Chapter 6 Estates and Entries
September 3, 1810
It has been raining cats and dogs for weeks now. I wonder if I will ever see the sun again. It is father's 15th death anniversary in two days. Callista beckons me to accompany her to a ball on the same day. She annoys me. I would much rather stay at home. I do not care if she is my intended. I care not for her.
I wish the rain would let up soon.
September 4, 1810
The weather is still unforgiving.
I met a man today. Well, I did not precisely meet him. He was unconscious. He had been attacked by a cursed wild boar in the Forest of Glen. OH how pale he looked when I had found him in that rocky clearing! It has been a while since I healed somebody, but I guess I did well. He now sleeps in the guest chambers next to my own room. I am sitting by his bedside, writing this entry. He is currently in a healing coma as he had been significantly drained of magic. His face looks peaceful now as compared to how it was when I found him.
I wish he was not so pale though. He would be quite handsome if he had a bit more color in his cheeks…
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Severus closed the journal.
It seemed that Tristan's ancestor was a healer. He wondered if Tristan knew. The Potions Master placed the bound tome back in its place. He knew it was wrong to read somebody's diary, but for some reason, he felt drawn to this particular one, somehow. He sighed. He decided to get back to it later when he had more time.
"Severus? Are you in there? It's time for your afternoon lessons,"
Severus stole one last glance at the spot where he returned the journal before stepping outside to see Tristan.
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Severus found his tutor sitting at one side of the dining room table, pouring over some ancient-looking scrolls. The blue-eyed man looked up and smiled when he saw the Potions Master.
"Severus, take a seat and have yourself a ledger,"
Severus frowned as he took a seat from across the young lord.
"A ledger? What for?"
Tristan smirked.
"Why, for the properties of the Princes of course,"
The man's onyx eyes widened. Tristan chuckled at his astonished look.
"What did you expect? Your House is one of the Most Ancient and Noble Houses –"
"Yes, but –"
"This," Tristan gestured at the rolls upon rolls of parchment on the table. " –is yours. I had Gareth locate the Prince's main vault. The key to that will be presented to you at the formal rights of your lordship. But these ledgers, we've managed to acquire beforehand to assist us in your lessons."
Severus scanned a piece of parchment in his hand before turning to Tristan.
"I still do not see why you are doing this. You gave me the Lordship –you could have stopped at that. But –why give me these?"
Tristan sighed then looked Severus in the eye.
"These belong to you. It is only right that you get them –"
"But my grandfather's will –"
" I am acquiescing to his wishes. I am doing what I want to do with the Prince Heritage. I am returning it to its rightful heir –"
"But why?"
"You deserve it,"
Severus raised an eyebrow.
"You always speak like you know me well."
I told you, research –"
"I do not fully believe you."
Tristan shrugged.
"Then don't. You do not need to believe to be able to trust. And for me to be able to help you, all I need is your trust, Severus, nothing more. You already trust me enough to tutor you. Then extend that trust further when I say that you deserve this." Tristan reached across the table and grabbed the stoic Potions Master's hands. Severus glanced at their clasped appendages before looking into Tristan Peverell's eyes deeply. For a moment, it seemed like they were having a staring match; but after a beat, Tristan smiled and Severus looked away, removing his hands from the young lord's grasp. The blue-eyed, auburn-haired man was first to break the silence.
"So, did you see anything of importance?"
Severus looked mortified.
"No –I –how did you know?"
"A Master Occlumens taught me once," Tristan said. "Or at least, attempted to. But I was able to further my study of mind magics inside the Lair. Your approach was subtle – a mark of a talented Legillimens- but I was still able to sense it."
"Indeed," Severus breathed, looking a bit disconcerted. "Forgive my intrusion, I was merely –"
"Looking for answers?" Tristan supplied helpfully. "My true motives? I assure you Severus, you will not find it in my mind." He added cryptically. "If you would learn to trust, then don't look for answers in your head. The mind is by nature, doubting."
Severus let out a frustrated sigh.
"Why would you not tell me everything? You ask me to trust you and yet you withhold from me the whole truth."
Tristan closed his eyes and rubbed a spot on his forehead.
"I assure you, it is only necessary." He looked at Severus thoughtfully. "The truth is a double-edged sword."
The Potions Master held the young lord's gaze.
"And trust is earned, not given."
Tristan sighed.
"What would you like to know?"
"Would you answer me truthfully?" Severus challenged him.
"If it would clear the air around us –and allow us to proceed to reach our common goal, then my answer is yes."
The onyx-eyed man furrowed his brows but did not comment on the young Lord's conditions.
"Would you consent to Veritaserum?"
Tristan stared at him.
"No. I am afraid that there are horrors in my past that even a learned, experienced man like yourself need not see. I am also privy to secrets that should see the light would endanger many innocent lives."
"But –"
The young lord shook his head.
"I will agree, however, to a Coercion Spell –to tell the truth, nothing more. I will provide you the truth you seek –and you will receive your first lesson in trust."
"A coercion spell?"
"Gareth can assist us."
Severus looked thoughtful for a moment.
"No –no need. I trust that you will answer me truthfully –to the best of your abilities."
Tristan nodded and leaned back in his seat. Severus did the same, but he crossed his legs and arms across his chest.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because you asked me to. Because I can. Because I want to."
"You want to?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Tristan hesitated for a moment before leaning forward against the parchment-riddled table with his arms outstretched along the length of it. His palms were faced up. Severus noticed this gesture of openness and vulnerability. When Tristan seemed to not want to speak, the Potions Master asked him again.
"Why?"
After a few seconds, Tristan stood up from his position, his eyes never leaving Severus'
"Because I care."
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September 18, 1810
After a fortnight, I finally see his eyes. I immediately lost myself in those fathomless orbs of obsidian –and his voice, oh, how melodious! It caressed my ears –like velvet on my skin –the moment he finally told me his name.
Euphrates Prince…
Severus snapped the journal shut.
After his confrontation with Tristan, he was unable to think straight anymore.
"Because I care,"
Truth was indeed a double-edged sword.
He certainly did not expect that answer.
The Potions Master stood still for about a minute, frozen, before walking away from the young lord. Severus had wanted to know more, he wanted an explanation…
He most certainly did not expect Tristan Peverell to say that.
"Because I care,"
Those three words could mean a multitude of things, but Severus knew exactly in which context it was to be taken… He had seen it in those brilliant bluish-green eyes.
He cares.
Tristan Peverell cared.
'He cares for me,' Severus thought. Not many people cared for him. And most certainly far less cared for him in that way.
But Severus could not dismiss it at all. At that particular moment, he knew that the young lord was telling him the truth.
He needed time to process things –right after the war, his mind had never been the same, post-traumatic stress disorder and some complications, the medi-wizard at St. Mungo's said –on why a strange, mysterious, young nobleman such as Tristan Peverell cared about him in manner that was foreign to him until then. He knew he needed more answers, but he wasn't sure if he could handle any more of the truth.
Maybe Tristan was right. Maybe Severus should just learn to take his word for it.
The Potions Master walked away from the dining table and sought refuge in the library where he decided to immerse himself again in the mindless reading of Nile Peverell's diary.
Nile Peverell was gay, he found out, if the flowery accolades about the young man he had rescued were to be of any indication –he definitely preferred the same sex. And he certainly most despised Callista Reinhart, the American witch his mother chose for him (he adored his mother but they always argued on Callista; his elder sister Anastasia however, took his side on this –she too hated the American witch whom she thought was too liberated). He was a reluctant politician; he detested fame and power. He'd rather much be a plain old healer rather than the highest political head of Wizarding Britain. He was a young man who held the weight of the world on his shoulders… too many expectations… too much pressure. It was a wonder that he was yet to break down.
As Severus continued to read Nile's daily ramblings, he noticed that the young lord rarely wrote of himself. He would focus more on those around him and his journal was filled with many insightful observations of places, things and people…
People like the young man he had recently rescued.
Based on his entries, Nile would sit by the young man's bed side almost every night as he wrote in his personal journal. It seemed that the mysterious stranger caught the young lord's fancy. Nile Peverell's diary entries would sometimes just be entirely about the man that lay unconscious in his guest chambers –his face, his breathing, his hands –and the fervent desire to see his eyes and know his name. Fr two weeks, the journal served as an ode to the unknown man… Unknown until the entry on September 18, 1810.
The man Nile rescued was Euphrates Prince.
The Euphrates Prince.
Severus' ancestor.
Now the journal held much more sense to him than before.
Severus reverently placed the diary back in its nook and headed discreetly for his rooms. It was already past dinner, and as he expected, Tristan did not show up to bother him. And he appreciated that. He needed the space and time away from the man who all of a sudden turned his world upside-down.
Maybe the young lord did know him that well.
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"I don't think I could do this anymore, Gareth,"
"My Lord, I –"
"No, you don't understand." Tristan ran his fingers through his hair angrily. "I cannot lie to him! How do I get him to trust me if I can't be truthful to him! I may be going about this the wrong way. I might end up saving his arse but that does not mean that he will not feel betrayed once he finds out –and I'm actually surprised that he hasn't figured it out yet -but knowing him, he will! And he will hate my guts for it! And where will that leave me? Back to square one! Back to square one, Gareth! And I am supposed to be getting him to trust me!
The goblin sighed deeply.
"Perhaps if you come clean –"
"He will pulverize me and curse my ashes into oblivion even before I could get one word out." The young lord said, evidently frustrated about his current predicament. "Again, I ask, why does everything happen to me?"
"Maybe it is time to change tactics, Lord Peverell,"
Tristan looked at him imploringly. Gareth smiled at him.
'You wanted Lord Prince to trust you and yet you appeal to his mind alone. Trust is not an intellectual quantity that can be measured, unlike knowledge –"
The young lord's eyes widened.
"You –you want me to appeal to his feelings?"
Gareth nodded knowingly.
"You- you want me to make him like me?"
"An open heart is more willing to trust, Lord Peverell."
Tristan looked at his adviser incredulously.
"And here I was, thinking, that you, were the voice of reason."
The goblin laughed.
