Fight Like A Girl
Chapter 9
A Letter From David
AN: Well, here's the next bit. Once again, it was supposed to be the beginning of a longer chapter, but I ended up falling asleep so..it now stands alone. I hope everyone enjoys it anyway. First off, sorry to Livinia for not putting in congrats on her correct guess about what was wrong with Ophelia. Your review didn't come up till after I updated. But now, yay Livina, you got it right. To 'Me', I'd like it if Ophelia could just get pregnant so that Delia doesn't have to betray her too, but Delia has to betray her. Delia is going to get steadily worse and worse. After all, she is still the villainess we all know and love. The Delia we see in The Song of the Lioness is, in my opinion, quite capable of betraying someone, and I need to get her to that point before she goes to Court. Of course, seeing as how long it takes me to get anything done, that might take a bit ~_~ Anyways, I hope you feel better, 'Me'. Nip, well, I wasn't really planning on writing about her time in prison, but if people really want me to and the inspiration strikes me, I might. We'll see how it goes. As it is, I've got quite a bit to go till that point. Enjoy everyone!
~~~
That night I dreamed. I was walking through a field of violets, and Ophelia was laughing and spinning in a wild dance. She held a bouquet of flowers, and I saw that she had chains looped around her wrists. She wore her blood-stained dress. She danced her way in front of me and held out the bouquet for me to take. I did so, and as I held it the flowers fell away and I was holding her heart, bleeding and beating. It quickly stained my hands red, and I screamed. I looked up in horror and saw that blood was pouring from a gaping hole in her chest and from between her legs. I felt sick, and threw her heart back at her, while backing away.
The heart fell on the ground and bled the violets red. Ophelia screamed and wept and collapsed to her knees beside it. Then the heart became a pool of water and swallowed her up. She was drowning. I went to pull her up, and as I did so the water turned to blood and I ended up holding her down, even though I didn't intend to. When she died, I screamed and let her up. Then she opened her eyes, white and frost-covered, and smiled at me. I screamed once more and she embraced me. Then she let me go and fell back into the pool, her face serene as the water swallowed her up. That was when I realized that she had slipped out of her chains and that they now bound me.
I woke up with a gasp and checked my wrists, which were, of course, unfettered, and my hands, which bore no trace of red. I sighed and lay back in my bed, but a chill went through me once more as I saw the violets on the table. I felt the overwhelming urge to sit in a corner and cry, to shout 'this is too hard for me!' I wished that I was a child again, that my nurse could pick me up and sing me to sleep like she did when I had nightmares then. I reminded myself of all the horrible things that Ophelia had done, that she deserved this betrayal, truly she did, and that power has a price, now it was simply time to pay it.
Still, the gruesome images of my dream haunted me, and I whimpered quietly to myself. But I would not cry. 'Who are you?' I demanded of myself. 'Are you some meek maid? Are you some simpering weakling? Or are you the next Helen of Troy? You always knew you would have to betray people to gain power; don't turn into a pathetic little girl now that the hour is at hand. Only fools work for power and then give it up at the last moment.'
Yes, power has a price. The world is divided into those who would pay it and those who would not - the powerful and the weak, the strong and the cowardly. I would not be a coward. I was strong and had worked hard and deserved power. I did.
Still, I wanted some validation. I took out a piece of parchment and wrote David. I told him the story, told him what I knew I had to do, told him of my dream, my misgivings, all of it. And, in the closest I have come to an admission of helplessness since the day I decided to become the next Helen of Troy, I asked him for his advice.
I sent off the letter in the morning, and decided not to make a move until he wrote back. I recognized this procrastination as a form of weakness and cowardice, but no matter how often I steeled myself in private, I could not bring myself to speak the words of betrayal in public. Those days were an anguished internal struggle covered by my usual careless front, and they were utterly miserable.
His letter came so quickly that he must have sent it the very next day, but the space between my plea and his response felt so long I thought I should go mad with the waiting, with the anguished looks around to see if anyone else had uncovered Ophelia's secret. When I got his letter I nearly tore up the stairs to my rooms, flung myself into my windowseat, and ripped open the wax seal to read his words.
'Dear Delia,
Well, I'm not sure whether congratulations or condolences are in order here. Condolences for your indecision, of course, but also congratulations because you have executed your plan so superbly, and also, although you might not see it this way, because you feel bad. Let me explain. Do you remember that time you said you would act like a wretched snake, but that wouldn't be who you truly were? Well, to tell you the truth, I was a little frightened then. I thought that you would lose yourself in your act. But the very fact that you are so repulsed by the act of betrayal, even when it is something so vital to your plan, proves that you're still the same old Delia. If you could betray her without blinking, then I'd be concerned.
This might be a cold comfort, but the fact that you feel miserably indecisive isn't a mark of your cowardice; it's a mark of your strength of character. It's something to be proud of. There's nothing admirable about a vicious girl with no feeling, who will betray and lie and cheat without a moment of remorse. In that case, a betrayal is merely a callous act, a lie just a cowardly way of avoiding the truth. You still retain all your human feeling, the part of you that makes you Delia, my friend, as opposed to merely Helen of Troy, your aspiration. I respect that aspiration, of course, but could never love that callous figure you've created and deified for yourself, not the way I love you. I know that you will push through your fears, Delia, and do these things that are hateful to you, and that is part of why I love and respect you so much. You are worthy of my admiration, worthy of everyone's admiration, because your betrayal is a sacrifice, your lie hurts you. Yet you commit these acts, not because you're a horrible person, but because you've made a goal for yourself, and will achieve that goal even if it kills you to do so.
I know you're going to laugh at me, Del, but really you inspire me somehow. This work is hard, and in order to keep ahead of the others I have to half- kill myself working late into the night, draining my Gift till I'm passed out from exhaustion. And then the Masters scold me for working without their permission, and delegate me to scullery duty as punishment! But I know that you're suffering more than I am, and the knowledge that you're working so hard back at he Cloisters helps me keep going here at the City of the Gods. It's hard, Delia, but I do believe that we'll both achieve our dreams one day, and then all this pain and sacrifice, it will be worth it. We'll be the two most powerful people in Tortall, and you won't have to betray anyone again, or do what others order you, and I won't have to spend all night bowing and scraping to idiot Masters who are afraid that I'll become as powerful as they are.
The best advice I can give you is to do what you have to, get it over with, and think about the great future we'll have once we're powerful and free of all these stupid games. And remember that I know who you really are, and that I love you, and know that you can get through everything.
Your truest friend, David'
I read the letter through twice, and sank back into the window seat. A sense of overwhelming contentedness, well-being, general relief permeated my whole attitude. I felt that I could do anything so long as he was behind me. He has always had the ability to put my troubles to one side, to made everything seem so possible. I could see the future we dreamed of so clearly, and the knowledge that I inspired him to work despite his own hardships filled me with a new sense of purpose. I could do this, I had to do this, and I would do this. David was counting on me. He loved me, he believed in me, and I would conquer the world for him, for me, for the both of us.
Tomorrow, I would betray Ophelia. I replaced her violets with David's letter, and went to sleep. I did not dream that night; he chased away my nightmares.
AN: Well, here's the next bit. Once again, it was supposed to be the beginning of a longer chapter, but I ended up falling asleep so..it now stands alone. I hope everyone enjoys it anyway. First off, sorry to Livinia for not putting in congrats on her correct guess about what was wrong with Ophelia. Your review didn't come up till after I updated. But now, yay Livina, you got it right. To 'Me', I'd like it if Ophelia could just get pregnant so that Delia doesn't have to betray her too, but Delia has to betray her. Delia is going to get steadily worse and worse. After all, she is still the villainess we all know and love. The Delia we see in The Song of the Lioness is, in my opinion, quite capable of betraying someone, and I need to get her to that point before she goes to Court. Of course, seeing as how long it takes me to get anything done, that might take a bit ~_~ Anyways, I hope you feel better, 'Me'. Nip, well, I wasn't really planning on writing about her time in prison, but if people really want me to and the inspiration strikes me, I might. We'll see how it goes. As it is, I've got quite a bit to go till that point. Enjoy everyone!
~~~
That night I dreamed. I was walking through a field of violets, and Ophelia was laughing and spinning in a wild dance. She held a bouquet of flowers, and I saw that she had chains looped around her wrists. She wore her blood-stained dress. She danced her way in front of me and held out the bouquet for me to take. I did so, and as I held it the flowers fell away and I was holding her heart, bleeding and beating. It quickly stained my hands red, and I screamed. I looked up in horror and saw that blood was pouring from a gaping hole in her chest and from between her legs. I felt sick, and threw her heart back at her, while backing away.
The heart fell on the ground and bled the violets red. Ophelia screamed and wept and collapsed to her knees beside it. Then the heart became a pool of water and swallowed her up. She was drowning. I went to pull her up, and as I did so the water turned to blood and I ended up holding her down, even though I didn't intend to. When she died, I screamed and let her up. Then she opened her eyes, white and frost-covered, and smiled at me. I screamed once more and she embraced me. Then she let me go and fell back into the pool, her face serene as the water swallowed her up. That was when I realized that she had slipped out of her chains and that they now bound me.
I woke up with a gasp and checked my wrists, which were, of course, unfettered, and my hands, which bore no trace of red. I sighed and lay back in my bed, but a chill went through me once more as I saw the violets on the table. I felt the overwhelming urge to sit in a corner and cry, to shout 'this is too hard for me!' I wished that I was a child again, that my nurse could pick me up and sing me to sleep like she did when I had nightmares then. I reminded myself of all the horrible things that Ophelia had done, that she deserved this betrayal, truly she did, and that power has a price, now it was simply time to pay it.
Still, the gruesome images of my dream haunted me, and I whimpered quietly to myself. But I would not cry. 'Who are you?' I demanded of myself. 'Are you some meek maid? Are you some simpering weakling? Or are you the next Helen of Troy? You always knew you would have to betray people to gain power; don't turn into a pathetic little girl now that the hour is at hand. Only fools work for power and then give it up at the last moment.'
Yes, power has a price. The world is divided into those who would pay it and those who would not - the powerful and the weak, the strong and the cowardly. I would not be a coward. I was strong and had worked hard and deserved power. I did.
Still, I wanted some validation. I took out a piece of parchment and wrote David. I told him the story, told him what I knew I had to do, told him of my dream, my misgivings, all of it. And, in the closest I have come to an admission of helplessness since the day I decided to become the next Helen of Troy, I asked him for his advice.
I sent off the letter in the morning, and decided not to make a move until he wrote back. I recognized this procrastination as a form of weakness and cowardice, but no matter how often I steeled myself in private, I could not bring myself to speak the words of betrayal in public. Those days were an anguished internal struggle covered by my usual careless front, and they were utterly miserable.
His letter came so quickly that he must have sent it the very next day, but the space between my plea and his response felt so long I thought I should go mad with the waiting, with the anguished looks around to see if anyone else had uncovered Ophelia's secret. When I got his letter I nearly tore up the stairs to my rooms, flung myself into my windowseat, and ripped open the wax seal to read his words.
'Dear Delia,
Well, I'm not sure whether congratulations or condolences are in order here. Condolences for your indecision, of course, but also congratulations because you have executed your plan so superbly, and also, although you might not see it this way, because you feel bad. Let me explain. Do you remember that time you said you would act like a wretched snake, but that wouldn't be who you truly were? Well, to tell you the truth, I was a little frightened then. I thought that you would lose yourself in your act. But the very fact that you are so repulsed by the act of betrayal, even when it is something so vital to your plan, proves that you're still the same old Delia. If you could betray her without blinking, then I'd be concerned.
This might be a cold comfort, but the fact that you feel miserably indecisive isn't a mark of your cowardice; it's a mark of your strength of character. It's something to be proud of. There's nothing admirable about a vicious girl with no feeling, who will betray and lie and cheat without a moment of remorse. In that case, a betrayal is merely a callous act, a lie just a cowardly way of avoiding the truth. You still retain all your human feeling, the part of you that makes you Delia, my friend, as opposed to merely Helen of Troy, your aspiration. I respect that aspiration, of course, but could never love that callous figure you've created and deified for yourself, not the way I love you. I know that you will push through your fears, Delia, and do these things that are hateful to you, and that is part of why I love and respect you so much. You are worthy of my admiration, worthy of everyone's admiration, because your betrayal is a sacrifice, your lie hurts you. Yet you commit these acts, not because you're a horrible person, but because you've made a goal for yourself, and will achieve that goal even if it kills you to do so.
I know you're going to laugh at me, Del, but really you inspire me somehow. This work is hard, and in order to keep ahead of the others I have to half- kill myself working late into the night, draining my Gift till I'm passed out from exhaustion. And then the Masters scold me for working without their permission, and delegate me to scullery duty as punishment! But I know that you're suffering more than I am, and the knowledge that you're working so hard back at he Cloisters helps me keep going here at the City of the Gods. It's hard, Delia, but I do believe that we'll both achieve our dreams one day, and then all this pain and sacrifice, it will be worth it. We'll be the two most powerful people in Tortall, and you won't have to betray anyone again, or do what others order you, and I won't have to spend all night bowing and scraping to idiot Masters who are afraid that I'll become as powerful as they are.
The best advice I can give you is to do what you have to, get it over with, and think about the great future we'll have once we're powerful and free of all these stupid games. And remember that I know who you really are, and that I love you, and know that you can get through everything.
Your truest friend, David'
I read the letter through twice, and sank back into the window seat. A sense of overwhelming contentedness, well-being, general relief permeated my whole attitude. I felt that I could do anything so long as he was behind me. He has always had the ability to put my troubles to one side, to made everything seem so possible. I could see the future we dreamed of so clearly, and the knowledge that I inspired him to work despite his own hardships filled me with a new sense of purpose. I could do this, I had to do this, and I would do this. David was counting on me. He loved me, he believed in me, and I would conquer the world for him, for me, for the both of us.
Tomorrow, I would betray Ophelia. I replaced her violets with David's letter, and went to sleep. I did not dream that night; he chased away my nightmares.