned is my own. Yana is mine and I like her, even if her mother doesn't.
This fanfic is dedicated to Etcetera-Cat, brilliant beta-editor and amazing author!
OoOoO
Yana sighed internally, and concentrated on placing her stitches precisely where she wanted them, while keeping her face in a mask of polite attention. At least while she was doing that, her mother's voice faded to a background drone, that she could let wash over her, without actually having to pay any attention to what was said. After all, it wasn't like her mother wanted any response other than the occasional murmur.
Embroidery was one of the few things she was allowed to do that she really enjoyed; it didn't require her to socialise with her peers, threads and cloth didn't care what she looked like or whether she could make witty conversation, she could find a quiet corner and immerse herself in creativity.
It was just a pity that this morning her mother had decided she just had to regale her one and only daughter with the complete tale of yesterday's visit to the Cloth Guild to select silks for her seamstress to make her a new gown; the Midwinter Ball being next month. Not that she had anything against the Cloth Guild, it was just that she didn't really want to hear a blow by blow description of her mother's day, complete with catty remarks about other ladies of their acquaintance and recriminations against her daughter for her lack of ownership of the currently fashionable attributes. And as if that internal musing were a cue;
"...and I saw the most beautiful silk, such a lovely scarlet, it would have made a perfectly wonderful midwinter ball gown for you, if only you weren't so pale dear. Really, you should..."
With an effort she tuned her out again, but the remark turned her thoughts down a familiar and well-worn path. Pale. Say colourless rather, and you would have been closer to the truth. Hair so fair as to be almost white, eyes an indeterminate shade between the palest of blues and the lightest of greys and skin as pale as marble. When you added to that a figure that could pass for a boy without any trouble and height that wasn't quite 5 feet, Yana knew it was unlikely her looks would ever be fashionable. Although I could do with being rather less out of fashion that I am at the moment she thought wistfully.
The current look for Court was for a lady to be tall, have definite curves and to be possessed of a vibrant colouring suited to the brilliant new dye colours brought in from OutKingdom; hence her mother's remarks over the scarlet silk.
Yana tried to tell herself she didn't care what she looked like, but she really did. She knew the other young courtiers called her The Wraith, behind her back, and to her face, if they could couch it in one of those oh-so-witty remarks. She wished, just for once, that Mother could find something good to say about her. I know I'm not pretty, not like Lady Cythera, – the current Court Beauty – but I try so hard to be what Mother wants. Why am I never good enough? Her thoughts trailed off uneasily.
Suddenly Yana had had enough, enough of sitting in a stuffy overheated, overstuffed room, listening to her mother rattle on about people she didn't know, and didn't want to know; complaining about things that really didn't matter, at least to her, and spoiling what would have been the nicest part of her day.
If I don't get out of here, I am going to suffocate. The walls seemed to loom closer, and she felt as if unseen hands were shoving and pushing against her body.
She had intended to wrap up and sit out in a sheltered garden and sew, at least there she would have had the solitude she craved. Unfortunately, her mother had cornered her after breakfast and requested - ordered - her presence in her sitting room.
"Lady Mother," she interrupted, a small, and hastily squashed, part of her enjoying the fleeting look of surprise that was on her mother's face before she resumed her smooth Court facade. "I do beg your pardon, but I have the most dreadful headache."
Not really a lie, after all, if I had been listening to her properly, I would have a headache and if I stay here much longer I will have one. Yana thought quickly, and it does make a good excuse to go for a walk by myself.
"I had hoped that the warmth and pleasant company would dispel it, but that does not seem to be the case and I would like to retire, perhaps take a gentle stroll in the quiet of the winter gardens."
"Of course my dear," her mother acquiesced, gracious as always, "Perhaps we need to see a Healer for these headaches you seem to be getting lately. You are such a fragile child, always been such a worry to me..."
Yana escaped as quickly as she could, before her mother could use her supposed headache as an excuse for more maternal reproach; this time on the topic of how much of a burden she had been during her infancy and how much her mother had had to give up in order to care for her. If she spent so much time and worry caring for me, why is it that all I remember is a succession of nursemaids, Yana thought sourly.
A late born baby, she had been an unwelcome surprise to both her parents; who were quite content with the son and daughter they already had. If they had to have another child, they would have plainly preferred a second son, not another daughter, and particularly not one that was no kind of social asset. While she was young, she had been kept out at the family estate, but this year, Mother had arbitrarily decided she was to come to Haven. Why, she had no idea; Father was too busy with Council business to take any interest in her and Mother just berated her for not fitting in with the other young nobles.
Pulling on a hat and cloak, she swiftly made her way outside by one of the servant's doors, rather than risk encountering any of her peers. The day was cold but clear; she preferred the cold and quiet to the warmth and noise.
Why am I so different? All the other girls just want to look good, to attract the men, to gossip and chatter, to do nothing. I want something else, I don't know what, but something different to that. I wish... She schooled her face to polite Court nothingness, after all, she never knew who might be watching, but inside it hurt. I will not cry.
A flash of bright colour and the sound of tinkling laughter alerted her to the presence of some of the other young courtiers, gathered in the garden ahead. Her heart sank; she was not in the mood for the artificial politeness and gaiety of her peers, even less for being the entertainment. She'd never had much desire to join in, and lately even less as she had found herself developing headaches when she was around too many people. Even a handful of people felt more like an entire gathering at Court to her; with them all shouting in her ears at once.
Swiftly she altered course, thinking to make for another garden, and was brought up short when she realised that the only thing ahead of her was the Companions' Field. Dare I, would they mind? She wondered, Father may say they're nothing more than fancy horses and a way for the Monarchs to keep power in their hands, but I'm sure they're something more.
No Companions were around that part of the Field, she had noticed they didn't tend to spend a great deal of time in the part that connected to the formal Court gardens, preferring to gather closer to the Collegia. Not that I blame them, given a choice I'd rather not spend time in the Court gardens, Yana thought wryly
An increase in the sounds drifting across the snow covered ground made up her mind for her; the others were coming this way, and the only way to avoid them was to head into the Field. Awkwardly, she gathered her skirts and cloak about her and clambered over the fence, quickly ducking behind a screening patch of bushes. Once she was certain no one appeared to have seen her, she began walking deeper into the Field, her thoughts drifting.
I don't want to be a pretty, empty-headed little girl, caring about nothing except the latest fashions and calculating my exact status in regard to every other person I meet. I want to be something more, to do something more. Yana's thoughts chased one another in circles, dragging her spirits further down. Even the solitude and silence of the Field failed to help.
What else can I be? Yana thought desperately. All I know how to be is a proper young maiden, all I'm allowed to learn to be is a proper young maiden, but I don't fit in among the others, I'm too quiet and prefer reading and sewing to socialising and gossip.
The dry, powdery snow creaked underfoot, and in the stillness, Yana could vaguely hear shouts of laughter from a group of Trainees playing some kind of game further round the Field. She didn't know much about the Heralds, there hadn't ever been a need for one to come to her father's estate while she was young, and Mother had deflected any questions she had asked since arriving at the Palace. The other young nobles she had been around tended to either ignore the Trainees, or, if they thought they could get away with it, target one for some covert – attention; much the same way they treated her.
I want to fit in, but it's all just so… so… those games they play; being someone's friend, just so you can turn against them. Finding out their secrets, so you can use them. I won't… I can't do that, hurt people like that. It's not right! She swallowed against the lump that had grown in her throat and swiped at a traitorous tear that escaped her eye. Oh gods, why must I be so different?
OoOoO
Yana hurried through the snow of Companions' Field, to what she had come to think of as her refuge. A small grove of trees, one of the many dotted through the Field, in the month she had been coming here, she hadn't yet seen another person or even one of the Companions. It was sheltered from the wind and she had taken to spending as much time there as she could. No one seemed to have discovered where she was hiding; Mother thought she was off with the other young maidens, they though she was somewhere in the Palace complex and the servants, if even they had noticed her, hadn't told anyone and the weather had been pleasant enough that they hadn't felt the need to come looking for her.
Until last night, that was.
It had been the Midwinter Ball. Mother and Father were attending, of course, and Mother had decided, now that she was fifteen, it was time she attended as well.
The gown had been bad enough, Mother's choice; to show that her daughter was up with the latest fashions, a brilliant peacock blue with gold underdress and gold embroidery. It did nothing for her; she looked even more washed out than usual. The tight corseting underneath, to try and force her body into a semblance of womanly curves had achieved nothing except to emphasis her lack of the same, and the less said about high heeled dancing slippers, the better.
Yana had looked like a fool, like a child dressed up in her mother's clothing, but she could have borne that. It was the reaction of those of her peers who were attending. No one had asked her to dance, not that she wanted to; she felt sure she would have fallen in those ridiculous slippers, just walking was difficult enough. But each and every one of the other young courtiers attending had made some excuse to stop by and make some poisonously polite remark. She could see the mocking in their eyes, and worse ---
Oh gods, I must be going crazy.
She had felt their derision and scorn, like blows to her body, leaving unseen welts. Her head had begun to ache, worse than ever before, until Yana was half blinded with trying to keep from crying, from maintaining the correct Court façade.
Crazy Wraith, that's what I am, this can't be normal. Her thoughts battered against her mind. They're right, there's something wrong with me.
Her eyes burned, and despite all her trying, tears spilled out and down her cheeks as she stumbled into the shelter of the trees. What is wrong with me?
:Nothing.
Yana started at the strange voice that seemed to echo inside her head "What? Who's there?"
:Just me. A graceful white form moved out of the shadows, a slender Companion mare with tail and mane like spun silk, seeming to shimmer in the light sifting through the leafless branches.
"Are you… talking… to me?" Yana queried. I must be crazy, first I imagine I can feel what people think; now I'm imagining a talking horse.
:I am not a horse: the mare snorted:I am talking to you, and you are not crazy:
"But… but…Why?" Yana stammered.
:Because you are my Chosen.:
"Chosen?" Yana stared at the Companion mare, as she paced soundlessly through the snow to nudge her on the shoulder. And then eyes of limitless sapphire caught her and she was falling into a love so powerful it filled every empty, aching place in her.
:Yes, I am Sharalie, and I Choose you, Yana, sister of my heart. You are mine and I am yours, and you will never be alone again.