Carriage Ride: Tales

A moment in time wherein Sylf and Ephraim are riding in the carriage, and Sylf asks Ephraim about an alternate life.

Timeframe: Rebellion

Ephraim sighed dramatically; a puppy stuck in his cage desperate to escape. Sylf couldn't blame him this time though—she loathed riding in the carriage. Normally she was able to wrangle out of accompanying the antsy Prince by stating she was needed to scout ahead or run a patrol, but not today.

It was too long of a trip and Ephraim insisted that she take some time to rest after being up for close to 24 hours, if not longer. He wasn't exactly wrong and so, Sylf was able to fully rest. But it also meant she was trapped until the next designated stop, which wasn't for several more hours.

"Let's play a game!" Ephraim exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

"No."

"I haven't even said the name of the game yet!"

She glared at him in response. Ephraim sighed, dejected. Then, he grinned. "Not even Gavant? We can even put a wager on it."

"You don't like gambling."

"Not with money! With questions!"

"That is a terrible wager."

Ephraim pouted at her. "There has to be something we can do to pass the time."

Sylf looked back out at the window at the rolling green hills and farms. Without looking at him, she asked,

"If you weren't a Prince, what would you have done with your life?"

He smiled, pleased at the distraction but then grew pensive. "Hm, well…" he brightened, smiling at her. "I want to hear what you think first!"

He moved so he was sitting next to her instead of across from her. Even though there was enough space for the two of them to sit comfortably without touching, Ephraim still sat against her, his shoulder and legs lightly pressed against hers.

Sylf didn't mind it. How could she, when he was smiling at her like that? It was a quiet and comfortable intimacy that was only theirs. She much preferred this with Ephraim, then games or his puppy whining.

"I think you would have been on a farm," she began, but he quickly interrupted her.

"A farmer? What kind?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course! This is my life we're talking about."

Sylf rolled her eyes. "Wheat. And livestock."

Ephraim nodded, raptly listening. "Is that it?"

"Well, if you would let me continue, you would find out."

He grinned at her while motioning with his fingers that he was sealing his lips shut.

"So, Ephraim, raised as a wheat farmer, until you came of age where you would seek adventure. You would travel for a time, fighting evil sorcerers, helping the poor—that sort of thing."

"That does sound like me. What comes next?"

"Eventually, you meet a comely woman in your travels and eventually decide it's time to hang up your adventuring hat. You marry her and take her back to the farm where you have a brood of children and live happily ever after."

Ephraim smiled at her. "The simple life."

"So, how did I do?" Sylf asked.

"Hm, well," he said slowly. "I can see myself as an adventurer, under the right circumstances. But I'd rather be a florist or a gardener for a noble's estate. However, a farmer's lifestyle does seem fitting for me though, so I give your version a 7 out of 10."

7 out of 10? It was a reasonable assessment, she supposed. "No comment on the comely wife and brood of children?"

Ephraim flushed, his cheeks spotting pink. "Having children is important to me. Though, a 'brood' might be too many!" He laughed again.

He clapped his hands and turned to Sylf. "Your turn!"

"I haven't really thought about it much," she admitted.

"That's okay! It just means I get to make up something wonderful for you and you'll tell me that I was spot on 10 / 10!"

"…Sure."

"Okay!" he exclaimed. "You would be born an elven princess, but the third or fourth child of the king and queen. Your elder siblings are completely incompetent, but you watch and listen and learn. You earn favor in court, but the heir begins to suspect you of trying to usurp their position. So, they arrange for you to be married to some old nobleman to get you out of the way."

"But! Before the wedding proceeds, the nobleman dies of mysterious circumstances." He wiggled his fingers in the air, as if to conjure this mystery. "The court pities you and it only makes you more popular. As you become more popular, the heir becomes less popular and eventually the king names you, his heir. So, in the end, you become queen and rule the elven kingdom for a long, long time. The end!"

Sylf forced herself to humor him. "No romance?"

"Oh, there's plenty of romance. You have elves throwing themselves at your feet! You take many lovers and have several children, but you never marry."

The comfort and warmth of Ephraim next to her felt cold. It was a cute story. She could see it. But it was too close to being a reality for her and it bothered her more than it should.

As if sensing something was wrong, he frowned and asked hesitantly, "Was it…right?"

She looked away from him, unsure, then, frustrated. "If you wanted to ask me about my family, you didn't have to do it in such a roundabout manner."

Ephraim was silent next to her for a long moment. Then, he placed his hand on her arm, his warmth seeping through the fabric of her blouse.

"Sylf, no matter what life you lead, you always will find yourself in a position of power. Of that, I am certain."

His words surprised her; it wasn't the answer she was expecting. She glanced back at him to see his golden eyes locked on her, his visage serious.

"If you got to Raizen first, before he got to you, I have no doubt you would be ruling the Undercity at this very moment. And there is no way you would have come into my service at that point." He paused, and then added, "But I think it's for the better."

Sylf narrowed her eyes at him. "What is that supposed to mean?" She lost so much when Raizen attacked her little row house, her identity as Alais Dawnwood. Though it had been several years, the loss still stung.

Ephraim looked uncomfortable now, but he didn't look away from her. "I think, I think your life as Atrea Silverleaf enabled your vices. And, I think without Tommy, you would be the worst version of yourself. If you took out Raizen and didn't join me, I would have taken Tommy from you. You would have been alone."

Sylf didn't know what to make of this. "What is it that you're saying, Ephraim?" she said coolly.

But he still did not look away or back down from her clearly mounting anger. "You want to be in control. To have control you must have power, and—" he breathed in deeply then finished, "Power has the propensity to make people cruel."

Was that how he saw her? Cruel? It wasn't though as it was unwarranted. Sylf knew she was ruthless and, admittedly, vindictive, but cruel? Knowing that Ephraim thought of her that way stung more than it should.

She tore her gaze from him, wishing that he wasn't sitting so close, that his hand wasn't on her arm.

"Whatever power and control you crave, Sylf, it doesn't bother me. It's who you are. I just want you to remember that, well, I'm here for you when you need me." He squeezed her arm lightly.

She couldn't help but turn and look at him, his visage soft and warm. "And," he added softly, "I hope you'll be there for me too."

He meant it. Every word. He was a fool for wanting to be so close to her. She was a fool for letting him.

"3 out of 10," she said.

He jumped a bit, surprised. Then he drew back, dismayed. "3 out of 10?!"

"Your story was… too real." His dramatics fell as he stared at her, understanding forming in his features. But before he could speak, she added, "I certainly would have become a villain. After all, I don't have you or Tomlyn in this reality, do I?"

Ephraim smiled. "No. So! An Evil Villain it is! And not just any evil villain, oh no, in your quest for power you become a creature of the night—a vampire queen!"

"You've been listening too closely about those stories coming out of Astinos, haven't you?"

"Actually," he flushed, "The book I'm currently reading is a romance-thriller with vampires." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, as the vampire queen you have an entire domain at your feet!"

"Until a group of adventurers, including Ephraim the Florist, comes to stop me," she added, a small smile forming on her lips. "A perilous mission for the Florist after such a sweet parting to his future comely wife."

"Hm, well, yes. Although-" His cheeks flushed crimson and he glanced away from her as he said, "I'm not sure once the Florist meets the Vampire Queen, he'll remember the comely woman at all." He coughed awkwardly and continued, "Anyway! As a Vampire Queen you need a henchman! An entourage!"

"Ah, yes. The Vampire Queen needs fodder minions to throw at the Florist. Better include Tomlyn in your party. He'll be disappointed if he gets left out of this grand adventure."

Ephraim laughed, bright and sonorous. "Tomlyn the Bard it is!"

They carried on like that, weaving this crazy tale of their alternate lives, and before she knew it, they were at the checkpoint. When Bertrand offered to switch places with her, Sylf refused. By the time they reached their destination, they had a whole novel plotted out. It was silly, and pointless, but it was the best carriage ride she had in a long time.