This chapter is dedicated to all you Gwapple shippers out there. Do enjoy. :)
Chapter Six
The sun was setting as Tori made her way home from a friend's house. The narrow street emptying as children were called inside by parents and shopkeepers packed up their merchandise. This was the best time of day, Tori thought. When the constant hum died down and gave way to a calm stillness, and soft candlelight illuminated each window. The peace Tori felt in that moment almost made her forget the problems that'd been on her mind the whole day.
Almost.
She was almost home when she saw Christopher standing in front of his house, holding the door partway open. He'd seen her too, much to her chagrin. They exchanged a stiff nod, nothing more. Things had been awkward between the two of them since they broke it off with each other. Okay, that wasn't exactly true. Things had been awkward between them since Christopher had broken it off with Tori. After the dance on the beach, they'd been together for about four months when Christopher suddenly confronted her about her "relationship" with Gwaine. He'd told her that he couldn't be with a girl who spent more time with another boy than she did with him. He hadn't offered her an ultimatum; perhaps already knowing who she'd choose. Tori supposed she should be gutted about the break up, but mostly she felt sad to lose Christopher as a friend and, to be honest, a little peeved at him too. How could he have been jealous about the amount of time Tori spent with her best friend? It wasn't like it was a lot of time, either. Since the dance, Gwaine had seemed to find his footing when it came to girls, leaving little time for Gwaine and Tori to spend time together like they used to. After Violet, there was Maggie then Samantha and, most recently, Lauren.
When Tori finally reached her house, she saw three familiar shadows inside: her mother, aunt and cousin. This was no surprise. Elen and Aunt Margaret had practically moved in with Tori and her mother ever since Miranda's health problems started. One morning Miranda had woken up and found it almost impossible to move. She'd told Tori that it felt as if she were made of wood, like her joints creaked in protest at every movement. The stiffness passed after about an hour, but if Miranda stayed still for even a moment, she would feel the tautness return. For the past month Tori had had to work on double the amount of orders as usual, as her mother could hardly even thread a needle in her condition. Aunt Marge tried to help as much as she could, but lacking the quick, deft hands that her sister and niece possessed (or used to possess, in her sister's case), she could only help with keeping the small house in shape and helping Miranda exercise her joints. Elen often sat beside Tori as she worked, trying to make her cousin smile as she raced to complete the orders, often having to remind her to slow down lest she poke more holes in her fingers.
Miranda did not leave the house. She would not let the other villagers see her until she got better, but Tori feared she would never get better. Sometimes, for a few hours, the stiffness would subside and Miranda would be like her old self again, but then it would come back with a vengeance. The local healer came by the house sometimes to drop off a bottle of pain reliever, but they were so expensive and Miranda went through one bottle so quickly. It was never enough.
Earlier today Tori had finished off the last dress. As soon as she sewed the last stitch, she'd thrown the silken thing onto the workbench and went out for some air. Her first instinct was to see Gwaine, but then she remembered Lauren and thought better of it. And Elen was with Tobias, so Tori sought out the company of Violet, the girl Gwaine had taken to the dance last year. He and she had only been together a few weeks after that, but in those few weeks Tori had found out that although Violet could talk non-stop, she would stop if she sensed that someone simply required a listening ear. Tori had liked that about her, and soon the two had become friends.
Now, as Tori stood outside her home, it was clear that there was an argument raging inside.
"Would you stop being so damn proud? It is not a sin to accept help, sister!" Aunt Marge's usually soft voice was barely recognizable as she yelled.
"Giving someone money is not help; it is an insult!" Miranda replied heatedly.
"Not if I expect you to pay me back! Which I do." It was obvious Aunt Marge was only saying that to appease her older sister.
"Do not give me that, Margaret. We both know full well that I could never pay you back. Not while this ailment plagues me."
"Sister, please." Aunt Marge's shadow sat down next to Miranda's. "Whispers of your sickness have spread. Victoria takes after you in that she is a skilled seamstress, but women do not want to buy dresses from sixteen-year-old girls. Women want to buy dresses from women. Those who have bought from you all these years will start turning to your rivals."
"I'll think of something," Miranda said quietly, "but I will not take your money. You have your own girl to think about."
"Elen is almost full grown, and the way things are going with that baker boy of hers, I doubt she will stay in this nest for long." There was a playfulness in Aunt Marge's voice that made Tori smile. She imagined Elen blushing on the other side of the door.
Tori's mother chuckled then gently said, "Be that as it may, you are my little sister, and I am the one who's supposed to take care of you. I will not take your money," she repeated.
Something in her voice left no room for discussion.
It was the middle of summer, but the night air was cool. The air in Tori's side of town was always cool, as it was closest to the beach. The sweet ocean breeze rolled through the small room where Miranda and Aunt Marge shared the bed and Elen and Tori slept on the floor.
Tori's sleep was troubled. Aunt Marge's earlier words kept repeating themselves in her head. Women do not want to buy dresses from sixteen-year-old girls. Tori wasn't sure how accurate that was; Henry's mother usually loved her dresses, but still it niggled at her mind. She had noticed that there were less orders coming in, but what could she do about it? Her real strength was sewing; in all other things she was simply mediocre, and even if she was good at something, she certainly wasn't good enough to make a living off of it. These thoughts kept Tori tossing and turning for most of the night. She had just about given up on sleep when a figure appeared in the window closest to her, blocking out the faint moonlight from outside. Her heart raced as fear ran through her. She slowly reached out to grab the nearest thing she could use as a weapon, but then the figure spoke, and it was with Gwaine's voice.
"Vicky?" he said in a low voice, using the hated nickname. "You awake in there?"
Tori sighed, both relieved and annoyed. She sat up and went to the window. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.
"It's too hot in Timothy's house. Thought I'd come to your neck of the woods." Tori couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was smiling.
"Well you're not sleeping in here, if that's what you're after!"
Gwaine choked back a laugh. "I'm not 'after' anything. I just meant that this part of the village is always cooler, that's all."
Behind Tori, Miranda stirred in her sleep. Tori gently closed the window and went outside so that her voice and Gwaine's wouldn't disturb her family.
"So I was going to go to the beach," Gwaine continued fluidly, like they'd never stopped talking. "Do a spot of star-gazing."
"There aren't any stars out tonight," Tori pointed out.
"Moon-gazing, then."
"The clouds are covering the moon."
"I– Oh, stop looking so smug."
Tori grinned, and turned back to the door. "All right then, if that's all you wanted to tell me, have fun not star-gazing."
"Where do you think you're going?" Gwaine asked, raising an eyebrow.
"To…sleep?"
"No you're not; you're coming with me," Gwaine said, as though this was evident.
"Oh really?" Tori crossed her arms, her voice playfully derisive. "Why was I not informed?"
Gwaine smirked. "I'm informing you now, Vicky."
"Stop calling me that!"
"You love it."
Tori scowled. "I really don't."
"If you want me to stop, come. This blanket's big enough for two. And I brought apples." Only then did Tori notice the rolled up blanket tucked under one of his arms, and a burlap sack slung over his shoulder.
She peered at him. "Why didn't you ask Lauren?"
Gwaine made a face. "She doesn't like apples."
Tori snorted, shook her head. "Let me get my cloak."
Once they'd made their way to the shoreline – with little help from the erratic moonlight – Gwaine and Tori laid the blanket on the sand and proceeded to feast on ripe, red apples. The sound of their talk and laughter competed with that of the waves pounding against the sand.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Tori sighed contentedly during a lull in the conversation. Her stomach ached from laughing so much; the first time in a long time.
"Hm?" Gwaine was too busy chewing to form a proper reply. "What's been a while?"
"Ugh," Tori laughed, holding up her hands to shield herself from the apple bits that flew from his mouth. "You eat like a pig!"
"I'm always as hungry as a pig," Gwaine complained.
"The saying is 'hungry as a horse', you idiot."
"No, I think pigs get hungrier. Have you seen the way they attack their food when it's given to them?"
"Yes, I'm seeing it right now," Tori quipped.
"Oh, very funny," Gwaine rolled his eyes. "What were you saying? What's been a while?"
"What? Oh, nothing, just…us…spending time together."
"Well you've been holed up in your house for the better part of the last month."
Tori glared at him, not that he'd be able to see it in the darkness. Her voice was sharp, though, when she said, "You know why."
"Yeah, I know. How is your mother?"
"Getting worse, I think," Tori said, frowning. "And I don't mean physically."
When Gwaine didn't say anything, she realized how that might've sounded. "Not mentally either! She's not crazy! I just meant…y'know, her morale is down. And she's stressed about money…she's just not herself as of late."
"Can't blame her."
"No, of course not. I don't. It's just…I wish I could do something to help."
"Wed a rich man," Gwaine suggested, only half joking. Tori didn't laugh.
The air had become heavy between them. Gwaine didn't like it.
"Speaking of…nothing related to what I'm about to say now," he blurted, changing the subject ever so tactfully, "I saw Christopher today." He paused, to see if she wanted the subject changed. When she didn't give him any kind of reproach he went on. "He gave me…a look."
"What kind of look?" said Tori, taking the bait.
"An 'I-want-to-poke-you-with-a-lance' kind of look."
"Oh, I hate those." She grinned as she bit into a fresh apple.
"You know, I've always wondered," Gwaine began, a slow crooked smile appearing on his face, "how far'd you get with him?"
Tori almost choked on her apple. "You wondered what?"
"Oh, y'know, how far did you and he go before–"
"That is none of your business!"
"I see. Far enough that you won't tell me, then," Gwaine said sagely, then ducked to avoid the apple core thrown at him. "Was he any good?"
"He…he was a good kisser. As for…the rest of it, I wouldn't know," Tori said pointedly, grateful for the darkness so Gwaine couldn't see her flushed face. "Honestly!" she muttered, rolling her eyes. "The questions you ask sometimes."
Gwaine grinned a roguish grin and languidly lay down on the blanket, hands behind his head. "Lauren wants to wait until marriage," he said casually.
"She– wait. You two've already talked about marriage?"
"No, no, no, she's talked about marriage."
"Oh right, because she's so in love with you," Tori said wryly.
"She did say she would die for me."
Tori raised her eyebrows. "Oh, God," she scoffed.
"What?"
"I just hate it when people say that. It doesn't make any sense to me."
"Pretty clear, isn't it?" Gwaine said. "If you love someone, you'd willingly lay down your life for them, right?"
"But that's the thing that bothers me, see." Tori lay on her side now, propping herself up on her right elbow. "If you truly loved that person, why would you be so willing to die? If you die, you don't get to be with them anymore, and they don't get to be with you. It's stupid. You're dead, and you've left behind someone who can't live without you."
At that point Gwaine propped himself up as well. "What if they died trying to protect you? What if they died so you could live?"
"Fat lot of good that does me!"
Gwaine was silent as the realization struck him; he felt stupid for having taken so long. She was talking about her father. Of course she was. Jeremiah had put the lives of his wife and daughter before his, and now he was dead. In Tori's eyes, he'd left them.
"What's the point?" she asked Gwaine, her voice quiet. "If someone who makes your life wonderful is gone, what's the point?"
After a moment he replied, "I don't know. You just do the best you can, I suppose."
"I suppose," she echoed. She sighed and rolled onto her back. He did the same. Just then, the moon decided to show its silver face. A sliver of it anyway. It was a crescent moon.
"That's my favourite," Gwaine said, "when the moon's like that."
That came as no surprise to Tori. It suited him, she thought. The bit of the moon they could see shone brightly, bathing the surrounding clouds with its light. Yet there was always that section covered in darkness, in mystery. When Gwaine hunted, when he drank, when he talked of Henry and the hatred he held for nobles, when he fought – he was like the dark side of the moon. Yet still, she asked, "Why?"
"Because that's how it looked when my mother brought me to the beach for the first time. We swam all day and stared up at that moon for most of the night."
"Sounds nice," Tori murmured. Her eyes felt heavy.
"Tori?"
"Hm?"
"Just so you know," Gwaine turned his head to look at her, "I would never die for you."
The smile Tori gave him was small, but genuine. "You promise?"
"Only if you do."
"I wouldn't die for you, either," she replied as she tried – in vain – to fight back a yawn. It caught on, and soon Gwaine was yawning as well. Tori had no desire to sleep on the beach, but she didn't see the harm in resting her eyes for just a moment, taking in the briny air, the caressing breeze, the rhythmic sound of the waves. She closed her eyes. Just for a second…
Tori woke up to the sweet scent of apples all around her. She kept her eyes shut and breathed deeply in, filling her lungs with it, thinking it was the best smell in the world. She burrowed her nose deeper into her pillow where it seemed to be coming from, pulled it closer to her. Her eyes snapped open when she realized.
Her pillow had a heartbeat.
She shot up into a sitting position, horrified as she took in her surroundings. Sand and water everywhere; daylight crawling into the clouds in the east; a burlap sack once filled with apples now full only with their cores. And worst of all, Gwaine lying next to her, snoring softly. Tori hit him in the stomach, hard. He awoke like a cat threatened, crouched on his feet like he expected a fight. He might just get one with the way Tori was glaring at him.
"Why'd you hit me?" he asked, rubbing his stomach.
"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" she shot back.
For a moment, he looked confused. "What? Oh, last night. You looked tired; I wasn't about to wake you up!"
Tori just shook her head and stood up to leave. "I have to get back home before my mother notices I'm gone."
She half ran back to her house, only a couple minutes away from the surf. Most people were too busy setting up their market stalls to pay her much attention, and for that, Tori was grateful. When she reached her small house, relief flooded her. Nothing but silence came through the still-closed windows. She was at the door – and fully convinced that she'd made it – when Elen opened the door, carrying an empty water bucket. The two cousins stared at each other for a moment; Elen surprised, Tori apprehensive.
Elen did a once-over on Tori, taking in her disheveled hair, anxious blue eyes and sand-flecked dress. A movement to her right caught Elen's eye, and she turned to see Gwaine coming toward them from the direction of the beach looking much in the same state as Tori: tousled hair, sandy clothes, carrying a blanket under his arm.
Elen's eyes brightened and her mouth made an 'o'. And she sounded much too giddy when next she spoke.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?"
PSA: If you like stories with an amazing OC, I URGE you to check out A Woman of War, A Kingdom of Strife by Ardent Apathy. I stumbled across it a few days ago, and read it straight through in one sitting, which I don't normally do. What are you still doing here? Go read and review it now! Um, after you review this chapter, that is. xD
(And no, the author didn't ask me to do this. I've never even spoken to her, other than reviewing the story, but I just think it's a truly great fic that deserves more reviews than it has. Okay? Okay.)
