Fate's Games
(A/N: Fifth and last up today. Also possibly the longest-or one of the longest-ones I have written so far. I'm actually pretty happy with it. Hopefully you enjoy as well.)
I Don't Believe in Love
He didn't believe in love. He never had. Acolyte of Mara or not, love was a concept he didn't understand nor want to bother attempting to grasp. He was here because this place was… What was it…? This place was safe, perhaps? When he had been little and his mother and father had gotten to fighting, he would hide in his room. Then his father would storm out… He'd wished it had been his mother to leave… His mother blamed him for her and pa's marital issues, it seemed, and so when his papa stormed out she would come and find him… She used to beat him so badly… He tried to tell his father about it once. His father had been outraged, but his father was a weak man; weak willed and cowardly. His father had been terrified of his mother… Then one day the fight had gotten so, so bad, and his mother screamed at his father telling him that if he left then she would kill their son… His father had left, but not before doing the first semi-manly act of his life. He came up to his room and told him to run and hide in the Temple of Mara until the next day. It wasn't much but it was enough, and it changed everything.
From that day on he had had his sanctuary. Whenever his parents would take to fighting, he would slip outside of his home and he would flee to the Temple of Mara and hide there. He would hide from his mother, hide from his father, hide from the world… hide beneath the benches and weep, sometimes for hours. Perhaps that was why he was here now, in adulthood, serving as Mara's acolyte. In a way the safety he'd felt here was a type of love, right? Or perhaps it was only a sense of gratitude and relief. But that too tied into love, didn't it? This place had been his sanctuary, his escape…
He remembered one day his mother had chased him, trying to get him. He'd scampered into the Temple and hid there. Another little boy had found him, the son of the Priest at the time. That little boy's name was Maramal, and he had asked what his name was and what was wrong. He had told Maramal that his name was Briehl; then he had told him everything else. Maramal had, in turn, told his father. The Priest, a merciful man, hid him accordingly. Then his mother had burst in raging, screaming for him, and Maramal's father had raced out and ordered her to leave the temple until she was sober. His mother had screamed she wasn't drunk and that her child had run into the Temple. The Priest had told her there was no child there say for his own. Mother had left, and the little boy had become a regular presence, having found the first true friend he'd ever had in Maramal.
ES
Briehl watched yet another couple being wed. He put on an outwardly happy façade, but inside he was wagering on how long the marriage would last before they either left each other or one of the two died. Only Maramal knew these thoughts in his head, and goodness knew he tried to convince him love existed and wasn't just some sick joke played by the gods, but he simply didn't believe it. Not even after Maramal's almost mystic union with Dinya.
He applauded his best friend's good fortune in winning the heart of the Dunmer and showing her what it was to love again and all that; he just personally thought the whole thing was a hoax played on his two friends by the deities. Or perhaps he thought it was more a hoax played on him… He watched as Dinya came up to Maramal and softly kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was the only thing that could distract the Redguard from his work, Briehl wryly realized. The two slipped away from the main room and into Maramal's. He sighed deeply and rose. He would perhaps walk about town for a while. In the darkness Riften was really very peaceful, ironically enough.
He wandered out of the Temple, walking through the quiet streets and thinking. He heard weeping, suddenly, and paused, looking in the direction from which the sobs had come. On the steps of Honorhall Orphanage sat a young woman. Constance Michel, he believed the name was. She helped Grelod run the place. Honorhall was a nightmare, a sham, and a lie; most of the people in Riften knew as much.
"Constance, what troubles you?" he questioned, approaching her.
She caught her breath, quickly looking up at the man who had approached her. He was an acolyte in the Temple of Mara, she believed. His name was Briehl, if she recalled correctly. She never went to the temple. Perhaps she should, but given her current circumstances, she wasn't even sure if it would be worth it. Mara may have already turned her back upon this city. It wouldn't surprise her if the goddess had.
"What troubles me is not in your power to fix," she answered.
"What do you ask for?" he questioned.
"I ask for the safety of the children under the care of Grelod the Kind. I beg for them to be protected, to be loved," she softly said. "How I've tried to show them affection, to show them my love… I've failed… Grelod crushes their hearts beneath her as if they were trash… And if she ever found out all I've tried to do for those poor little ones, I would be cast out. My only concern is for the children. The poor darlings have no one else. They are always first and foremost in my thoughts. Grelod runs this orphanage because she's old, and set in her ways, and doesn't know any other life. These children need love, and comfort. I try… but… I'm sorry, you should go. The children aren't up for adoption, and it's cruel to get their hopes up. Besides, Grelod hates… visitors."
She rose and was about to enter the orphanage again, when suddenly he said, "Love is for the highest bidder."
She paused, surprised at this proclamation. These words came from the mouth of Mara's acolyte? She turned, curiously summing him up. "Why do you speak as such when you serve the goddess of love?" she questioned after a moment, looking up into the face of the man who spoke to her, the light of the exterior lamps reflecting off of his skin and casting an eerie glow upon him. She watched his eyes carefully, reading them. His life… it hadn't been a happy one, she determined. It had been bitter and it had hardened him.
Avoiding the question, he said, "Goodnight, Constance."
"Goodnight, Briehl," she cordially replied. Quickly she entered the orphanage.
ES
She was there again the next night, weeping. He watched her from the shadows ponderously. Finally she finished and rose, wiping her eyes. "The children again?" he questioned, coming out into the light and startling her.
She gasped, quickly spinning around. On identifying him she allowed herself to relax. "Yes," she confirmed, offering a weak smile. "And… and also for me…"
"What have you asked for you?" he questioned.
"I asked to feel the embrace of love one day soon," she replied. He scoffed, making it no secret how he disdained the notion of love of any kind. She shook her head at him bemusedly. An acolyte of Mara and yet he didn't believe in the very thing he preached. It was odd, she thought.
"Are the children well?" he questioned, tone becoming ever so slightly concerned, his eyes softening piteously as he looked through the window of the orphanage and saw the four little ones being screamed at by Grelod. He had heard things about the old bat; things that didn't amuse him, things that disgusted him.
"They're faring," she answered sadly, eyes becoming distant and regretful as she too watched. The children were now slinking to their beds, pain and misery in every eye. Briehl felt a painful tug at his heart. He recalled wearing expressions like theirs. He had had his parents, perhaps, but in every sense of the word he had been as alone and helpless as they.
"What are their names?" he wondered curiously.
"The eldest is Samuel, the boy in the red shirt with brown hair," Constance replied, a soft smile spreading across her lips. "He's the defacto leader of the bunch. After him there's Runa Fair-Shield, the second eldest and the only girl. The poor thing is always picked on by the boys, made to do the chores whenever they can get away with it. I try and make sure that doesn't happen, but there are so many other things that need to be done… Francois is the boy in the blue. He's the third eldest. His parents left him here a year ago, promising they'd be back… They never came… He still hopes, you know. Even though Grelod insists to him they abandoned him or are dead, he still hopes. It's all he has anymore. He's depressed, very much so. No child should ever have to suffer such a thing as depression… Hroar is the youngest of them all. He wants to grow up to be big and strong like a lion, whose roar his mother told him he was named after. No one knows what happened to his parents, not even me, but he weeps so often in the nights and he just can't stop, he just… and Grelod, she won't let me go to him and sooth him. She won't let me sooth any of them. It's not fair!"
She was sobbing now, burying her face in her hands and leaning against him. He was holding her, stunned and wondering how he'd found himself in this position, but he didn't let her go. She wanted comfort, she wanted support, she wanted reassurance. If nothing else he could grant her that at least. "Are… are you lacking for anything, milady?" he wondered quietly. "Food, clothing, medicine?"
"All of it," she replied, sniffing. "Grelod will see them in rags before she buys them new clothes. She will see them go hungry for days before she bothers to restock the food reserves. As for medicine, she will see them die before she spends her coin on potions of Cure Disease or Potions of Healing." His eyes darkened, furious at the thought. He said nothing else, only held her near to him.
"He's weeping," she remarked, looking through the window. Briehl turned and spotted Hroar sniffling and hiding under his covers. Runa was slinking towards him to comfort him, but suddenly she turned and fled to her bed, diving under the covers as Grelod entered the room and screamed at Hroar to keep quiet. "I have to go," she said, pulling away from him. He watched her hurry back inside. It suddenly felt very cold out here, he realized.
ES
She gazed in awe, tears of happiness in her eyes as she looked upon the groceries lying on the table. On the benches were clothes, fresh and new, and in four separate knapsacks were all sorts of healing remedies and potions. "Y-you did this for us?" Constance asked, tears choking her voice.
"You and the children were in need," he replied, proudly surveying his accomplishment. It had taken a good bit of gold to cover everything, but he didn't regret a cent he'd spent.
"Children, children, come see!" Constance excitedly exclaimed, racing to the back door and calling out to them. Grelod was startled from her position and cast a scathing look at her apprentice.
"What's gotten into you, girl?!" Grelod snapped.
Constance hardly heard. "Samuel, Runa, Francois, Hroar, quickly!" she insisted. Curious now, and excited, the little ones all hurried towards her.
"Stay out here, you little Guttersnipes! Constance, what's the meaning of this?!" Grelod demanded. The children raced by her, not heeding her threat, and into Constance's open arms.
"Oh my darlings, it's a miracle!" she exclaimed, holding the four close to her. "Look and see." Quickly she ushered the four inside and pointed to the room where Briehl stood, summing up the provisions he'd brought. He turned curiously to the doors and saw the four awe-stricken orphans.
ES
"Oh wow!" Samuel exclaimed, snapping out of it and racing forward.
"Look at all the food!" Hroar cried out.
"The clothes! Look at the clothes!" Runa cheered.
"Medicine too!" Francois said, peering into a knapsack.
"It's all for you, children, all for us. Mara's blessings have come at last!" Constance declared, clasping her hands together in front of her mouth. Briehl shifted uncomfortably. Not because he felt insulted, oh no, but because he knew it to be true. "This is the man who has brought us all these gifts. His name is Briehl. He lives in the Temple," she said, beaming at him thankfully.
Francois cautiously approached the man. "You look kinda scary. But nobody is scarier than old Grelod," he remarked.
"Francois!" Constance exclaimed, horrified at his words.
Briehl chuckled good naturedly and knelt in front of Francois. "Can you guess why I look scary?" he questioned as if it were a big secret.
"I don't know," Francois answered.
"Because I have a secret power," Briehl replied, eyes glittering ever so slightly.
"What is it?" Francois questioned, eyes wide.
"This!" he exclaimed, immediately beginning to tickle the boy. Francois burst into laughter and scrambled away, grinning excitedly. "I'm still not as scary as Grelod?" Briehl innocently questioned, feigning offense.
"No," Francois replied, smile falling to sadness.
"I'm really afraid of Grelod. When Aventus escaped, she was so mad. I got double beatings that day," Runa sadly said, looking down as she held a lovely new red dress.
"I ain't afraid of the old hag. Still, I wish Constance was in charge. She treats us real good. Constance, sometimes she gives me little snacks. Which is good, 'cause we only get but one meal. Late, too, in the afternoon. I'm a growing boy. I need as much food as I can get," Hroar boasted.
"Oh please, you cry more than any of us," Samuel said to Hroar.
"That's not true!" Hroar argued loudly.
"It is too!" Samuel replied.
"Skeever Bait!" Hroar yelled.
"Horker Face!" Samuel retorted.
"Enough you two," Briehl sharply and firmly warned. The two boys looked up at him guiltily then ashamedly stared at the floor, obeying his order.
ES
Constance watched, grinning, as the children raced around, eating as much as they wanted—there was plenty after all—and admiring the clothes and the medicines. They would have preferred toys, she knew, except Grelod would have never allowed that. "What is this?!" Grelod furiously demanded, reaching them and gawking at the spread before them and the priest standing and watching. Every so often he would kneel obligingly and play with the children if the little ones so wished him to, each of which were curious about him.
Constance caught her breath, paling. She turned cautiously to Grelod, worry in her eyes. "It's-it's a donation, ma'am, from the Temple of Mara," she replied.
"We don't need no stinking donations!" Grelod yelled.
"But Grelod…" she began. She cried out in pain as suddenly the old woman struck her painfully. She gasped, covering her cheek. Immediately it was silent as all eyes turned to the two women, the children's wide with horror and Briehl's own narrowed guardedly. Constance tended her cheek quietly, closing her eyes as Grelod turned to the four terrified little ones.
"All of you, get away from that table this instant!" she ordered sharply. Slowly the children approached single file, Samuel in the lead and glaring defiantly at the old woman. Runa followed him, holding his hand fearfully. Francois came next, not meeting Grelod's eyes. Hroar took up the rear, gazing up at the woman in wide-eyed terror.
They lined up in front of their so-called 'caregiver' who icily looked them over. "M-miss Constance, are you…" Runa began fearfully, starting towards the woman. The little girl cried out in pain as Grelod struck her. Quickly Samuel pulled Runa back, looking about ready to murder Grelod himself.
"Don't touch Runa!" Samuel yelled furiously. Grelod seized his arm painfully.
"Samuel!" Runa cried out as her friend was pulled away from her and lifted into the air.
"You disobedient little dung-licker! You'll pay for your impudence!" Grelod shot.
"Leave him alone!" Constance pled, surging forward and seizing Grelod's arm tightly, forcing her to let Samuel drop to the ground and scramble back. Roughly Grelod threw Constance again a wall. You see, though the younger woman could easily have overpowered the older, Constance held back from truly attacking her. After all, Grelod was a very old woman. Unfortunately, the other wasn't so morally upright.
"You wench! After all I've done for you, you dare try and turn against me?!" Grelod practically screamed. "I should throw you to the dogs! Without this job you'd be walking the streets selling your body to every pig-headed cad in this godsforsaken city just to make enough gold to eat!"
ES
Immediately Briehl stepped in. Calmly, coldly, he said, "Grelod, enough."
"What did you say?" the old woman snarled.
"I said enough. The children are hungry. Let them eat. And if you strike or belittle Constance again, I'll be sure you live to regret it," Briehl smoothly warned.
"Stay out of this, priest," Grelod sneered.
"Children, come here," Briehl ordered, unafraid and turning his attention back to the four little ones.
"If you little gutter-snipes go to him, you'll suffer painfully for it," Grelod threatened.
They whimpered, looking hopelessly back at the acolyte. "Come here. I promise she won't hurt you. Not as long as I'm here," Briehl said.
"Now tell them what will happen when you leave," Grelod challenged.
Briehl calmly protruded a hefty looking coin purse. "Every septum in this purse will be yours if you leave the little ones in peace. Retire to your room for the remainder of the night and don't come out again. Let them eat all they desire tonight. Tomorrow I will be gone."
Constance opened her eyes slowly, gazing at the acolyte in wonder. Grelod, eyes guarded, soon approached and took the coin purse. She opened it up and her eyes widened. "Hmm, very well acolyte. Your bribe has won me over. Shame on you for going against Mara's teachings, though," Grelod remarked. Without a word further she turned and hurried towards her room, no doubt eager to count the coin she'd just procured.
ES
Briehl and Constance sat at the table, chatting to the children with gentle grins on their faces. The little ones were all too eager to eat all they could get their hands on. "So, come to get yourself a kid? You're out of luck. No way will Grelod let any of us get adopted. Especially not since Aventus took off," Samuel remarked, finally deciding to open up and speak directly to this new face, even if only to feel him out and judge if he was safe for his friends to be around.
Desperate hope immediately sprang to Hroar's eyes as his head whipped around to gaze pleadingly up to this potential parent. "Please, mister. You got to get me out of here. Ever since Aventus left, Grelod's been even meaner than usual. I swear, she's going to kill one of us," he begged, hoping he would be chosen.
"I'm afraid I haven't come here with intent to adopt," Briehl gently replied, eyes softening piteously. He felt his heart twisting as Hroar's eyes became dismayed.
"Then you should leave. Grelod ain't going to like some stranger just hangin' around. Not that I care," Samuel replied.
"Tell me about Grelod," Briehl remarked.
Francois, the quiet one Briehl had quickly come to realize, was first to speak. "Miss Grelod is… well she's a terrible old crone," he answered, picking at his food and not looking up. "No person could be that cruel. I think she's part hagraven. She only lets us out in the yard once. In the morning. And she just stands there watching us. Like I said. Hagraven."
"I hate her. Everyone hates her. She's the meanest person I ever met. Sometimes she even locks us in the… room. Constance tries to stop her, and is real good to us, but it's never enough," Runa said, eager to express her own opinion. "I hate it here. Grelod the Kind is the meanest person in all of Skyrim," she added, voice sad and quiet.
"I do hope mummy and father come to get me soon. Ever since that Aventus boy left, Grelod has been so angry," Francois quietly said, looking up at the acolyte mournfully.
"Sometimes, when she goes to her room to work or sleep, I slip out for a bit. Noontime, every day. That's when I hit the streets. A boy's gotta make a livin', right?" Samuel murmured, and sharply Briehl looked to him. What did Samuel mean by that, the man wondered? Surely not the worst-case scenario that had come to his mind. A child of such an age should hardly know what that was. The only reason his own thoughts had gone there was because… Well, enough said. He had seen disturbing things in his time; deeply disturbing things that had driven him, over the years, to question more and more of Mara's teachings.
"What do you do when you hit the streets?" Briehl wondered.
Samuel looked guardedly, suspiciously, up at the man, then to Constance Michel. Constance, eyes gentle, reassuringly put an arm around the child and squeezed him lightly. "I beg, sometimes steal," Samuel hesitantly admitted. "Sometimes I clean for people too. Constance doesn't like it when I go into a house alone where there's only one other person. She won't let me so she comes too."
"She is a wise woman," Briehl approvingly murmured, looking favourably at her. She blushed faintly, glancing down and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Why?" Samuel questioned naively. For all his jadedness, for all that he'd gone through, he still was, at the core, a child.
"Maybe we'll talk about it another time," Constance said to Samuel. "I think it's almost time for bed, my dears."
"Awwww!" they all protested.
"Now, now children, growing bodies need a good night's sleep," Briehl said. "Listen to your…" he trailed off. He'd come close to saying 'mother' before backtracking and remembering that she wasn't. "Listen to Miss Constance."
"We don't wanna!" Hroar protested.
"Just a few more minutes, please," Runa begged.
"You've been up long passed your bedtimes already," Constance said to them.
"Yes Miss Constance, yes Briehl," the group grumbled together, albeit reluctantly.
ES
"Goodnight Runa," Constance said, tucking the little one in. She bent, gently kissing her forehead. Runa smiled sleepily and drifted off. Constance went on to Francois's bed and pulled the covers up. "Goodnight Francois," she said.
"Goodnight Miss Constance," Francois replied, yawning as she kissed him.
"Goodnight Samuel," Constance said, moving to the bedside of the eldest.
Sleepily he opened an eye and said, "Constance, I'm too old to be tucked in."
"You're never too old to be tucked in," she teased, gently pressing a kiss to his head and ruffling his hair. He stuck out his tongue at her. She giggled, pulling away.
"Wait!" he exclaimed, sitting up and reaching for her. She bent, hugging him with a laugh. He kissed her cheek then lay back down again, burying himself under the blankets.
She went to Hroar last. She heard him softly sniffling. "Hroar, what's the matter?" she gently cooed, kneeling and stroking his hair reassuringly.
"Nothing," he replied, a hitch in his voice. "Goodnight mama." He started, catching his breath on hearing his own words. All at once he began to cry. "I miss my mama, I miss her!" he wailed.
"Come here," Constance gently said, climbing onto his bed and lying next to him, pulling the child close to her. Softly she rocked him, petting his hair. Tenderly she kissed his head and wiped away his tears. "You're safe now, little love, you're safe."
ES
The boy cried himself to sleep in a few moments. Carefully she disentangled herself from the little one and quietly walked back towards Briehl, who had finished cleaning up and storing everything away by now and had been watching her tuck in the children. She was in tears, he saw. He decided he didn't like seeing her in tears. Miserably she looked back at the little ones as she reached him. "Are you alright?" he questioned.
"No…" she answered. Turning to him she said, "Thank you." He bowed his head to her humbly. She turned back to the children. "No child should ever have to grow up without a parent, or parents."
"Some would be better off," Briehl replied. She looked curiously up at him and realization dawned in her eyes.
"Oh, I'm-I'm sorry," she softly said. "I didn't know."
"There is nothing to apologize for. It was long in the past," he answered, turning his head from her as he closed his eyes. Those were memories he wished to erase forever from his mind.
"If I may be so bold, what was it… what were they like?" she questioned as she walked him out of the orphanage.
They paused outside and he looked up at the skies above. After a moment he answered, "Mother was abusive, mentally, verbally, physically. She was often drunk, always careless, and always blaming. Her marital problems with father were my fault and so I should have to suffer, so she reasoned. Father… Father was a weak willed man. He knew what mother did to me. Not once did he try to step in, not once did he try to stop her. Not until the day she threatened to kill me if he left the house again in a snit. Then he came to me and he told me to flee away from our home. He left, but by the time mother reached my room I was hidden away in the Temple of Mara. It became my refuge. It became my escape…"
"How is it possible that a parent could so cruelly treat their own children?" she wondered, disgust in her tone.
"Answer that mystery and you have solved a puzzle the Dwemer themselves could never have hoped to unravel," he answered. "I have to go. It's late."
"Thank you, Briehl. For everything," she said, looking up at the acolyte and taking his hands in hers, examining his palms as if they were the most interesting things in the vicinity.
He tilted his head curiously. After a moment he raised her hands to his lips and kissed them fondly. "Take care of the children," he said to her, meeting her eyes once more. She smiled and nodded. Turning her head to the window she watched their sleeping forms protectively. "Blessings of Mara upon you," he said.
"I thought you had denied her," she remarked.
"I may have started to question my faith, but that does not mean that you must," he said. "Trust in the divines, my lady, and they will show their favor to you. Perhaps the reason I have not been blessed the same is because of my uncertainties."
ES
"Constance!" Grelod called sharply.
Constance looked over, checked on the eating children, then quickly scrambled to answer the call. "Yes, Grelod?" she asked.
"Samuel is getting to be a problem. Fancies himself something of a "leader" to the other children. Put an end to the nonsense, or I will."
"All right. I'll take care of it," she tiredly agreed. She'd been running ragged all day. The last thing she needed now was Grelod's complaints. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes. Hroar's crying is keeping me up at night. I'll give you one chance to talk the tears out of him, or he's getting the belt," Grelod threatened.
Her eyes widened in terror and alarm, panic filling them. "No! Please, just let me handle it. It's not a problem," she insisted desperately, almost pleading.
"And what of the other two, hmm? I can't abide Francois's constant talk of his parents. 'They're coming for me. This is only temporary.' The boy must accept his fate," Grelod said viciously.
"Okay, okay, I'll deal with it," Constance promised.
"Last but not least… Seven septims are missing from my purse. I know it was Runa. You get those coins back, or by Stendarr, I'll see her rot in the dungeon!" Grelod snapped.
"I'll handle it. No need to blow things out of proportion," Constance answered for what seemed the hundredth time.
"We haven't had an adoption in months. At this rate, we'll be stuck with these brats forever. We need to get the word out. A sale, if need be. This place is filthy. I've a mind to cancel all town privileges unless those brats start pulling their weight," Grelod growled. "By the way, the stores are running low. We'll need to water down the milk again. Besides, don't want the little darlings getting fat."
Constance remained silent, simply bowing her head low. There was nothing more she could say or do. "Yes Grelod," she replied meekly. With that she turned and went back to the children. She looked out of the window towards the Temple of Mara. It had been almost two weeks since the night he had come with provisions for the little ones, she realized. She missed him. Divines, even the children missed him, and they hardly knew the man. Perhaps it was time she visited the Temple of Mara for herself.
ES
She entered it late at night, after the children were all in bed. Theoretically it would be closed. Luckily it wasn't. She entered the dark Temple and sat down in one of the seats, gazing up at the statue of the goddess. She heard footsteps and glanced over. The man approaching stopped. It was him, she realized. He was looking at her. After a moment he started towards her once again.
"What are you doing here so late?" he wondered.
"I wanted to see you," she answered.
"For what purpose?" he asked.
"The children," she replied. "I don't ask you to purchase everything we need like you did before, but anything else you can possibly do to help… It would be appreciated…"
"Have I so easily become your meal ticket?" he amusedly teased.
"I only wish you hadn't. If there was any other way…" she murmured softly. "As long as Grelod lives, the little ones will never be free…" He couldn't tell for the life of him why those words so painfully hurt his heart and made his stomach churn in discomfort.
She was silent a long moment as she watched the statue. "Do you believe in love, Briehl?" she questioned curiously. "Do you believe in the deity you serve?"
He was silent. After a moment he answered, "I believe in Mara. I do not believe in love."
"Why?" she asked.
Anger flashed through his eyes and he sat next to her, leaning forward and judging how to answer. Finally he replied, "Because for all the unions I have witnessed in this place, I have watched most disintegrate just as easily and twice as quickly. It they do not end in separation or divorce, they end in death and pain and mourning."
"How many divorces to how many wedding's?" she challenged.
"Perhaps three in twenty," Briehl answered.
"And the rest?" she asked.
ES
He glared coldly at her. After a long moment he answered, "If you are not separated by divorce or betrayal, you are separated by sickness and death. All die, milady."
"But there was love before death," she said.
"Love, if it exists, is not worth the pain that is instilled by it. Love will not last after death. Of every twenty marriages, those who remarry after the passing of their spouse number around half; of those who divorce, almost every single one of them marries again, and the greater portion of those marry a third time, then a fourth time, then a fifth time, a sixth time, and on and on it goes. Love is a trick of the mind," he stated bluntly. "Nothing will convince me otherwise."
"So cynical, acolyte," she murmured. "Have you truly been so jaded that you are unable to see love right before your eyes?"
"I want nothing to do with love and love wants nothing to do with me," he replied.
He rose to leave. Just then, though, she said, "Pluck me a flower for every time you think of the word love, even if in the negative way."
"Too simple of a task. I would have perhaps a bouquet's worth in a year," he answered.
"We'll see," she replied, leaving…
In a week's time Maramal was gawking in disbelief at the room filled with flowers. "Briehl, what are you doing?!" he exclaimed in alarm. Briehl, said nothing, obviously flustered and shaken at the realization laid out before him.
"She-she told me to pluck a flower for her each time I found myself thinking of love, even if in the negative. The more I plucked the more I thought of her and the more I thought of it," Briehl answered.
"Perhaps love isn't as false as you believe," Maramal remarked, looking around in amazement.
"Bite your tongue," Briehl sourly bit. Maramal gave him a knowing smirk, chuckled, and then left his friend to his thoughts.
ES
She came into the Temple again some nights later, lost in her thoughts. "The task you gave me is impossible, but I have tried to the best of my ability," he said suddenly before she even had a chance to sit. She looked over at him confusedly. He gestured for her to follow. Curiously she did. He opened the door to his room and she gasped, covering her mouth as her eyes widened. "You've made your point. Take your flowers, make your pleas, and go."
She began laughing then. He frowned curiously at her. Finally she stopped, beaming up at him. "Do you believe in love?" she inquired.
"No," he stubbornly stated.
"Then my point hasn't been made," she replied, walking into his room and fingering the beautiful blossoms. She took in the scent deeply and smiled. With that she left the room. He watched after her in disbelief and turned to the flowers one more. After a moment he shut his bedroom door, following her out.
Again she was sitting and calling upon the goddess. Soon she finished and looked up. "What do you wish for?" he asked.
"For you to believe again," she replied.
"Why so eager to have me believe?" he wondered.
"Because to live a life devoid of love and all the happiness it brings about is a curse that no one should have to suffer. Do you care for your friends, Briehl? Do you care for the children in the orphanage as well?" she asked.
"Of course I do," he answered.
"Then you feel love for them," she said.
He was silent, unable to think of a retort offhand. "Perhaps it is only the romantic sort of love that I have stopped believing in," he finally replied.
"Perhaps; but if that is so then you have deprived yourself of something magical," she said, rising and leaving the Temple. He watched after her blankly.
ES
He was in the Orphanage again. Again he had bribed Grelod away so that he and Constance could have time alone with the four children. Again he had brought provisions for the little ones. This would mark the ninth time he had done such things as this. He found he was doing all he could to spend more and more time in the orphanage with the children and Constance. It had been a long time since he had taken delight in being in any other place besides the Temple, but here surrounded by the little ones and by her… Somehow it felt right. Somehow he felt whole. He couldn't place why this was, but he wouldn't question it.
Runa was crying as she sat on the ground outside clutching a scraped knee. Briehl approached her with a gentle smile and knelt. "There, there, my daughter, let me see," he insisted. Runa sniffed, gazing up at him with big eyes. She liked that he called her daughter sometimes. The boys liked it when he called them 'my son' or 'son' as well. It sounded comforting coming from his lips. It sounded right. She wiped away a tear with a finger and moved her hand from the large hole in her skirt that had been ripped out when she'd fallen and hurt herself.
"It hurts," she said. He grinned gently at her, reassuringly nuzzling her forehead with his. He moved her hand off of the injury and inspected it. He cast Healing Hands on the injury and she watched in awe as it closed over.
"There you are, Runa, as good as knew. Does it still sting?" he questioned. She smiled up at him, sniffing and shaking her head. "That's my girl; so brave. We'll have Miss Constance fix up your dress. She's a very good seamstress, isn't she?"
"Yes," Runa agreed, nodding. "Can you carry me, Briehl, I'm tired," she said. In reality she wasn't. She just liked having someone hold her close and cuddle her. Constance tried to, but Grelod never let her. She so badly wanted that contact and affection, though. They all did. He smiled softly at her and scooped the child up into his arms. She grinned.
"I want up, Briehl, carry me too!" Hroar insisted, leaping without awaiting a confirmation.
"Whoa, up we go!" Briehl exclaimed, bending just in time to catch the boy around the waist and lift him up. Hroar swiftly clambered up so that he sat on the man's shoulders, holding on tightly and grinning.
"Tackle!" Samuel exclaimed, leaping forward and grabbing Briehl's leg, almost knocking him off balance. Runa screamed in fear and delight as the man almost fell before regaining his balance. Francois even dropped his book and leapt into Briehl's free arm.
ES
Constance was laughing gleefully at the sight. "Constance, did you put them up to this?" Briehl demanded, grinning mischievously at her.
"Me? Of course not, milord," she said, but she made her lie obvious and turned her back on him.
Struggling under the weight of the four children, he murmured, "All right, get down, all of you. I have revenge to take on Miss Constance." Samuel let go immediately, eyes lighting up. Francois laughed, getting out of his arms. Runa dropped from him, giggling. He picked up Hroar, putting him down.
"How will you get her?" Samuel eagerly asked, kneeling in a sneak position like Briehl was doing.
Briehl smirked and winked. Swiftly he raced forward while Constance was bending down to pick up the book Francois had dropped. She screamed loudly as suddenly she was seized around the waist from behind and pulled down to the ground. She burst into laughter, rolling across the grass along with her attacker. He got her beneath him and grinned down at her, hovering above her body as they both panted for breath, beaming at each other. His eyes wandered from her face over her torso before he realized what said eyes had settled on; namely her rising and falling chest. Quickly he looked back up at her face, blushing deeply. She laughed, shoving him playfully off.
"He loves you, Miss Constance, he wants you!" Runa sang excitedly, clapping.
"How can he love me, Runa? He doesn't believe in love," Constance replied playfully, but he heard all too clearly the tone behind her teasing words. There was sadness there, and there was a challenge. He watched her go towards the children, not moving from his spot on the ground as he let her words and her hidden message sink in. "Inside, children, inside," she insisted, ushering them along.
"Everyone believes in love," Runa protested.
"Not him," Constance replied, a sad smile pulling at her lips.
ES
He started on hearing this, blinking blankly. Without further hesitation he rose and swiftly went after her, eyes narrowed. Without warning he took her into his arms, turned her around, and kissed her lips adoringly. "Ooh!" all the children said together, laughing and giggling at the sight. The two hardly heard them.
After a moment he drew back. Slowly their eyes opened and met, her expression shocked silent and his as serious as it ever had been. "I believe," he whispered softly to her.
"Huh?" she questioned, still flustered and relishing the feeling of being in his arms.
"Love exists," he admitted, and even now he couldn't believe he was saying as much. Her eyes widened and suddenly she leapt onto him, wrapping her legs around his body. Samuel made a gagging sound, as did the other two boys.
"Humph, boys," Runa bit sharply, glaring reproachfully at the three.
Startled at first at Constance's actions, Briehl eagerly began to return. If every time he admitted that he believed in love he was rewarded like this, then let him say it with his every waking breath. Love existed, love existed, and here she was in his arms to prove as much.
"I think we should start with four children," she playfully teased as she got off of him, whispering it in his ear.
Confused at first his eyes lit up in amusement as he caught on, glancing passed her at the four orphans. "When the hag is dead and all of you are free once again, we'll see," he replied.
Sadness sprang to her eyes as she remembered that Grelod was, indeed, still alive, and she and the little ones were still held prisoner here. "Set us free," she begged sadly, lightly petting his chest.
"If only I could… I will not leave you to her as nothing, and on the day she dies I will have you as mine. The children will become my children, and you will be my wife," he vowed softly, nuzzling her forehead with his own.
"Let that day come all the sooner," she murmured softly, holding him close to her.