Hi everybody! *waves* I'm Izzy, and I would like to present my little experiment here.

The Certainty is a fantasy/romance AU epic-type thingy involving CP Coulter's Jogan, from Dalton. Nope, they're not mine, but my main characters are based off of them (actually, one is named after one). I was watching one of my all-time favourite movies the other day, and realized how much the characters reminded me of Jogan. I bet you'll recognize the story, it seems painfully obvious to me... I also do not own that.

Now, I haven't posted anything in an incredibly long time, and definitely not any Dalton fics. This is just me trying to see if I still have at least some skill in writing. If you have time, a review would be lovely, but I appreciate you deciding to read this nonetheless.

Thanks for sticking with me through this endless A/N. So without further ado...


The Certainty

I remember a time when all was well.

A time when I could walk, actually walk and not hobble about like I do now. We're all like that. Crippled, and not just physically.

The lights here grow dimmer with time. I remember how they used to adorn the hallways and chambers, flooding the space and shining like stars. Now light is scarce except for the rising sun seen from the east wing. We crowd there each morning, watching it paint the sky in pink and orange and chase the darkness of night away.

I used to relish the frivolities that nighttime brought. Then I became fearful of it, to the point that each breath I took made my whole body shiver from the tenseness. Now I have grown accustomed to the darkness, and the only thing I fear is that which is darker than night itself.

We all fear it, even if most of us wouldn't dare say anything aloud.

Each day is a thousand years, filled with pointless routine. We still continue about the old ways, but we have added new traditions of waiting and watching and praying for a hope that is dancing just out of our reach.

I remember a time when all was well, but every sunset threatens me with the possibility that such a time was an illusion.


Chapter One: A Pity and a Sin

Julian had always liked the steaming baguettes that usually sat at the baker's stall. He remembered trying one when he was still a small child and falling in love with the delectable pillow of flour on his tongue. The effect that his bread had wasn't lost on the baker either. "Anything new for you today, son?" asked the plump man.

"Just the usual, Louie," replied Julian. "Mother's getting ready for another performance in the next town. She wants me to come with."

"She always wants you to come with." Two baguettes were wrapped in a checkered red cloth. "When was the last time you had some free time?"

Julian placed his bread in his satchel. "Free time, Louie? That's only for people who don't like what they do."

"So you like your job?"

"It's not a job exactly..."

"Oh, but it is my boy. Travelling the country, performing for crowds and royalty! Dining with the most beautiful beings in the land," Louie chuckled lightly. "But all for measly sums..."

"You wouldn't know my pay."

"People talk. A fine-looking man such as yourself should know that."

"Psh," snorted Julian. "Performers are the laughing stock of this country, no matter what they look like."

The baker twirled his moustache thoughtfully. "If you say so... I'm guessing you're off to Bud's for another manuscript?"

"It's sheet music! And I just mastered the last one he lent me, a wonderfulpiece with swooping intervals, delicate harmonies! It's magnificent, Louie, so magnificent! Oh, and there's a couple cadences – "

"Molly!" Louie called out to his wife then, cutting Julian off abruptly. "Put some more baguettes into the oven! And be smart about it!"

The performer's son sighed. He tossed some coins into the payment basket as Molly yelled back a vulgar response and went on his way.

Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed. The sun was just above the horizon, casting its long, yellow rays across the sky to awaken the town from last night's slumber. Light was shed on the two-story buildings along the road, the charming rows of coloured concrete and red roofs. Windows were drawn up, shutters thrown open as people leaned over their flowerbeds and called out to their neighbours across the street. Replies were quick, filling the early morning air with bright conversation and effectively rousing any who were still asleep.

A wooden door was opened just in front of Julian. A burly man in grey coveralls stepped out and yawned, nodding to brown-haired boy as he passed by. "Morning, sir."

"Good morning." Julian gave a small smile and continued on.

In a matter of minutes, the village seemed to explode with life. Store-owners who had come earlier to their shops arranged their fronts with their newest creations – leather boots, urns of porcelain, horseshoes from the blacksmith that was hanging them on a hook just past his door. The more numerous stalls that – like Louie's – lined the road were hastily being filled with produce, fare and knick-knacks: fruit stands with strawberries, melons, and the ripest of apples; stones of sapphire, ruby, and pearls at jewellers that made one doubt their genuity; fresh porridge at one stall and ham with eggs at another. One by one, townspeople began to pour out onto the cobblestone path to partake in the daily foray of bartering and haggling at the stalls, gossiping and flirting by the fountain.

Those vendors without customers were calling out at Julian, saying, "Hello, sir! New vases for you!"

"Fresh fish! Caught this morning!"

"Fine silver for you and your loved one!"

"Sir! Come buy some apples!"

Julian, however, was bound for someplace else.

Bud looked up as the door to his shop swung open, revealing his most frequent customer. "Bonjour, Julian! How are you today?"

His client smirked as he went up to where Bud was, perched on a ladder against a shelf. "Fine, thanks!I'm finally done with that piece I was showing you yesterday, I just mastered the finishing lines and I have everything memorized now!"

The owner of the store climbed down and fixed the sign by the window so it read "Open". "My word, that's wonderful! I do believe that's the fastest you've ever learned one of these." He patted a stack of papers, just one of the dozens that lined the room. "Did you want another?"

Julian nodded enthusiastically, climbing aboard the ladder and pushing it off to peruse the upper shelves. "I was hoping you would lend me that one from last week."

"Really?" asked Bud. "Don't you want to try something else?"

"It's my favourite though!" Julian said, hopping down from the ladder and scurrying over to the opposite wall.

"Other shelf. Should be next to that red volume."

"This one?" Pulling out a sheaf of paper bound with leather, a grin spread on Julian's face. His brown eyes twinkled. "This is it! Oh, thanks so much Bud! I'll bring it back as soon as I'm done."

The store-owner grunted as he settled behind his desk. "Hopefully that's before next Christmas," he muttered to the boy exiting the door.

Julian slid the leather off as he stepped back outside, his eyes instantly drawn to the music he held. The villagers knew better than to stop and ask him questions, used to him wandering around town with his nose stuck on a page on which was written a language few understood. He himself had grown accustomed to the staring folks and whispers when they thought he couldn't hear them: "I see young Jester is caught up in his music again." "A fool's music most likely." "He should pay more attention to others." "Find himself a good partner."

However, Julian always found himself going the same route after stopping by Bud's to pick up music. Eyes glued to the paper, he walked straight down the road, all the way to the yellow fruit stand. With summer drawing to an end, there was a large crowd gathered, possibly to buy whatever was left of the warm season's melons and strawberries. Julian made a left at the stand and continued past Louie's bake stand – he could still hear the couple bickering without looking up – down to the nursery. A couple children were playing outside, who he skillfully avoided by hopping over their set of jacks. Finally, he reached the fountain in the village square, an impressive monument of stone that was perhaps the most exciting thing in town. Julian seated himself by the water and quietly hummed the tune in his hands.

For a while, Julian could escape reality. He could remove himself from a world of normalcy and sameness, away from the performances he loved to give but were mindless. After all, what was a performance without soul, without passion? Without something to perform for?

Julian slipped a quill and ink jar from his satchel, placing them right beside him on the fountain ledge. Taking the quill, he scribbled some words on the side of his sheets along with rough notes right on the music, altering the tune a little bit. Julian never had any real training in music, just a few lessons with Bud and the odd freebie from one of his mother's friends. Still, reading and playing songs came quickly and naturally. Writing them was no feat either, and he often found that songs sounded better once he had "fixed" them than they did before. That was the case with this one. He had borrowed it again to try to fit in a new harmony that came to him last night.

Julian hummed the bar he just added, then the actual melody to see if they sounded nice together. As it was with many other cases, they did.

Too caught up in his excitement to notice anything else, he jumped when a voice from beside him said, "How did I know I would find you here?"

Sighing deeply, Julian replied, "Are we leaving now?"

"No." Daphne Langlois pulled out a pocket-watch to look at the time. "Actually, we're not going anywhere, not for another three days. A letter arrived this morning from Pierre saying that he wants our act postponed till Saturday. Apparently he is expecting a call from the governor tonight."

"It's a lie."

"But one we can't contradict. When was the last time the governor contacted us?"

Julian glanced downwards at the quill in his hands and the sheets spread across his lap, not answering. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. "I know you were looking forward to this."

"Was I really?" Julian said exasperatedly. "I love the stage, it's just... Mom, how could I look forward to more ridicule?"

At that, Daphne ducked her head as if someone had appeared in front of them, judging like so many others. "Sweetie, that was a one-time thing, I'm sure it won't happen again..."

"It was a vegetable, Mom! A damn tomato hurled at my head!"

"I know. Trust me, I've had worse." And she had. Julian remembered seeing people throw sandwiches and bowls of stew at the actors and actresses on stage. His mother had been at the receiving end of some onion soup more than once. "That's what comes with our job. It's all for the love of the stage and nothing else."

Blinking at the song in his hands, Julian whispered, "What if there could be something else?"

"You were at Bud's again, weren't you?"

"Mom, I think I've finally perfected something for our next performance! Finding a couple chorus members to back me up wouldn't be a problem..." But he stopped at seeing the look on Daphne's face.

"How many times have I told you?" she asked disapprovingly.

"Nine hundred ninety-nine times..."

"Nine hundred ninety-nine times, Julian!" She shook her head, as if trying to get rid of the thought. "You fear shame from our acts already, how do you think people would respond when you open your mouth to sing? When they see someone as both an actor and a musician?"

Julian was silent. They stayed that way for a little bit, a mother rubbing her son's shoulders with said son staring blankly at sheets of music.

"Mom?" Julian asked after a while.

"Yes, dear?"

"That man just scowled at us."

Daphne chuckled. "I think the problem with you is that you think too negatively," she said, nudging her son lightly. "What about the other people?" She smiled. "Has that one fellow been at his courting again? Oh, what was his name..."

"Marlon?"

"Yes, Marlon! How do you like him?"

Julian rolled his eyes. "Brash, too forward. He practically throws himself at me."

"And you don't like that attention?"

"Not from somebody as arrogant as him!"

Daphne turned her head to the sky. "Are you saying that you refuse the most sought-after man in town?"

"Mom, look, he's... Handsome..."

"You're biting your lip. You're lying."

Julian pouted. "Don't tell me that I should accept him."

Beside them, a pigeon landed on the fountain, fluttering into the pool to bathe. Julian traced the uneven ripples it made in the water with his free hand, knowing what his mother wanted to say, but was too ashamed to admit. That not many would decide to court a performer.

Deciding to change the subject, Daphne prodded at her son's satchel. "What's in there, honey? I smell fresh baguettes."

"Oh, yes! Another of Louie's fresh batches, as usual..."


East of the fountain, a little further down the street, a young blond woman was sweeping the steps of a rough-looking building. The wooden sign that hung out over its stoop proclaimed the establishment to be "The Rusty Tap." As one of only a couple taverns in the entire town, Amelie took pride in keeping her place as well-maintained as possible in order to keep business. Regular customers were beginning to file inside and she nodded to each of them as they passed. The smile on her face disappeared, however, as she noticed two familiar figures seated by the fountain.

Among the villagers, there was only a handful – probably less than five in all reality – that didn't think of the Langloises as freaks. More than once, Amelie had given Ms. Daphne drinks or small sandwiches on the house. They had become close friends over the years, ever since Daphne had dragged herself one dreary night into the Tap with the hollowest of cheekbones and the slimmest of wrists. Amelie had taken pity on the poor girl, offering up a room for the night. She was one of those that hated to see a person in pain or on the brink of starvation and death.

The fact that Amelie didn't even flinch upon learning about her son and her thespian life was probably what made Daphne decide to trust the barkeeper.

Julian himself had grown up to be a fine boy in Amelie's opinion: tall but not towering, toned, brown waves for hair and a wide white smile. Many people in town considered him to be one of the most beautiful men in town, but few would court him. As the son of a loony actress, and with a penchant for performing himself, he would probably be all but ignored if it weren't for his looks. The fact that he was constantly wandering around with music from the crazy musician Bud's shop didn't help either.

From her vantage point, Julian had some more of those sheets in his hands. He and Daphne were conversing with heads bowed. Although they were seated in the exact middle of town on its most famous monument, they could be but specks of dust to the people. That beautiful boy and his talented mother.

Amelie checked to make sure those already inside the Tap weren't ready to cause a ruckus. She raised her voice to the pair at the fountain: "Daphne! Julian!"

They turned their heads towards her, identical smiles lighting up previously somber faces. "Bonjour, Amelie!" Daphne called out, standing up and making her way to the bar. She waved her hand behind her at Julian to do the same. He got up frantically and started shoving sheets into his satchel.

Amelie waited for both Langloises to reach her before she offered them a drink.

"I'm afraid we must refuse," Daphne said in a small voice. "It's too early."

Julian, on the other hand, gazed through the open door at the congregation of townspeople talking loudly and laughing together.

Amelie knew that the two performers wouldn't dare enter a room full of villagers. She never stopped asking, though, in case they decided to brave the crowd and finally step in without worrying about what kind of criticism they would receive.

"Julian, honey, let's go." The actress tugged at her son's hand insistently, noticing where he was looking. "Let's go practice for Saturday."

"You could give it a shot today," the barkeeper insisted. "You never know!"

"Exactly," whispered Daphne, "you never do know."


I'm not sure how long this story will be, but I'll try to update soon! Thanks for reading!