Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing. Although I did create Daria's sister's, and the embodiments of her parents. And I suppose Desbond, as well, although I'm under the impression that I read that somewhere before...
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Lady Gwenneth had turned restlessly in her bed the remainder of the night, guilty over the looks on her daughters' faces. She rose at dawn, intending to speak to them as early on as she could. She did not wake her handmaids, instead donning an everyday robe and walking down the hallway, looking quite different from her usual self.
Upon reaching their shared room, she noted that the door had been left slightly ajar. She pushed the ornate door so that it opened a bit more and let herself in. The curtains were drawn around both beds. She was struck with a sudden feeling of terror. Lady Gwenneth was not one to lose her composure, even when she was alone. However, she threw open the heavy hangings around Sarah's bed and sighed in relief as she saw Sarah's golden curls peeking out from a heavy comforter. A slight draft blew into the room, and Lady Gwenneth left Sarah to close the widow. She moved on to Daria, may haps she was reading in bed as she had done before.
Lady Gwenneth frowned. What was this? Each bed had a double layer of curtain surrounding it, providing privacy as a single layer wasn't dark at all. But around Daria's bed hung only one. Lady Gwenneth cracked open the curtains, not knowing what she would see. What she did see heightened the feeling of dread swelling in the pit of her stomach. Gone were the blankets and sheets on the bed, as was the girl. In their place was a letter written in Daria's familiar handwriting.
Lady Gwenneth reached for the letter with trembling fingers and sank into the bare mattress as she read.
It was from Daria, as she had thought. The tone was calm, although the rushed forming of the letters gave Lady Gwenneth a hint of what Daria must have looked like, her fingers stained with ink as she wrote by candlelight. It was short, a mere paragraph, which hurt Lady Gwenneth. Did a mother not deserve more of a parting note if her daughter had to run away?
Dear Mother,
Don't bother waking Sarah for an interrogation. What she knows, she will tell you in due time. I've run away, as you've probably figured out by now. I'll come back in due time (by my free will or if someone should chance upon recognizing me). I've no doubt that you'll start searching right away (upon reading this, Lady Gwenneth cringed visibly at the sarcasm) for me, mother. I think you should know that the guard at the gate is rather dim (yes, I'm speaking of Boris).
Until my return (unless I'm killed, in which case this is the last you'll hear of me) (and at this Lady Gwenneth's eyes began to tear)
Daria
Lady Gwenneth managed to emit a strangled scream that woke the entire household before she fainted.
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A neat, pretty scullery maid walked down a dusty road. Humming a soft tune, she swung a basket as she walked. She had forgotten her dusty skirts (she had walked at least a quarter of a mile already) and aching feet with the rising of the sun. She stopped as she felt the strange prickle of eyes on her back. Glancing nervously around her, she saw no-one and continued walking.
Lady Daria -- or Abbey, as she had decided to call herself, should she have to -- shrugged off the feeling and quickened her pace. Daria hoped to see other travelers. She had the suspicion that she was being watched, and with others on the road she figured she'd be safer for a few moments. She planned to escape the open road and rush into the trees unnoticed.
She heard stealthy footsteps behind her and turned, brandishing her basket as if it were a weapon. Seeing no-one, she turned and resumed walking, albeit at an even quicker pace. Suddenly, a young boy of about eight barreled into the stunned woman, knocking her over.
"Sorry, miss," the youth smiled, showing two missing front teeth.
Daria picked up her now rather battered body wearily. "Were you following me?" she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. What if he was part of a band of thieves? What if he was a wizard in disguise, waiting to pounce and gouge out her eyes for a potion of some sort? What if--
Her thoughts were interrupted as a young man emerged from the trees, carrying a small pack. Her breathe caught slightly in her throat. He was beautiful, with long, thick lashes and angular features. He was quite tall, taller than she was, even taller than her father had been, she decided. He had blonde hair so bright it was dazzling, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. When he spoke, she was mesmerized. His voice was as beautiful as he, not too deep, yet not so high as to be mistaken for a girl. He did not seem to notice her at first, at which she bristled, slightly indigent. Was she not as eye-catching? The youth was the handsome man's relation, it seemed. Ah, Daria thought, satisfied. Brotherly concern, and her perfect image of him in her mind returned.
He turned slightly, and Daria glimpsed a scar on his jaw line. She wondered at how it got there. She had a whole new list of What Ifs when he spoke to her. "I'm sorry if my brother, Tom--" at this he motioned toward the eight-year-old "--hurt you. I'm Joan, his brother." He held out his hand for a shake. At Daria's cold stare (which she mustered with some trouble; she was mesmerized, but she still had her dignity and so did not to lose her head entirely) he looked a bit disgruntled, then angry -- both emotions that flashed across his face for only an instant before being replaced with a charming smile. Despite the sensible voice in her head that told her not to, Daria's diplomatic side won out. She daintily shook his hand as any normal scullery maid should, and adopted a rougher accent.
After that, an awkward silence hung in the air, which Tom immediately began to fill with random chatter. Daria's anger melted; the child was too sweet.
"Would you like to catch a frog?" this particular comment was said loudly, and Daria could not help but agree. She chanced a glance at Joan.
"Is your brother coming?"
"And why wouldn't I? He is my charge, my lady."
At this, Daria froze slightly. She thought quickly, trying to decide upon the easiest way to quell such thoughts. She decided to just ignore him, and started walking, catching up to Tom quite easily. Upon reaching the pond, she set down her basket and followed Tom to a clearing a few yards away, ending up picking flowers and searching for rabbit holes.
After a joyful fifteen minutes, Joan's voice broker through their laughter. "Tom, time to go," he sent his brother a meaningful look, who immediately stood up and nodded his assent. Daria, who hadn't noticed how close Joan had gotten was busily being intoxicated by his body heat.
"Good-bye," Tom said gravely, his serious expression quite funny on his young face.
Daria laughed lightly. "Good-bye, Tom." Her eyes met Joan's. "Good-bye," her voice came out sounding quite colder than it had been, and she watched the two brothers melt into the forest as suddenly as they had appeared with amazement. Shaking her head slightly, she walked back to her basket.
"WHAT?" her cry of dismay rang clearly through the forest. Her basket was empty! True, the only valuable item it contained was a map of Kyrria -- one of her father's, in fact -- but she had been robbed! Robbed! Daria angrily berated herself for playing with complete strangers. Had that not been one the first lessons she had learned? Never throw away your trust!
Her anger lessened into sadness. She sat and held her face in her hands, her muffled crying-induced hiccups coming out like squeaks. Her first endeavor, and she had failed. At this point, she almost wanted to go home.
Almost.
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A/N: I'd like to thank the wonderful people that took their time to review! You should expect some Jerrold soon (Joan should show that DJ can mean more than one ship... mwahahahahaaa)... As always, please review (I don't think this chapter is quite up to par with the first one ... be brutally honest). I've... got ... lovely words! Brand new, shiny ones...
