I have to give a special shout out to LikeTheStars for reviewing not one, not two, not three, but four times last chapter. I guess faulty internet has its advantages!
Note: This chapter contains the invention of the cupcake, hah.
Chapter Three
"H-hi, Elen."
"Oh, hello, Tobias!"
"I was m-making this at the bakery and...well, I thought you might like some. But it's okay if you don't! I mean, I'm not going to make you take it if you don't want to..."
Elen smiled, but this seemed to make Tobias even more flustered. "What is it?" she asked, examining the contents of the basket he held out.
"Well, uh, it's a cake...but smaller. F-for one person."
"Oh, they look adorable – like they were made in little cups!"
"Y-yes, exactly! I call them cupcakes."
"Cupcakes," Elen repeated. "That's an amazing idea, Tobias."
The poor boy blushed such a deep scarlet he resembled one of the little cakes' frosting. "You really think so?"
"I really do!"
"W-wow, thanks, Elen. I hope you like them," he said as he gave her the basket. He scurried away before she could thank him. Elen shook her head, amazed that someone two years older than her could still be so shy around girls. When she closed the door and turned around, she found her cousin grinning up at her from a nearby chair.
"What?" Elen said, a little defensively.
Tori went back to working on the dress in her lap but continued to smirk. "You know what."
"No, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"Really, Elen, open your eyes! He likes you."
"What? No he doesn't! He's like that with all the girls!"
Tori raised her eyebrows. "So he gives all the girls cupcakes, does he?"
Elen sputtered, her ears turning pink. Finally, she gave up on wit and settled for "Shut up, will you?"
Tori chuckled softly to herself as Elen placed the basket of cupcakes on a table and tried one. They were both at Elen's house; Tori had slept over the night before because her mother and Aunt Margaret had gone on a sort of seamstress's pilgrimage to a town called Oldaern where the most beautiful fabric was made.
It felt good to spend time with Elen again. Ever since they were small, they were like sisters to each other – sharing everything; but once they'd reached adolescence, Tori felt like they had grown apart. Tori had Gwaine, and Elen, with her beautiful golden hair and kind blue eyes, had almost every other boy in the village, vying for her attention.
"He's so shy, though," Elen murmured, and it took Tori a moment to realize who she was talking about.
"Yeah, he is. Maybe he should spend some time with Gwaine," Tori joked.
"Maybe. Speaking of Gwaine," Elen said mischievously, "how are things between you two?"
Tori rolled her eyes. "I know you like to think these things, Elen, but there isn't a love story everywhere you look, all right? We're just friends. He's too annoying to be anything else, anyway."
Elen shook her head disdainfully and muttered something under her breath.
"What did you say?"
"I said, of course you two are just friends, the way you dress!"
"What? What's wrong with the way I dress?" Tori couldn't help but be offended.
"Well, it's just so...boring! So brown and beige. You're a seamstress, for God's sake; take a little pride in your clothes!" Elen opened the closet she shared with her mother and pulled out a deep green dress with delicate flowers embroidered on the neckline and hem. "Here. I want you to change into this right now."
Tori stared blankly at her cousin, but she didn't appear to be finished.
"And your hair," Elen went on. "You're not ten-years-old anymore, Tor, there's no acceptable reason to wear it in two braids." While she talked, she dragged Tori off of the chair and undid the braids, unperturbed by Tori's protests and attempts to swat her hands away.
Finally, Elen stepped back to admire her work. "There we go. Though...it wouldn't hurt to smile a bit."
Tori half-heartedly lifted the corners of her mouth. She didn't think that being told her clothes were boring and her hair childish left her with too much to smile about, but it was impossible to stay mad at Elen. Besides, when she was given a mirror to look at, Tori had to admit that whatever Elen had done had worked. With her brown hair loose, she looked more her age.
Elen beamed. "No need to thank me."
Gwaine slammed the back of his opponent's hand onto the hard surface of the wooden barrel, eliciting a raucous roar from the small crowd that had gathered around the pair. The first few times he'd done this, it had been accompanied by a triumphant laugh or a self-satisfied smirk. Now, however, the exhilaration of winning was wearing off. It was too easy. But he wasn't doing it for the challenge. He held out his palm. "I'll have the money now, thanks."
The older boy Gwaine had been arm-wrestling scowled but handed over a gold coin and left, taking a bruised hand and an even more badly bruised ego with him. Gwaine examined the coin for a moment before pushing it down his right boot with the others he had accumulated that day. He'd been doing this all morning: waiting outside the local tavern and challenging random patrons to arm-wrestle. Most of them foolishly underestimated him and – thinking they couldn't lose to a fourteen year old boy – accepted.
"So," said Gwaine, turning to face those congregated around him. "Who's next?"
"I think I'd like to have a go."
Inwardly, Gwaine groaned. The voice came from behind but he'd be able to recognize that pompous tone anywhere. He turned. "Sure about that, Henry? You do realize you'll have to pay me when I win, don't you?"
"If you win," Henry sneered, pushing aside two small boys to get through. Gwaine was filled with the intense dislike that was so familiar to him when it came to the fair-haired boy. Henry was rude, unkind, arrogant beyond belief, and always had two bull-like 'friends' to hide behind should he need them. But no matter how different they were from each other, Gwaine and Henry were always grouped together; always had been from birth.
Henry was the son of a knight too.
Though his father was still alive, still serving the king. And this was the reason Henry strutted around the town like a peacock, like he owned it, reminding all who challenged him who his father was, telling them he could have the king himself execute them just for harassing the son of his most valuable knight.
The claim was ridiculous, of course, but just ridiculous enough that people didn't doubt it completely.
Henry was all the reasons Gwaine hated nobles, all rolled into one: the lack of humility, the unbearable assumption that he was superior to everyone, not using his title (or his father's title, more like) to help people.
"Of course. If I win," said Gwaine, contempt colouring his every word, every movement as he placed his elbow on the barrel. "Which I will."
Henry scoffed, moved forward and slammed his elbow onto the barrel as well, ensuring a thud that would scare the little ones nearby.
They gripped hands, hard, wanting to see who would squirm away from the pressure first. Someone in the crowd counted down...
And it was over almost as soon as it began, with the back of Henry's hand flat against the wooden surface. Gwaine laughed, the rush of winning returned mingled with the pure satisfaction of seeing the incredulously livid expression on the other boy's face.
"Again!" Henry barked. Gwaine decided to humour him...
The back of Henry's hand was back on the barrel.
"Again!"
Same result.
"Pay up," Gwaine said, smirking.
"No, I demand another rematch."
"You can demand all the rematches you want, but it still won't change the outcome," Gwaine said, trying not to look too pleased with himself.
Too hot-headed for his own good, Henry was now almost shaking. "You're cheating somehow, then. I just know it!"
"It's arm-wrestling, Henry. How does one cheat at that?"
"Then how the hell do you keep winning?" Henry said slowly, through gritted teeth.
"I'm stronger than you," Gwaine said levelly, knowing full well that this could only end badly. "Obviously," he added, just for fun.
Henry's fingers twitched, but he seemed to control himself. Then, to Gwaine bemusement, he smiled. "Isn't that a wonder, though?"
"What?"
"Isn't it a wonder how you're so strong?" Henry's tone of voice put an image in Gwaine's head of a child who smiled before pouring salt on a snail.
"What are you getting at?"
"It's not as if you inherited that strength, you know. My father's told me stories about your father – about how weak he was."
"Don't you dare talk about my father," Gwaine almost snarled.
Henry laughed, giddy over this new triumph. "Know what I think? I bet your father didn't even die in battle. I bet he caught cold and died all warm and comfortable in a bed in the infirmary!"
It was like Gwaine physically couldn't stop his arm from swinging. It happened instantaneously, hitting Henry in the eye and sending him toppling backwards. When the other boy got back up, he only smiled, like he'd been waiting for Gwaine to throw the first punch. And Gwaine knew why: it allowed what would happen next to be excused as self-defence.
Elen had been trying to persuade Tori to taste a cupcake but then stopped talking mid-sentence and frowned. "Do you hear that?" she asked. Tori stopped what she was doing, too, and listened. Quite close by she could hear people shouting, chanting almost. Elen went over to the window and peered outside. She rolled her eyes. "It's Gwaine."
Tori almost laughed. "Should've known. Who's he up against this time?" she asked as she resumed her careful stitching.
"Wait, I can't see…Oh. Oh, not again."
"What?"
"Henry."
Tori swore – a habit she'd picked up from Gwaine – and threw aside her work, sprinting outside toward the crowd, closely followed by her cousin. She didn't usually get involved when Gwaine got into one of his fights (if she did, he'd spend the rest of the day sulking), but when it came to Henry, Tori just couldn't stand by and watch. For someone with a nobleman for a father, Henry didn't seem to even understand the concept of nobility or honour. The fight was always unfair – Gwaine against Henry and his two ever-present followers. And if they ever managed to get Gwaine on the ground, they wouldn't give him the chance to recover, like proper knights would.
There was a sizable crowd gathered around the two boys, egging them on. Tori shoved her way through just in time to see Henry's burly mates – she couldn't, for the life of her, recall their names – pull Gwaine off their leader and throw him to the ground. One of them pulled something out of his belt – something that momentarily blinded Tori as it caught the sun's glare.
"Gwaine!" she screamed when she realized what it was, but the crowd drowned out her voice. Fortunately, Gwaine's instincts were sharp enough that he'd already rolled to the side when he saw the flash of light, so that the dagger only grazed his shoulder. Still, his blood was spilled and that filled Tori with a rage she'd never felt before. With her own blood pounding in her ears, Tori ran up to the one who'd cut Gwaine and punched him so hard in the jaw she wasn't sure on whom she'd inflicted more pain – her target, or herself.
She had to grit her teeth hard to keep from crying out. How did Gwaine make punching look so easy? It bloody hurt!
"What the hell, Tori?" said Gwaine, jumping to his feet.
"Walk away, Gwaine," Tori muttered so only he would hear. "For once in your life, just walk away."
"What's the matter, Gwaine?" Henry shouted, grinning despite the black eye and blood pouring from his nose. "Are you going to run? Run back to your little slut?"
Gwaine moved so fast he was almost a blur. He charged at Henry like a bull that'd been poked and prodded too many times. When Gwaine's fist connected with Henry's face, one could actually hear the impact – and the sickening crunch of broken cartilage. Henry hit the ground. He didn't get back up.
The crowd went silent. No one moved. No one breathed.
Finally, alarmed by the quiet, the adults began streaming from their houses just as the children began blending into the background, not wanting to be caught on the scene. Just when Henry began to stir, Tori and Elen hastily ushered Gwaine away to clean him up, treat his wounds and – in Tori's case – yell at him. Once they reached Elen's house though, the angry words that'd been banging around in her head during the fight eluded her. All she could see now were his bruises, his unusually pale skin, his blood soaked all the way through the shirt she'd made him for his birthday. Elen made him sit on the bed and take off his shirt. The knife wound looked worse exposed.
Tori soaked a rag in water, wrung it out and pressed it against Gwaine's cut shoulder, unsmiling.
"You shouldn't have interfered," Gwaine muttered, not looking at her. Tori thought that if she opened her mouth she would start screaming at him and never stop, so she kept quiet. "Now Henry's going to make your life miserable."
"He won't," Elen piped up.
"What, because he's such a gentleman?" Gwaine said scathingly.
"No," said Elen, bristling at his tone, "because he'd be too scared. No one bothers the butcher's daughter. Well, except you."
Gwaine glowered at her. "Hilarious."
"Look," said Tori, meeting his eyes for the first time since the fight, "it's not like we expect you to thank us or anything, but there's no need to be an arsehole."
"We did sort of stop you from being carved like a turkey," Elen agreed.
"I didn't want – or need – your help!"
"So I suppose getting your shoulder sliced was part of the plan?" Tori said sardonically.
"I was fine! I was doing all ri–"
"The last time you fought Henry you ended up with a broken rib. The time before that he sprained your ankle. And now you have a cut shoulder so don't even tell me you were doing all right," Tori hissed, pressing the cloth into his wound perhaps harder than necessary. Gwaine winced, but – though he was fuming – said nothing.
"And," Tori went on, "the fight was ending, and I told you to walk away, but did you? No! All for what, so people wouldn't think you were 'running away'?"
Elen rolled her eyes and muttered, "Boys and their egos."
Gwaine stood up, so suddenly that Tori had to take a few steps back. "I didn't go back because of that!"
"Then why?" Tori demanded, arms crossed.
"Forget it."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Gwaine."
"I said forget it," Gwaine growled at her. He grabbed his shirt and stormed from the house, slamming the door so hard Tori flinched. She stared after him for a few moments, then threw the blood-stained cloth into a bucket, masking her hurt with anger.
Uncomfortable with the tension in the room, Elen grabbed the basket Tobias had brought earlier and offered it to her cousin meekly. "Cupcake?"
When Tori returned home later that day, with her punching hand bandaged, she found her father waiting for her with arms crossed, a stern expression, and an overall air of disapproval about him. A ball of dread formed in her stomach; she already knew what he was going to say.
"Sit down, Victoria."
She reluctantly sank down on her parents' bed thinking he would sit as well, but he didn't. Silence dragged on until Tori almost stood back up just out of anxiety.
"I heard about what happened today," Jeremiah said finally, eyeing Tori's bandaged hand. "Words cannot describe how very disappointed in you I am. I did not raise my only daughter – my only child – to behave like this."
Tori stared down at her hands. Although she didn't regret hitting the boy with the dagger, she felt ashamed to have let down her father.
"Now, I've been very lenient these past few years, letting things slide when you've gotten into trouble with that Gwaine boy. I thought it was just a phase and that you would outgrow it. But now you're getting into fights? Punching people? Victoria, this isn't you. "
I only punched one person, thought Tori, but out loud she said, "I'm sorry, Father. I promise it won't happen again."
"I know it won't," said Jeremiah, with an awfully conclusive tone. "From this moment forth, you are not to see or be seen with the boy."
"What?" Tori stood up, incredulous. "But, Father, I–"
"Whether we like it or not, Henry's family is an influential one. We cannot afford – we literally cannot afford – to have them as enemies. Henry's mother and her friends get their dresses from your mother. Their family eats the meat I provide. One word from them and no one would buy anything from us ever again. Do you understand, Victoria?" he said this slowly, drilling every word into his daughter's head. It pained him to see the wounded look on her face but this had to be done. Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of family, always. This was something Jeremiah had always taught his daughter. "Tori," he said, leaning down to her height, "tell me you understand."
At that moment, Tori hated her father for demanding this of her, hated Gwaine for always getting in the middle of trouble, hated herself for always getting involved. She almost asked herself why she couldn't leave him alone, but the answer was simple: he made her life better. Before Gwaine, she never got into trouble, never disobeyed an order, never dared leave her comfort zone. She had a routine. Running errands was the most adventurous part of her day. In short: she was boring as hell.
But with Gwaine in her life, every day was a mystery – in the best possible way. He taught her to loosen up, smile more, fight, everything.
She was about to tell her father all this when she looked into his eyes and saw that, for once, they weren't piercing or judgmental – they were pleading. He wasn't demanding, he was asking. He looked sad; an emotion Tori had never before seen on his face. She wanted – she needed to make it go way. And the only way she could do that...
"Okay," she almost whispered. "I understand."
