Dragon Journal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonjournal) wrote2012-02-05 02:10 pm
dragonjournal) wrote2012-02-05 02:10 pm
Entry tags:
Orig Fic Bingo #1
Title: Silence
Fandom or Original Universe: Original
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3553
Brief Summary: Letters between two betrothed
Brief Warnings: Talk of mutilation
Writing Prompt: Love Letters
Beta: None
Notes: None.
My Dearest Geoffrey,
Receiving your words considerably lifted my mood and I am eternally grateful to the Gods that you remain well and hale. The news we hear from the war front are not comforting, when we hear anything at all.
My sister, Esmerelde, has been cast adrift by this horrific war that has torn us asunder. Her beloved, Lord Francis, was killed at the battle of Nocturne. She received his final letter several days after she learned of his death. As I write this, she still weeps for him and declares that she will never love another, despite our Father’s best efforts.
I have to admit that I have kept myself apart from her, wondering if my joy at you being alive would burden her more, or simply exacerbate her grief. I do not know. I have prayed and prayed for her grief to be eased, for it to have been a horrible mistake, but sometimes the Gods’ answer is ‘no’.
Dearest, beloved Geoffrey, please keep yourself well and gain honor in the battles to come with your cunning and brilliance. I cannot express how bereft I would be if I were left behind. Your courage and wisdom are unmatched. I hope they continue to serve you well.
Written this day by my hand,
Your Beloved Guinevere.
He folded the letter away, and cast his eyes to the sky. A letter from a woman-child he barely remembered. They’d pledged their troth and the next morning, he’d mounted his horse and ridden away from her home to join the fighting men near Canticle Mount.
Guinevere de Montfroy was, no doubt, a beautiful, just and obedient woman. At least, he thought so. Geoffrey didn’t really remember her at all. A vague blur of blue eyes under her veil and the hint of dark hair was all his memory could dredge up.
His father had picked out the girl. Not only for her looks, but for her lineage, for her family history and for the political connections that she would garner them. Did his father know what she looked like now? Had his father kept in contact with the de Montfroys during these last five years?
“Alligare!”
Geoffrey’s head jerked up and he pushed himself to his feet out of the mud and muck. Nothing was dry and hadn’t been for months. All attempts to keep dry were comical at best. “My Lord.” He bowed, careful of the ribs that were still sore along his left side. The war hammer had merely grazed him but had done plenty of damage.
“Alligare, you are released from service.”
He blinked at his commander. He’d done nothing in his mind to warrant such a drastic action. “My Lord, I –“ Geoffrey couldn’t even begin to think of a defense. What had happened? As far as he’d been aware everyone was more than satisfied with his work.
“Alligare, I must regretfully inform you, you are the newest Earl of Descant.” A hand landed on Geoffrey’s shoulder and then the commander was gone.
Geoffrey looked at the lord’s aide de camp. The man nodded in the direction of someone waiting behind him. The boy was slight and looked like he hadn’t eaten in months, let alone been able to ride the entire way here. “Well, boy? My father?”
The hood didn’t move back, but the boy stepped forward, mutely handing him a missive. It was sealed with the family crest. He broke it open to read by the failing daylight.
My Lord Geoffrey,
It is with the heaviest heart that I must inform you of several family deaths. A year ago, your elder brother, Joseph, succumbed to an infection he gained when he was severely gored by a boar he was hunting. Your father, Lord Michael, made the decision to not burden you with this knowledge. He stated that he understood that you needed to perform your duties to the war effort.
It was three months after your brother’s untimely demise that your father began to get ill. To the end of his long and bountiful life, he refused to let you be called home, no matter who plead with him. Your beloved affianced arrived as planned at Descant Castle and pleaded with your father to allow you to say your farewells. Your father was adamant.
It was only with his final breath that he wished you to come home. He entrusted a separate missive to your bride, and she has not shared it with anyone.
My Lord, you are now Earl of Descant and we await your return. We plead that you return home with all haste and take your rightful place as Earl.
Written this day by my hand,
Your Seneschal, Edward.
He looked up at the boy. “Did my bride send a missive with you?”
Another letter was extended from the still silent boy.
My Dearest Beloved Geoffrey,
I write this missive at behest of your father, whose failing health makes it impossible for him to write you. Instead of his words, however, he has insisted that I write my own and read them to him.
Your father is a brave man. I have enjoyed these months living at Descant with him and his quiet gentleness. It was at his request that I came here. I would never have been so presumptuous but with his failing health, I thought it would be a kindness to him and could not deny him.
It saddens me to know that when you receive this, you will have just been informed of your father’s death. Know that he spoke of you and your honor and valor at every opportunity. He loved you dearly and wished that you only be happy with your life.
To that end, your father insisted that I be trained in the ability to run and defend the castle, should you choose to stay. He’s made it very clear that I will be solely responsible for Descant should you wish to remain at the front. Please understand; he wants to give you what you wish. He knows that your commanders will probably insist on your immediate return but your father wants you to follow your own code. He says it has never led you wrong and he doubts it would fail you now.
The Gods are calling him home, but his thoughts are of you. He has, on more than one occasion, called you his beloved gift from the Gods. He hopes that you will forgive him his selfishness in not wanting you to see him as an old, dying man, but remember him as the robust warrior of your youth.
If you wish to remain, your father states that you must remain. If you wish to come home, we will all be glad to see you and I will gladly relinquish control of the castle to its rightful Lord.
I will abide by what you decide, my beloved. I am yours to command in this as in all things.
Written by my hand,
Your beloved Guinevere.
He looked at the silent, cowled boy standing next to him. “We leave at first light. I’m going home.”
Geoffrey turned back into his tent. He didn’t have many belongings to take home with him. It wouldn’t be necessary to take everything home, anyways. He was going home. Five years in this hell of screams and blood and he was going home. Not in victory but out of duty. He closed his eyes and knelt before his personal shrine to the Gods, praying they offered him some sort of sign.
•••
She kept glancing at him. She couldn’t help it. The last time she’d seen him, she had been a thirteen year old child who’d had no concept of the life awaiting her. Now, by society’s standards, the only reason she wasn’t an old maid was because he’d been off fighting and unable to marry her.
Now, she was on the road with him on the way home… well, to her home. His home… she hadn’t had the heart to tell him. Not yet. Guinevere’s hands tightened on the reins. Descant Castle had been removed from Geoffrey’s hands by the Emperor, to be held until he returned home or until the Emperor decided to favor someone else with the title.
Many nobles had found themselves in the same position, whether they had gone to war or not. Her father had managed to keep the Emperor away from their holdings, by some miracle of the Gods. She fingered the missive she’d written before setting out on this journey. She should give it to him soon. They would have to take the road to the capitol, rather than the one home.
That night, seated around the fire, she dug into her saddlebags and presented the proper letter to him. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t: punishment for having spoken out of turn to the King’s man. Again, only a miracle had kept her alive.
Geoffrey scowled but took the letter from her. She knew what it said:
My Dearest Beloved Geoffrey,
If you are reading this, then you have decided to return home. My heart bursts with joy to know that you are on your way back here. Unfortunately, it will not be to your ancestral home. The Emperor, in his magnificent wisdom, has decided to hold Descant Castle for you until such time as you return home.
The boy with you has all the necessary papers to present at court to the Emperor. My Beloved, I wish I could tell you better news. We were all taken unawares, your father’s body barely settled into its eternal rest before they were banging on the gates demanding entry. I and your Seneschal attempted to reason with them, but they refused to hear anything we had to say. We were allowed, a few of us, to gather our belongings and return to family dwellings if we had them away from Descant.
I, of course, returned to my father’s home, and now await your arrival. However, my father has advice for you and it seems solid and trustworthy. He states you must immediately make for the capitol. I will be awaiting you there. We will marry at once and as I am presented to the Emperor, you can reclaim Descant.
The original purpose behind the seizure was to protect unheired holdings. Father believes this to be wrong, but he cannot naysay the Emperor openly. He will do all he can, though, to help you retrieve Descant.
My Beloved, I await your arrival and hope you can reclaim what is rightfully yours. I will do everything I can to help, if you so desire.
Written by my hand this day,
Your Beloved Guinevere.
It wasn’t the last letter she’d written. She had three more in her packs for him, if he seemed open to receiving them. She watched him read the missive over and over, his brow furrowing. “How could the Emperor? Even should I fall, my cousin would step up and become the Earl. My uncle served Father loyally, and I know my cousin only did not come with me because of his age!” He surged to his feet and began pacing back and forth.
“This makes no sense! The Emperor was the one who begged us to go. Did he do it, only to seize what is rightfully ours?” His hands clenched into fists. “And now, forced into a marriage to a girl-child I barely know.” He bowed his head. “The Gods truly test everyone, do they not?”
The question seemed rhetorical. She couldn’t answer anyway. She still had trouble eating without choking. Small nibbles were ladylike, but the tiny bits she had to eat now made eating a chore. Without her tongue, everything was harder. It was why she’d come on this little excursion. Guinevere had wanted to judge this man for herself. Now, she hated that she wouldn’t be allowed to marry him. No Lord would want a woman who had no tongue.
He collapsed next to the fire again. “You serve the Lady?”
She nodded. Her heartbeat escalated, wondering if she could get away without talking.
“Is she kind?”
She blinked. That hadn’t been what she’d expected him to say. Instead, she’d expected a question about her beauty, or her skills as a housekeeper. Then, she nodded, still silent. She hoped she was kind, anyway.
“Does she write these missives herself or employ a scribe?”
She shook her head. No, she wrote them herself! Her father had educated her, stating that his children would not be taken advantage of, and the way to prevent that was to teach them – even if it went against conventions.
“Why do you not talk?”
Guinevere blinked and then turned away, tears gathering on her lashes. She held a grimy hand to her throat and then slashed it downward. Mute was better than having one’s tongue removed. At least she hoped so.
“Ah. The perfect messenger.” He laid back on his bedding. “Sleep; we head for the capitol in the morning.”
She curled up on her blanket and let it soak up her tears.
•••
Three nights later, Geoffrey was shaken awake. He stared up into crystal blue eyes in a soft face that could not belong to a boy. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on. A grimy hand descended onto his mouth and a finger was held to full lips.
Then he heard it. Something was near. His horse and the messenger’s snorted, shifting uneasily where they were tied. He nodded, touching a thin, delicate wrist to indicate that he understood. The messenger scurried backward, rolling up his – her – blankets and then taking his. That left him to defend them.
His sword was bare as she saddled the animals. She brought them over and swung into the saddle. He followed suit. Then, they set heels to the horses and flew down the road.
By noon, Geoffrey was convinced they weren’t being followed. He stopped them both. The horses needed rest and she needed to explain what the hell was going on.
They found a small clearing that was encased on three sides by heavy bracken and thick trees. The fourth bordered the road, making them as secure as they could be without a roof. He striped his horse and settled the mare before grabbing her arm.
He spun her around and yanked the hood off her head. Black curls fell, almost to her waist. She was filthy, but definitely a woman. His eyes narrowed. Was this is affianced’s way of breaking the marriage contract? Was this some sort of trap? “Who are you? Why are you here? Why did the Lady send you?”
Tears gathered on her lashes and he tried not to feel pity for her. She held up her hands, indicating he should wait and dug into a saddle bag. He tensed, his hand on his knife. But she just handed him another damned letter.
“I don’t want letters! I want some damned answers!” He shouted at her, uncaring if they attracted attention.
She sniffled and fell to her knees, just holding up the letter. Her eyes pleaded with him to take it, to read it and probably to take his eyes off her.
Instead, he grabbed the rope off his bedroll and tied her hands and feet together. If she could get out of that, she deserved to escape. Then, he settled with the letter with his back against a tree.
My Dearest, Beloved Geoffrey,
I had hoped not to present you with this letter, but if you have it, then there was need.
Yes, I am the ‘boy’ that came to fetch you. Father could not spare a messenger, and as I am well educated, not only with books, but with arms, it was decided that I would disguise myself to fetch you.
Geoffrey’s eyes jerked up and looked at the slight figure against the tree. Then, he looked back at the letter.
You have every right to be angry with me, and to not wish to hear this explanation, but I hope your benevolence will extend for just a moment.
When the Emperor’s men came to Descant, we attempted to reason with them. With words and for days, we pleaded with them to allow us to remain and mourn for your Father properly. Unfortunately, word came from the Emperor that unless we relinquished the Castle and all within, you would never receive the Castle back.
We, your Seneschal and I, made the decision to allow them in and remove myself. The men, however, had other ideas. They were very angry to learn that the one who’d been opposing them was an outspoken woman.
The men then removed the problem.
His stomach lurched and he looked up at her again. He couldn’t be right. He couldn’t. His own countrymen, trusted servants of the Emperor had mutilated a noblewoman… it just didn’t seem possible.
My tongue was burned out of my mouth. I barely survived the journey home and once there was too delirious to tell anyone what had happened. By the time I recovered, there was nothing anyone could do. So, Father and I hatched the scheme that I would fetch you. I might now be mute, but my mind and my skills are still sharp.
Included in this packet of papers, you will find an agreement and a dismissal of betrothal. Father and I would understand if you chose not to marry a destroyed woman. Esmerelde has agreed to be your wife if you wish it. She is whole and hale. Time has eased her grief over the loss of her own betrothal and she would be honored to be your wife.
I would not be insulted if you chose such an action. Indeed, I would celebrate such a union as your missives have struck me as belonging to a honorable, kind man. My sister deserves such a husband.
I beg you to forgive my duplicity and not to hold a grudge against the rest of my family for my actions.
Written this day by my hand,
Your Beloved Guinevere
Geoffrey lowered the letter into his lap. The Emperor’s men had mutilated her without any right. And the Emperor held Descant. He did not have the sharp political mind that his father and brother had possessed. He’d been content with being a soldier and a second son. Eventually, he would have inherited a small manor and been content with just that.
Now, he was the Earl and had to figure out a way not to be a landless one.
Rolling to his feet, he untied Guinevere and remained crouched in front of her. He gently pulled her to her feet. “I beg your pardon, my Lady. I had no idea…” He trailed off and closed his eyes. “The horrors of war have taught me many things. Among them not to trust anything or anyone until I know the situation.” He shook his head. “I trusted your missives because Father had his suspicions about the Emperor before I left for war. To visit the punishment upon you that they did,” he cupped her cheek, “I would be honored to have a strong woman at my side.”
Tears formed in her eyes again and she fell to the ground, scouring for something. He watched her confused for a moment until she grabbed a piece of rock and smoothed a bit of the damp ground flat. [I am unworthy of being a bride, my Lord. I have been destroyed. I will not be married out of pity.]
He barked out a laugh. “Pity, my Lady? I have not pity for you. Surprise at your willingness to put yourself at such risk, yes. I am flabbergasted at your determination to do such dangerous things, but I have no pity. To pity you would be to lessen the things you have accomplished both before and after you were wronged.”
She frowned, biting on her bottom lip before turning back to the small template she’d made for herself. [Do not jest, my Lord. I cannot -]
Her writing broke off because he put a booted and armored foot in her way. “I do not jest, my Lady. With you at my side, I shall reclaim Descant. I have no wish for anyone else.” He sighed and ran a rough hand over his face. The calluses caught on the rough beard he was growing. “If I must, I will tie you again, until we reach the capitol and I can speak to your Father.”
She dropped her mouth open in shock and he could see the stump of a tongue that she was left with. Her eyes widened and her mouth moved in words that he didn’t need sound to hear.
“Yes, I would dare, my Lady.” He assured her. He would throw her over his horse’s flanks, tied, and continue on to the capitol if that was what was needed. “Will you ride, or will you go tied?”
Her mouth snapped shut and she huffed at him, crossing her arms.
Geoffrey retreated to his blanket. “One more thing, my Lady. Do not think you can remain silent forever. I quite enjoy reading your letters.”
He grinned when she threw the rock at him.
Fandom or Original Universe: Original
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3553
Brief Summary: Letters between two betrothed
Brief Warnings: Talk of mutilation
Writing Prompt: Love Letters
Beta: None
Notes: None.
My Dearest Geoffrey,
Receiving your words considerably lifted my mood and I am eternally grateful to the Gods that you remain well and hale. The news we hear from the war front are not comforting, when we hear anything at all.
My sister, Esmerelde, has been cast adrift by this horrific war that has torn us asunder. Her beloved, Lord Francis, was killed at the battle of Nocturne. She received his final letter several days after she learned of his death. As I write this, she still weeps for him and declares that she will never love another, despite our Father’s best efforts.
I have to admit that I have kept myself apart from her, wondering if my joy at you being alive would burden her more, or simply exacerbate her grief. I do not know. I have prayed and prayed for her grief to be eased, for it to have been a horrible mistake, but sometimes the Gods’ answer is ‘no’.
Dearest, beloved Geoffrey, please keep yourself well and gain honor in the battles to come with your cunning and brilliance. I cannot express how bereft I would be if I were left behind. Your courage and wisdom are unmatched. I hope they continue to serve you well.
Written this day by my hand,
Your Beloved Guinevere.
He folded the letter away, and cast his eyes to the sky. A letter from a woman-child he barely remembered. They’d pledged their troth and the next morning, he’d mounted his horse and ridden away from her home to join the fighting men near Canticle Mount.
Guinevere de Montfroy was, no doubt, a beautiful, just and obedient woman. At least, he thought so. Geoffrey didn’t really remember her at all. A vague blur of blue eyes under her veil and the hint of dark hair was all his memory could dredge up.
His father had picked out the girl. Not only for her looks, but for her lineage, for her family history and for the political connections that she would garner them. Did his father know what she looked like now? Had his father kept in contact with the de Montfroys during these last five years?
“Alligare!”
Geoffrey’s head jerked up and he pushed himself to his feet out of the mud and muck. Nothing was dry and hadn’t been for months. All attempts to keep dry were comical at best. “My Lord.” He bowed, careful of the ribs that were still sore along his left side. The war hammer had merely grazed him but had done plenty of damage.
“Alligare, you are released from service.”
He blinked at his commander. He’d done nothing in his mind to warrant such a drastic action. “My Lord, I –“ Geoffrey couldn’t even begin to think of a defense. What had happened? As far as he’d been aware everyone was more than satisfied with his work.
“Alligare, I must regretfully inform you, you are the newest Earl of Descant.” A hand landed on Geoffrey’s shoulder and then the commander was gone.
Geoffrey looked at the lord’s aide de camp. The man nodded in the direction of someone waiting behind him. The boy was slight and looked like he hadn’t eaten in months, let alone been able to ride the entire way here. “Well, boy? My father?”
The hood didn’t move back, but the boy stepped forward, mutely handing him a missive. It was sealed with the family crest. He broke it open to read by the failing daylight.
My Lord Geoffrey,
It is with the heaviest heart that I must inform you of several family deaths. A year ago, your elder brother, Joseph, succumbed to an infection he gained when he was severely gored by a boar he was hunting. Your father, Lord Michael, made the decision to not burden you with this knowledge. He stated that he understood that you needed to perform your duties to the war effort.
It was three months after your brother’s untimely demise that your father began to get ill. To the end of his long and bountiful life, he refused to let you be called home, no matter who plead with him. Your beloved affianced arrived as planned at Descant Castle and pleaded with your father to allow you to say your farewells. Your father was adamant.
It was only with his final breath that he wished you to come home. He entrusted a separate missive to your bride, and she has not shared it with anyone.
My Lord, you are now Earl of Descant and we await your return. We plead that you return home with all haste and take your rightful place as Earl.
Written this day by my hand,
Your Seneschal, Edward.
He looked up at the boy. “Did my bride send a missive with you?”
Another letter was extended from the still silent boy.
My Dearest Beloved Geoffrey,
I write this missive at behest of your father, whose failing health makes it impossible for him to write you. Instead of his words, however, he has insisted that I write my own and read them to him.
Your father is a brave man. I have enjoyed these months living at Descant with him and his quiet gentleness. It was at his request that I came here. I would never have been so presumptuous but with his failing health, I thought it would be a kindness to him and could not deny him.
It saddens me to know that when you receive this, you will have just been informed of your father’s death. Know that he spoke of you and your honor and valor at every opportunity. He loved you dearly and wished that you only be happy with your life.
To that end, your father insisted that I be trained in the ability to run and defend the castle, should you choose to stay. He’s made it very clear that I will be solely responsible for Descant should you wish to remain at the front. Please understand; he wants to give you what you wish. He knows that your commanders will probably insist on your immediate return but your father wants you to follow your own code. He says it has never led you wrong and he doubts it would fail you now.
The Gods are calling him home, but his thoughts are of you. He has, on more than one occasion, called you his beloved gift from the Gods. He hopes that you will forgive him his selfishness in not wanting you to see him as an old, dying man, but remember him as the robust warrior of your youth.
If you wish to remain, your father states that you must remain. If you wish to come home, we will all be glad to see you and I will gladly relinquish control of the castle to its rightful Lord.
I will abide by what you decide, my beloved. I am yours to command in this as in all things.
Written by my hand,
Your beloved Guinevere.
He looked at the silent, cowled boy standing next to him. “We leave at first light. I’m going home.”
Geoffrey turned back into his tent. He didn’t have many belongings to take home with him. It wouldn’t be necessary to take everything home, anyways. He was going home. Five years in this hell of screams and blood and he was going home. Not in victory but out of duty. He closed his eyes and knelt before his personal shrine to the Gods, praying they offered him some sort of sign.
She kept glancing at him. She couldn’t help it. The last time she’d seen him, she had been a thirteen year old child who’d had no concept of the life awaiting her. Now, by society’s standards, the only reason she wasn’t an old maid was because he’d been off fighting and unable to marry her.
Now, she was on the road with him on the way home… well, to her home. His home… she hadn’t had the heart to tell him. Not yet. Guinevere’s hands tightened on the reins. Descant Castle had been removed from Geoffrey’s hands by the Emperor, to be held until he returned home or until the Emperor decided to favor someone else with the title.
Many nobles had found themselves in the same position, whether they had gone to war or not. Her father had managed to keep the Emperor away from their holdings, by some miracle of the Gods. She fingered the missive she’d written before setting out on this journey. She should give it to him soon. They would have to take the road to the capitol, rather than the one home.
That night, seated around the fire, she dug into her saddlebags and presented the proper letter to him. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t: punishment for having spoken out of turn to the King’s man. Again, only a miracle had kept her alive.
Geoffrey scowled but took the letter from her. She knew what it said:
My Dearest Beloved Geoffrey,
If you are reading this, then you have decided to return home. My heart bursts with joy to know that you are on your way back here. Unfortunately, it will not be to your ancestral home. The Emperor, in his magnificent wisdom, has decided to hold Descant Castle for you until such time as you return home.
The boy with you has all the necessary papers to present at court to the Emperor. My Beloved, I wish I could tell you better news. We were all taken unawares, your father’s body barely settled into its eternal rest before they were banging on the gates demanding entry. I and your Seneschal attempted to reason with them, but they refused to hear anything we had to say. We were allowed, a few of us, to gather our belongings and return to family dwellings if we had them away from Descant.
I, of course, returned to my father’s home, and now await your arrival. However, my father has advice for you and it seems solid and trustworthy. He states you must immediately make for the capitol. I will be awaiting you there. We will marry at once and as I am presented to the Emperor, you can reclaim Descant.
The original purpose behind the seizure was to protect unheired holdings. Father believes this to be wrong, but he cannot naysay the Emperor openly. He will do all he can, though, to help you retrieve Descant.
My Beloved, I await your arrival and hope you can reclaim what is rightfully yours. I will do everything I can to help, if you so desire.
Written by my hand this day,
Your Beloved Guinevere.
It wasn’t the last letter she’d written. She had three more in her packs for him, if he seemed open to receiving them. She watched him read the missive over and over, his brow furrowing. “How could the Emperor? Even should I fall, my cousin would step up and become the Earl. My uncle served Father loyally, and I know my cousin only did not come with me because of his age!” He surged to his feet and began pacing back and forth.
“This makes no sense! The Emperor was the one who begged us to go. Did he do it, only to seize what is rightfully ours?” His hands clenched into fists. “And now, forced into a marriage to a girl-child I barely know.” He bowed his head. “The Gods truly test everyone, do they not?”
The question seemed rhetorical. She couldn’t answer anyway. She still had trouble eating without choking. Small nibbles were ladylike, but the tiny bits she had to eat now made eating a chore. Without her tongue, everything was harder. It was why she’d come on this little excursion. Guinevere had wanted to judge this man for herself. Now, she hated that she wouldn’t be allowed to marry him. No Lord would want a woman who had no tongue.
He collapsed next to the fire again. “You serve the Lady?”
She nodded. Her heartbeat escalated, wondering if she could get away without talking.
“Is she kind?”
She blinked. That hadn’t been what she’d expected him to say. Instead, she’d expected a question about her beauty, or her skills as a housekeeper. Then, she nodded, still silent. She hoped she was kind, anyway.
“Does she write these missives herself or employ a scribe?”
She shook her head. No, she wrote them herself! Her father had educated her, stating that his children would not be taken advantage of, and the way to prevent that was to teach them – even if it went against conventions.
“Why do you not talk?”
Guinevere blinked and then turned away, tears gathering on her lashes. She held a grimy hand to her throat and then slashed it downward. Mute was better than having one’s tongue removed. At least she hoped so.
“Ah. The perfect messenger.” He laid back on his bedding. “Sleep; we head for the capitol in the morning.”
She curled up on her blanket and let it soak up her tears.
Three nights later, Geoffrey was shaken awake. He stared up into crystal blue eyes in a soft face that could not belong to a boy. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on. A grimy hand descended onto his mouth and a finger was held to full lips.
Then he heard it. Something was near. His horse and the messenger’s snorted, shifting uneasily where they were tied. He nodded, touching a thin, delicate wrist to indicate that he understood. The messenger scurried backward, rolling up his – her – blankets and then taking his. That left him to defend them.
His sword was bare as she saddled the animals. She brought them over and swung into the saddle. He followed suit. Then, they set heels to the horses and flew down the road.
By noon, Geoffrey was convinced they weren’t being followed. He stopped them both. The horses needed rest and she needed to explain what the hell was going on.
They found a small clearing that was encased on three sides by heavy bracken and thick trees. The fourth bordered the road, making them as secure as they could be without a roof. He striped his horse and settled the mare before grabbing her arm.
He spun her around and yanked the hood off her head. Black curls fell, almost to her waist. She was filthy, but definitely a woman. His eyes narrowed. Was this is affianced’s way of breaking the marriage contract? Was this some sort of trap? “Who are you? Why are you here? Why did the Lady send you?”
Tears gathered on her lashes and he tried not to feel pity for her. She held up her hands, indicating he should wait and dug into a saddle bag. He tensed, his hand on his knife. But she just handed him another damned letter.
“I don’t want letters! I want some damned answers!” He shouted at her, uncaring if they attracted attention.
She sniffled and fell to her knees, just holding up the letter. Her eyes pleaded with him to take it, to read it and probably to take his eyes off her.
Instead, he grabbed the rope off his bedroll and tied her hands and feet together. If she could get out of that, she deserved to escape. Then, he settled with the letter with his back against a tree.
My Dearest, Beloved Geoffrey,
I had hoped not to present you with this letter, but if you have it, then there was need.
Yes, I am the ‘boy’ that came to fetch you. Father could not spare a messenger, and as I am well educated, not only with books, but with arms, it was decided that I would disguise myself to fetch you.
Geoffrey’s eyes jerked up and looked at the slight figure against the tree. Then, he looked back at the letter.
You have every right to be angry with me, and to not wish to hear this explanation, but I hope your benevolence will extend for just a moment.
When the Emperor’s men came to Descant, we attempted to reason with them. With words and for days, we pleaded with them to allow us to remain and mourn for your Father properly. Unfortunately, word came from the Emperor that unless we relinquished the Castle and all within, you would never receive the Castle back.
We, your Seneschal and I, made the decision to allow them in and remove myself. The men, however, had other ideas. They were very angry to learn that the one who’d been opposing them was an outspoken woman.
The men then removed the problem.
His stomach lurched and he looked up at her again. He couldn’t be right. He couldn’t. His own countrymen, trusted servants of the Emperor had mutilated a noblewoman… it just didn’t seem possible.
My tongue was burned out of my mouth. I barely survived the journey home and once there was too delirious to tell anyone what had happened. By the time I recovered, there was nothing anyone could do. So, Father and I hatched the scheme that I would fetch you. I might now be mute, but my mind and my skills are still sharp.
Included in this packet of papers, you will find an agreement and a dismissal of betrothal. Father and I would understand if you chose not to marry a destroyed woman. Esmerelde has agreed to be your wife if you wish it. She is whole and hale. Time has eased her grief over the loss of her own betrothal and she would be honored to be your wife.
I would not be insulted if you chose such an action. Indeed, I would celebrate such a union as your missives have struck me as belonging to a honorable, kind man. My sister deserves such a husband.
I beg you to forgive my duplicity and not to hold a grudge against the rest of my family for my actions.
Written this day by my hand,
Your Beloved Guinevere
Geoffrey lowered the letter into his lap. The Emperor’s men had mutilated her without any right. And the Emperor held Descant. He did not have the sharp political mind that his father and brother had possessed. He’d been content with being a soldier and a second son. Eventually, he would have inherited a small manor and been content with just that.
Now, he was the Earl and had to figure out a way not to be a landless one.
Rolling to his feet, he untied Guinevere and remained crouched in front of her. He gently pulled her to her feet. “I beg your pardon, my Lady. I had no idea…” He trailed off and closed his eyes. “The horrors of war have taught me many things. Among them not to trust anything or anyone until I know the situation.” He shook his head. “I trusted your missives because Father had his suspicions about the Emperor before I left for war. To visit the punishment upon you that they did,” he cupped her cheek, “I would be honored to have a strong woman at my side.”
Tears formed in her eyes again and she fell to the ground, scouring for something. He watched her confused for a moment until she grabbed a piece of rock and smoothed a bit of the damp ground flat. [I am unworthy of being a bride, my Lord. I have been destroyed. I will not be married out of pity.]
He barked out a laugh. “Pity, my Lady? I have not pity for you. Surprise at your willingness to put yourself at such risk, yes. I am flabbergasted at your determination to do such dangerous things, but I have no pity. To pity you would be to lessen the things you have accomplished both before and after you were wronged.”
She frowned, biting on her bottom lip before turning back to the small template she’d made for herself. [Do not jest, my Lord. I cannot -]
Her writing broke off because he put a booted and armored foot in her way. “I do not jest, my Lady. With you at my side, I shall reclaim Descant. I have no wish for anyone else.” He sighed and ran a rough hand over his face. The calluses caught on the rough beard he was growing. “If I must, I will tie you again, until we reach the capitol and I can speak to your Father.”
She dropped her mouth open in shock and he could see the stump of a tongue that she was left with. Her eyes widened and her mouth moved in words that he didn’t need sound to hear.
“Yes, I would dare, my Lady.” He assured her. He would throw her over his horse’s flanks, tied, and continue on to the capitol if that was what was needed. “Will you ride, or will you go tied?”
Her mouth snapped shut and she huffed at him, crossing her arms.
Geoffrey retreated to his blanket. “One more thing, my Lady. Do not think you can remain silent forever. I quite enjoy reading your letters.”
He grinned when she threw the rock at him.
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