___________________________________________
Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
'T is only noble to be good.
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
and simple faith than Norman Blood.
~ Alfred Tennyson
____________________________________________
Chapter 7: Big Requests and Memories
As they walked swiftly through the corridors, Briar could hear their footsteps echo throughout the hallway. Sandry wasn't holding his hand anymore, but had a tight grasp around his wrist. Her eyes darted throughout the hallway nervously, as if to look for some secret spy that was hiding in the castles deep shadows. Her breathing had quickened, and her lips had lowered from a smile to a pursed frown.
Briar opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but then slowly closed it. For some reason, his mouth could had been clamped together and it wouldn't have made a difference. He was utterly and completely tongue-tied, something that rarely, if ever, happened. Needless to say, neither one of them spoke.
When they rounded what seemed like the hundredth corner, they came upon a large door, which had a large silver doorknob. Sandry looked up at Briar and released her grip on his wrist and said quietly, "Here's my room." Then, gingerly, she opened her door.
The room itself wasn't very large, but the furnishings were rich. Off to the left there was a small fireplace, which glowed brightly in the absence of any other light other than some pale moonlight that filtered from a window above. There was a table and a embroidered chair towards the back, and big, canopy bed laid directly in the middle of the room. The bed had large, fluffy pillows, and rich throw rug that was softly knit. A huge portrait of a stiff looking noble hung above the bed, and the man in it seemed to peer down at Briar with evil, condescending eyes.
"Are you just going to stand there and gawk like a open-mouthed fish?"
Briar found himself simply staring at the room, and not walking forward. Suddenly snapping out of his aura, he shook his head before mumbling, "No. . . I'm coming." Shuffling himself inside the room, Briar gave it another double take before mentioning, "Where's Pasco sleeping?"
Sandry shut the door behind him and locked it before answering, "He's staying in the room across the hallway."
Twirling around and staring at Sandry, Briar spat, "He gets his own room?"
She blinked at him surprise before smiling hesitantly, "Yes. . . why wouldn't he?"
Briar simply glared blankly, silently cursing the Duke. If he wasn't related to the Queen, the man would be quickly dead.
Suddenly, he heard Sandry giggle. "You have to room with Evvy. . . don't you?"
Briar just glared at her before mumbling some curses. Sandry just laughed at him.
"No offense, Briar, but I don't think the Duke likes you that much." Sandry walked further into her room, before opening her luggage that was on the bed. She pulled a nightdress out of it, before looking up at Briar.
He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest. He cast his eyes off to the side, glaring into the fireplace before mumbling, "The feeling's mutual." He heard her giggle at him and he slowly looked up at her. The sadness had somewhat returned to her eyes, but her smile still seemed genuine. He smiled crookedly at her, and her smiled broadened. They stood like that, smiling and staring quietly at each other, for awhile before Briar shook his head.
He hated when that happened.
"So, uh, what did you want to talk to me about?" He asked in a forced casual manner before he shoved a hand into his pocket, trying to act non-chalantly.
Sandry blinked her eyes before her smile slowly vanished. Shaking her head up and down, she said, "Right. But before we do that, I'm going to change into my nightclothes." She yawned softly. "I'm so tired." Glancing up at Briar, Sandry blinked wearily. "Could you turn around, or close your eyes or something?"
"Huh?" Briar asked, staring at Sandry. She raised an eyebrow at him and nodded slightly at her nightclothes. Blushing at his density, Briar rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh. . . right." He turned timidly around before folding his arms across his chest.
Well, this was awkward.
He stood like that for a few seconds, face blazing, before Sandry called out, "All right, Plant Mage. It's safe and clear."
Briar turned around cautiously, his eyes not looking directly at Sandry at first. Slowly, he averted his eyes from the fireplace to her. She was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, her hair braided and her face glowing faintly from the fire. Her swelled stomach had disappeared under her spelled clothes. The nightgown flowed down to her feet in a soft, velvet yellow.
Sandry looked at him, her head slightly cocked. "Is there something wrong?"
Briar shook his head and said, "No, I'm fine." Still staring at her, he sighed slowly before adding, "And. . .? You wanted to tell me something?"
"I didn't forget," She returned, frowning at him. Swallowing, she walked towards Briar before she stopped a few feet in front of him. She looked him square in the eye. "Briar, I'm about to ask you a huge favor. . . something that could change your life forever. If you don't want to do it, you don't have to. But, Briar. . ." Sandry bit her lip and scrunched her eyebrows together. She tore her eyes from his, stared into the fire before averting her eyes back to his, ". . . you're my last hope."
Something fluttered nervously in Briar stomach at the tone of Sandry's voice. Shifting nervously under her stare, Briar looked down at her. Her eyes had turned from sadness to a look of. . . desperation. Frowning, Briar shook his head. "What is it Sandry? Tell me what you want me to do."
She bit her lip, glanced down at the floor before looking back up at him. "I want you to, to. . . adopt my baby when it's born."
It hit him like a thousand piles of rocks. Briar stared at her, not sure if he heard her right. He couldn't have. Or at least, Briar was quite sure he couldn't have. Mouth slightly agape, he blinked at Sandry. He finally managed to utter, "What did you say?"
"I want you to adopt the child when it's born."
Briar looked away from her, shut his mouth and stared into the fireplace. Either he had gone stark raving mad or Sandry was really asking him this. He shook his head. Mumbling incoherently, he slowly looked at Sandry, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What. . .? Why. . .? How. . . ? I, uh, you, wa..."
Putting a finger over his mouth, Sandry silenced the stunned Briar before looking him in the eye. "Briar, I know this is a shock. I don't blame you for being surprised. But, Briar, listen to me." Briar had someone managed to look back into the fireplace again, his eyes dialated from astonishment. Sandry grabbed his chin and directed it so that he was looking back at her face. "This is important. I wouldn't do this if circumstance were all together different. But they aren't. Gods know that I wish they were." She paused, looking into his face. Sighing, she glared at him, " Briar, are you are even hearing this?"
Something clicked inside his brain, so that he was left with a raw feeling of confusion. Blinking at Sandry, Briar shut his mouth and opened his eyes. "I hear you, Sandry, but I sure as hell don't believe you." Running a shaky hand through his hair, Briar walked slightly away from her. "What kind of of 'circumstances' are we talking about here?" He asked, his voice edged with sarcastic disbelief.
Sandry frowned at him before stating coldly, "Like something along the lines my child would have to live as an outcast. Like a disease that might infect a family. Like my child would have to grow up thinking that they weren't good enough to become anything, let alone an Empress." Stiffly folding her arms across her chest, she glared at Briar. "Like those kind of circumstances."
Suddenly feeling guilt peel through his stomach like thick acids, Briar blinked at Sandry. His face softened and he stared at her in confusion. "Why? Why would they have to live like that?"
She sighed before letting her hands dangle at her sides. She walked up to him before she glanced into the fire. Swallowing, she shook her head. "The Norman people are extremely superstitious people when it comes to matters of death. They think that it's a bad omen when a mother dies giving birth to a child. Even worse is when their father dies before the birth. They're. . ." she paused, here eyes suddenly turning watery, "they're expected to live their lives away from their family. . . . away from everyone. They're supposedly supposed to be a curse, an unfavored one of the Gods. It like a Trader custom, just more. . . terrible." By this time, her voice became shaky, and it was obvious that she might cry. She was still facing the fire and her face never glanced up at Briar, but tears swam sorrowfully in her eyes.
Briar swallowed thickly. Great, just what he needed. A teary female who was asking him to take a child as his own. Rubbing his eyes, Briar muttered, his hands covering his hands somewhat, "So you want me to lie to this child and say that their mother, what? Died? And that I'm their father?"
Her head snapped up and she glared at him. "No. That's not what I said."
"Well, what exactly are you saying Sandry?" Briar snapped in frustration, his mind torn between trying to sympathize with Sandry or being just being down-right mad at her for even suggesting such a thing.
Pursing her lips, Sandry sighed before explaining, "I want you to take the child. They can know that I'm the mother, and who the real father is, but, Briar," she looked pitifully at him, "nobody else can know that they're my child. No one. They'll send them into disgrace. I. . . I would ask Tris, but she's about to get married and have children herself, and Daja is so involved in her blacksmithing."
Biting his lip, Briar folded his arms across his chest. "What about having an heir to the throne? That's just sorta important."
Sandry winced silently. He heard her sigh, before stating, "You know, Briar, I just might marry again."
Briar stiffened at her words, the hairs on the back at his neck prickling.
Why exactly did he react like that? Shaking his head, Briar forced himself not to think about it. Enough confusion was already settling into his brain.
"Oh, really?" Briar finally questioned, his voice tense.
He heard her sigh again. "Actually I don't think it won't be much of an issue. I'm planning on abolishing the Monarchy in the Namorn Empire."
Another shock. Briar scrunched his eyebrows together. "What?!"
Sandry glanced up at him, her lips pursed. "You heard me right." Looking back into the fire, she continued, "I'm sick of it, the whole stupid Noble system. Just because you're born into a certain family, you have the right to rule. It's a real dumb way of ruling lands. " She paused, letting her sentence settle. "I'm going to set up another form of government. Oligarchy. That's what's its official name is. It lets several people rule at the same time, serving so that one person has too much power. And you have to earn the position. You can't become it just because of birth."
Briar snorted. "And how long is that going to take?" He asked, his voice sarcastic.
"About, roughly, ten to twenty years, if things go according to planned," Sandry retorted, not willing to let Briar have the upper hand of the argument. She folded her arms across her chest before huffing.
Shaking his head, he glared into the fire. "You're going to do away with hundreds of years of tradition in ten to twenty years?"
"Yes."
Rolling his eyes, Briar cracked a crooked smile that he hoped Sandry didn't see. If she only knew how he admired her brave, if not stubborn attitude, he'd be embarrassed for life. He'd never live it down. Not in a hundred years.
They stood in awkward silence for awhile, before Sandry finally said, shyly, "Also, Briar, I want the child to have a. . . a father." She slowly tore her gaze away from the fire, her eyes soft on his face.
Briar, feeling her stare, looked down at her, his eyes blazing with confusion. However, when his eyes connected with hers, the confusion melted, and his eyes immediately softened. Staring down into her eyes, he licked his dry lips and tried to tear his eyes away.
It was happening again. Briar tried to tear his eyes away or tried to make some kind of deep anger arise from the bottom of his stomach. Nothing came. Instead, he simply looked down at her, sinking into her liquid blue eyes.
"Briar?" Sandry asked, her voice soft and whispery.
"Hm?"
She opened her mouth, as if she was going to say something, but then she shut it. Frowning, she finally said, "Promise me you'll think about it. About adopting the baby. Okay?"
Briar suddenly snapped out of his aura. Blinking, he tore his eyes away from hers and nodded his head slowly. "Yeah, I will." He gave her a half-smile. She smiled back at him.
A sudden tiredness glazed over her eyes, and she yawned. "I'm so tired," Sandry managed to say in between her yawn. Stretching, she walked over to her bed before throwing herself on it. Giggling at herself, she laid on her back, glancing on the picture above her head. "It's gonna be hard to sleep tonight with that guy looking at me."
Briar rolled his eyes before growling, "Consider yourself lucky. . . Evvy snores."
Sandry laughed at him, her laughter echoing throughout out the room. After her laughter subsided to slight giggles, they stood in complete silence.
Moonlight streamed in from to window left of Sandry's bed, and cast a pale light over her hair, over her pale arms. Briar glanced at her, laying serenely on her bed. Memories suddenly filled into his brain, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Have you ever thought that night. . . on the roof?"
Sandry immediately stiffened, before her eyes cast over by Briar. Her smiled faded and she licked her lips. "Briar, that was a long time ago. We were young and we. . . you were young!" She moaned before turning over on her side. "Let's not talk about it, okay?"
Wanting nothing more than to smack himself, Briar nodded hastily. He bit his lip, before looking at the moonlight. It now streamed over her face, which was tranquil, and her eyes were closed.
"Sandry, do you ever think about what I asked you?" He asked her quietly, not really knowing why he asked it. Fortunately for him, Sandry didn't answer. Instead, her steady breathing permeated the room. She was asleep.
Sighing, Briar walked slowly up to her bed. Peeling back the covers, he tucked Sandry inside the bed, making sure the blankets covered her completely. Smoothing back her hair, Briar looked down at her face, soft and peaceful in the moonlight. Biting his lip, he gingerly pushed back a piece of ashy-blonde hair that had escaped the loose braid and had fallen in front of her eyes. Smiling softly to himself, Briar leaned towards her face and whispered, "Good-night, Sandry." Then, just barely, he softly brushed his lips over her forehead. Something electric jumped from his lips to the very tips of his toes.
Jumping up as if he had been stung, Briar backed away from Sandry's bed. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he quickly nodded at Sandry, as if she could see him. Quickly extinguishing the fire in the fireplace, Briar hurried himself out of Sandry room, not bothering to shut the door quietly on his way out.
Once out, he leaned against the door. Briar chewed the inside of his cheek and frowned.
This had to stop now. This feeling, like there was something stirring inside his stomach, and the way his pulse sped up when Sandry did the littlest gestures, like touch his arm or smile at him.
It had to stop.
But a little voice in the back of Briar's mind kept persisting, "Why?
Why does it have to stop? Remember what she said to you that night
on the roof. Remember how she. . ."
Briar cut off himself from his thoughts before stomping down to his room. Sleep would conquer the turmoil, and tomorrow he could just be concerned with meeting the queen.
Sexuality: Some people were concerned that this chapter would end up being a steamy sex scene. . . as you can see, it isn't. I don't write them, not because I have anything against i t, but only for the fact that I don't think it would give any merit in the this story, I don't write them well (very corny and unromantic if not written well), and well, like someone said, it would just be plain nasty (Sandry being 7 months pregnant and all). Anywho, don't fret my dear readers. . . this story is only rated PG-13 because of language and a bit of violence.
The "i'm naked under this robe" comment: Ug, I did this in my other story. I made a comment that was kinda, er. . .two-sided. I really didn't mean to anything about that nasty. It was intended to be a kind of oblivious "Sandry comment." Like she says without realizes that it could be taken more than one way. She said more or less for the fact that she felt awkward standing in the middle of a hallway with just a robe on. **Crashes head in computer** I never fail at doing this. Oh well, now I cleared it up.
Ages: I'm sorry, should have cleared this up before hand. Everyone in the circle is eighteen now. So, Sandry got married when she was about 16, (hey, it happens people!) and then got pregnant when she was a little over 17.
MOST IMPORTANT; The overall strange-ness of this plot: Yes, I know that this isn't a typical CoM fanfic plot, and overall it's kinda weird, but see, that was my intention. I wanted to have a more complex and strange twisted one (reading too much Charles Dickens does that to ya). My last ficcy was kind of sappy and well, not weird. I just felt like doing this for a change. If you hate weird fics, I'm working on another one that isn't nearly half as strange. Just to let you know that I'm not a total weird-o to the core.
Anywho, just thought that might help clear any questions that you had. If it doesn't, send any other questions via review or my e-mail, and I'll gladly answer them.
Toodles, people!