Tell me Truly. Who Are You?
Ok. this is my very first fanfic, so try and go easy on me, ok? I will, of course be open to any comments, suggestions or flames *holds up frying pan* it will help me with cooking dinner.
All right, let's get a few things straight here. All this belongs to Sherwood, the one of the best, most intelligent authors out there. I just like to mess with people's minds when I have nothing better to do, and her characters are so much fun to play with. All right you're probably tired of hearing me babble on, so on with the show! (so to speak.)
Meliara-
In keeping faith with your stated desire to have the truth of my observations, permit me to observe that you have a remarkable ability to win partisans. If you choose to dismiss this gift and believe yourself powerless, then of course you are powerless; but the potential is still there- you are merely pushing it away with both hands
Ignorance, if you will honor me with permission to take issue with your words, is a matter of definition- or possibly degree. To be aware of one's lack of knowledge is merely untutored, a state that you seem to be aggressively attempting to change. A true ignorant is unaware of this lack.
To bring our discourse from the general to the specific, I offer my congratulation in the Affair Tamara. She intended to do you ill. You apparently didn't see it, or appeared not to see it. It was most effective- perhaps the only effective- means of scouting her plans for your undoing. Now her reputation is in your hands.
This is not evidence of lack of influence.
Mel stared at the note in front of her, unsure what to make of it, even now, when the note was outdated. She fingered the ring she wore from her mysterious admirer, deep in thought. She had given such a ring to him, and had only just received his carefully phrased reply. Who could it be? And if she knew, would she still love him as she did now?
Then it hit her. She loved whoever was writing to her, it had to be. Whenever they spoke, she felt she could tell him anything, ask him anything, and he would accept her for what she was. Foolishness, she knew, but it was true.
Oh, how she wished she knew who he was. yet she knew also that if she ever found out then her entire world would be turned inside out. What if they didn't feel as comfortable with each other in real life as they did in their letters? What if she could not accept that it truly was him, and that he was the same person that she had come to love during her short stay in court? What if he didn't really love her in return, and she was being foolish to think that he ever could?
She sighed in frustration, and her fingers automatically pulled a clean sheet of parchment and a quill out so that she could pen a reply. Then she stared at the paper before her as though it were a snake. What would she write?
Mel sat there for a few more minutes, then stood and decided to take a walk. It was late, she knew, but that had hardly stopped her before. She hadn't yet undressed, so she was able to decently roam the hallways, in case she should meet anyone. A quick puff of air blew out the candles in her room, and she walked into the hallway.
But where to go? She wanted to go to the alcove, but as a basic rule of thumb she avoided that room, since that was where Shavraeth usually liked to spend his free time, and she could never understand him. Sometimes, he was polite and she felt they could be friends, but then the next he made her so angry that she could hardly stand up straight, and she was sure that the feeling was mutual.
But it really was late. perhaps, if she went in and grabbed what she needed, then left. then she would not have to face any pairs of disconcerting gray eyes.
************************************************************************
The Marquis of Shevraeth sat in the alcove room, poring over some records (where else would he be? How many people saw that coming, honestly, now?). He had been at the party when Tamara had gotten Meliara drunk, and it had made him very angry. How could Tamara do that to his Mel? She had no right.
He took a step back in his mind. Whoa, Vidanric. Your Mel? I think not. Just because she's an angel and you worship the ground she walks on. and can't even have a semi-decent conversation with her and you do all of your admiring through anonymous letters.
All right, so his plans needed work. It was wonderful to watch her, though. She wore the ring he gave her constantly, he'd checked every time he'd seen her, and sometimes while she was talking with someone one of the servants would tell her she had a letter and she would leave as quickly as she could without being rude. It was wonderful to know that the anticipation in her eyes was to read his letters, to find out what he had to say to her. but then would come the inevitable pain that that anticipation was not meant for him, but someone who only existed between the two of them. He wanted to tell her how he felt for her, that he was the one who was writing the letters to her. but he couldn't bear to see her eyes fill with hatred or disgust, to have her turn away from him. It was better to be able to have some small comfort in talking to her from afar.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft footfall. He knew who it would be, and his heart fluttered in anticipation of her arrival. He bent farther over the paper to conceal it.
************************************************************************
Mel walked into the alcove. and found herself staring into Shevraeth's gray eyes. Life, did he ever leave the alcove?
"Were you looking for something?" He asked her softly. She shook her head, then made to leave, unsure if she should stay or not. "I don't need anything. I couldn't sleep."
"Wait. Why don't you stay here for a while? I'm sure you could find something dull enough to bore you to sleep." His voice held the usual court drawl, (sighs) yet it also held something that Mel had not heard before, nor was she sure of what it was. It was gone before she could identify it.
"Talking with you should be sufficient." She said grumpily, sitting down at a chair near the neat desk and randomly pulling something from the shelf, careful to note where she got it before she started to read.
He chuckled dryly. "Being tired doesn't dull your sharp tongue, then?"
She didn't even glance up from the book, which was actually a very interesting history. "If you're going to spend this time making me mad, I'm leaving. I did not stay up this late merely to give you the joy of having yet another argument with me."
For a while, he said nothing, simply stared at the scroll in front of him. "I do wish we could start over, Meliara."
That made her look up. "I think it's a little late for that, Shevraeth. Even though I was wrong about all that happened a year ago, there are so many misunderstandings surrounding that time that I don't honestly know if the damage that was inflicted upon our relationship can be repaired."
He was shocked by her honesty. I want to repair it, he wanted to tell her, just give me a chance, and I'll make up for all of it. Instead, he shrugged. "Every knot can be untied."
"What do you mean by that?"
He didn't answer her directly. "Will you come to court tomorrow?"
"I don't think so. I didn't think you wanted to hear an uneducated, country bred person trying to affect your decisions."
Shock rocked him once more. "You aren't uneducated."
"Compared to you, I am."
Life! She was making this impossible. "I wouldn't say that. We were having such a pleasant conversation that night at dinner, and I wouldn't say that your suggestions then were useless."
Suspicion filled her eyes. "Are you trying to bait me?"
He sighed, unsure whether he wanted to shake her or kiss her. "No, I'm not just saying that to get you into doing what I'd like you to, though no doubt you have plenty of reason to think such a thing. Has it ever occurred to you, Meliara, that I want you there so that I can get to know you better? I think I have you all figured out, and then out of the blue you change on me. I want to understand more about you."
She blinked several times. "Why?"
"To repair."
She thought a moment, and then she nodded. "I still don't want to come to petitioner's court. Perhaps we could do something else."
"Well." Did he dare? Oh, yes, he did. "There's a horse racing competition this morning. after petitioner's court. Just for fun, no wagers unless you want to make one."
Mel stared at him for a moment. "Are there any shortcuts?"
He laughed. "No, Meliara, there are not."
She thought for a moment then smiled up at him. "I accept."
************************************************************************
What was I thinking? Mel asked her self as she held the quill above the paper. She wanted to get her letter to the Unknown done so that she could go to bed, but she didn't want to be up all night doing it. Would he wear her ring if she asked him to? Could she accept him once she knew who he was?
When she actually began to write, it was not a letter.
The dark, silent night enfolds me in its embrace. I lie awake and wonder, what it would be like to see your face.
Many restless nights I spend, longing for the Unknown. I love him more than words can tell, but will I when his identity is shown?
Can I safely bear my soul to him, without fear or shame? Will I trust him as I do now, if I learned his name?
Tell me truly. who are you? He who writes such flattering words of pure intent, He whom I can tell my every fear, I know I love him now. But if, perchance, were we to meet, all our secrets bared, Will I love him then?
She finished writing, satisfied with the poem. It described how she felt perfectly.
She yawned, and decided that she should probably get to bed. She never made it to the bed, but fell into an exhausted sleep at the desk, her head resting on the poem she had written like a child's would rest upon its favorite toy.
************************************************************************
Nee could not sleep, either, for any reason that she could guess. She saw a candle's light flicker beneath Mel's door, so she knocked tentatively before entering. Mel was asleep, her hand on a piece of parchment. She knew that she shouldn't be reading Mel's letters, but it was most certainly tempting, so Nee picked up the poem and read it. Then she saw another slip of paper, half hidden by several others that caught her attention because Shevraeth had written it. Feeling slightly guilty, she read what he had written, then looked at her poem again. She smiled, an idea coming to her as she copied the poem and went to the alcove. This could be very interesting.
Well, that's it for now, so I can get some reviews and know if I utterly and completely stink at this or not before I go pouring my heart and soul into it. please, please, PLEASE review. Thanks, and have a nice day!
Ok. this is my very first fanfic, so try and go easy on me, ok? I will, of course be open to any comments, suggestions or flames *holds up frying pan* it will help me with cooking dinner.
All right, let's get a few things straight here. All this belongs to Sherwood, the one of the best, most intelligent authors out there. I just like to mess with people's minds when I have nothing better to do, and her characters are so much fun to play with. All right you're probably tired of hearing me babble on, so on with the show! (so to speak.)
Meliara-
In keeping faith with your stated desire to have the truth of my observations, permit me to observe that you have a remarkable ability to win partisans. If you choose to dismiss this gift and believe yourself powerless, then of course you are powerless; but the potential is still there- you are merely pushing it away with both hands
Ignorance, if you will honor me with permission to take issue with your words, is a matter of definition- or possibly degree. To be aware of one's lack of knowledge is merely untutored, a state that you seem to be aggressively attempting to change. A true ignorant is unaware of this lack.
To bring our discourse from the general to the specific, I offer my congratulation in the Affair Tamara. She intended to do you ill. You apparently didn't see it, or appeared not to see it. It was most effective- perhaps the only effective- means of scouting her plans for your undoing. Now her reputation is in your hands.
This is not evidence of lack of influence.
Mel stared at the note in front of her, unsure what to make of it, even now, when the note was outdated. She fingered the ring she wore from her mysterious admirer, deep in thought. She had given such a ring to him, and had only just received his carefully phrased reply. Who could it be? And if she knew, would she still love him as she did now?
Then it hit her. She loved whoever was writing to her, it had to be. Whenever they spoke, she felt she could tell him anything, ask him anything, and he would accept her for what she was. Foolishness, she knew, but it was true.
Oh, how she wished she knew who he was. yet she knew also that if she ever found out then her entire world would be turned inside out. What if they didn't feel as comfortable with each other in real life as they did in their letters? What if she could not accept that it truly was him, and that he was the same person that she had come to love during her short stay in court? What if he didn't really love her in return, and she was being foolish to think that he ever could?
She sighed in frustration, and her fingers automatically pulled a clean sheet of parchment and a quill out so that she could pen a reply. Then she stared at the paper before her as though it were a snake. What would she write?
Mel sat there for a few more minutes, then stood and decided to take a walk. It was late, she knew, but that had hardly stopped her before. She hadn't yet undressed, so she was able to decently roam the hallways, in case she should meet anyone. A quick puff of air blew out the candles in her room, and she walked into the hallway.
But where to go? She wanted to go to the alcove, but as a basic rule of thumb she avoided that room, since that was where Shavraeth usually liked to spend his free time, and she could never understand him. Sometimes, he was polite and she felt they could be friends, but then the next he made her so angry that she could hardly stand up straight, and she was sure that the feeling was mutual.
But it really was late. perhaps, if she went in and grabbed what she needed, then left. then she would not have to face any pairs of disconcerting gray eyes.
************************************************************************
The Marquis of Shevraeth sat in the alcove room, poring over some records (where else would he be? How many people saw that coming, honestly, now?). He had been at the party when Tamara had gotten Meliara drunk, and it had made him very angry. How could Tamara do that to his Mel? She had no right.
He took a step back in his mind. Whoa, Vidanric. Your Mel? I think not. Just because she's an angel and you worship the ground she walks on. and can't even have a semi-decent conversation with her and you do all of your admiring through anonymous letters.
All right, so his plans needed work. It was wonderful to watch her, though. She wore the ring he gave her constantly, he'd checked every time he'd seen her, and sometimes while she was talking with someone one of the servants would tell her she had a letter and she would leave as quickly as she could without being rude. It was wonderful to know that the anticipation in her eyes was to read his letters, to find out what he had to say to her. but then would come the inevitable pain that that anticipation was not meant for him, but someone who only existed between the two of them. He wanted to tell her how he felt for her, that he was the one who was writing the letters to her. but he couldn't bear to see her eyes fill with hatred or disgust, to have her turn away from him. It was better to be able to have some small comfort in talking to her from afar.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft footfall. He knew who it would be, and his heart fluttered in anticipation of her arrival. He bent farther over the paper to conceal it.
************************************************************************
Mel walked into the alcove. and found herself staring into Shevraeth's gray eyes. Life, did he ever leave the alcove?
"Were you looking for something?" He asked her softly. She shook her head, then made to leave, unsure if she should stay or not. "I don't need anything. I couldn't sleep."
"Wait. Why don't you stay here for a while? I'm sure you could find something dull enough to bore you to sleep." His voice held the usual court drawl, (sighs) yet it also held something that Mel had not heard before, nor was she sure of what it was. It was gone before she could identify it.
"Talking with you should be sufficient." She said grumpily, sitting down at a chair near the neat desk and randomly pulling something from the shelf, careful to note where she got it before she started to read.
He chuckled dryly. "Being tired doesn't dull your sharp tongue, then?"
She didn't even glance up from the book, which was actually a very interesting history. "If you're going to spend this time making me mad, I'm leaving. I did not stay up this late merely to give you the joy of having yet another argument with me."
For a while, he said nothing, simply stared at the scroll in front of him. "I do wish we could start over, Meliara."
That made her look up. "I think it's a little late for that, Shevraeth. Even though I was wrong about all that happened a year ago, there are so many misunderstandings surrounding that time that I don't honestly know if the damage that was inflicted upon our relationship can be repaired."
He was shocked by her honesty. I want to repair it, he wanted to tell her, just give me a chance, and I'll make up for all of it. Instead, he shrugged. "Every knot can be untied."
"What do you mean by that?"
He didn't answer her directly. "Will you come to court tomorrow?"
"I don't think so. I didn't think you wanted to hear an uneducated, country bred person trying to affect your decisions."
Shock rocked him once more. "You aren't uneducated."
"Compared to you, I am."
Life! She was making this impossible. "I wouldn't say that. We were having such a pleasant conversation that night at dinner, and I wouldn't say that your suggestions then were useless."
Suspicion filled her eyes. "Are you trying to bait me?"
He sighed, unsure whether he wanted to shake her or kiss her. "No, I'm not just saying that to get you into doing what I'd like you to, though no doubt you have plenty of reason to think such a thing. Has it ever occurred to you, Meliara, that I want you there so that I can get to know you better? I think I have you all figured out, and then out of the blue you change on me. I want to understand more about you."
She blinked several times. "Why?"
"To repair."
She thought a moment, and then she nodded. "I still don't want to come to petitioner's court. Perhaps we could do something else."
"Well." Did he dare? Oh, yes, he did. "There's a horse racing competition this morning. after petitioner's court. Just for fun, no wagers unless you want to make one."
Mel stared at him for a moment. "Are there any shortcuts?"
He laughed. "No, Meliara, there are not."
She thought for a moment then smiled up at him. "I accept."
************************************************************************
What was I thinking? Mel asked her self as she held the quill above the paper. She wanted to get her letter to the Unknown done so that she could go to bed, but she didn't want to be up all night doing it. Would he wear her ring if she asked him to? Could she accept him once she knew who he was?
When she actually began to write, it was not a letter.
The dark, silent night enfolds me in its embrace. I lie awake and wonder, what it would be like to see your face.
Many restless nights I spend, longing for the Unknown. I love him more than words can tell, but will I when his identity is shown?
Can I safely bear my soul to him, without fear or shame? Will I trust him as I do now, if I learned his name?
Tell me truly. who are you? He who writes such flattering words of pure intent, He whom I can tell my every fear, I know I love him now. But if, perchance, were we to meet, all our secrets bared, Will I love him then?
She finished writing, satisfied with the poem. It described how she felt perfectly.
She yawned, and decided that she should probably get to bed. She never made it to the bed, but fell into an exhausted sleep at the desk, her head resting on the poem she had written like a child's would rest upon its favorite toy.
************************************************************************
Nee could not sleep, either, for any reason that she could guess. She saw a candle's light flicker beneath Mel's door, so she knocked tentatively before entering. Mel was asleep, her hand on a piece of parchment. She knew that she shouldn't be reading Mel's letters, but it was most certainly tempting, so Nee picked up the poem and read it. Then she saw another slip of paper, half hidden by several others that caught her attention because Shevraeth had written it. Feeling slightly guilty, she read what he had written, then looked at her poem again. She smiled, an idea coming to her as she copied the poem and went to the alcove. This could be very interesting.
Well, that's it for now, so I can get some reviews and know if I utterly and completely stink at this or not before I go pouring my heart and soul into it. please, please, PLEASE review. Thanks, and have a nice day!