Author's Note: I'm trying something out- any of you who have read my work in the past know I'm terrible for loading something and not finishing it. That's because I usually try to load a story in chapters when I rarely write that way- I think the story up in bits and pieces and flesh them out until they connect. So as I flesh this out on my computer I will come and upload the fleshier and fleshier version. Currently you are looking at the first words from when I sat down and began writing my interpretation of the Laurian/Arliden beginnings. Now I am clearly buying into the Wise Man's Fear theory that Netalia Lackless IS Laurian. So spoiler alert. Hope you all stick around!
She always had a shadow behind her but at least it wasn't an evil one.
When the troupe came to town Arliden and Jasper were the first to scamper into the crowd with their instruments and start playing for small pennies to the Vintish crowd. For today they were in a working class neighborhood but one that seemed honest and safe—children were left without major oversight but hadn't turned feral. They were almost instantly in their realm—good music, locals clapping, endless verses of Tinker Tailor going up and winding around the air like silken ribbons.
They saw the girl at first like a mirage across the crowded courtyard. She had sharp features, eyes that sparkled and a thick cloud of brown hair. She was a moment, a wink, a revelation, and both would later convince themselves that they hadn't seen her at all.
The challenge was obvious: they had to lure the girl into the troupe, get her to laugh, get her to join in the fun, and maybe they had a chance of learning her name.
It was now so clear and neither could discuss it: they could not deny that they were both in love with the same woman. To breech the topic would be to invite the most dangerous comparison: who was telling the "truth" and who was lying—who was more sincere, who loved this girl they barely knew more. Neither were prepared to sacrifice their best friend for that argument yet as they were sure enough to brawl over it given enough time.
"Why do they call you Tally when they think nobody is listening?" Arliden demanded in a hushed whisper, he had grabbed at her wrist but let it go: let it never be said that he held her against her will.
"Just a nickname." She shrugged and it didn't sound like a complete lie…but it didn't sound like a complete truth.
"How do you get Tally from Laurian?"
"Tally comes from my middle name." Laurian opened a dusty volume and pointed to the symbol on the page, "Do you see this mark? The seven sided star? I used to see it next to the Chandrian rhymes as a child. Have you ever looked at it? It reminds me of something."
She was avoiding the issue but Arliden decided to ignore it—they spent the next two hours pouring over the dusty books she had smuggled from her uncle's house and creating a new song about a story about a woman that became so complex that one day it burst into life, the story about her was as real as the woman (who may or may not have been real to begin with).
They were being invited to the palace, the Ruh troupe, to perform for what many expected to be Lord Talon Greyfallow's proposal to Netalia Lackless. The whole troupe was in a flutter of excitement, pulling their best costumes to the front, brushing up on their best lines, and all atwitter about whether or not they could pull a patronage from the Greyfallows for setting the perfect scene for an important marriage. Jasper and Arliden were not talking to one another. Jasper mimed excitement for other troupe members but Arliden was looking depressed—he wasn't sure Laurian wanted to see him again and he wasn't sure how to find her, but he knew that he would be at the hub of the city and finding more information on her might be easier. Or it might become an impossible task. He felt sick and hadn't slept the previous night—he was merely doing his best to help the troupe prepare.
When the applause finally dwindled Arliden stood and put down his lute, extending the single daisy with one petal missing toward the audience.
"Sir Savien humbly requests the honor of giving his Aloine a gift." He motioned with the flower and bowed low. There was a commotion, a stirring in the audience. A shuffling of gowns as people moved about and a man's honeyed voice saying Go on, go on! You deserve the applause!
The female voice that had sung Aloine so perfectly, had made the perfect mate to Arliden's tenor, now seemed clenched and tight, "Please no, Talon, no."
But Talon Greyfallow snorted and pulled her onto stage, "Netalia you are being ridiculous."
Arliden put on his best Savien-smile and turned, bowing low, to the lady and lord. So this is the couple of the hour. At least they are partaking in the festivities instead of sitting up there, stiff necked and boring.
He was not prepared for what happened when he raised his eyes to meet those of Netalia Lackless- at first he thought it was his own distractedness, then he was sure it was some terrible trick of the light, but it was none of those things, it was the truth, the awful truth in front of him.
It was Laurian, dressed up as a lady with all the proper jewels and refinements, with Lord Talon Greyfallow's arm draped over her waist. Greyfallow leaned in and whispered, "Go on Tally, take the flower and bow for your adoring audience. We won't hear a Savien that good for an age."
Tally.
Arliden fell to one knee and held the flower out with an iron grip, "Yes…my lady. Take it. It's a gift."
Oh the black humor in this, holding out a ruined flower to her. Take a good look then my dear—what are you playing at? What does this mean? Do you think this flower and its bearer pathetic?
But when Netalia reached for the flower she too fell to her knee, lowered her head and kissed his hand. For a moment's moment Laurian was there, the perfect actress, putting on Aloine's perfect adoration of Savien, and her voice was fighting tears when she said, "No, we won't hear a Savien like this for an age for Savien's story is so complex, so very hard to understand that playing it- never mind singing it—mocks most performers for their shallow understandings of love. Only a true romantic can sing Savien—only someone who knows the impossible pains of love while so greatly desiring its pleasures can perform this song."
Arliden didn't know what to do besides lean in and kiss her hand, "Aloine is a mystery to most singers, it's only fit she be sung by a beautiful enigma."
Talon suddenly regarded the singer and his would-be bride in new light. Arliden noticed a surprise and then a stern wash to his face as he mumbled something that sounded like "Smelly Fish" and put a comforting hand on Laurian's…no Netalia's neck, whispering, "I had no idea, I'm so sorry."
Back in the tents Arliden was angrily packing, feeling twenty times the fool's fool and not fit for anyone's company. Jasper wanted to say something but knew better than to tempt Arliden's mood just now so he kept himself occupied with menial tasks just an ear's shot from Arliden's tent.
He didn't even hear her come in until a board squeaked under her feet and he snapped at whoever it was, "Just go away."
"I can't."
Her voice.
He sagged in place. How was he supposed to dismiss her when that voice reached inside of him and tugged at his very soul?
"I don't even know what to call you…is it even appropriate for you to be here?" Arliden sighed and from just outside the tent Jasper listened.
"Arliden please I…I didn't know what to say to you."
"I'm a noble lady named Netalia Lackless, my family can be traced back to the fall of the seven cities, and I'm engaged to be married to a nobleman. Oh wait, I think that last part was supposed to be a surprise tonight, I'm sorry I ruined it for you." He had every right to snap and she closed her eyes as the words hit her as though she could shield herself from some of the pain that accompanied them.
"I can explain, but I haven't much time. If you wanted one explanation, which would it be?"
Arliden raised his eyes to hers and she could see them, bloodshot and haggard looking as though he had aged a year in the last hour, and he regarded her—she looked equally tired, equally aged, "Why let me think….without telling me you were Netalia Lackless you could have told me you were spoken for. In fact I believe when I specifically asked you specifically told me you were not."
"You asked if I loved someone and I told you the truth—I don't love anyone else."
"Don't….I was hired today to set the scene for your betrothal. The least you can do is not lie to me further about it."
"I'm not!" She snapped, "Talon is…well, I do suppose Talon might have proposed. We certainly talked about it, we are both getting sufficient pressure….it's the best arrangement I could hope for."
Arliden snorted, "Yes, you lack in all qualities that would make a man want you, you clearly should take whatever scraps are thrown at you."
Netalia laughed darkly, emptily, "You don't understand… I love Talon, we grew up together as children. We have always been one another's confidantes. But I'm not in love with him—I never felt romantically toward him. And he certainly doesn't feel that way for me. Marrying him would be….wise. His family are sufficiently statured and he wants me to be happy—he would build me a library, let me patronize a dozen troupes, build a theatre, write all the songs I wished."
Arliden turned his back on her, burning with awareness of exactly how little he could offer her that could make him seem like fit competition for Lord Greyfallow. He felt himself clench a fist in unexpressed rage.
Netalia saw but she kept talking, and as she did she walked up to Arliden's back and slowly reached out her arms, winding them around his waist, leaning her head against his back, "Talon would give me all those things and just … leave me alone. Leave me to organize my own life. Find my happiness where I could."
Arliden shook his head, "Men like him never let their property go."
"Maybe so, but Talon wouldn't see me like that. I would marry Talon because he has no interest in having any wife, so in having me as one he would at least have a friend."
"I just don't believe you."
Netalia placed her forehead flat on Arliden's back, releasing a long breath and then urged him to turn and face her, when he did he tried very hard to look away but found himself staring at her.
"Arliden, I am going to tell you something nobody else knows….Talon would marry me to appease his family because otherwise he wouldn't marry. Because Talon doesn't like girls but his family expect him to at least put on a good face."
Netalia Lackless, daughter of one of the oldest families in the realm, richer than kings, sagged her forehead against Arliden's, whispering, "Talon would leave me to take lovers, raise my children, and not interfere. He would just protect me…..it is the best someone like me can hope for. Should I get sent to another country with a man twice my age? Promised to a stranger I don't share a language with and haven't met? Should I pick one of the Lords who hate active or creative wives who have offered my father a king's ransom for my hand? These men want to smother me…they want to change me. At least with Talon I have a chance… a small chance to choose my own happiness."
Arliden pressed his cheek against her head, held his lips over her temple as if he could drink her in, and thought about what she had, essentially, just proposed.
After a long moment he spoke, "I don't want to sleep with another man's wife and watch another man raise my children and give them his name…and you don't deserve that either. Tally I love you. I have less than nothing to offer you but I would never make you hide who you are or change what you love. I want you to be my wife damned all the consequences. They could take my head for saying something like that to you—but it's the truth. You deserve to be utterly and completely loved for the rest of your life—and I can guarantee it."
She smiled and kissed him before he could finish, he lost himself in that kiss. Eventually he pulled away and smiled, panted, swore, "Now I'm fool enough to follow you wherever that path leads me. I'd leave this troupe and trail behind you to that Greyfallow mansion and break my own heart into a thousand pieces as I played at your wedding to that man but it's not what I want. I would do it for you, because I cannot imagine a life worth living where I am not with you. But I want a wife, a lover, a partner. I don't even have my own wagon to offer you but one day I will and it'll be ours. Small and cramped and always a little moldy after a rainy season, but ours. It's not a romantic proposal but it will have to serve—marry me, Tally. Choose me….please, choose me."
Jasper, personally, thought there was just a tad too much begging but Arliden had always been the best at playing for sympathy because he naturally fell to such drama when he wanted something. His mother had told stories about his honest pleas for a second bowl of soup at the age of four that might have come from a priest advocating on behalf of a stricken and abused child. If it had been up to Jasper he might have simply told Netalia that she could choose him or leave, but it wasn't up to Jasper.
Inside Netalia cried, "I want so badly to choose you."
Outside the cry was heard, "My lady, where are you? Madame Lackless! Are you hurt? Do you need assistance?"
A woman's voice sharply ordered, "Check the ravel tents! She's bound to be there!"
The word ravel bristled Arliden and Netalia put her hand over his heart, "That's my sister…she was responsible for tonight if I had to guess. She wanted to embarrass me, punish me."
"For what?"
"Loving you." Netalia smiled and leaned in, kissing Arliden quickly and saying, "We are not yet settled, you and I. Please don't leave unless she forces you to and if you do…leave word, leave it anywhere in this city and I'll find you again."
"I promise….and you'll promise to think on my offer? I'm no Lord, but I love you. I am fool enough to think that the love may be enough."
Netalia smiled and kissed him again, "We're both fools."
"MADAME LACKLESS!"
And just like that Netalia slipped back into the shadows to rejoin her people.
