Author's Note: Dustin' off the cobwebs. I don't care if fall isn't technically here yet, I want my Halloween goodness!
Disclaimer: This fic deals loosely with religion. It is purely for the purpose of entertainment and I mean no disrespect or dishonor to any religion. I personally do not practice any particular religion. I based this fic loosely on the history of medieval times when Christianity swept over Europe and pagan rituals and practices where folded into the new Christian religion. This fic should be read as more metaphor and allegory than a factual treatise on religion and history.
Into the Darkness: Part II
Sofia's fingers tapped impatiently against her thigh. A sigh, really more a huff, blew through her lips. Her father shot a disapproving frown her way, and she tried to and arrange her expression into something more studious as the priest continued to drone through the morning mass. The litany proved much the same as each Sunday past: the danger of sin, of the Demon who ruled the underworld and wished nothing more than to tempt mortals into eternal damnation. This day he chose to sprinkle in some pointed references to "sins of the flesh", though he shied from the loaded label of "fornication". She fought the urge to roll her eyes. With Father Humbert looking directly in her direction, she did not wish to invite another lecture about her less-than-pious attitude in church.
Sofia shifted minutely, trying to eased the ache in her back from sitting so long on the hard, unforgiving pew. The old dry wood still creaked, loud as a whip crack in the still church. Her father glanced her way again, but this time she only shrugged apologetically. The hopeless sermon could not hold her attention, so she turned her gaze upon the beautiful stained-glass windows. Sometimes the sermons could be beautiful when they spoke of forgiveness and love, but mostly being stuck in the stuffy church made her long to be out of doors. If there was a God, or a Goddess, she suspected they lingered in the woods and streams, not inside this gilded building.
The interminable sermon began to finally wind to conclusion. They bowed their heads for the final blessing. The words were barely off her lips before she rose to leave.
Her father stopped her, taking his wife's hand as they left the chaplet at a more sedate pace. "And where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"Dad," now she did roll her eyes, softening her impertinence with a smile, "you know what day it is."
"Ah, yes, Samhain." Roland frowned. "You're not wearing that are you?"
She looked down at her dress. The latest fashions from Freezenburg were in style and she much preferred it to the traditional garb of Enchancia. Layers of petticoats had been replaced by light, body-skimming undergarments. The high waisted gown of ivory chintz twined with embroidered flowers belled elegantly about her ankles. He couldn't possibly object to her going out in the dress she'd worn to church. "Yes. Why? What's wrong with it?"
The queen none too subtly jabbed her husband in the ribs with an elbow.
"Nothing," the king coughed out, still looking uneasy. "You look very lovely."
Sofia favored her parents with a skeptical glance before turning to leave. Behind her, she heard her father muttering to his wife. "She looks too lovely. That's the problem."
Miranda sighed. "Rolly, she's not a little girl any more. And boys would find her just as lovely if she were wearing a grain sack."
Her father's voice fell into a hard growl. "It's not exactly boys that I'm worried about."
Color rose on Sofia's cheeks and she hurried away before she overheard any more.
At seventeen, Sofia considered herself a grown woman. Eligible for her official debut, she'd "come out" for the Season, marking her eligibility for courtship. And just like that her narrow world had grown much bigger. The spring and summer balls, parties, picnics, and midnight dinners had proved a most educating theater of study. In the course of six months she'd moved from blushing glances to kissing behind rose bushes and hastily groping hands in secluded alcoves. Innocent explorations, nothing that would chance her reputation, but the more she experienced, the more her curiosity grew. And she learned there was a game at play. Not every compliment was sincere, nor each kiss a token of love. Some lessons were harder to learn than others but learn them she did. By Season's she felt battle hardened and world weary and welcomed the familiar comforts of the holidays and familial traditions.
Samhain came first, a favorite behind beloved Wasallia. Even during the excitements of the Season, she'd longed for this day to come. Still, her heart rose to the back of her throat when she entered the foyer where he was waiting.
"Cedric." She smiled, enjoying the way his shoulders stiffened whenever she called him by his given name.
"Princess." He crossed his arms over his chest, taking in her appearance with a quick sweep of his eyes before looking away. He barely looked at her at all nowadays.
Cedric was not like the young men at court. He didn't ply her with empty compliments and pretty words. Often when he spoke to her it was with a curt courtesy that brooked on indifference. Occasionally she managed to goad him into outright exasperation, secretly enjoying seeing him loosen his tightly held, aloof countenance. Since her debut some new divide had grown between them, one confusing and painful but also somehow alluring. The more he pulled away, the more she chased him. She tested the bounds of his resistance at every turn. He proved frustratingly impenetrable, and she often walked away from their exchanges feeling petulant and annoyed that she failed to affect him. But she'd made a vow not to quarrel with him today. It was their day, a tradition that belonged just to the two of them.
Her mother and father came along just as Baileywick fastened a cloak over her shoulders. Despite the grey October sky, she looked rosy and fresh in her floral-patterned dress and burgundy cape trimmed in velvet. (She'd paled when the dress maker suggested a lining of rabbit's fur!) Her chambermaid had swept her hair up and back into an elegant chignon, woven through with the plum colored ribbon she'd bought the previous Samhain. Loose tendrils curled softly about her heart-shaped face.
She hugged her mother, gave her frowning father a kiss on the cheek, then bounded down the stairs, calling behind her, "Come on or we'll miss the whole day."
Cedric fell into step beside her, his countenance more ordered but she liked to think he looked forward to their day as much as she did. They crossed the bridge, Sofia offering a nod of recognition to several guards, and the village proper came into view. Decorations exploded before her eyes, a riot of bright autumn colors strewn from nearly every shop and home. Wreaths of woven vines and crisp leaves decorated the doors. Dotted throughout, like silent matrons shaking their disapproving heads were plain, unadorned homes with dark windows. These doors showed only plain wood and the sign of the One God written simply in white chalk. Sofia frowned at them, wondering why anyone would wish to be so condemning on such a blessed occasion. Shrugging, she pushed those thoughts aside. They were only a few houses, and the rest of the village appeared out for the celebration.
When she looked, she saw Cedric frowning at the chalk-marked doors as well. She hadn't taken his hand in many years, not since she was a little girl, now she did so deliberately.
"What shall we see first? The mummers' show? Or should we get some cider and spice cakes first?"
He extracted his hand from her grip, but attempted a smile. "Whatever you wish, Princess."
"Cider," she decided, not lingering over how his hand had felt in hers, not at all as it had when she'd drug him from stall to stall as a child. "Mass was twice as long as usual, I swear. I'm terribly parched. I think Father Humbert was trying to bore the congregation into compliance. I suppose it is hard to commit sins if one is half asleep."
Cedric snorted, shaking his head at her blasphemy. She thrilled to have made him laugh. "You had better not let the good Father heard you say such things or you'll be doing penance until you're too old to want to sin anymore."
They began to walk into the crowd, the sights, and sounds, and smells intoxicating.
"I refuse to do penance," she said proudly, hoping to impress him with her rebellion, "Confession too. I ask forgiveness from people when I've wronged them, I don't see why I should have to ask it of Father Humbert too."
"As I understand it, it is not Father Humbert to whom you are appealing, but your god."
"He's not my God." Her nose wrinkled. "I go to mass for Father's sake. Mother's too, so she doesn't have to defend me."
"Defend you? From the king, you mean? Apparently, he is not as forgiving as his god."
The last was said in an undertone she wasn't certain he'd meant for her to hear, so she did not comment on it. She did take note of the distinct bitterness in his tone. Cedric was still the kingdom's sorcerer, but even with the Season to distract her, Sofia had noted how the King turned more frequently to his priests and his chapel for guidance and not to his advisers.
"Can I tell you a secret?" She paid for two cups of apple cider with a coin from her purse.
"I wish you wouldn't," he muttered, distracted. His eyes lingered on the guards dotted through the crowd. They stood their posts with aplomb, but with hints of embarrassed resignation in their eyes. They were there to "keep the peace", though no crimes had given cause for their presence. At most, Samhain in Enchancia boasted acts of minor public disturbance, mostly perpetrated by teenage boys playing tricks, and nothing the town constable had not ever been able to handle.
Sofia sniffed knowing the addition was one of Father Humbert's suggestions. The thought of the odious man made her push on. "I go to mass only because Dad demands it, but I don't much believe in it. For weeks now I've been meeting with Sister Marla for lessons."
"Lessons? What kind of lessons?" He frowned down at her, his attention recaptured. Marla was Lucinda's mother and the foremost witch of the village.
She lowered her voice so as not to be over heard. Her eyes shined impishly. "In witchcraft."
"Sweet Goddess, help us all," he muttered, rolling his eyes upwards as if seeking divine patience. "Even after Roland forbid your magic lessons?"
"He didn't forbid them." She prickled. "Merely suggested that I turn my studies elsewhere. I only agreed because I did not wish to get you in trouble."
"I can take care of myself, Highness, thank you very much," he growled in atone that suggested just the opposite of thanks.
"Come now, let's not quarrel." The argument was an old one and she had no wish to rehash it now. Besides, she always seemed to come out wrong in the end. Thinking on the loss of her private tutoring sessions in magic hurt for so many reasons, and today was not a day she wished to feel sad. "Mistress Marla is merely teaching me the Craft of the Old Ways, mostly rituals and lore, nothing wicked."
"Wicked is a subjective term, my dear."
She looked at him, about to defend the Craft, but saw at once that his eyes were etched with lines of worry. "It is no big deal," she insisted. "Mother knows. And she'll intervene with Father if need be. For now, were just … not telling him."
The worry did not leave his face and Sofia felt a warmth bubbling up inside her that it was on her behalf.
"Come now, there are only a few hours before sunset and there is so much to see." She put some extra enthusiasm into her voice. "What shall we do next?"
The lighting of the bonfire held no less majesty than it had the previous year. If anything, it had more now that she knew the history and traditions of those she increasingly considered "her people". Her mother had relaxed her curfew by another hour so she did not have to rush off immediately after the lighting this time.
Lucinda found her almost at once, while Cedric's attention was diverted by a woman in a scarlet dress and matching cloak who asked to speak to him. Sofia had frowned reflexively at the familiar way the woman had said his name, and the casual way she'd touched his arm to call his attention.
"Possessive much, Princess?" Lucinda giggled into her ear, handing her a cup of golden liquid.
Sofia realized she'd been glaring at the woman. "No," she said at once, too quickly to be convincing. "I can't be possessive over something that isn't mine, can I? Mister Cedric is free to speak to whomever he wishes."
"Oh, Mister Cedric, is it? You're not fooling me, Sofia. I've seen the way you bat your eyes at him."
"What?" Sofia felt her cheeks color. "I do not. Cedric's my friend, my teacher. Or was my teacher. I couldn't possibly."
"Sure," Lucinda said innocently. "You're just friends. Then I suppose you won't mind if I took a crack at him." She pressed a finger to her lips in thought. "I've always thought he was pretty good looking. Perhaps after he toddles you off to bed, I could simply suggest we slip off to the woods and ..."
The Season had taught her much, but Sister Marla had taught her more; she understood now what happened when giggling couples tiptoed into the dark of the trees. Mistress Marla said there was no shame, no sin, in sex. Whomever the Goddess chooses, she had said, is worthy and divine, especially at the sabbaths. Thoughts of Lucinda playing the Goddess to Cedric's God filled Sofia with the unkind urge to snatch the witch by one of her braids and yank it from her head. The sentiment must have shown on her face.
"Ha!" The witch crowed in triumph. "I was right. I knew it. You do like him."
"Fine," Sofia groused. "I do. Are you happy now? It's not like I can do anything about it."
"Why not? If you want to slip off to the wood with him, I won't tell anyone."
Sofia drew back. "Why I couldn't— I mean, he'd certainly never— He sees me as nothing more than a little girl."
"Not judging by the looks I've seen thrown your way," the witch sang teasingly. She tipped her cup subtly, encouraging Sofia to take a look for herself.
She did, her head whipping around before she could tell herself to be more subtle. The scarlet clad woman was still talking but Cedric wasn't looking at her; he was looking at Sofia over the flames of the bonfire. His severe expression showed no more than cursory interest and a touch of suspicion, but Lucinda's suggestion encouraged the princess to imagine more. When their eyes met and he quickly tore his away at being caught, a flutter shivered through her belly.
"He's probably just … making sure I don't get lost before curfew," she mumbled around the pulse beating suddenly hard in her chest. She tried to convince herself the light in his eyes had just been a trick of the fire light, but even as she said the words, she knew she did not fully believe them.
Sofia did not catch Cedric out watching her again, but she fancied that she felt his eyes on her when she wasn't looking. A nervous bubble grew in her belly, making her feel pleasant and nervous at the same time. The two feelings jolted together in a mixture that seemed only soothed by the cup of mead in her hand. She drank it down much too fast and took another, silently promising to pace herself. Somehow it managed to go much the way of the first and before she knew her cup was empty again. She stopped herself from grabbing a third. Already her head was swimming. The nervousness had disappeared somewhere along the way, leaving only a pleasant, light feeling and the growing assurance that Cedric coveted her attention but was unable to say so or show it outright.
When he came to fetch her at the appointed time, she left with him willingly, offering a smirking Lucinda a sibilant farewell. The crimson garbed woman, Sofia noticed smugly, threw her a disdainful glare.
She clung to his arm as they descended the hill and walked the long empty road towards the castle. Every villager was either warmly tucked into their beds or reveling around the bonfire. They were quite alone except for the night creatures singing their last songs of the season. Cedric gave her one perturbed look, but she clung to his sleeve (only partially for the comfort of it, and mostly to keep her wandering gait on a straight line) and complained that she was cold. When he turned away without removing his arm from her grasp, she fairly hummed with joy.
Lucinda's words swirled through her thoughts. Could she be right? Did Cedric want her, but simply could not show it? It made a certain kind of sense. If he did find her attractive, as several men had proclaimed during the Season, he couldn't simply tell her, now could he? He'd have to hide his feelings.
The intoxication from the wine was nothing next to the feeling of power. Whomever the Goddess chooses, she thought, giggling.
As they neared the bridge she tripped over a loose cobblestone and went sprawling onto her backside dragging Cedric down with her. He might have mistaken it for clumsiness in the dark had she not burst into a fit of riotous laughter, including an undignified snort.
He got up, brushing dirt from his robes while glaring down at her still snorting in the dusty road. "Are you drunk?" he demanded, incredulous.
"No," she gurgled at once, before thinking the lie the funniest thing she'd heard and lost herself in another fit of laughter. Wiping tears from her eyes, she tried to school her expression. Getting up proved more difficult than she expected. The ground seemed not to want to stay put, but with a great deal of floundering she managed to find her feet again.
Cedric glared silently, mottled patched of anger coloring his cheeks. "You insipid girl, I cannot take you to your parents in this state."
"I'm fine," she insisted, swaying of her feet. "They'll never spec- susbect- suspect a thing. I promise."
He growled between his teeth. The sound sent a delicious thrill through her body. She enjoyed affecting him, but she'd never dared to make him angry like this. He glared a moment before seeming to come to some unhappy conclusion.
"Come along," he snarled, taking her hand to drag her behind him.
Sofia followed willingly, eagerly even.
He did not lead them to the main doors, but instead skirted the side of the castle wall. At the base of the tower was a door grown over with climbing roses. Sofia had found it on her occasional wandering through the garden and thought it locked. Cedric dropped her hand. Holding his palm out towards the door he growled a string of guttural words, a chant that made the roses shrink back. The locked opened with a hidden clunk from somewhere within. Sofia bit her lip, imagining them ensconced in a secret scheme against her parents as he retook her hand and pulled her up the spiral staircase behind him.
He did not wish to see her in trouble, that much was plain, and going to lengths to keep her safely hidden, even to his own detriment. Her curfew must surely have passed by now. The sense of urgency coupled with sharing a secret all their own made her giddier than the wine had.
They entered his workshop through a back entry. He left her in the center of the room to rummage in the cupboards. She drank in the smell of him all around her. The workshop was his secret sanctuary and he'd brought her willingly into the heart of it. He really did care for her.
When her returned with a flask of golden yellow potion, she paid it no mind, never wondering why he'd brought her here. Before he could speak, she lurched at him, finally decided. If he couldn't show his affection for her, she would relieve him of the burden. It seemed the most obvious solution once she'd thought of it. Perfect. Flawless even.
Brazenly her arms went about his neck, and she pressed the full measure of her lips against his mouth. His lips were warm. Warmer than any boy she'd ever kissed. It was the magic; It hummed just beneath his skin, raising his temperature. The warmth of him was a delight against the cold still clinging to her lips, cheeks and nose. She sighed into the kiss, only having a moment to rejoice in its pleasure before she found herself thrust forcefully away.
Cedric held her at arm's length, his hands so tight against her shoulders that they nearly hurt. She looked at his face expecting to find him flustered, embarrassed, perhaps inflamed with passion, like all the books said he should be. But she realized at once that the books were wrong. He was angry. Furious, by the set of his mouth into a thin line and his hard eyes.
"What in the name of Hades do you think you are doing?"
Her mouth fell open as a slow flush crept into her cheeks. Mortification swept away the remaining alcohol, bringing her current predicament into sharp relief.
"I—"
"Here!" He thrust the potion at her, his expression registering a displeasure that curdled her insides. "Drink this," he said waspishly. "It will sober you up."
"I'm sorry," she managed to mumble, cringing at the way her words slurred. She accepted the vial meekly, too abashed to even protest being treated as a child.
Her apology did nothing to stem his ire. His nostrils flare, his breath short and harsh. "Report to your parents to show them you are safe and relatively sound. After that, I don't care what you do, but I expect never to heard of this ever again."
She recognized his dismissal and hurried down the stairs, desperate to outrun the mixture of embarrassment and disappointment churning in her belly. Despite herself, she stopped just before the curve out of sight to look back. Cedric stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with a weariness that made her sorrier than anything else had.
"Of all the fool things—" he muttered to himself before shutting the door with a resolute bang.
She hung her head. She'd been stupid to think—
She'd believed because she wanted to believe. For the first time she began to truly understand what it was to feel disappointment and the keen sting of being denied something important. This hurt far worse than the day her father forbade (and she really did have to admit that he had forbade her) any further lessons in magic. She began to cry, partially because the alcohol made her weepy, but mostly because it felt like pieces were being taken from her; vital thing that she could not get back thought she needed them to live.
In her room she took the potion that would speed up her sobriety, then quickly brushed her teeth to remove any trace of alcohol on her breathe. She washed her face and schooled her expression into something pleasant. They frowned at the clock when she reported to them, but said little as she kissed her mother's cheek and gave her father a hug. All the while she beat back tears, trying to ignore the painfully feelings bursting in her chest.
Back in her room, her maid removed her costly dress, took down her carefully chosen hairstyle, and helped Sofia into bed. Once she was finally, blessedly, alone, Sofia burst into messy sobs again. It was part mulish weeping, but something deeper stirred within. She couldn't escape the sense that something had died this day, and at her hand. Her pillow soaked in her tears. Despite her misery, her eyes began to droop as her tears ran dry. By morning there would be no evidence of them at all, but the consequences of her actions this night would ring for many years.
Author's Note: There are two more chapters left in this story. I am trying a new tactic in which I do not post a story until I have it fully outlined and more than half-way complete. I hope to stick to a posting schedule from now on. I'm going relatively easy on myself by shooting for an update every other Friday. (Every week if I can, but I make no promises.) Next chapter will be up by Friday Sept 27 at the latest.
Side note for anyone interested in my developing writing "process": Fun fact (and, yes, that is sarcasm), the reason Into the Darkness languished for so long without an update is because I kind of, sort of ripped off my own plot to write Revelry. Originally, I planned for Sofia to disguise herself on Samhain, using the cover of darkness and whatnot to proposition Cedric. Sexy times would ensue and Sofia would flee afterwards realizing she'd made a mistake believing a one-time "emotionless" fling would be enough. Of course in her haste she would leave behind some token of her identity (I planned on the ribbon she bought in chapter one). Cedric would confront her, confess to having FEELINGS, happily ever after ending and whatnot. I re-read the first chapter and what I had written of the second chapter and suddenly discovered a whole new path for the story to take. Some things just take time, I suppose.
Much love and blessing to you all!
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