Even in death her face was every bit as beautiful as ever, perhaps even more. There was a certain stillness in her expression. She seemed peaceful, as though she accepted her fate wholeheartedly. The Duke watched as his men wrapped the body in fine linens for the long ride home. She'd been wearing a simple dress, drab and cheaply made, as befitting a woman in exile. She looked as though she had simply been sleeping and had it not been for the dark red stain starting at her stomach and cutting upward to her chin, he would've attempted to shake her awake. As they pulled a white cloth over her face, he glimpsed a simple wooden locket around her neck. He knew it right away. It was impossible to forget the necklace that hung around her neck the night he killed her lover.
The Duke felt like screaming or throwing himself off of the nearest tower. But he looked around. It was as if everyone watched his every move, waiting to see if he would snap. The torches flared in the night and across the empty country where the servants tried to salvage what was left of the ruined land. He was acutely aware of the group of peasants off to the side of the charred country estate, their faces barely illuminated by the light they each hand in hand. His eyes focused on them. They could not have been more than two decades old, and their gaze might've been innocent. But the Duke could not help but wonder if they played a part in the destruction of his land, and the murder of his wife. His old temper flared, and he took a strong step in their direction, his hand resting on the newly tempered sword at his side.
"Your Grace." It was the voice of his land steward that called him back. He had not gotten very far, not far enough for anyone to understand his intent. He stopped as his toes touched the edge of the steps leading down towards the peasant group and he turned.
"Yes?" He asked as his wild eyes settled.
"Your Grace, it is too late for us to depart tonight, the horses need rest." When the Duke turned around, the peasant group was already on their way back to their home. He turned around and his hands fell uselessly to his side.
"What of the horses I have stabled here?" He asked, already guessing the answer.
"Gone, Your Grace. They were either taken or they fled during the fire." Duke Lopez nodded in agreement and the steward ordered the remaining servants to set up a temporary living space in what remained of the servant quarters at the edge of the yard.
"Would you like for us to start cleaning up the estate?" The steward asked. The Duke began to turn around and survey the damage but he stiffened up instead. He knew what he would see. The land still burned and smoked with destruction. It would take years to repair the damage done, and he wasn't sure if he would be alive to see the restoration of the area.
"Leave it." He replied. "Clean up and repair as much as you need to survive. I am greatly fatigued, and it is a long, day's journey home tomorrow." That was all he wanted to say but he could not help but add "When I return, we will discuss the next course of action." He followed the steward into the tiny bedroom reserved for him. The bed, though old and rumpled, was a welcome sight. As he settled in, a brief, mad thought entered his head. He closed his eyes and fell asleep still thinking of it.
At least she not be far from me.
Santana was still asleep when Brittany awoke by her side the next morning. They had somehow fallen asleep together during the night, tired from running around in the rain. She must have been in the middle of undressing her Mistress when it happened as Santana's corset was half undone. Brittany groggily sat up and looked around. When she realized just how compromising their position was, she got out of bed quickly, though delicately to prevent Santana from waking. Her clothes were still damp from the previous day. Though the memory sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, she wondered just how reckless Santana had become. Brittany bit her lip. They were certain to be caught if Santana continued in this careless manner.
"Miss..." Brittany whispered. Santana did not stir from her slumber and Brittany took this moment to change into dry clothes. She stepped into her room quietly, though some servants in the hallway saw her leave Santana's room. She pretended that everything was normal but in her mind she imagined their curious looks to be more piercing, as though they guessed at what sort of unnatural relationship the two had.
"It isn't unnatural." Brittany whispered to herself firmly. She pulled her shirt over her head. The linen clung to her skin and left red cordry marks along her back. She tossed it carelessly aside and fetched her other fresh shirt. She slipped it on and breathed in a comfortable sigh of relief. Outside, the sun was bright and warm, in stark contrast to the storm they had yesterday. She opened the window and let the fresh air flood the small room. It was a beautiful day, perhaps her Mistress would like to take a walk around the estate or go into town. That would help take her mind off of her predicament. When she finished dressing, she left her room. She had barely touched the door when the door flew open and Santana nearly ran straight into her servant.
"Miss!" Brittany exclaimed in shock. Santana blinked once and flung her arms around Brittany. Brittany immediately looked around for any prying eyes before gently applying pressure against her Mistress's body, pushing her back into the room.
"Don't leave my side." Santana whispered. "I'd woken up...and I thought you had fled again." Brittany coaxed Santana down onto the bed. Once her mistress let her go, she grabbed a brush from the dresser and began combing Santana's messed up hair.
"I would not do such a thing again, Miss." Brittany promised. Santana looked down at her feet, feeling a little ashamed to put such pressure on her servant. She must sound pitiful every time she opened her mouth. Brittany carefully ran the brush through Santana's thick, ebony hair. She stroked the top of her head and placed a kiss right above her forehead. Santana tilted her head backward and looked up into Brittany's sparkling, trustworthy eyes. She helped her Mistress dress for the day. She wore practical clothing as she was not entertaining guests for the day.
"Let's go somewhere today, Miss." Brittany suggested.
"Where would we go?" Santana wondered but her eyes brightened at the idea of getting out of the confines of her room and house.
"Anywhere."
"I have lessons." Santana weakly objected, knowing full well that Brittany would tell her to ignore them for the day. The prospect of spending time away from her mess of a family and spending time with the person who made her most happy brought a flutter to her heartbeat.
"Miss, you can forget them for a day, no one would say anything."
"I bet my teacher would." Santana giggled, and it was as beautiful as Brittany remembered it. "This," she thought to herself "is what I've most missed this past month." When Santana smiled at Brittany's loving gaze, the small room, so devoid of life a minute before, filled with sun and warmth. "Where shall we go?" She asked. Brittany thought for a moment. They could go into town and look around the shops, or they could take a long ride out to the river. Then it hit her where they should go and she gently took Santana's hand.
"Follow me." She said. Santana held onto Brittany's hand, and Brittany led her forward excitedly. It felt good to have someone know where she was going, Santana had certainly been lacking that as of late, what with her father in the state he was. She hated to admit it, but her mother, as controlling as she was, had been the one force responsible for keeping order around the estate, for always having a plan and for keeping everyone in check. Santana was never wandering aimless, either physically or mentally. But Brittany's steps were sure and firm and Santana gave herself into her whim.
Quinn paced. It was what she did when she alternated between two extreme emotions. She sat when she plotted, thinking of what she'd seen the day previous and she stood when she realized that her own fate was doomed. It would not be long before she started showing. Her face changed by the second. One minute she bit her lip and cried into her hands, lamenting her situation, the next her eyes narrowed as she calculated her rival's demise. Hysteria, the doctors would say, no doubt brought on by the extreme stress of her inability to be married off. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that in order to save herself, she would have to take the first man who offered to marry her. But perhaps if she could bring Santana down, she could work her way back into the King's good graces.
She glanced over at the door to Brittany's side room. How stupid she had been to let Brittany go. But how was she supposed to know how precious a prisoner she had in her clutches? She stood up, walked over to the small door, and opened it. She'd never gone in since Brittany left; she'd never had a reason to do so. The door was stuck, swollen with humidity against its already tight frame and Quinn had to yank hard before it opened. It did so with a sharp crack and with the door came cobwebs stuck to the inside of the wood. Dust flew at Quinn's face and she coughed when it hit the back of her throat, as if the room itself wanted to deter her from finding anything incriminating. But as soon as the air cleared, she stepped inside.
The hem of her dress dirtied immediately. A certain staleness hung around her in the small room and had it not been for the bugs hovering menacingly outside, Quinn would have liked to open the window. She looked around the tiny living space, not sure what she would find but feeling that she would find something. As she scanned he room, it was hard to miss the one object unbefitting such a shabby room. Dust hid the glimmer of red, but Quinn would have to be blind to miss the jeweled box resting on the bed, untouched and in the open after Santana discovered it all those months ago. Quinn walked over, not daring to sit down on the filthy bed, and opened it. It was a music box. Her lips curled in disgust. Had she paid Brittany so well that she could afford such frivolous junk? Had she known the meaning behind the music box, or had Brittany's affections been plainly displayed on the object, she may have thought differently. As it was, however, the music box served no purpose in her plot to expose her rival's immoral relationship. She dropped the cover of the music box unceremoniously and the gust of wind caused something in the corner between the bed and the wall to rustle. In any other situation, she would have dismissed it. But desperation makes a man chase ghosts, and in this case Quinn chased a sound. She delicately leaned over the bed and pressed her head against the wall for a better look. What she found was a crumpled, yellowed piece of parchment. She reached down and grasped the parchment with her fingers and brought it back up. She unfolded it slowly.
My Dear Lady Santana,
Quinn's smile grew with every line she read. This was the fatal piece she needed.
Santana and Brittany took two horses out for riding. They leisurely rode along the road. For such a beautiful day, there were hardly any other travellers. A few families were out, enjoying the fair weather but none of them really minded two plainly dressed women.
The many years had not decayed Brittany's memory of the road there. It had been so thoroughly etched in her mind that she would not forget it. At times, it was difficult to tell which road to take since time had changed the land. Buildings that existed in her memory failed to appear in the present time or where there was once empty land there now stood a new house. Often when the passage of time confused Brittany's recollection, they took the wrong road for a few minutes before wandering back and taking the right one.
Santana had not returned to the auction house since she returned with Brittany. She saw the old, stone building and did not recognize it at first. A thick layer of vines now covered the exterior, obscuring some of the windows and decor. It had been a long time since anyone had used the auction house. Santana stopped her horse just short of the weathered marble fountain that once spouted water from its cherub figurine. Brittany cast a long glance backward.
"I have always wanted to come back here with you." She said.
"Brittany, this was where your father sold you to the Count." Santana replied in horror.
"It was also where I met you." Brittany countered. The strength in her voice verified which action meant more to her. Santana thought it was rather nostalgic of Brittany to revisit the place where they first met but being at the auction hall brought back a time when problems were small, when her family was whole and there was no pressure to marry. Brittany's hand touched her arm and ran her fingers along her skin and Santana realized that as idyllic as that time was, there were benefits to growing old as well.
"I had hoped to go inside. Had I known..." Brittany stared at the overgrowth sadly. Santana tugged at Brittany's hand.
"Who says we cannot?" Santana asked mischeviously wagging her finger. Her spirits were high and her old playfulness returned. She let go of Brittany's hand and wandered over to the doors. They had long been shut and locked, and no matter how hard the young noblewoman pulled, they would not open. She let out a huff of frustration and looked around for another way in. To the left of the doors was a tall window, unreachable by normal means but the vines that overtook the area promised a way in. The glass had been broken, no doubt by passing youths with idle time and rocks in their hands. Santana inhaled and steeled herself. She gave an experimental tug on the long winding stems to teat their strength, then hoisted herself up. She pushed the remaining shards of broken glass away and pulled herself through the thin frame. She gently lowered herself onto the dusty stone floor.
"Brittany, it's alright." She called and her servant crawled through. Santana marveled at the sight. Far from being empty, the auction hall was filled with items to be sold. Luxurious couches, cabinets, rugs and decorative weapons lined the back of the hall. Santana noticed that many of the smaller wooden boxes and several cabinets were open and empty. Perhaps someone had made a pass through already and taken the smaller valuables.
"It is larger than I remember." Brittany whispered. She remembered how tightly packed the hall had been, how stifled the air, and as ever the overbearing prescence of the Count. Now that she was free and grown and the hall emptied of people, it was eerily beautiful. Light peeked in like ribbons through the gaps between the vines, sometimes hitting a piece of metal on the various pieces of furniture and reflecting in a number of colors elsewhere. Apart from the dust, the pieces were all in tact. There was almost enough to furnish an entire home.
"We could live here." Brittany thought aloud. Santana turned her head to regard her servant with a surprised look, as if Brittany had just said the most enlightening thing Santana had ever heard.
"Yes..." She echoed softly. "We could."
The Duke arrived home to a still house. The servants were out of sight, and even when he called for her, Santana did not show herself.
"She must have gone elsewhere." He reasoned. It was better that way. He had not the heart to break the news to her that her mother was dead, at least not at the present time. He felt tired, and wanted nothing more than to lie down for a bit but the minute his feet touched the interior of his home, a voice called out to him.
"Your Grace!" The Duke looked up just in time to see the King approaching him from inside his very home. Several stern looking guards flanked him.
"Your Majesty," The Duke fell to one knee respectfully. "When...when did you arrive?"
"I have been here quite a while, I did not know you had returned." King Finn replied. The Duke looked back at the manor. All the servants of his estate stood in the background, waiting on the King. So that was where they had gone, the Duke thought to himself. The King motioned for him to stand and so he did.
"To what do I owe this honor?" The Duke asked, signalling for the servants to deliver drinks and food. A few of them scurried off to do as he bid. He led the King into his study. His guards posted guard outside. The King studied the various books lining the shelves.
"You are well read, Duke." The King commended. The Duke felt the sting of loss when he mentioned the books.
"Hardly." He croaked before clearing his throat. "Those...many of them belonged to my wife. I was hardly a well read young man." Finn shyed away from the shelf, offering an apologetic and awkward smile to the widower.
"I'm sorry for your loss. Had I known that the unrest would reach so far...I would have stationed more guards by her side." Finn apologized. The Duke sat down and sighed.
"No, it was not something you could have stopped, not with the country as it is." Yet even as he spoke those words, the Duke's voice carried a certain flat tone betraying his true feelings. "Your Majesty, I've lost my wife just yesterday, I should like to retire early, if it is alright with you." The King cleared his throat and toyed uneasily with the many golden, jeweled rings on his hand.
"I meant to discuss this with you at the castle. But...since unfortunate events transpired before then, I was unable to do so. The affairs of this country are not any better. I need your assistance more and more. I'm not fit to rule, not without constant aid. Consider moving to the castle, please, for your country's sake. " Finn admitted.
"Your Majesty, I have put our country in peril because of my selfish wishes." Duke Lopez could not help but laugh at how pathetic he was. "No, I am not fit to advise anyone. Your Majesty, I beg of you to let this old man live out the rest of his days peacefully."
"Those days may soon be upon us if you do not help!" Finn shouted in a manner unbefitting of a king. Finn immediately straightened formally and turned around to hide his reddening face. "There is another matter I would like to discuss with you." The Duke rested his head back against the cushion of the chair, he was prepared to turn down the next request as well.
"I would like Santana's hand in marriage." The Duke sat up straight. His eyes cleared at the mere mention of his daughter and he bore holes into the back of Finn's head with his stare. Finn turned around and Duke Lopez noticed that his jaw was firm and his nervous fidgeting had stopped.
"My daughter?" The Duke clarified. Finn nodded.
"I know I said I would not ask such a thing until the mourning period for my father passed but..." He took a deep breath to slow himself. He had started to ramble. "She is intelligent, beautiful, and cunning. Santana is as fit to be Queen as I am unfit to be King."
"She is." Duke Lopez agreed. "She takes after her mother."
"My people deserve a Queen such as her. They might finally have a leader to follow." The Duke leaned forward onto his knees and covered his mouth. Finally, he let out a laugh more akin to a giddy giggle. He pondered the absurdity of it all. To lose his wife and gain a King for a son in a day, times were desperate indeed. Yet this announcement was the best he had heard in such a long time, and it was much needed.
If you could have been here. He thought, looking up at the ceiling. He stood up and informally clapped a hand on the King's shoulder. Finn thought about how strong his grip was. It reminded him of his own father before the illness took him.
"I will tell her this news." He said, breaking out into a genuine smile. Finn shook his head.
"I should like to ask her myself, Duke." Finn replied.
"I do not know when she will return." He said, looking out the window at the setting sun. "I should think that she will return before nightfall." Finn nodded as if the idea agreed with him.
"Then I will wait." Finn said. Their meeting concluded, they left the study and the Duke immediately headed to his bedroom to lie down. If anything, he needed to prepare himself for the eventful night to come.
Brittany played with the loose strands of Santana's hair while they reclined on a fainting couch. Santana had her head in Brittany's lap and Brittany listened to the ticking of a clock pushed up against the wall. The time was incorrect, but the ticking was steady.
"I remember when I was younger," Brittany began to break the silence.
"Hmm?" Santana's eyes were closed, but she let out a small sound to let her know she was listening.
"My mother used to tell me tell me stories about how I would meet a wonderful Lord who would fall in love with me and save me." Santana smiled and rolled onto her side, burying her face into Brittany's stomach.
"She was half right." Santana whispered. She liked hearing about the happier bits of Brittany's childhood. Brittany grinned and began running her finger along the outside of Santana's ear. Santana giggled. "That tickles." The room, once filled with soft, sparse sunlight began to darken and Brittany heaved a sigh.
"We should head back, Miss." Brittany said. Santana opened her eyes and sat up, rubbing them wearily. Their blissful day free from responsibility had finally come to an end. Santana wanted to stay there indefinitely, where they were free to be together without worry. She held her hand out and Brittany took it without another thought. They walked back over to the broken window and Brittany pushed a chair over so they could get back out. Insects, out in the cool evening night, swarmed around them when they stepped back outside. Their horses snorted and stamped their hooves impatiently, as if to tell the two girls that it was far too late for them to be away from home. Brittany helped Santana onto her chestnut mare and mounted her own white speckled steed and the two set off for home.
Even though they knew the way back, it still took just as long as it did to get there in the morning. They rode slowly, aware that every step took them closer to an uncertain future rife with harsh realities. They held hands whenever their horses wandered close enough to the other. Santana found strength in Brittany's slightly coarse grip. When the lights of the Lopez estate came into sight, they let go and rode separately and quietly all the way to the steps. Puck was there to receive them and took their horses away.
The Duke had just drifted off again, unable to fully fall asleep for a prolonged period of time. His dreams, when they festered in his mind, were filled with his dead wife, mocking him. He could almost hear her voice as she laughed at what he had become.
"You tried to save me by exiling me. Yet my fate was still the same. Worse, you failed to save me and your country stands at the brink of collapse as a result of your actions..."
"Where are you?" He violently jerked into an upright position from sleep and his voice broke with desperation. He was going mad, yet if he could hear her voice just once more, he would gladly relinquish his sanity. When he realized he was alone, he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and prepared to lay down again. The door opened and his eyes widened. The Duchess's voice was still fresh in his mind, and he hoped against all odds that it was his wife. Instead, his steward entered.
"Your Grace." The steward bowed. "Lady Santana has returned." The Duke coughed to clear his throat and nodded.
"I understand. Tell her I will be down in just a moment." The steward bowed again and left the room. The Duke stood up and checked himself in the mirror, making sure that he looked presentable. He smoothed his hair down with his hand and straightened his shirt and jacket. Satisfied that he looked at the very least acceptable, he walked out of his room and down the stairs where Santana and Brittany stood in the entrance hall, waiting.
"You wished to see me?" Santana asked. As the Duke opened his mouth to speak, Finn came rushing into the hall. All four of them froze, and Santana looked back at her father with a confused expression. The Duke cleared his throat.
"His Majesty came to discuss important matters with me, among other things." It did not escape his attention that his daughter was blissfully unaware of her mother's death. But that was not the topic at hand. He looked over to Brittany.
"Brittany, you may retire for the night." He said in a manner that was more a command than a statement. Brittany glanced at Santana quickly before she nodded.
"Thank you, Your Grace." She said. She took her time leaving and paused at the top of the staircase to observe the somber gathering. When the room had cleared, Duke Lopez motioned for them to enter the study. They were silent when they filed into the small room and Santana could not help but think that the next few hours would be the longest hours in her life.