Allegro

A/N: And now we jump into the real reason I wanted to write this in the first place. Ballet dancers are stronger than anyone and I just feel like there should be more horror with the sport considering how hard dancers push themselves, but also they should be properly helped and taken care of. So with that, we settle into a perspective change. Ah haha, I'm splitting this chapter into two parts.

Sandy sighed as she put her book in her lap, her leg wouldn't stop aching the more it rained and it seemed like it wouldn't let up anytime soon. Luckily the doctor was supposed to be visiting today. If the rain would let her that is. After all, Dr. Morden was helping her improve her wooden leg with what she and the servants gathered around the house.

For now, she just had to make sure Randy wouldn't notice them gone, even if they were in the attic. Old candelabras, fire pokers, anything to reinforce and support her weight and wooden leg. As well as to make it less stiff, maybe she could even add ankle joints and not be stuck in this house anymore.

The door opened, revealing Shadow already dressed and seemingly nervous. Sandy smiled at him, saying, "Good morning, Shadow. I hope you slept well."

"You as well," he mumbled, going over to his easel. "Um, I know you only commissioned me for one portrait, but. . ."

"Is something wrong with the one you've started?" she asked once he trailed off, sitting up against her pillows.

"No, no, it's fine, it's just I had no idea you were. . ." he paused, swallowing thickly. "spoken for. It just seems inappropriate for me to paint you in this setting if you'll be gone."

Oh. Oh, well, it wasn't like Sandy wasn't head over heels for Valen; it was just. . .he rarely came by and when he did, they never had much to speak about. It was the usual pleasantries and dull 'how are you' conversations. "Is Valen here?" she asked, closing her book and putting it aside.

"Yes," Shadow answered, sitting in front of his easel. "I've already gotten the sketch, so if you wish to, you can go see him. Last I checked he was with your brother."

"Thank you," she mumbled, fixing her wooden leg to her knee and grabbing her cane. "I'll be back soon."

Sandy huffed, looking at the descending, spiraling staircase. There was nothing to be nervous about, it was just the same stairs she had ran up and down as a child. Nothing had changed. . .

"Lady Sandy," Isabella said, nearly startling her. "what are you doing out of bed? And still in your nightgown no less?"

Sandy swallowed, grabbing onto Isabella's arm. "I was just gonna speak with Valen, that's all."

Isabella frowned, round cheeks taking on a pale color. "He's still speaking with your brother. It'd be wise not to bother them, you know how men are about dowries and such." She replied, starting to lead Sandy back to her room.

"Well, maybe they've finished by now. Besides, Valen and I will spend the rest of our days with each other." No matter how much the thought alone frightened her. She was twenty-three and wasn't ready to be further confined to a house. She headed downstairs, ignoring Isabella as she tried to lead Sandy back upstairs.

"Valen," she started, pausing at what she saw. Two of her brother's fingers were bloody, on the floor, along with her father's old sword and Randy kneeling. Sandy lurched forward, frantically tearing at her nightgown to staunch the bleeding. She wasn't aware she was yelling at Valen until he just smiled.

"So, Randy," he started, stepping around her as if she had never entered the room. "I guess I'll be in charge while you heal up." He said.

Randy wheezed, eyes shiny with unshed tears as he looked at his twin sister. "If—If I had known, Sandy, I'm so sorry. I should've let you make a decision first."

Sandy was still as Valen took her hand in his, unceremoniously shoving a silver band on her finger as he pulled her up and out of the study. The realization of what had transpired didn't hit her until then, a scream tearing it's way from her throat as she tried to get back to her brother, to help him or at least make the doctor arrive quicker.

Two days. She had been married in the span of two days.