(A/N: Both meteor9 and Hana no Kaze deserve credit for helping me to name Lord and Lady Begucci, because I am horrible at thinking up names. Many thanks, guys!)
Kaitlyn was facing a door. She had walked through the darkness which lead to a corridor, which in turn led to a very large door, locked very securely and tightly. The girl felt a tugging feeling in her chest and a desire to open the big door as see what was behind it, certain that something very special must lie upon the other side. There was a big keyhole underneath the doorknob that required a key, and though Kaitlyn had the idea of looking under the doormat for it, she found nothing but dust. No key. This is the Gunner's Heaven… She told herself, But I don't know why I know. It feels like the place itself is telling me what I need to know. Daddy says that he comes here because Uncle Jet likes 'The Game'…
Sighing and giving up, Kaitlyn placed her hand on the door and pushed, hoping that it would be unlocked. She touched air, her hand went straight through the wooden surface of the door, like it wasn't even there. Now she could even see her hand, it was on the other side of the door. Amazed, she yanked it out again and inspected it carefully, it looked okay. Then, she tentatively touched one finger to the surface and traced little circles, making a rippling motion. This was her way in. Holding her breath like she expected to emerge in deep water, she stepped inside. A tingly feeling washed all over her body as she passed through, and it when it faded away did she dare breathe again. Her eyes squeezed shut, she opened them one by one and then gasped, astonished.
There were so many more toys than Kaitlyn ever would have dreamed of littering the floor of the room, of every available description and construction, brightly colourful and inviting. Building blocks were scattered in one area, while a rocking horse took over another, and at least three dozen different stuffed animals were thrown all over the place. A half-assembled train set was gathering a little bit of dust, and Kaitlyn's foot accidentally nudged a ball as she walked into the center of the room, turning around and around as she moved so she could take in the entirety of the scene. Her face was open with amazement, she had never seen so many toys in one place at one time.
Kneeling, Kaitlyn picked up an expensive-looking teddy bear and brushed a little bit of dust off it's light brown fur, though old, it seemed to have never been used. The little girl hugged it, feeling that it's stuffing was still springy and not used to being cuddled. "Hello teddy," She said to the bear, "Do you have an owner? Do you have a name? Old Teddy must have been sitting here for ages to get all dusty. Are you lonely, Mr. Bear?" It did not answer to her queries, it's cold black beady eyes staring blankly into the front of her blue dress. However, Kaitlyn heard a noise from within the room, coming from one of the four corners, a slight shuffling sound that indicated movement. She dropped the bear and turned towards the noise, guilty of going around and touching things that certainly did not belong to her.
In a corner, away from all the other toys and the brighter colours, a small child was leaning against the wall, a boy, Kaitlyn reckoned after a glance, about half her age, around four or five years old. He was wearing a simple white shirt and dark charcoal-grey shorts, his hair just long enough to be tied back into a small little ponytail. His gaze was downward, eyes hidden by his black fringe. Totally silent, he said absolutely nothing and did not even pay any attention toward Kaitlyn who had barged into his playroom. At first, the girl wondered if he was sleeping, because of his lack of movement, but there was something about the way he was sitting that implied an alert mind. Yet, he was as motionless as the rest of the untouched toys in the room.
Kaitlyn was a little too young to be perturbed by this. "Oh, hello. I didn't see you there. My name's Kaitlyn, what's yours?" She said happily, walking over to him and leaning down to try and get a better look at his face. It was half-buried into some kind of shapeless stuffed animal, too worn and played-with to discern exactly what kind of animal it was. It seemed that this stuffed animal had received one hundred percent of the child's attention, to the total exclusion of all the other toys around them. Upon hearing Kaitlyn's words, the boy just hugged the animal tighter and did not look up, leaning more closely into the corner. Kaitlyn cocked her head to one side, confused. She got down onto her knees and touched his shoulder, surprised when the child recoiled from the touch. Stubbornly though, she ploughed on. "Can't you speak english? Are you okay? I am Kait-lyn. Un-der-stand?" She simplified her words and spoke more slowly, trying to get a response. The boy looked up at her, his eyes were withdrawn and downcast.
"…'M name's Ravvy." He said in a soft sad voice, slightly muffled as he pressed his face back into the soft surface of his stuffed animal. Having made some progress, Kaitlyn sat down and smiled, absently picking up what she believed to be called a slinky and playing with it in her hands. It made a delightfully interesting noise as its many coils slid against each other to make motion. The girl listened to this for a short while, then grew bored and dropped the toy, the slinky rolling away and then bumping up against a simple-looking picture book. "…And I understand you." The boy added after a minute, making no increase or decrease in the tone of his voice. It was flat and dull, so unlike a child.
"Hello Ravvy!" Kaitlyn replied brightly and smiling, "These are all your toys? Gosh, you're lucky! I have a few, but not as many as this! How come you don't play with them? Don't you like them? I know! Let's finish that train set over there!" She gestured to the half-completed train set, but the boy made no motion to get up, although he did look up at her again, and did not avert his eyes. Ravvy loosened his hold on his stuffed animal and held it up to Kaitlyn under the arms, the toy hanging limply and seeming to have seen much better days. It was patched out of green and white material and was hand-made, something of a cross between a teddy bear and a cat toy, while stuffing poked out of a hole ripped in it's left leg. It bore an expression of perpetual happiness, stitched onto it's cloth face.
It dangled like an old rag as Ravvy introduced it to Kaitlyn. "This is Chappy," He said carefully, like one unsure of his speech and trying his best to sound legible, "He is my friend. He doesn't say 'No' when I ask for a hug, he lets me sleep with him, and shadows aren't so scary when he's around. Aunt Schwodinger says that Chappy makes monsters go away, that's why she sewed him for me. The other toys," He glanced uncertainly at them, "Are cold. Cold as coldness. Cold as frosty, frosty winter without a jacket. They don't do anything. They lie there and stare at me, so I lie here and stare at them. I don't like the cold toys, because they don't keep the shadow monsters away." Ravvy paused for a long time, in thought, then added a fragment of a disassociated topic; "The door is locked." He said.
Kaitlyn had not noticed this, because her method of entry had been unorthodox at the most. She looked up at the big door, with a large lock under the doorknob, too high up for small children to touch and try to pry loose. The door itself was wide and thick, made of sturdy wood, more like the door to a prison cell that an entrance to a playroom. Ravvy sighed and hugged Chappy again. "I don't like big doors with big locks, they stand there no matter how much you kick and punch them. I don't like walls, one, two, three, and four. I don't like ceilings. Ceilings are like a house's hat. I want to go outdoors. I want to see the sky."
There was a small window built into one of the walls, from there, Kaitlyn could see some white fluffy clouds and blue sky. It must have been daytime, around midday. Ravvy smiled at the sky. "It is blue sometimes, but when I'm tired, the sky turns black. I wonder if the sky knows when I'm tired and turns black because of it, or if I make the sky black by being tired? Does the sky like being black? I know I don't like being tired, but when the sky is black, the stars are shining. They must shine because I am tired, to make me not tired, I think." Although he made no move to get up, he looked steadily at Kaitlyn, who was staring at the small rectangular window. There was a little ledge outside the window, and a plate had been set there with some breadcrumbs, probably an offering to any birds that would pass by the building. In fact, a small sparrow was sitting in the plate right now, nibbling at a chunk of bread and making little satisfied chirping noises.
The girl quietly crept to the window, so as not to scare the small bird, and looked up at the bird, transfixed as she never had been before. The window was too high for her to look out of properly, so she moved over to some rather large building blocks and carefully carried them towards the window, setting it down underneath it, making her a step tall enough to reach the windowsill without having to stretch her arms. The sparrow was still there, tearing away at it's little lump of bread. Kaitlyn looked back towards Ravvy, he had buried his face in his stuffed toy again, withdrawing himself back into his quiet inner world now that Kaitlyn was a considerable distance away. "Did you put food here so the birds would stay for lunch? That's a great idea! I need to try that once I get home. I'm on a journey right now, you see."
Ravvy said something softly, but it was muffled by Chappy's patchwork fabric. By listening carefully, Kaitlyn could just make out the words. "I went on a journey once, when there was no big round face in the sky, and when father made me come back, there was the big round face in the sky, like a sun that doesn't hurt your eyes. When I came back, father locked me in here, because he said that mother was sick." He gazed at the huge, thick, locked door. "Mother is still sick, and it's all my fault. Father says that it is all my fault, and if she goes away, it's because of me." Ravvy sniffed, but was incredibly motionless. "Father says that I didn't deserve to be born, the only people who are happy and like to see me are the birds and the sky, and you, Kaitwyn."
Kaitlyn held out her finger, and the bird, surprisingly tamed, hopped onto it and chirped out a pretty little song, bobbing it's head in time with it's own music. The girl turned around and sat down on the box, the sparrow still on her finger. "Is that why you leave out food for the birds? I think the birds must like you if they come here and sing for you." She smiled, "I like you too." Reaching her hand up, she flicked her finger deftly and the sparrow flew off back into the blue sky, where puffy white clouds were floating by like cotton wool.
The boy looked downcast, ignoring Kaitlyn's statement. "I want to be a bird," He said sadly, "So I can fly through the window and leave the walls and ceilings and locks and doors and fathers who hate you and mothers who won't touch you and cold toys who don't do anything but stare. I'll take Chappy with me to keep the darkness away, and then nothing will ever hurt me again." He rocked backwards and forwards a bit, sniffling and seeming to recite words that had been spoken strictly to him. "I have to be a good boy and not complain, because Mama is dying and Father is angry and nobody else will look at me. It's all my fault, it's all my fault…"
Feeling confused in her heart, Kaitlyn didn't say anything. How could any of that be the fault of a four year old boy? Footsteps began to echo from the corridor that attached to the room both Kaitlyn and Ravvy resided in, suggesting the approach of other people. The boy visibly flinched each time the sound of a footstep reached his ears, trembling a little. Kaitlyn was reminded of a scared little mouse in the boy's reaction, and felt her heart tighten in sympathy for him. She stood up to say something but was interrupted by the lock in the door springing open, the great wooden door scraping the floor as it was pushed open. Ravvy tensed and let out a little whimper of dismay, pushing himself as far as he could into the corner of the room.
A faceless servant, most likely a butler, stepped into the room. He completely ignored Kaitlyn, it was as if she wasn't even there, and bowed slightly towards Ravvy like he was begrudgingly admitting his servitude. "Young Master," He droned flatly in a stereotypical butler-like tone, "Lord Begucci requests your attendance outside the anteroom of Lady Begucci's chamber as promptly as possible. I advise that you attend." Ravvy gave the butler a blank stare of incomprehension to the servant's words, there was only so much english that one could know at such an early age.
They both paused for a second, and then the butler strode up and roughly grabbed onto the child's arm and dragged him to his feet, the boy kicking and trying to struggle out of the man's stronger grip. He let out a little cry and tried to wrench his arm away unsuccessfully, attempting to pull himself as far away as possible from the butler's touch. "Stupid oaf of a boy," The butler hissed as Ravvy squirmed, "Cannot even understand proper english. The Master should have murdered you when he had the chance and then be done with it." The servant glowered at the boy's pitiful response and clenched his fist tightly around the boy's wrist, dumping him unceremoniously onto the ground and sneering.
"Stop it!" Kaitlyn cried, running over to the servant and trying to hit him in the side with a small curled fist. Her hand passed straight through the butler's body like it was nothing more than air she lost her balance and fell through him, landing on the floor. Nobody noticed this, for Kaitlyn's presence there was only as an invisible specter that only the child named Ravvy could see. The boy was in a little heap on the ground and was holding onto his stuffed animal like a lifeline, he had gone completely limp, defeated. He didn't try to fight back when the butler dragged him to his feet and led him out of the playroom, and Kaitlyn, though tempted to stay behind and play with all the amazing toys, decided to follow them. There was a reason that she was here, she knew, so she may as well, try and find out what that was. Besides, she was concerned for the small child that didn't seem to have a single friend in the world.
Kaitlyn had a little bit of trouble keeping pace with them at first, walking with Ravvy and still being unnoticed by the old sour servant. The boy didn't look like he was keeping track of where he was going or navigated his way at all, content to let the butler lead him to wherever he was going. The look in his eyes was one that didn't seem to care anymore, no matter where he'd end up, nothing would ever change. Dull and lifeless. It was heart-shatteringly saddening. They turned several corridors and went even deeper into the back area of Gunner's Heaven, going up a flight of stairs that was very difficult for Kaitlyn and Ravvy to scale, and then past many, many closed doors, all locked up tight. Lit torches burned on their hooks on the walls above every door, and the patterns of shadows that they cast was more than enough to frighten somebody who feared the dark. Ravvy whimpered weakly as he looked at them, and then averted his eyes.
The butler bowed and then left them outside one of the doors at the very end of the corridor, coming up as a small cul-de-sac that was more richly decorated than any of the other areas that Kaitlyn had seen in the building. One person was waiting outside and leaning up against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Kaitlyn had seen the Duke Begucci before in a newspaper that her father had pointed out for her, but he had been older and greyer, thinner and much weaker. This duke that was before them looked to be only in his late thirties and had mousy brown hair that was kept in a long ponytail, with dark brown eyes that held their own kind of contempt. He looked far stronger than when he was older, and kept himself in an air in intense strictness.
Ravvy slowly walked up to the duke and hugged Chappy even tighter, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the ground. Pausing, he walked a little bit away and then sat down in the corner of the cul-de-sac again, taking up residence and trying to hide himself yet again. Kaitlyn followed and sat down next to him, receiving no protest from the motion. The duke frigidly ignored his son, smoking his cigarette while keeping his eyes closed. The door opened, and a professional-looking doctor stepped out, pouring over a clipboard bearing a great many sheets with scribbled-on paper. The doctor was thin and gaunt, sallow-cheeked and smelt strongly of anesthetic. There were great dark rings around his eyes. The duke spoke in a sort of growl, rough, though filled with an articulated vocabulary. "Well, how is she?" He asked. Ravvy flinched when he heard the duke's voice.
"Lady Victoria has developed an advanced case of acute lymphatic pneumonia. It had weakened her body greatly and I do not think that she will survive for much longer. Perhaps you should allow the Young Master to say his goodbyes before the inevitable occurs. Lord Cain, there is no more that can be done for her now. All we must do is wait, and perhaps, pray for a miracle." The doctor flicked through his reports and then sighed tiredly. The duke snorted and then inhaled more of his cigarette. Kaitlyn looked between them, there was a tension going on that appeared to be draining the life out of everybody around them. "Lady Schroedinger is awake enough to receive an audience, I believe." The doctor added. "Though she may be under the effects of delirium."
"Victoria is a Begucci now," The duke said darkly to the doctor who stepped back meekly, "She is a Schroedinger no longer. Send the boy in if that is what you prefer, I care not." He took a deep drag of his cigarette and Kaitlyn couldn't help but cough quietly, though she was continually ignored. The duke glared at Ravvy, huddled up, trying to be as small as possible and made a disgusted face. "However," He continued, "Should the boy do anything discourteous or unseemly, I shall punish him myself in the old fashion, with the cane and the whip. Understand, boy?"
Ravvy stood up. "Yes sir." He said, walking towards the closed door. Kaitlyn followed, and Ravvy pressed his stuffed toy Chappy into her arms. Under his breath, he murmured; "Kaitwyn, can you please hold onto Chappy while I go and see Mama?" The little girl nodded and Ravvy pushed the heavy door in with a little difficulty, receiving no help whatsoever from the other two adults nearby. Kaitlyn felt that the front of Chappy's body was damp from absorbing tears, Ravvy had been crying silently the entire time. He had not made a sound, and was really good at hiding it on his face. Kaitlyn bit her lip and walked in with him, not having to walk through the door like a ghost this time.
The boy pushed the door closed afterwards, leaning against it for a sec so he could catch his breath. Kaitlyn looked around. The room was mostly decorated in colours or deep royal red, blood red, and laced in gold. Beautiful paintings and tapestries hung on the walls and a fireplace burned warmly nearby, and incredibly aged and expensive-looking furniture was strategically placed around the room. They didn't look to be touched very often. In a way, this place was a lot like Ravvy's playroom, everything was there, but nothing was seemed to be used. Near the far end of the chamber medicines had been placed on a bedside table, with a pitcher of water and a half-filled glass, and somebody silently lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Kaitlyn trailed behind Ravvy as they both approached the bed, and she decided to stay a few paces behind, because this matter didn't really concern her. Something on the inside told her that she was only meant to watch.
A woman lay in bed, her eyes horribly glassy and very distant. Her face was flushed, and she only seemed to be half awake, or only half conscious of her surroundings. Kaitlyn looked up and saw a very large portrait of her on the wall, sitting on a chair with her hands folded demurely in her lap. She had been wearing far too much make-up than was appropriate, and her overly-extravagant dress and hairstyle only seemed to cloud up her beauty rather than augment it. Here and now, her hair was loose and she wore no more than a simple nightgown, with no make-up whatsoever. She looked far more beautiful this way, for Lady Victoria Begucci was a very beautiful person naturally, without addition. Her hair was raven black while her eyes were an emerald green, her complexion pale and spotless. Ravvy folded his arms on the bed and looked at her, it was obvious that he had inherited most of her physical traits. "Mama?" He asked meekly.
On command, her eyes refocused and she sat up with a little wheeze, her breath slightly labored. Dark hair obscured her face so she brushed it away, looking down upon her son. "Little one," She said quietly with a strange smile, "Did you wander into my room by mistake? Your chamber is not on this level, only Cain's and mine." She laughed a little mindlessly, taking a great interest in a crease upon her bed sheets. "Cain, Cain, darling Cain. My Lord Begucci… I wonder where your brother Abel went?" Laughing again, she shook her head. "Into the mountains without an ARM, guided by my darling Cain, to disappear, and leave your little brother as heir. My dear husband, returning with a bloody handprint on his cheek, to be the Immoral Duke…"
"No, Mama." Ravvy corrected, "I came in here to see you because Father and the doctor said I could. I want to make sure you get better. Please get better, I'm sorry that I ran away…" He bowed his head unhappily and sniffed, holding back more silent tears. Victoria unexpectedly leaned forward and touched him on the shoulder, a motion so unfamiliar to him that he first reaction was the pull away before he realised that contact from her was a good thing and something that he had been searching for all his life.
"Come and sit up here with Mother," She said hazily, a small and unusual smile on her face, "Come and sit with me, little one." Almost warily and not sure why he was so, Ravvy climbed up onto the bed, cautious of this unusual request. Victoria hugged him and Ravvy became a little frightened. This had never happened before. "I know now," She whispered, "I know. Father hates his son. Mother hates her son. The son runs away, and the mother dies in punishment. But the mother hates the father, and regrets everything she has ever done for him, with him. Because if so, then the son would have never been born. Then the world would have been a better place for both the father and the mother. But mother will die, and it is all the son's fault. Tell me, little one. Does the mother truly hate the son, or does the son truly hate the mother?"
"I don't know." Ravvy said in a tiny voice. "I don't know…"
"Mother is going to die soon…" Victoria continued with an unhinged tinkling laugh, "But father both hates mother and son, wishing us death. He does not need me anymore, and he does not need you either. He desires to be the Immoral Duke forever, and never pass on that name. He wishes to take it to his grave. Father blames mother for bringing you into the world and threatening that title." She sighed deeply, wilting even more. She was pale enough to be seen dying even as she spoke. Slowly, she stuck her hand underneath the pillow where she had been resting her head, drawing attention to her other hand by stroking Ravvy's dark hair. "Because I am going to die, and because he wishes you to die, why not silence this unspoken wish for death and end it ourselves… together?"
From out of the pillow, Victoria drew a knife. It was very sharp and probably taken from the Gunner's Heaven's kitchens, though it was common knowledge that nearly all noblemen and woman slept with a knife nearby, in case of assassination. It was a fact of their lives. Victoria looked at the edge and smiled. Kaitlyn stiffened from fear. "Yes…" The noblewoman said sweetly, "Let us die together… There is nothing else… Nothing else…" Carefully, she positioned the tip of the deadly blade at the center of Ravvy's back, smiling lopsidedly. The knowledge of certain death and the delirium of her sickness had made her lose her mind.
"No!" At the last moment, Ravvy panicked and squirmed out of her arms, throwing himself onto the end of the bed. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was shuddering from lack of breath due to his sadness. He rolled onto his back and sat, wiping his eyes using the back of his wrist. Victoria was laughing insanely but not loudly, steadily, melodiously. The knife was in her hand, trembling as she laughed. Ravvy sobbed out the rest of his words, barely understandable. "Mama! Please don't kill me! I don't want to die, I don't! Don't die! Please, don't die! Don't leave me here alone! Don't leave me alone!"
Victoria glanced at the knife. She was crying also, but smiling madly. "I hate you, Ravendor. I have always hated you, and I will always hate you." The noblewoman wiped her face, her green eyes glittering through her tears. "Oh Guardians… I am such a fool…"
She stabbed herself, right in front of her son.
For Kaitlyn, the entire scene in front of her seemed to slow down, the volume decreasing, her vision going hazy. She dropped Chappy in the growing pool of red blood that was spilling down the sheets of the bed, her arms going numb and limp, her grey eyes wide. She could hear Ravvy screaming, the door behind her opening as Duke Begucci and the doctor barged in, seeing the bloodshed, and the hysterical boy lost in the center of it all. Chappy soaked in the blood, still bearing it's mocking, happy face. How many tears had Chappy seen? How many drops of blood had Chappy counted?
Like a film coming to a close, the scenario ended and the little girl was engulfed in darkness, something that she didn't notice, for the image of the crying boy had been imprinted, burnt into her mind. A tear rolled down her cheek, she looked down, and then there was nothing.