Bouquet
(C) Nintendo and Intelligent Systems
(Thank you all for reading. It was a pleasure and an honor for me. The first side-story will be up 8/9.)
-0-
"...Today we'll have the final adjustment fitting for the all of the wedding attire, then a luncheon for the guests attending the wedding, and then tonight there will be a dinner with the city's elite. Tomorrow morning is the first rehearsal, then another that afternoon, with a dinner for all of Reglay's nobles afterward. Finally the wedding is on the tenth whenever the sun is high enough to shine through the chapel's sky window, so that should be by the late morning. Are there any questions?"
With notes of concern coloring her soft voice, Louise asked, "Are we really going to have a dinner with the county nobles, considering that none of them were invited to the ceremony itself?" Beside her, Pent half-sighed, an ironic twist to his lips altering what should normally be a pleasant smile to something far more sardonic.
"It's because they aren't invited that we have to do this," he explained, a thread of annoyance running through his words. "It's just another expense we have to bear."
Raike, who had been seated in front of them while explaining the itinerary leading up to the wedding, now looked up at his liege with a frown. "Milord, we're the richest county behind the crown. Believe me when I say that we can ill afford not paying for the banquet."
Pent half-smiled. "It wasn't the money I was referring to."
"Nevertheless, you'll have to endure it," Raike said, his tone somewhat mocking, though it was obvious he meant no disrespect towards his lord. "Show us what the hero of the Western Isles campaign is made of."
Pent looked nonplussed by the reference before slight exasperation crossed his face, all while Louise giggled behind her hand. "Nothing a normal human being doesn't already possess. Going back to the topic at hand, how are the preparations going? Are there any problems you foresee? Should you need assistance-"
"Everything's fine," Raike said firmly, his face completely bare of any anxieties - or the reddish blotches that signified the same. "As steward to Reglay Castle, I assure you that there will be nothing on my end that will give any cause to my lord to worry."
"When you say it like that, I really feel relieved," Louise said, her hands together as she held them in front of her chest. "I'm so grateful to you, Master Raike."
With a smile that softened his face and gave him an almost boyish appeal, Raike replied, "As I am to you, Lady Louise. Now, if there isn't anything else, shall we begin?"
-0-
Joshua hadn't been home on the January day Louise's fiancé had come calling; he had been visiting his family down in Ostia, and he couldn't say he really regretted missing the man at the time. Since Uncle Gérald hated traveling and Aunt Catherine had been over a week in her Reglay stay for the wedding, the two of them left as late as possible and still arrived two days before the wedding. Here at the overwhelming Reglay Castle, he and his uncle had been whisked away by a servant in one direction while their luggage went another, and the next thing he knew they were standing in a sitting room as large as his entire house when his parents settled down in Araphen during his early teenage years, plunked down right before the count himself.
He didn't know what to make of Lord Pent when he was first introduced to his cousin's fiancé, and as far as he understood it was solely because he was Lycian-born and raised.
As he watched his uncle share greetings with the count, he considered why he felt so strongly about this. Lycia was, in a word, different. Not that being raised by a mother as vehemently anti-nobility as his own wouldn't have given him some tendencies for the same, but Lycia itself had a very different feel from to Etruria. Yeah, there were the marquesses, and yeah, there were powerful nobles, but they all seemed so minor compared to the sheer structure of royalty and nobility that governed Etruria. The Lycia League had become such because no single lord could hope to throw off either Etruria or Bern if either kingdom was fixing for a fight, so the various regions all still had their identities, and even though Marquess Ostia ruled the league he couldn't make decisions over the other marquesses without a majority. Meanwhile, Etruria was built on one person being more powerful than everyone else, and the social structure played out this way - Etrurians cared so much about blood and lineage and how that gave them the right to be better than others. All that didn't make any sense to Joshua, because so much of Lycia wasn't developed in the same. In fact, much of it wasn't developed at all, and in those places what mattered most was how strong and skilled you are. There was a certain sense of honor in those places that he had not once seen in Etruria, because there were no more true wilds in the kingdom. Everyone was so civilized, even if they weren't actually decent and good like his little cousin.
He felt bad for thinking this way, but it couldn't be helped. He gave up everything Lycian to take over his mother's ancestral home - to be civilized - and as much as he loved his relatives and the simple earnestness of the Etruscan heritage that bound them together, he missed Lycia.
And that, in the end, was why he was immediately off-balance when he first met Count Reglay, because that man with the rich noble blood and cool, polite demeanor had a certain wildness to his eyes that the count simply wasn't hiding. No one else noticed it, either. He was Milord this and Lord Pent that, but all Joshua could see was a man who could survive among the dregs of the hunter communities in Lycia - no, maybe even thrive. There was just something there that made Joshua believe it.
Of course, this worried Joshua more than he had ever expected to feel. His cousin, who had become like a cherished little sister to him, was going to marry this man. No, he didn't like that, he didn't like it at all. So when it came time for him to be formally introduced to Lord Pent, he did what any man should do in that position: he said, "I would like to talk with you in private, if you don't mind."
Lord Pent seemed pleased by the invitation, if his smile wasn't a lie. "Certainly. Let's do so at your earliest convenience."
"Then now would be fine." Joshua paused. "Milord."
If the count was surprised by his straightforwardness, he didn't show it. He only nodded, and after exchanging more pleasantries with the family, Louise escorted everyone out to explore the castle and Joshua was finally alone with the man. Lord Pent still looked reasonably cheerful when he said, "What did you want to talk about?"
"I'll be honest," Joshua started, not taking a seat like the count did, "I don't really trust you. I know it wasn't your fault that you were separated from Louise for that whole time, but I just don't feel comfortable with you marrying her."
"I see." The count was watching him now, his smile now long gone. "May I ask why?"
Joshua smiled thinly. "You're a noble. You can understand that, right?"
To his surprise, the other man nodded. "Yes, I can." That simple admission was enough to deflate Joshua's righteous annoyance, but now he wasn't sure what to do. Lord Pent seemed to agree with that much, because he folded his hands together and said, "What can I do to prove myself to you?"
"Treat her well," Joshua started, groping around for nicer ways to say what was really on his mind. "I don't want for her to come home sad because of something you did. I want her to have a good life. Can you promise this?"
The count hesitated, and that made all the difference in Joshua's eyes. "Yes, I will do my best to ensure this. I want nothing but the best for her, too."
Maybe he had mistaken that strange wildness in the count's eyes. Approaching where the other man sat, he offered his outstretched hand. "If that's true, then let's shake on it." When Lord Pent took his hand, Joshua couldn't help but add, "Also, if you ever break your word, I'll make sure you'll live to regret it."
"Should I ever hurt her intentionally, I certainly would deserve it," the count said in a mild tone. "I'll trust you to take care of that."
Somehow, Joshua didn't think he actually won their tête-á-tête. The only thing he confirmed in the end was that Lord Pent was like one of those men back home, and so he could count on his word, even if he couldn't trust the man himself. That would have to do.
-0-
The first thing Aramis d'Capet said when he entered the sunny banquet room in which an elaborate luncheon had been spread out in anticipation of its esteemed guests was, "What?" The food before him was nothing; all his visual powers were focused on one guest and only that guest. When he confirmed that his eyes were not at fault, he muttered a curse in his native Etruscan, then another. This did not improve his mood, so he directed his gaze to just over his right shoulder, where he knew Luca was standing, always attentive to the mood of his lord and master. "That man is here," he said in a low voice.
"It does appear so," Luca said, his voice quiet. There was a pensive expression on his face when Aramis turned fully to look the other man in the eye, his dark eyes and hair always striking in contrast to his lighter skin color, even with his eyes lowered in thought. "Would you like me to make your excuses?"
In truth, Aramis would have preferred it if only because that woman was also here and he had no interest in dealing with both the idiot count and her, but then he reflected on the fact that he would not see his niece after the wedding for perhaps years and he did not like to think of disappointing her. He could only hope that Gérald would control his wife just this once (though he had been hoping for that for years to little effect) and that Count Caerleon would do them all the favor of contracting an illness or indigestion or death posthaste and leave them in peace.
"It will be fine, Luca," he said after a long moment of silence. "It has to be for her sake, if nothing else."
"Understood." But some nervousness was still apparent on Luca's stoic face that Aramis knew only he was privy to, and it revealed itself after a moment as the man began to speak again. "Then, will you excuse me? I fear he will renew his attempts to harm your reputation if he should find me here beside you."
"And where else would you be if not at my side?" Aramis responded tartly. "Let him speak as he wishes; he has not the intelligence to do anything more. We will bear as the Etruscan people have always borne, with dignity and grace."
"Although I am not Etruscan by blood, I will do as you command," Luca said, something of a smile on his lips now. "Also, I will proudly watch your example of the same."
Knowing the insult implicit in the comment, Aramis only smiled thinly. It was true that he would probably not follow his own words, but he had to say them all the same. He had to make sure he did not do anything to embarrass his niece, who could be quite fragile if she saw people fighting around her, and so he could do nothing else but be on his best behavior.
This lasted until Caerleon's useless count sighted him; the sight of the disgust in the man's narrowed eyes was enough to make Aramis reconsider his words. It lit a flame within his breast that had burned many times before, having little patience in bearing the stupid words that had come upon him like a deluge since that time in Aquleia. Even now there were still nasty little whispers that reached his ears; he would never tell Louise just what it took for him to go to Aquleia for that trial for Reglay's ownership.
Why wasn't he married yet? Why did he already take in his cousin as heir apparent even though he still had many years to father a 'real' heir? Why was his knight captain always by his side, and why was that man a bachelor too? So long as he lived according to the lessons the good saint laid upon them all, why did it matter? Gérald too had faced this inquisition of the small-minded, but it seemed better to be labeled an adulterer and married to the sinful lady in question than it was to be a man free of wives and women. It was all because of that man, that hateful fatheaded fool of a count who seemed to think the way to heaven was by breeding without remorse and disdained those who lived differently. See here, now the master of Caerleon was coming to him! By the holy sign of Aureola, why should he have to be tested now?
"Get that look off your face," he heard Gérald suddenly say in Etruscan, and it was with no small amount of surprise when he found his best friend beside him. "I feel uneasy when I see you so bothered."
"Hm," Aramis responded, only sparing Caerleon a single glance to find that the idiot had been stayed by his friend's timely intervention. "I thought you were enjoying conversation with the lordling, your wife and her friend?"
Gérald rolled his eyes at this. "Joshua is doing well enough for the both of us. Anyway, what's wrong? If Louise sees that look when she comes in with the entrée she's worked so hard on, she'll drop it just to tend to you."
"Is that why the lordling is staring at me so avidly?" Aramis halfheartedly retorted. "If I am destined to be the villain of the day, I will not stand for it. Lunch in my rooms will suffice. Come, Luca."
"Milord."
"Wait, I will come along," Gérald said. Aramis looked at him.
"Your daughter will miss you."
"We will both miss each other once the wedding has passed. For now, I can only tend to her beloved 'uncle'."
Luca cleared his throat. "Master Gérald, it would be an honor as always, though I too believe your place to be at your daughter's side. However, the lord of Caerleon seems to be redoubling his courage, so perhaps it would be best to leave now."
"Then we shall," Gérald said firmly, patting Aramis on the shoulder before fairly pulling him over to the door. "My wife will not be happy if you say anything unkind to her friend's husband, and I will bear the brunt of it if I allow it."
Aramis sighed, taking one last glance over his shoulder at the food. "In that case, I should like to stay."
"Absolutely not!"
-0-
Once, when she was still quite young, Nella would imagine what a reunion with her mentor, the indomitable, capricious Lady Catherine Trent (no, never Émile, that wasn't part of the dream) would be like to enjoy. There would be embraces, certainly, and there would be tears on her side, though she could not imagine drawing them from forceful Catherine. She had remembered what a sixteen-year-old Catherine appeared to her child-like eyes, and had installed that into her dream; Catherine would be of moderate height and fair skin, her posture straight and solid if not graceful and her stare every bit as daring as a man's. Then she had enjoyed the good luck of seeing her friend a time or two once she had become Count Caerleon's wife, though they could never meet as true friends for Lord Nicholas had forbid it and Nella could understand his concerns. Reputation was important to highborn nobility and he feared for his; it was difficult to imagine this, but some people still looked down on his rule just because he was not his brother. She could do no greater wrong than to invite trouble across Caerleon's threshold.
Catherine had always understood that, and so they had spent years peaceably steeped in their correspondence, but being able to meet the woman herself had brought unease into Nella's heart. Perhaps it was because Catherine was not truly accepted, not yet, as her daughter had not yet been bonded to Lord Pent in holy matrimony. But since Lord Nicholas had seemed unworried, talking about the young lady he remembered during his earliest literati days, Nella had calmed herself and listened to her husband as they traveled the day's journey between Caerleon and Reglay. After all, she was a mother now; perhaps her worry stemmed from leaving her children alone. She had to fear so much regarding little Priscilla's development, alone with her older sisters as she was; Estelle and Mamie seemed to delight in unnatural cruelty to the poor girl, and then complain that she favored Lord Cornwell's daughter - what a strange thing to say! Really, it was quite frustrating. Why couldn't they let all of them be a happy family together? Why couldn't they understand that Priscilla needed the happiness only their family could provide?
In Lady Cornwell's letters, there was not even a word as to when they would take her back. Nella often wondered why, even though Priscilla's family often sent expensive gifts for the girl's enjoyment. It all made Nella anxious, though she couldn't understand why her feelings ran so deep.
"Hmm...I'm feeling ignored."
"Oh! Forgive me, Catherine, I was only thinking of the children," Nella urged, winding her arm around her dear friend's. "It isn't often that Lord Nicholas and I are separated from them for so long."
Catherine looked at her with an expression that would be very near quizzical if it had been found on any other person. "Three days is so long?"
"Five, if you count the journey to and fro," Nella lightly rejoined. "And it is a long time when they are so young and so many. Surely you would understand."
"I only have the one," Catherine reminded her. Smiling sheepishly, Nella looked down from her mentor's face to the lovely deep brown silk brocade dress the older woman wore, a dark gold sash a daring highlight upon her friend's trim figure. You would not even think the woman had ever carried a child, she was so slight.
"But surely you will miss her after this? Perhaps all the more because she is your only child." The thought of grandchildren quickly following after the wedding caught Nella's attention, and she laughed. "Oh, but soon enough there will be an heir to House Reglay, judging by the way Lord Pent was so attentive to little Louise all throughout the luncheon. You really set up the perfect match for your daughter, didn't you?"
There was something about Catherine's expression that seemed quite ill-suited for their light-hearted talk; the flattening of her lips and the slightest wrinkle upon her brow alluded to that much. "Nonsense, dear. I may have informed her about the bridal selection, but it was all Louise's actions after the fact. That natural temerity is my only gift of personality upon her, and I do so hope she uses it well from here on out."
Certainly one can hope she doesn't use it to offend more highborn lords, Nella restrained herself from saying. Even now her lord husband still commented on that vile statement, and although Nella could well understand the girl's feelings at that time, it was still beyond the pale for a girl to say such things to a man, and a noble at that. Of course, she carried the blame for inviting Louise to her home; now, she would think twice about such an act, knowing that the girl did not care of the consequences of her words.
"Well, well," Nella said, casting about for a new line of conversation. The activities of the servants around them as they bustled about in finishing their duties could have been a good one, but instead she blurted, "It really is too bad you only have one child, Catherine. I do pity you. Perhaps you could have another? You are still very young."
"Thirty-six is too old for a child. I finally have this one out of the house, and you think I should subject myself to another one?" With a scoff, Catherine turned her head away. "You must be mad, Nella. Not all of us are suited for watching over five children at once."
A little hurt by her mentor's unkind words, Nella looked down to the smooth pathway that led the casual walker through the orchards of Reglay Castle. "But," she began, her voice a little softer than she would have preferred, "children make a family so much more enjoyable. Do you think you will ever recapture those joys with just your husband and yourself?"
"There is still Joshua, who is still the best of what Charlotte could possibly produce," Catherine said. "I require more peace the older I get. With Louise marrying a man who I know will adore her to the end of his days, I am also free of worry." She turned her gaze to Nella. "I don't wish to be pitied; as you can tell, there is nothing but joy ahead for me and mine."
"All right, my dearest," Nella said lightly. "My, it truly amazes me how they maintain all these fields as well as the castle. They must employ half the castle city in order to do so!"
But despite her friend's words, Nella did pity her. She could do nothing less than that. From the time of Nanna's first child, Nella knew no greater joy than in caring for her nieces and nephew, and although Priscilla brought her to heartsickness sometimes with her own inability to help the girl, there was nothing but satisfaction in her life. As her children grew into adolescence and then adulthood, binding themselves in marriage and having children of their own, she too would travel in all their joys and sadness until she was laid to rest. Catherine, dear, wonderful Catherine, seemed to have hit an ending here now that her only child would be given away in marriage. Perhaps she had grown to like her hermitage too much so that now she could only draw herself deeper into it and mire herself into this barren loneliness.
Poor Catherine. Poor, poor Catherine.
-0-
"Good evening, Lord Pent."
The voice seemed to have come from nowhere and everywhere all at once, startling Pent from his rather informative perusal of the book in front of him. Because there was no possibility of someone being in front of him due to the shape of his personal library, he turned in his seat to find a woman-shaped figure cloaked in a dressing gown and heavy shadows. "Lady Catherine," he murmured, his tone betraying his bewilderment.
There was a half-smile on her face as she sauntered towards him, the full moon bathing her figure as she approached his window-side seat. Gesturing to the book before the young count, she commented, "Are you enjoying my wedding gift?"
"I..." Pent hesitated. Ever since it had been delivered to him perhaps two weeks ago, this book, authored by an 'Eclair Coltsfoot', had commanded much of his attention. Constrained by the lack of time, he had read it chapter by chapter at night, though not because he enjoyed it. To admit such a thing would make him a far weaker man in spirit that he believed himself to be. This line of thought lead him to say, in a diplomatic tone of voice, "It's quite intriguing. The author, whoever she may be, certainly did her research if everything here is to be taken as the factual truth."
"It is," Catherine stated. "You can be assured of that."
"I imagine I am not the only one who received a copy of this."
Smiling, Catherine turned towards the window. "The king should have his own by now, as well as his advisors and other influential lords of the land. I imagine this list of the man's misdeeds will be enough to spur His Majesty into action."
"He didn't react when I came to him," Pent pointed out. "Is that what earned your ire and caused this response?"
"I would have ruined him whether or not King Mordred did anything at all. That man hurt my daughter; it was no less than what he deserved."
There was nothing said between either of them for a long moment; Catherine kept her head turned towards the moon, and Pent looked down at the book that was written by no less of a hand than his own mother-in-law's. Having no particular interest in literature, he had been curious to receive a book as a wedding gift, but the title of it had been enough.
The House of the Hibiscus.
Its format was unlike any other he had seen before, using fictional names but describing events with such detail that he was certain they depicted reality itself. The knight general's past was here, from every man he used to every woman he threw away. To release this to all levels of nobility was to ask for no mercy towards the man - a terrible revenge. When he and Louise would go to Aquleia during their honeymoon, he knew what he would hear by then: the clamor of voices for Alfred to be stripped of the generalship, of his noble title. He had hurt a lot of people, many barely cloaked by fictitious names, and they would come for him once they knew just how deeply the wounds had gone through. They would probably not even question the name Eclair Coltsfoot until the bloodletting was over and the nobles emerged from their frenzy with clearer minds, but by then how much would that matter? If he understood just how injured the nobles who had been wronged would be by the revelations of the book - and he thought he did - then they would not even mind so long as the noble house that bore the hibiscus was no more and its members strewn to the winds and forced into obscurity. But, however dishonorable his actions were, the man had a wife and at least one child; they would not be spared. Pent knew this already too, because no one would ever care about a man's 'attachments.'
The note on the inside cover had been brief: 'Eclair for my affinity, and Coltsfoot means 'justice will be done.' I take upon this name to become the divine lightning that will annihilate the chief sinner in all this. I wish you all the best in life with my daughter.'
He looked at her again, that diminutive, petite figure now bathed in light, and remembered when once he had seen her covered in the sunset, the color of her eyes indistinguishable. Now, in the moonlight, she almost seemed holy but for her actions.
I understand, he thought, I really do. But you went too far, Lady Catherine.
-0-
"Ah...I don't think he appreciated my gift, that boy."
At the sound of his wife's voice, Gérald looked to the bed from where he was sitting and frowned at the sight of his wife in disarray, drowning in ripples of her dark purple silk chemise and the white foam that was the thin coverlet provided to them for the unusually warm night. "Are you ever going to get out of bed? The morning rehearsal is in two hours, and I know how long you like to prepare."
"Hmm." She turned her head away from him, her long braid snaking out from under her head and along the side of her pale neck. "They do serve breakfast in bed. That's the difference between our lives."
"Catherine..."
"Oh, fine, if I must." With a huff of exasperation, his wife left their bed and stormed over to the small table in the room where he sat, taking the chair next to his. "You really don't know how to enjoy yourself, dear."
Gérald picked up the cup of tea that the maid had served at his requested waking time, seven in the morning. That was still too late, but he decided he would allow himself that much in celebration of his only child's wedding.
Strangely, he only felt a dull sense of discomfort regarding the whole affair. His only child, his precious daughter...
"Dear?" he could hear his wife's voice, its pitch higher with concern. "What's wrong?"
He felt loathe to mention it, so he delayed by taking a sip of tea. It was all right for tea. "Just the wedding. Nothing to concern yourself with."
Surprisingly, there was no immediate reply. It was only when he turned to her and found the soft smile of suppressed amusement on her face that he realized she was probably trying to hold back whatever was on her mind out of courtesy for him. That made him only more disconsolate, so he rolled his eyes before returning to his tea. He was content with ignoring his wife until she laid a hand upon his forearm, and when he looked (he always looked when it came to her) he found a considerably more agreeable smile on her face. It was one without the usual sardonic edge, and it made her look years younger just to not have that sarcastic bitterness, that keen intelligence doubling with her ultimately faithless belief in others, overtaking her natural good looks. She was always beautiful, but in this moment she was pure.
"Wasn't it funny when the maid looked so shocked that we wanted to share a room? I think they must be such prudes in this place." She laughed a little; her hand ran down and encircled his wrist. "Or do you think we seemed so reserved? After all, we have lived our entire married life with a child or the expectancy of that child. When she is gone, what do you think will change between us, knowing that we don't have to live together for the sake of her?"
Gérald looked at her, not quite comprehending where she was leading him with her words, but disliking the implications all the same. "We live together for the sake of each other, the same as before," he answered slowly. "Why else?"
"You haven't thought of it, dear?" she asked, her gaze strangely imploring. "Not once have you ever thought about what life would be like without our daughter with us?"
Looking down at her tightening grip on his wrist, he considered her words a bit before looking up at her face. He could not say that she looked distraught, not exactly, but there was something real there, in her eyes, in the shape of her mouth, that was not the overconfident woman he had married. "Have I done something to make you this anxious?" he asked, putting down his cup of tea to reach out and cup her face. "Why all these doubts now, Catherine?"
With a toss of her head, she let go of his wrist and sat back, her old demeanor reasserting itself. "Oh, that Nella. I do so love her like perhaps a distant cousin, but during our first meeting in all these years she went on and on she about her children and all their petty problems as if she weren't exacerbating them with her interest. Her entire world is about her husband's children and the adopted one. How very annoying, really."
"You've never been like that," he commented. His wife glared at him.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you let Louise grow how she wanted. It doesn't mean you cared less for her than your friend does with her own brood."
There was a slight hesitance, then, "You'd always wanted more children."
"I would prefer one Louise to a passel of brats."
"What if they weren't brats?" Catherine challenged, leaning forward and staring directly at him. "What if they were all Louise's equal?"
He winced, hoping she hadn't seen that reaction, then shook his head. "I would have liked that, yes. But would they have a mother by the end of it?" The involuntary flinch on her end was not too obvious, but he knew all her movements and that was not one of the natural ones. "Catherine, you are my wife. We have learned to compromise."
"Hah, perhaps so." With a slight smile on her face, she tapped his foot with one of her own. "You know I have always loved you, correct? Even when I knew better, I could not help myself."
With a shrug of his shoulders, he turned back to his tea. It was cold, but he finished it anyway. "I've always loved you, because I knew that was always the right way. Now, no more of this. We have a rehearsal to attend."
Laughter came from her, high and sweet, but when he turned to ask her about it, she was already floating towards the door to Lisette's room as if it was just another day. Yet the clock said it was already a quarter past eight and he was still indoors. Slovenly behavior, his blessed father and Maman would surely have said were they still alive, and for a long time he had arranged his life to guard against such words. But this was not as unpleasant as they had made it seem, this staying indoors while the sun was already in the sky.
Perhaps once they returned he would do this more often.
-0-
Celia thought the morning rehearsal had went well and told such to Lisette, who listened to her with the same warmth that Celia imagined all Mothers of the convents held within themselves.
Soon. Soon. Two more weeks and she would cloister herself as an acolyte nun. Yet...
She made a small noise as her needle poked her thumb, bringing it up to her mouth quickly so that she wouldn't bleed on the mending. As they were undergarments Lady Louise would be bringing with her on her honeymoon month, it was vital to keep everything at its absolute best.
"You haven't done that since you were young," Lisette said with a smile. "Are you worried?"
Celia lowered her head, using her loose hair to hide as much of her face as possible as she shook her head. "There isn't anything to worry about," she mumbled after she removed her thumb from her lips, satisfied that the needle hadn't broken skin, "because they've fought so hard to be together. I'm sure their marriage will be one for the ages."
She could hear Lisette laughing before she raised her head and watched the older woman do it before her. "Oh, Celia, that wasn't it at all. I meant you and your plans. Are you worried?"
Celia couldn't help but sigh at the question. In the months before it seemed she had been interrogated at length by Lady Catherine regarding her employment; even Master Gérald had questioned her on if she understood what it meant to leave her employ for the Church. She did understand, she understood it very well, but it seemed everyone was happier believing that she was a naive child to the end. Even Lady Louise...ah, but she shouldn't think that. Lady Louise was only worried.
"I'm not worried," she said after a moment. "I leave everything to His will."
The smile Lisette had on her face was a sad one, and it pained Celia to see it. The woman before her had taught a little runaway girl how to be sister, friend, and maid to the little girl-heir of the family, and in those ten years she was still as warm and friendly as ever, even as her dark hair seemed to collect little streaks of gray and her large hands trembled just a little while she worked on delicate embroidery. Before Lisette, Celia had never really understood what it meant to have a mother, only a shadow that loomed at the edge of all her earliest memories; now she knew, and that made her understand just how much she would feel the loss.
Almost as much as it would hurt to leave Lady Louise for the last time, she imagined.
"...I don't mean to stand in your way, Celia, but I'll ask you one more time to really consider what it means to cloister yourself. I don't doubt that you could bear the loneliness, but for Lady Louise's sake-"
Celia put her mending down onto the table they shared. "Lisette, please-"
"No, listen to me. Lady Louise is a sweet child, the very best of young ladies our Etruria has to offer, but even she has her faults. She can very easily succumb to her emotions and follow a twisted path without you to guide her. And, she will be entering this noble house as its lady and mistress very soon, but she will be doing so without a trusted confidant at her side should you go your path immediately."
"She will have Lord Pent," Celia said, her voice an octave higher than she had ever heard it before. To this, Lisette shook her head.
"A husband is many things in time, but she needs more than him to balance herself in these early days. She needs someone who is not connected to her as both lover and master. She needs her best and dearest friend - she needs you." Reaching out to her from across the small table where all their supplies were set up, Lisette held the hand Celia was using to grip her work. "Couldn't you push your plans back just for one more year?"
"She will be fine," Celia stated with some force. "Lisette, please. I've already made up my mind. I'm not changing it. This is what I want."
"But you were running away from the convent before, so-"
"I was seven!" Celia yelled. "Please, just stop!"
It was only when the door opened that Celia realized she was now standing, her face hot with the humiliation of having to endure this-this attack on what she wanted. What was the truly terrible part was finding that it was Joshua who had barged into the small parlor, because Joshua was the very last person she ever wanted to see.
"I heard yelling," he explained as she turned her face away from him. "Is something wrong?"
"It's nothing," Celia was about to say, but her voice was softer than Lisette's own saying, "Ah, Master Joshua, we were only talking about Celia's plans."
"Oh, the convent." And then, "Actually, I wanted to talk to her about the same thing...well, mostly. If you don't mind, Miss Celia."
Forced into this moment by the mention of her name, Celia turned to face in Joshua's direction without meeting his eyes. "What can I do for you, Master Joshua?"
"I keep saying this, but you don't have to call me that. Joshua is fine. But I guess that's not going to matter soon anyway. I just wanted to say that...Louise is strong, so maybe you're right that she doesn't need you and that her husband will be enough, but I don't think that's true. Not in the way you're thinking it. Louise is always going to need us, I think. As long as you keep in contact with her no one has the right to complain about what you want to do with your life. And, also...could you look at me, please?"
She did, and just like every other time she saw the same thing: a handsome young man she felt nothing for but everyone else seemed to feel she should, simply because he was interested in her. But she couldn't express how much she hated Lady Catherine's attempts to put them together, or how badly she felt whenever Lady Louise talked about how good it was to find love with another person. No one understood, or cared to understand, that the only thing she was seeking was a love that surpassed the simple boundaries of man and wife. Over the years she had suppressed a need in her heart to spread Saint Elimine's words to all those who would hear them. She wanted a deeper understanding of those words so that she could better help others. It was a duty that would last her to her dying day, and she couldn't wait to begin it.
"I really like you," he said, his light green eyes full of that same earnestness that seemed to be a family trait upon the Émile line. "I know you don't feel the same for me, but I wanted you to know that...if you find the convent not to your liking, I-I'm here for you."
The words meant nothing to her. There was nothing in her chest but a dull echoing of discomfort, because despite his confession she had no idea why it would be necessary for her to hear this. It seemed to be more for himself than for her, and that bothered her more than anything. "I'm sorry," she said, turning her face away from him. "It's not necessary."
He didn't reply for a long moment, and when he did his voice sounded a little strained. "Oh. Um, then I'm sorry to bother you. Miss Celia, I hope you have a good life doing what's right for you. I...guess I'll see you at the afternoon rehearsal, then." His footsteps, soft as they were, sounded like the distant sound of an ending, a true finality to a part of her life.
She was not sorry to hear it.
When she looked up, she found Lisette staring at her, her always-smiling lips turned downward. "Don't you think that was a little cold of you, Celia?"
"No," she replied. "I don't have a responsibility for his feelings. It's better this way."
Lisette said nothing, only packing away her needlework into her basket before rising from her chair. The sound of the door behind the woman Celia had thought of as a mother was also a sound of something ending, and Celia found she didn't care for that one at all.
-0-
Looking around, Raike couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time, what business he had being the steward of the most illustrious noble house in Etruria, if not the continent, at the terribly youthful age of twenty-six. He could imagine his wife saying something like, "It's because of your talent," and she'd let him feel good about that for maybe a few minutes before starting in on the fact that he never came home. This was true because he hadn't been home for longer than it took to change clothes for the last few weeks.
Everything had to be perfect. Not because his lord demanded it of him - oh no, Lord Pent probably hadn't even noticed the castle changing all around him, not with Lady Louise around. No, this was for the sake of his own pride.
I wonder what Dad would've thought of this.
"Something wrong?"
Raike opened his eyes - when had he closed them? Perhaps he was more tired than he had thought - and found Nestor before him, looking uncharacteristically worried. His son Antony had made sure the former mercenary became a family friend, inviting him over to their house almost every week to learn swordplay from him. Amaranth had expressed some doubts about it, but Raike didn't mind; his son had a goal and even at the age of six he was working hard towards it. It was no different from what his own dad had done for him, and Raike would always be grateful for it.
"Sorry, this wedding," Raike said by way of explanation, waving a hand flippantly at the last minute preparations raging around them. "What can I do for you?"
"There will be no security detail tomorrow?"
"No, he was very clear that everyone should be able to just enjoy themselves."
"And you agreed?"
Shrugging, Raike leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, closing his eyes again. "I don't see any harm in it. I'm more concerned about tonight. The Reglay nobles are unpleasant, no matter how many or how few there are in one place. The cooks are terrified." He heard Nestor hum a nonchalant agreement and cracked an eye open enough to see that the man wasn't straying. "Are you worried about tomorrow?"
"More the honeymoon month than the wedding."
Raike couldn't help it, even though he was trying to be very solemn and approachable - he laughed. "When I approached Lord Pent with my own concerns, he said that he plans to pack some magic tomes and Lady Louise will have her bow and arrows." The count also said something terribly droll about how many people were allowed to enjoy a honeymoon at once, but Raike thought he'd just keep that to himself. "Anyway, all things considered, I'm not worried. They'll be mostly around Aquleia as it is."
"...You said, 'All things considered...'" Raike rubbed at his eyes and focused his attention on Nestor as the other man began to talk. "Do you mean the king's offer?"
"Lord Pent told you about that, then?"
"Yes."
If that's true, there's no point in not talking about it, Raike decided. "I don't know what he'll choose, but it is an attractive offer. Becoming a commander at the age of nineteen isn't necessarily rare, but it can only increase his stature. If nothing else, the Reglay nobility will think twice about plotting against him."
There seemed to be a relaxing in Nestor's stance, though the man was so stocky and muscular that Raike couldn't really point out anything that definitely showed it. "He used the upcoming wedding to avoid answering immediately," Nestor noted in a quiet voice. "If he chooses to, it will only be out of duty to his country."
"Well, didn't you feel the same when he asked you to join the castle guard?" Raike asked, curious. To this, Nestor smirked and looked away.
"Those who work get to eat."
Raike laughed, more quietly this time. "True. Anyway, I think he'll eventually accept it. Maybe out of duty, maybe just to enhance his magic skills. The mage general did suggest it to the king, so I heard."
Nestor said nothing for a moment, hardly unusual for the man, before he turned around. "The mage general already has a successor." It was difficult for Raike to hide the sudden burst of emotion he always felt whenever someone mentioned the mage general, even after all these years, but he managed as best he could.
"Yes, his daughter, the lieutenant-general."
"Seems pointless."
Yawning, Raike hurried to hide his widening mouth with his hand. "No, no, Lord Pent doesn't have the ambition for it. Sorry, but I'm going to my office now."
"All the work is out here."
"I know, that's why I'm getting away from it," Raike said with a laugh. "Our lord and lady will have a perfectly boring honeymoon, come back safe and sound, and have a nice, boring life together. They've earned it. So, don't worry about the future so much."
"Is that any way for a steward to talk?"
Laughing as he walked away, Raike decided that, if he was going to catch an hour's worth of sleep anywhere, it might as well be in his own bed. His wife would be annoyed and his sons would probably wake him up within the hour, but there was no place like home, right?
And if it weren't for the dinner tonight, I'd actually do it, too, Raike thought with a rueful sigh. The wedding can't come any sooner...
-0-
It was surprising for a day in early May to be so warm in the late afternoon, not quite humid but strange enough to become the hour's quintessential conversation-opener. For the two entering the Reglay Castle flower gardens, it was perfect weather for a longer stroll than either had anticipated - but both secretly preferred it. Arm-in-arm they walked past cultivated gardens of all shapes and sizes, from blooming marigolds of an orange every bit as warm and inviting as a low-lit hearth to ice-white chrysanthemums, violets of the deepest indigo to petite daises of every playful hue. There were gardenias, lavender sprigs, bellflowers, dahlias, lilies of all different persuasions and colors, irises, and so many varieties of tulips that an entire market could have been created and ruined by them alone. And then, as it was Reglay's flower, they came upon the most elaborate, exquisite garden that was held by many as a treasure of Etruria - the rose garden. Normally bustling with visitors both native and foreign, for the past week it had been closed while the final preparations had been completed; now, in the early evening the day before the wedding, it was as devoid of human life as the ruins of Valor or the Nabata Wasteland.
"It's like our own private world," Louise murmured, unable to leave the sentiment unspoken. Pent smiled slightly, mentally clamping down on the fact that it was, in essence, exactly that; his ancestors had held differing ideas on whether to keep it closed to the public or not, but he couldn't see what would be accomplished by keeping all this to himself. Besides, he didn't feel like changing the current atmosphere for the sake of an ill-timed jibe.
"Why don't you sit down?" he asked, indicating a stone bench close to an iron gate that did little to impede the path of the greatest of the rose bushes. At her curious look, he elaborated, "You were wincing during the rehearsal. I thought perhaps it was because of your shoes."
A pretty blush of embarrassment crossed her face at this observation, which she tried to hide with her free hand. "They pinch a little...you could tell?"
He could tell only because she was more obvious about trying to hide the pain than she was about the pain itself, but he, sadly, had to leave that alone as well. "Not too much," he instead said, and her expression brightened a little. Her letting go of his arm was no reward for his restraint, but she was considerably happier once she was able to let her feet rest. As she smoothed the skirts of her dress, he approached the iron gate and reached for one of the overhanging roses. It had not completely bloomed, an adolescent in the life of a flower, and as he stroked the petals with the pad of his thumb he could see that it was unbruised no matter how thoroughly he examined it.
For her part, Louise watched his profile as he studied the rose, unable to help the smile on her face. He looked so intense that she felt perfectly content to watch him, because these moments revealed something all at once both fascinating and a little awe-inspiring. Once, when she was younger, she had watched a storm off the coast; all of its energy had been concentrated at that faraway point, dark and forbidding...yet, it was also majestic in its primal essence. While she could not say he was entirely like this, there was a singular feeling inside of her whenever she noticed this intensity in him that made her understand that he was made for great things in the future.
And she would stand by him.
When he flinched from running his thumb too firmly on a thorn along the rose stem, it seemed as though the both of them had gasped a little in surprise, he from the sudden pain, her from the broken spell of admiration she had cast on herself. They were both a little embarrassed after the fact, though Pent hid it better by working to relieve the stem of all its thorns. Louise had settled for staring ahead of her, where the deep red roses that were a part of the Reglay heraldry seemed to have burst open in blooms of blood, inwardly a little happy that her dear lord was fiddling with roses of a lighter red. The slight throbbing in her feet had a rhythm to it that lulled her into closing her eyes; perhaps she could excuse herself earlier from the dinner tonight and promise herself a full night's rest...
"Are you nervous?"
"Mm?" She looked over at him to find him still occupied with the rose, although he was looking in her direction. "About the wedding?"
He smiled like he wanted to tease her. "About the dinner tonight."
"Oh." She giggled to hide her error. "Perhaps a little. I hope they will be kinder."
"It would be nice," he said. "Are you nervous about the wedding?"
Stretching her arms out in front of her, she took a deep breath before exhaling. "I'm...not sure!"
His hands paused in their work, the look on his face revealing the depth of his confusion with just an arched eyebrow and a tilt of his head. "You're quite enthusiastic about it."
"I think that's for the best," she responded in an almost prim manner before giggling. Her hands were folded on her lap in a very ladylike manner before she asked in return, "Are you nervous, Lord Pent?"
"With all the rehearsing, I have to wonder if I would be allowed to," he answered, his tone dry. "The anxiety would make it feel more real, in a sense."
She nodded. It was very true what he said. "But I wouldn't want to embarrass myself, either. There is also my ascension ceremony right afterward, and that is in front of all the county nobility. And then there is the witness the king sent to approve it all..."
"The Duke and Duchess Blancmont, yes. They should be arriving soon."
"Will they be attending the dinner as well?"
"I expect they will take their meal in their own rooms. I've heard that's how it's usually done in other counties."
Louise nodded again, recognizing the slight squirming of nervous interest now working within her. Was what was now happening suddenly more real to her? Pressing a hand to her stomach, she wondered if it wouldn't actually be better without the anxiety, if having it would force her to forget some of the events of what she knew would be one of the most incredible days in her life. Then after marriage, it seemed as if she could see nothing but endless roads running into each other - there was so much potential before her that she was nearly overwhelmed by it all.
For his part, Pent could only see one road, and as he plucked the rose very carefully from the greater plant he made the choice to take it. "Louise," he said, her name anchoring him to this point in time and what he had promised himself he would do, "may we talk?"
She looked at him, confusion clear on her face. "Aren't we already?" Then, surprise overcame it. "Oh, is something wrong?"
"No, I..." He stopped, centered himself within the world and all the elements of nature, then realized that he would be nervous no matter how long he convened with the spirits. With two brisk steps he was in front of her, where he knelt on one knee and offered her the rose. "Louise, please marry me."
Louise giggled. "Where have you been, Lord Pent? Our wedding is tomorrow!" He smiled a little but said nothing in response, and it was by degrees of realization that Louise came to understand he was being completely serious. "Lord Pent...?"
"I've never told you that," he stated. "There has always been the expectation that we would marry, and I have never been adverse to the idea so long as it was you, but I've never told you that I...that I want to marry you." He paused, knowing that her attention would be riveted on him no matter how long it took for him to compose his thoughts into workable order. When he felt he had done so, he continued, "Ever since we met, you've brightened my life and I have to admit I've never felt more happy or connected with the world at large. Having lived a time without being able to speak with you, yet having known what it was like to have you in my life, I've found that I never want to live without you beside me. So, even though we are getting married, I wanted you to know how much it means for me to have you in my life, that...this is what I want."
Very carefully, she reached out and touched the hand still holding a rose to her, her fingers running along his knuckles to the back of his hand to his wrist, then lightly holding his hand so that her fingertips were pressed against his palm. Her eyes shone with a liquid vibrancy that was not due solely to the color of them, and when she leaned forward and closed her eyes her lashes were wet, but then there was nothing else he needed to see as he closed his own eyes and accepted her kiss.
"Lord Pent," she whispered when they parted, "let's have a wonderful wedding. Let's share our happiness with everyone, and for that time everyone can also be happy..."
"Yes," he agreed, because in that moment he did not doubt it could happen. Playfully tapping the rose against her lips, he smiled as she giggled and moved her head away before he kissed the flower and offered it to her again. She took it this time, and by the time they rose to leave the garden it was in her hair, each petal of the young rose bright red and without a blemish, and from far away it seemed as if all of them were melding together, like a single road that led to an endless amount of possibilities.
One Flower For Two Hands: Red Rose
(i love you)