Author's Note: I am aware that Charlotte Grimm does not, historically, die until 1833, and obviously, this story is set directly after the movie, thus in 1812. I don't care. She died in the movie. Staying true to the movie is my first concern, followed by staying true to history. This is a fic based on the movie, after all, and at some points the movie and history diverge.
I repeat my disclaimer. Go eat a popsicle.
- o -
The Perils of Dancing Princesses – or, A Most Humble Sequel
Chapter Four – In Which Jake Does Not Deal Well
- o -
Jake slept.
He slept, and in sleep, he dreamt.
He sees a young man in the center of a long room with high ceilings. Paintings of people, long since dead, line the walls. A large fireplace dominates the far end, while on the other, a row of tall, gothic windows shake with the force of the storm outside. Everything is quiet in the room, but as lightening flares into the shadows, Jake realizes that he is the man – not in form, but in representation. Someone is coming to capture him, to punish him; he has been found out, as was inevitable. He kneels on a silk carpet thrown over the stone floor, reaching for the flail. After all, why shouldn't he be the one to punish himself? It was his doing, his fault, and his right to castigate himself.
A young girl bursts in through a door near the windows, looking panicked. She is dressed in a simple striped frock with a cap and an apron. In her hands she holds a small, open sack of pears. He walks over to her, trying to calm her sobbing. Begging him to leave, to run, she hands him the bag of pears. He takes a bite of one, looks at her, and says, "They're bitter."
She takes it from him, biting into it as well. Juice runs down her chin to stain her bodice; the stains expand, covering her whole person, and then extending out onto the floor. Just as the spreading stain starts to creep up his boots, he feels another person near him. Looking over to the shadowed center of the room, he sees Will lounging on one of the couches, dressed in white linen and silk.
"Time to go, brother," he remarks, and offers a smile.
Terror grips Jake's chest, and he falls to the ground whimpering, suddenly surrounded by hundreds of dancing couples dressed in white. The stain creeping up from the floor redoubles in ferocity, burning its way up his arms and his chest.
A hand falls on his shoulder, belonging to someone behind him. Instantly, the pain and stark terror disappear; the stain has vanished when he opens his eyes. He does not turn to the figure, knowing full well who it will be.
"Let's go up the bean stock now, Jake. Charlotte will die unless we steal the goose who lays the golden eggs."
"Lotte's dead already…." Jacob mumbles, and a second hand begins caressing his hair. His body feels limp, and it is all he can do not to collapse. As it is, his head hangs from his shoulders, his hands lie limply in his lap, and his legs feel boneless, folded underneath him.
"No, Jake. Lotte's still alive, and so are Mama, and Friedrich, and little Georg. Papa is coming home soon, Jake. You could make him so happy."
Jake falls forward, sobbing, and he can feel the rain outside sinking into his skin.
- o -
"… It's all right, Jake, hush; hush, now. I'm here, your brother Will is here. Shhh, Jake, come on..."
As Jake woke up, weeping, he felt the Will's warmth wrapped around him, and gasped in relief, seizing any part of his brother in reach. Will was in front of him on the straw-filled pallet, holding Jake tucked under his chin, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He could feel his brother's heartbeat against his cheek, solid and alive. Jake thought he could hear the faint hitch to the beat that had always given Will trouble.
As soon as Jake was obviously awake, Will stopped his murmuring and lay in silence, still holding Jake close to him. After a few moments, when Jake quieted and began breathing normally, Will shifted so that he could see Jake's face. When Jake tried to bury his face in his brother's chest again, Will gently placed a finger under Jake's chin and made his brother look him in the eye.
"Tell me what it was about." It was a demand, Will's eyes fiercely concerned, his arms still tight around Jake.
Not wanting to talk about it, but knowing from experience that Will wouldn't let it go, Jake sighed exhaustedly. "Lotte."
Will nodded, and tucked Jake's head under his chin again. "You called her name a couple times. You were crying before that, though. What else?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Jake."
Jake tried to squirm away from Will, but was prevented by two very strong arms. "I don't want to talk about it, Will. Just go back to sleep." He almost escaped this time, trying to twist away, but Will dragged him back. Jake rolled his eyes and gave up struggling, settling in for a long discussion.
He and Will just lay there for several minutes, letting a silence stretch between them. Finally, Will spoke, his voice gruff.
"You talk too much in your sleep."
His eyes popping open, Jake felt himself stop breathing; he waited for whatever Will was going to say, whatever evidence he would bring into the open, whatever condemnations he would utter. Preparing himself for the worst, he was confused when his brother's arms tightened around him.
"You called for me, and I … I didn't help you, did I?" Will sounded intensely shaken. "You even sounded like you were afraid of me." Dipping his head so that he could look Jake in the eye, he licked his lips before he asked, "Tell me what it was about."
Faced with such surprising honesty and obvious misery on Will's part, Jake had no idea how to answer. Finally, unable to think of anything else, he simply said, "Us."
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, judging from Will's crumpled expression. "We've gotten that bad," he whispered, tucking Jake's head under his chin once more. "It's gotten that bad, that you're afraid of me?"
Stomach twisting at the lost, forlorn quality of Will's voice, Jake quickly amended his statement, wrapping his arms tighter around his brother. "No, I didn't mean that. I only – I mean to say – it seems as if…." He trailed off, unable to continue. How can you say, I love you, want you, want you to want me, and I'm scared to death you'll abandon me once you find out?
"Tell me." Jake could not see his face, but Will sounded serious. He reflected, for a moment, on how Will was really only like this with him, and then remembered that the request had demanded an answer.
"I can't." Jake hid his face even more, begging silently for a reprieve, an acquittal, amnesty, anything. "I don't know how to say it."
"Tell me." Will's tone was no less temperate, and no less demanding.
Jake looked at him, jittery and defensive. "It's honestly not worth talking about. I don't know why I had a nightmare."
"Tell me."
This was fast becoming redundant.
"I need to know why you are afraid of me. And you are," he said, as Jake began to protest, "Because you wouldn't have dreamt about it if it were otherwise." He raised his eyebrows at Jake, punctuating his point.
Realizing that Will was not going to drop this any time soon, Jake tried to find an answer. All of them fell flat, and he mentally kicked himself. Will was right; he never had been able to lie to his brother. He simply kept on staring into his brother's eyes, worrying his bottom lip. Half wanting to just get it over with, and half scared out of his skin, he could think of nothing to say.
Except, that is, for the truth, and Jake had little other option.
With a deep sigh, Jake began, hoping that his brother was indeed thick enough not to fully understand. "What I meant was … we have grown so apart, recently, in certain ways … Even with the incident in the forest, I think somehow …"
He huffed again. Phrases like 'in certain ways' and 'I think' were not going to get the point across, and he would only get bogged down in semantics.
"We don't understand each other, anymore. Not like we used to." Jake looked up at Will, gauging his reaction as he went on. "We know each other still, this is true. We can tell what the other will do, where they will go, things that, because we've known each other for almost thirty years. But," he said, looking at the window, "I can no longer tell what you might be thinking. I can't be sure, anymore, how you will respond."
Will nodded, face suddenly showing all twenty-seven years. Most of the time, his child-like energy made him look much more youthful. At the moment, Will was once again Jake's Will, and he knew he was the only person left in the world to see it. He was, he thought, the only person to love it, and it was something to hold on to.
"You're right," Will barely whispered. "How do we get back to that point?"
Jake closed his eyes, too exhausted, it seemed, to even cry. His eyes were hot and scratchy. "We can't. We just have to make something new." He settled himself to try to sleep, doubtful as to his success.
Clutching Jake tighter in his embrace, Will seem to surround him, physically and mentally. Jake could smell the Will's scent on his shirt, a wonderful male scent, mixed with dirt and woods and wood ash. He smelled leather, a scent that clung to Will even when none was present. He could even smell the hay, from the barn roof not many hours ago; however, what he noticed the most was the absence of perfume, or any other fragrance a woman might wear. Will had not been with a woman for many nights.
When he tilted his head upward to meet Will's gaze, he saw in his brother's eyes the thing that Will wanted more than anything else, after all – unconditional love. His eyes held pure, unadulterated affection.
With their faces so close together, Jake did not even feel Will move before his lips encountered Will's. A warm press of lips, an even warmer hand running down his back … it seemed as if his brain couldn't keep up with his body, as if he was experiencing what was happening a split second after. Then just as suddenly, Will was releasing his hold on Jake, bidding him a good night, and making himself more comfortable. He lay down on his back, threw a blanket at Jake, and was soon fast asleep.
Jake was very, very awake. He stayed that way, extremely uncomfortable and further confused, until dawn.
As for Will, when he awoke to find his brother sprawled out on the edge of the pallet, blanket bunched around his shoulders and leaving his feet bare, he could only hope that the jolt he felt was purely brotherly affection.
- o -
Jake awoke, after only a handful of hours asleep, to violent sunshine pouring through the single window above his head. Will was absent, as were his boots, coat, and other belongings. Trying to avoid panic, Jake shook away the semi-conscious fear that gripped him by the throat, and peeked his head over the ladder.
He smelled burning porridge, but neither saw nor heard Will; there was only Meta by the hearth, as he had last seen her, stirring porridge in an iron pot. He quietly put on his boots and the rest of his clothes, and tried (in earnest, now) not to panic.
He did not know quite how to ask where his brother had gone. At this point, he was certain he would come off as needy and ineffectual. Before he could attempt, however, Meta turned around and looked at him with a smile.
"I'm glad you persuaded Will to go with you, Jake. I don't know how you did it, but he seemed happy enough to participate. Oh, you must be wondering where he is – he went back to town to gather your things and make your good-byes. He should be back shortly." Meta positively beamed at him, and Jake just stared back.
He felt positively incoherent.
What with all the business with the witch, then with getting lost in the woods, and then the business with this woman, and the following discussion last night, and the unprecedented show of affection – suddenly, it all crashed in on top of his head. He was left standing there, not a thought in his head other than what he would do for a nice, stiff drink.
He spied a rough chair, and thought that chairs had been invented for just these moments. Women have their fainting couches; men have to do with chairs.
As Meta sat a mug full of something hot – cider, he thought, from the smell – in front of him, she went in for the kill. "Or, do I know how you convinced him?"
Jake could barely hold back an insane giggle. Lord, he hadn't giggled since he was a child. This woman was most certainly a princess, with her knack for manipulation and interrogation. He set his face in his hands, elbows on the table (something his mother would have rapped his knuckles for) and smiled a bit wildly. An odd, gasping sort of laugh escaped him. "My dear lady, you have not a clue what you are talking about."
She slowly made her way over to the hearth again, her back to him, just like he had first seen her. "Just remember this, darling boy. You are free to do whatever you wish. You may not think so, but you are. Do not keep yourself in chains to which you, yourself, have the keys."
It was all too much for a sensitive, slightly neurotic academic to take.
"Jake!" A voice boomed from outside, and Jake heard the whinny of horses, and the off key whistling of his brother, indulging in an energetic rendition of the French national anthem. Several moments later, "We have to leave soon, or we won't reach a town before nightfall!"
Meta looked at Jake pointedly, and he, after gazing at the door for a moment, stood with obvious effort and walked toward it.
"I have something for you," Meta remarked, stopping Jake several feet from the door. "Hold on." She ducked into the other room and came out with a bundle of old, slightly moldering fabric. She handed it to him with care. "This is my husband's, given to him by a crone on the road to my father. Take it; it will keep you concealed."
Eying the fabric dubiously, he nevertheless accepted it. "Thank you. We will be in touch soon, I should think." He was starting to get hold of himself again, and rather relieved for it. He had a purpose now, a goal to take his mind off of everything else going to hell around him. He smiled his thanks again, and stepped out the door to see Will, on his horse and holding Jake's, outfitted for a long journey. All of Jake's things, it appeared, were neatly stowed in his saddlebags.
Will spread his arms wide, favoring Jake with a huge grin. "Feel like going to Austria?" He shouted, as he saw Jake emerge from the cottage. "Because, I dare say we've needed just this sort of a vacation."
Jake could only stand in the pathway and laugh at Will's eagerness, as Will smiled on as well, a bit smug with his success.
"I thought…" Jake gasped, "I thought you didn't want to go."
Will smiled at him with bright, laughing eyes, and Jake really had no choice but to mount his horse and follow the fiddler back down the road. Meta watched from the doorway, her eyes keen, catching every touch, every glance, as they rode away. When she could see them no longer because of trees, she re-entered her cottage and sat quietly, a broken pottery crock in her hands.