Deirdre stared at the circlet.
It now sat in her palms; weightless, she thought it would snap if she gave one good push, yet she did just that, bending her thumb against it, and the circlet did not give.
She knew as much about it as she did herself, which was to say not much. It had been with her forever, or as she understood forever. Hers — not a gift, nor something she found in the myriad shops that dotted the capital, but hers. Though it could not tell her anything of the person she had been before, where either of them hailed from, or how they came to be together, it was wholly hers. She constantly wore it, except to bathe and brush her hair out.
She wanted for nothing. Not at all! Lord Arvis was generous with his gifts; anything mundane she needed, a butler got her, and she was free to wander. Undoubtedly cared for, but the circlet felt different. A life before waking in Belhalla!
But now she was Princess Deirdre of Grannvale, a surprise to everyone. She was not Princess Deirdre when she woke, or before — her grandfather the king did not know her, and by the way he spoke, her father, late Prince Kurth, did not know her either. No thoughts that she could exist — Prince Kurth, apparently, took no one's company — yet the mark on her head was true. (She checked.)
Sitting her circlet down on the table, she idly took in the spread of tea and treats before her. A light lunch with King Azmur in one of the many sunspots around the palace. Improper for the king to come down to Lord Arvis' manor, almost as inappropriate as her carrying on living with him, a day trip to the palace passed the time.
The king invited her back to take her in, to see a child so wonderful it drove grief out of his bones. The prince's passing — her father! a man she did not know who never knew her, gone before she came to Belhalla (surely she came to Belhalla, not from it; how else would her own father miss her? King Azmur spoke like the prince hung the sun) — left him distraught, but unveiling the truth of her birth brought him out of bed and made him fifteen years younger, so the servants chittered.
She knew little.
The king talked heartily for an aging man. Grannvale would not die with him, invested in the minute details of her approaching wedding. His enthusiasm was welcomed, but the king dreamt of an elaborate, intricate wedding with little resemblance to the one she and Lord Arvis idly talked about in bed. Different flowers, foods, times to be wed! Grandfather wanted it during the afternoon, time to make merry afterwards, while Arvis wanted it with his breakfast with no mention of excessive dancing. The afternoon sounded nicest — mornings did not come easy to her.
Nothing was certain save for the circlet. There was another she could wear, belonging to the late queen (a woman Lord Arvis never met); her circlet only came off to bathe, unable to imagine going forward without it. Deirdre paled, and the king backed off, laughing genially.
They did not only talk about the upcoming wedding, but the king wanted it done while he lived. Hopefully you can forgive me when I scuff your shoes, King Azmur said with his brittle voice, I have not danced in some time!
Just thinking about it made her sleepy.
Today, it felt like the king was not coming. She was on her second cup. Doubtful of her ability to find her way around the palace, she plucked a thin cookie off a platter. Jitters took her breakfast. Lemon and peppermint.
It wasn't her favorite, setting it back down. The palace cooked good food, but she was used to the food Lord Arvis' servants cooked. She was used to Lord Arvis.
*...*
The king sent her a note by a guard's hand: his knees would not cooperate, if she could forgive him, and they could meet again after she looked at gowns. Her day dresses were not fit to be married in, and Grannvalean fashions changed season-to-season.
"Well," she asked the guard, tongue heavy, "will you see if Lord Arvis will come?"
The guard bowed, doing it without question.
Lord Arvis did not keep her waiting. She only managed a day with Lord Arvis being completely formal towards her. before asking him to drop it all. Unable to tell her no, they returned to how they had been, though princess scraped her ears. (Before, she asked if their marriage would make her a duchess, or some other title she did not know. He never gave her a straight answer, only that she'd be at his side.)
Still, she would not begrudge his welcoming kiss, bent at the waist to graze her forehead. "These are too many snacks for one woman," she led with. "Will you sample them with me?" He knew her as she did him; he took the seat across from her meant for the king. He left early in the morning without her, grateful to see him.
Moving the circlet off to the side of the assorted platters to keep the tablespace between them clear, there were a dozen things to say. Their impending wedding, the time after, the time before. Did he know he was beginning to snore? Was there any chance to have a day to themselves?
"Have you been busy today?" he asked, beating her to it.
Busy! "I have been kept waiting by everyone."
"Deirdre."
"Most everyone." She sat back in her seat as the sun curved around the palace. "I have done today what I have for the past week. I did not know kings or weddings were so picky. I learn something new every day, and I am still a wretched dancer." Another afternoon in his arms so she didn't destroy the king's shoes.
He smiled. Oh. In the palace, his eyes did not wander, yet today his gaze felt particularly…different. By his own admission wedding chatter got to him. The two of them married! He needed to be fitted for wedding wear! Unless he was looking at her. He called her beautiful on a whim, though she was uncertain how she compared to others.
Unless…
Deirdre touched her cheek. "Is there something on my face?" she asked, brushing off crumbs she didn't feel.
"No, dear. You have your circlet off, is all." As he said it, it clicked into what she realized earlier — she was going to marry a man who'd seen her bare chest more than her forehead. That first day with the king, the night she tried to scrub it off, and now.
Nothing out of the ordinary. They were engaged! They stared at one another. She did it now — Lord Arvis offered his hand on the curve of the table, sleeve pulled back; she laid hers in his, the tips of her finger resting on his warm wrist. He was a busy man, seeing him late at night or stolen moments like this. "Should I sleep with it off?"
"What you please, love. It is a wonder it does not tangle."
Oh, that would be horrible, especially if they tangled together. How helpful could a man's hands be then? "Now that you've said something," Deirdre grumbled.
"You will be fine like always." She snapped a cookie in half, crumbs sticking to her. Would they have biscuits at their wedding? If she asked nice enough, surely. Did she have to ask? She was Grannvale's only princess. Grandfather offered swans. The one wedding they'd been to together did not have swans.
(Part of her had not thought about a wedding, only a marriage — one day, she would wake, call him husband, immune to rebuttal.)
As she bit her cookie, Lord Arvis looked away from her, and following him, he looked at her circlet. It was no secret she had a circlet, only what slept beneath it. He'd taken it well — they were always going to be wed, but with it now he'd be more than a husband, duke, or whatever he did daily for her grandfather. Little fussed him. She liked him for it, one of many things.
A breeze blew across the terrace, ruffling her hair. She smiled. "Would you help me?"
"Hm?" Their eyes met over the circlet. "I would."
Deirdre vowed to kiss him later. "Will the king have my company in his rooms? I am already here."
"I will see."
"May we leave at the same time?" She offered him the other half of her cookie. He took it, linked by a sweet treat and her fingers on his pulse. The sooner they married, the sooner things could return to normal, or as normal as it could be for her as princess.
"I will see."
AN:/ title taken from Pelléas et Melisande. what a funny couple...
MELISANDE
No, no, we will not find it again, we will not find the others either ...
I thought I had it in my hands though ...
I had already closed my hands, and she fell anyway ...
I threw it too high on the sun side.