Lesson Two: Some Things Can't Be Changed
Clopin had not expected being restricted to the Court when his father had eventually told him what was to pass. The entire idea of spending the next few months within the cold Court, surrounded by the biting chill of winter as it closed around them, was not exactly pleasing. Chantal tried to ease his boredom, along with keeping their father's growing temper at Clopin's boredom from exploding. The stress of trying to find that medium between the two strong-willed men of the Trouillefou family was taking its toll on her.
It came to a head before Christmas, as their father's temper snapped along with Clopin's patience at being kept inside. The argument that followed was quiet, hissing, and Clopin was furious that their father, Carvell, King of the Court, was refusing to bend at all. "I won't head toward the city! I'll stay close to the Court!" Clopin protested.
"I will not risk it Clopin and that is final!" Carvell snapped and then left.
"Clopin…" Chantal moved to comfort, but Clopin just shook her off angrily before he stormed out of the vardo he shared with Chantal and her husband.
He missed Chantal's entire façade of 'everything's all right' crumble to dust as she curled in on herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen.
After an hour of planning, Clopin decided that if his father would not let him go out of the Court, he would just have to sneak out. With that, he waited until their father wasn't watching him like a hawk watched a mouse.
As he hated waiting, Clopin found that this increased his own temper to the point where he occasionally snapped, quietly, at Chantal. Family was too important to let such arguments and dissonance among them be known publicly.
That and Clopin really didn't want more people watching him then there already were.
After a week of waiting, Clopin found his chance when his father became distracted with some of the 'look outs.' Without another thought, Clopin quickly slipped out one of the back ways into the Court and began to hurry up to the entrance. He shivered as the cold bit into him, realizing a little too late that he had forgotten to wear something a tad warmer, though he knew if he went back, he would never have the chance to escape the confines of his 'prison' again.
Clopin could only sneak out once and he was going to take advantage of it.
As he continued on his way, he quickly found out why this was not the preferred way. The only way to continue to get to the surface was to climb onto the pathway straight above.
Clopin smirked a bit and backed up. With a running start, he managed to leap up and grab part of the walkway. With a couple of swings to gather momentum, Clopin flipped himself up and onto the walkway. He crouched lightly, making sure he was steady before he slowly stood up.
For a moment, he paused, thinking he had heard a gasp from below. However, when he turned to peer through the darkness, he saw nothing and, even if he strained his hearing to the limits, he only heard his own breathing, accompanied with his pounding heartbeat. "I must be hearing things," he muttered before he continued on his way, footsteps echoing lightly against the stone wall.
Again, he paused, thinking he heard the sound of someone following him. He whirled around, knowing that there was no place to hide on the path, but found that there was no one. Clopin pondered if he should just go back before he shrugged and quickly picked up speed. If he hurried, he might not be caught so close to the outside.
There would be punishment for leaving the Court, but he would be able to satisfy that urge to see the sky.
All too soon, Clopin found himself at the entrance. He stared out at the whiteness that covered everything and held out one gloved hand to catch the drifting snowflakes. The smile that stretched across his face could only be described as completely overjoyed at such a thing.
Yes, it would freeze the Court, but it was snow! As he moved to step out, he heisted. Should he disobey his father so blatantly? With the snow around, anyone who walked by would be able to realize that someone had been there. He could put the entire Court in danger, unless he covered up his tracks. He could probably shake some snow off from somewhere or collect it where no one would notice if a few handfuls of the white ice was missing.
Satisfied with this thought process, he moved to step out into the cold of a Parisian winter.
His foot did not even touch the ground when a large, strong, hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "What are you doing?" his father demanded as he pulled Clopin around, hands bracing harshly on Clopin's shoulders. He looked up at his father and quickly looked away.
It was not because of the argument, or even the fact he was disobey his father, that he looked away.
No, Clopin looked away because he could not face the pure fear that seemed to blaze within his father's dark eyes. "I…I was just going to go outside, just for a bit," Clopin answered softly, but the excuse sounded weak, even to him.
He felt the grip on his shoulders loosen and his father let out a long sigh. "After the Feast of Fools, all right Clopin?" the man asked and Clopin looked up hesitantly.
He was surprised his father gave in so easily. Very rarely did Carvell give in on any of his decisions, ruling by the adage of a velvet glove over an iron fist. He was gentle and kind, but fearsome in punishing those who disregarded what he ordered. "Yes, Papa," he answered softly, accepting the fact that Carvell was being lenient for whatever reason.
"Good. Chantal, take him back into the Court," his father ordered.
"Yes, Papa," Chantal ordered softly and Clopin looked over at her, surprised to see her standing there.
He hadn't seen her there earlier.
Clopin's eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. Why did she look like she was in pain?
"I trust you'll make sure he doesn't wander off again?" Carvell asked as he gently pushed Clopin towards Chantal.
"Of course, Papa. Let's go, Clopin," she responded softly and held her hand out to him.
Clopin hesitated and then carefully took it. She smiled and they walked back.
Their father did not follow.
Chantal moved slowly and he soon found that they were returning the way he had come. Getting back down, instead of flipping up, was much harder than it looked and his sister patiently talked him through getting back down.
"What would you have done if I hadn't been here to help?" she questioned.
"Jumped down," he answered honestly and Chantal's fear filled face told Clopin that the plan was a bad one.
She shook her head at him and they continued back to the Court.
They were back home when he got up the courage to speak. "Chantal?" he asked softly.
"Yes Clopin?" she responded gently.
He opened his mouth to ask, before he closed it. Despite wanting to know, he wasn't sure how to ask. Chantal had paused in her mending, or maybe it was just sewing, setting it to the side, and looked up at him. "Yes, Clopin, I lost the baby," she answered to his unasked question and his eyes snapped up to her face.
She was just…accepting of what happened. He wanted to shout, scream, ask when it had happened. However, none of that happened. Instead, he threw himself across the space, and buried himself into her willing hug.
Clopin rested against her and felt her run her fingers through his hair. "It'll be fine, Clopin, you'll see," she murmured softly as she began to rock him gently.
He clung tightly to her, wondering how she could accept this, while he had no idea how to start.