diya + merena // please
Who: Merena & Diya
When: August 9th
Where: The Hold
Rating & Warnings: PG, douchebaggery
Merena had thought she calmed down since her talk with Guardswoman Cosimo. She had spent the wedding with her business face on, nonstop smiling politely at anyone and everyone, trying desperately to be nothing but calm that she thought she would almost crack. Seeing her brother bring that woman and then get into a fight with Lord Duncan Evandros almost did make her crack, but she had left soon after, unable to face anyone much longer after that. She had tried to collect herself once more after that. It was why she waited again before she thought of trying to confront Diya.
Her mind still couldn't wrap around the idea that Diya would willingly, purposefully try to get disinherited. For her, Belladea Cosimo said? Why would he do that? For what reason could he possibly have to do that? She hoped long and hard, wished fervently, prayed to Cita every night since that Dee had simply heard wrong. That whatever Diya had said to the guard had been misinterpreted. It couldn't be right. He was foolish, irresponsible, careless, reckless, but he wouldn't throw away their family name. He couldn't. It would be the worst thing he could ever do.
She waited, restless, for Diya to appear at the door. She got up, sat back down at her desk, looked at her ledger, stood back up again. He said soon. How soon was soon?
She started pacing. For once, her everlasting patience wasn't lasting.
His response to his sister had been half a lie; he'd been at Inanna's, but he'd happened to check his ledger while the girl he'd bought had slipped downstairs for another bottle of wine. The look on her face when she'd returned and he'd told her to 'get on with it' and 'hurry up' wasn't one he'd forget soon. He'd tipped her extra in apology, but her goodbye had been cold and sullen.
The trip back to the Hold was uneventful, though apprehension had made it seem longer. What did Merena want? He knew his sister; it would take something that put her in a panic for her to demand his time. Something had happened to upset her. Or, more precisely, someone had told her something that upset her. What was it she wanted confirmation about? His drinking? Gambling? Whoring? Or the fact that he was sleeping with their King? The climb up the tower felt too short, and Diya hesitated in front of his sister's door before he knocked once, twice, and opened the door to peer inside.
"Rena? It's me."
At the knock, she froze. She was unnaturally still even as Diya opened the door and looked inside. All of a sudden, seeing her brother there and in person and in front of her, second thoughts sprung to her mind. She wanted him here, she asked for him to come back, but now it was becoming real. She didn't want to confirm anything. She wasn't ready anymore. Her courage, which had been faltering even before the door opened, wavered even more now. She knew she had to do this, however. It was alarmingly important to figure out what was the truth.
Merena took a deep breath, and it was like she wasn't an inanimate doll anymore. She attempted a weak smile but failed miserable. "Diya," she breathed. "Come in and close the door." There was a notable pause before she remembered to add, "Please." At least her voice sounded mostly normal. Was this a good start? She didn't know.
He did as she asked, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. Her room was much cleaner than his, if plainer. He wondered if she'd like it if he bought her something to hang up, to decorate with, but then considered that no, she'd only ever use such things out of obligation and politeness. Uncomfortable and wary, Diya raked a hand through his hair and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Well?"
She wrung her hands and looked at him long and hard. He didn't look too inebriated. All signs pointed that she shouldn't delay this any longer.
"Tell me--" That was too quiet; she cleared her throat. Her eyes remained focused on him, unwavering and determined. She would see this through. "Tell me you're not planning to be disinherited."
His expression slackened, and Diya stared in silent shock at his sister. How had she--? Dee, he answered himself. She'd told.
"Merena--" he started, then grit his teeth and wet his lips with a deep breath. He'd never wanted to explain this. He'd known it would happen sooner or later, but he'd expected it wouldn't be until after his father had finally cast him out. "Cosimo told you?" he said instead, lips twisting into a brief, guilty grimace.
"It doesn't matter how I found out."
Merena wanted to take the few steps back and sink into the bed, but she couldn't. She had to stay strong and upright for this. She had to understand, change his mind, tell him it was stu-- No, he had to have his reasons. His reaction had said as much, but she still said, "So it's true?" Her eyes shut. "Why?"
Diya had long weathered his father's disappointment, but seeing it in Merena's expression was almost too much. He was silent for a long moment, trying to work out how best to say it, how to soften the blow. When he spoke, it was quiet, muttered, even.
"Because you deserve it."
Because you deserve it.
Her eyes remained shut. Dee had told her something like that, but she couldn't believe it. He would be stripped of the family name, tossed out--for her? No. "No," she said quietly. "No, I don't." Did she deserve to have her brother out of her life more than before? "No," she repeated, louder than before.
She opened her eyes. "I don't want it." Her tone was resolute and firm.
"Do you think I do?" Diya grimaced. "I'd be much happier out of his grasp." Yes, that was a good angle to play up. She'd be more inclined to it if she thought it would make him happy... "I've told Ish-- the King. He said he'd send me to a foreign Court when father finally disowns me. I'll be taken care of. There's nothing to worry about. Alright?"
He closed the distance between them and reached out to take her hand, hoping his ploy would work.
She froze and looked up at him unseeing eyes. As much as that was a reminder or a confirmation that he was sleeping with the king, all she could focus on was he'd send me to a foreign court. Sent to a foreign court. And he'll be taken care of.
He was running away again, and he was running away from his responsibilities and their family.
"No," she said firmly, almost snapping. "I won't allow it. You will find yourself a wife." Merena didn't even mind running the business, but it was nigh time that her brother faced up to some responsibility.
His eyes narrowed. All the thousands of times he'd practiced this conversation in his head, he'd always imagined himself scoffing at her, refusing her, telling her quietly but firmly that his mind was made up. Looking at her now, he realized he could do none of that. Not well. Not convincingly.
"Rena, no," he pleaded. "I don't want it. I don't deserve it. You deserve it. You're good at it, all of it, I'm just..." He smiled and spread his hands helplessly. "You know what I'll do with it."
He didn't understand. He was still shirking his responsibilities. Even if she was better at it, even if she was, that didn't make his decision the right one.
"Diya," she began, shaking her head. "You can't keep on doing what you've been doing for the rest of your life. You have to accept some of your responsibilities. Please. I would help you." She would. Behind the scenes, from the sides, anything. It wasn't like she imagined she would be married any time soon. She was already past the acceptable age range.
Responsibilities. Though it was his sister who said it, he could hear the word in his father's voice, loud and angry. Diya dropped her hand, expression hardening. "This is my responsibility," he snapped. "All of what you could have... it would be wasted on me. And I don't want a wife, you know I don't want a wife, you know how miserable I'd make her, I can't--"
He rolled his lips together and drew a deep breath, glaring at the wall before he forced himself to meet Merena's stare. "I won't. It's yours. There's nothing you can do to convince me."
Like a ripple in a lake, mere moments after Diya's expression hardened, so did hers. "It would not be wasted." She raised her voice, but it was not yelling yet. "You need some focus in your life. You are--" Wasting your life away. "--going to crash into an early grave at the rate you're going. Do you really want that? Do you think I want that? Do you think I will stand aside and watch you do that?" A part of her knew she was starting to sound a little like her father, and she hated it, but she didn't know what else to say. Right now, all she could do was parrot or else she'd let all her vulnerabilities spill from where she thought she'd had them tightly wrapped.
She stared straight at him, daring him to look away from her. "So find a wife. Find a wife you can make an arrangement with. You don't need to be faithful to her, as long you have one." It would be fine if they knew what Diya was like; it was fine if it was just convenience or political. It would work out if the other woman was understanding or didn't care. "There are so many things people don't want in their life but have to have them. Accept this one."
Her hand unconsciously went up to her left cheek as soon as she said those words. As quickly as she realized, her hand dropped to her side. She knew it could be read as guilt manipulation; she didn't want to do that. She crossed her arms, to keep her from touching her scar again and to show she wasn't backing down.
The one thing Merena hadn't said yet, and one of her biggest reasons why she wanted Diya so desperately to have a wife, was that it would mean he would be back in her life more after so many years, but she couldn't say it. It was too selfish.
When she touched her scar, he flinched. "I don't--" he started angrily, then wet his lips. "I don't care what happens to me. Do you think I'd live this way if I did? I don't care. And it's my life to throw away if I'd like to." It was a stupid and selfish thing to say, but he meant it. Diya glared at his sister. "I will not take a wife and I will not take this from you." You can't make me was on the tip of his tongue, and it was so ridiculous he would've laughed if he wasn't so shaken. His sister's glare was piercing.
"I'm staying here until father's patience runs out. Then I'll go to... to whatever Court Ishmael sends me to. And I'll be happy. You ought to be happy too. Why make yourself miserable about me if I'm alright? Father will be thrilled to disinherit me, you know he will." He drew a deep breath after his tirade, black eyes meeting hers. "I'm not backing down in this. Scold me all you like, but I won't."
His words shocked her almost to tears. She knew he was reckless, almost too willfully reckless, but she didn't know he was actually that self-aware about it. Quickly closing her eyes, she willed her eyes to dry. They were still wet when she opened them but at least no tears fell. "You. ... Don't care. You... don't care?" She echoed slowly, softly, like she was unsure she heard right. "Do you think no one else would care if you threw your life away? Do you think I wouldn't care? Do you think I won't care? I care, Diya!" Her voice went sharp and cracked at the end.
As quickly as her temper flared, she calmed again, as if the small outburst drained her energy. "I--" It was her turn to look away, to say something selfish and maybe stupid. "I won't be happy if you're gone." She finally admitted it. She bit her lip before she could blurt all her insecurity and sadness from years ago. "I'm sorry. I know it's your life, but getting disinherited isn't taking anything away from me when it was yours first. It isn't going to make me happy. I won't be happy."
Diya looked away when her voice cracked, unable to meet her eyes. Would she cry now? He could never take it when women cried; he didn't know what to do. It was even worse that it was his sister, on the verge of tears because of him. What could he do? He couldn't give in, not this easily. He was nothing if not stubborn. He wanted this for her. She'd understand later, he was sure she would.
"You will be. Eventually. You'll... you'll understand." Hands curling and fidgeting restlessly at his sides, Diya looked back to his sister's face and winced. "I'm sorry."
No, Merena wasn't crying yet. She just shook her head slowly and kept shaking it while she took steps back until she could sink onto the bed. "No... no, I don't think I will."
Was that it? Was there nothing more she could say? She couldn't still ask why won't you stay? Why can't you get a wife? Why couldn't he do something responsible for once? He already answered those questions, one way or another. He wanted to be free and away and would make whoever married him miserable. "I'm sorry, too."
She was sorry to think that he would even consider doing something to stay because she wanted him to. Sorry to hope that she could instill some sense of responsibility in Diya eventually. Sorry that she knew she would forgive him even though she wanted so much to be angry but all she could be was sorry and hurt.
She couldn't look at him.
His heart twisted looking at her, and Diya drew a deep breath, voice weak when he tried, "Merena, please. I'm sorry. But you know it's... it's for the best, it's the right thing." Even to his own ears, he didn't sound convincing. He reached out to take her by the elbows, lightly, ducking his head to try to catch her eyes.
"Don't-- Don't take it like this. Please."
Merena told herself she wasn't going to cry until Diya left, but it was getting more and more difficult. She didn't move when he took her elbows but she avoided his eyes. "It's--it's not," she said brokenly. "It's not." She shook her head fervently enough that her hair tumbled over her shoulders.
"You're saying you don't want to be my brother anymore." And suddenly, she was twelve again, alone and wondering when she would ever see Diya again. Her tears fell, unbidden.
"No," he said quickly. "No, no, that's not what I'm--" His voice cracked at the sight of the tears on his sister's cheeks; he watched one tremble and spill over her puckered scar. "That's not what I'm saying, Rena," Diya said firmly, his grip on her elbows tightening. "We'll still see each other. I can, I can visit..."
He had to leave. He had to end this somehow, and he had to leave. If he stayed much longer, watching his sister cry, seeing the lonliness and disappointment in her eyes, he'd give in. "Please, just... just trust me. Think on it. It might look bad now, but it won't..." Diya forced himself to let go of her arms, and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and he turned and left before she could say anything more.
When: August 9th
Where: The Hold
Rating & Warnings: PG, douchebaggery
Merena had thought she calmed down since her talk with Guardswoman Cosimo. She had spent the wedding with her business face on, nonstop smiling politely at anyone and everyone, trying desperately to be nothing but calm that she thought she would almost crack. Seeing her brother bring that woman and then get into a fight with Lord Duncan Evandros almost did make her crack, but she had left soon after, unable to face anyone much longer after that. She had tried to collect herself once more after that. It was why she waited again before she thought of trying to confront Diya.
Her mind still couldn't wrap around the idea that Diya would willingly, purposefully try to get disinherited. For her, Belladea Cosimo said? Why would he do that? For what reason could he possibly have to do that? She hoped long and hard, wished fervently, prayed to Cita every night since that Dee had simply heard wrong. That whatever Diya had said to the guard had been misinterpreted. It couldn't be right. He was foolish, irresponsible, careless, reckless, but he wouldn't throw away their family name. He couldn't. It would be the worst thing he could ever do.
She waited, restless, for Diya to appear at the door. She got up, sat back down at her desk, looked at her ledger, stood back up again. He said soon. How soon was soon?
She started pacing. For once, her everlasting patience wasn't lasting.
His response to his sister had been half a lie; he'd been at Inanna's, but he'd happened to check his ledger while the girl he'd bought had slipped downstairs for another bottle of wine. The look on her face when she'd returned and he'd told her to 'get on with it' and 'hurry up' wasn't one he'd forget soon. He'd tipped her extra in apology, but her goodbye had been cold and sullen.
The trip back to the Hold was uneventful, though apprehension had made it seem longer. What did Merena want? He knew his sister; it would take something that put her in a panic for her to demand his time. Something had happened to upset her. Or, more precisely, someone had told her something that upset her. What was it she wanted confirmation about? His drinking? Gambling? Whoring? Or the fact that he was sleeping with their King? The climb up the tower felt too short, and Diya hesitated in front of his sister's door before he knocked once, twice, and opened the door to peer inside.
"Rena? It's me."
At the knock, she froze. She was unnaturally still even as Diya opened the door and looked inside. All of a sudden, seeing her brother there and in person and in front of her, second thoughts sprung to her mind. She wanted him here, she asked for him to come back, but now it was becoming real. She didn't want to confirm anything. She wasn't ready anymore. Her courage, which had been faltering even before the door opened, wavered even more now. She knew she had to do this, however. It was alarmingly important to figure out what was the truth.
Merena took a deep breath, and it was like she wasn't an inanimate doll anymore. She attempted a weak smile but failed miserable. "Diya," she breathed. "Come in and close the door." There was a notable pause before she remembered to add, "Please." At least her voice sounded mostly normal. Was this a good start? She didn't know.
He did as she asked, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. Her room was much cleaner than his, if plainer. He wondered if she'd like it if he bought her something to hang up, to decorate with, but then considered that no, she'd only ever use such things out of obligation and politeness. Uncomfortable and wary, Diya raked a hand through his hair and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Well?"
She wrung her hands and looked at him long and hard. He didn't look too inebriated. All signs pointed that she shouldn't delay this any longer.
"Tell me--" That was too quiet; she cleared her throat. Her eyes remained focused on him, unwavering and determined. She would see this through. "Tell me you're not planning to be disinherited."
His expression slackened, and Diya stared in silent shock at his sister. How had she--? Dee, he answered himself. She'd told.
"Merena--" he started, then grit his teeth and wet his lips with a deep breath. He'd never wanted to explain this. He'd known it would happen sooner or later, but he'd expected it wouldn't be until after his father had finally cast him out. "Cosimo told you?" he said instead, lips twisting into a brief, guilty grimace.
"It doesn't matter how I found out."
Merena wanted to take the few steps back and sink into the bed, but she couldn't. She had to stay strong and upright for this. She had to understand, change his mind, tell him it was stu-- No, he had to have his reasons. His reaction had said as much, but she still said, "So it's true?" Her eyes shut. "Why?"
Diya had long weathered his father's disappointment, but seeing it in Merena's expression was almost too much. He was silent for a long moment, trying to work out how best to say it, how to soften the blow. When he spoke, it was quiet, muttered, even.
"Because you deserve it."
Because you deserve it.
Her eyes remained shut. Dee had told her something like that, but she couldn't believe it. He would be stripped of the family name, tossed out--for her? No. "No," she said quietly. "No, I don't." Did she deserve to have her brother out of her life more than before? "No," she repeated, louder than before.
She opened her eyes. "I don't want it." Her tone was resolute and firm.
"Do you think I do?" Diya grimaced. "I'd be much happier out of his grasp." Yes, that was a good angle to play up. She'd be more inclined to it if she thought it would make him happy... "I've told Ish-- the King. He said he'd send me to a foreign Court when father finally disowns me. I'll be taken care of. There's nothing to worry about. Alright?"
He closed the distance between them and reached out to take her hand, hoping his ploy would work.
She froze and looked up at him unseeing eyes. As much as that was a reminder or a confirmation that he was sleeping with the king, all she could focus on was he'd send me to a foreign court. Sent to a foreign court. And he'll be taken care of.
He was running away again, and he was running away from his responsibilities and their family.
"No," she said firmly, almost snapping. "I won't allow it. You will find yourself a wife." Merena didn't even mind running the business, but it was nigh time that her brother faced up to some responsibility.
His eyes narrowed. All the thousands of times he'd practiced this conversation in his head, he'd always imagined himself scoffing at her, refusing her, telling her quietly but firmly that his mind was made up. Looking at her now, he realized he could do none of that. Not well. Not convincingly.
"Rena, no," he pleaded. "I don't want it. I don't deserve it. You deserve it. You're good at it, all of it, I'm just..." He smiled and spread his hands helplessly. "You know what I'll do with it."
He didn't understand. He was still shirking his responsibilities. Even if she was better at it, even if she was, that didn't make his decision the right one.
"Diya," she began, shaking her head. "You can't keep on doing what you've been doing for the rest of your life. You have to accept some of your responsibilities. Please. I would help you." She would. Behind the scenes, from the sides, anything. It wasn't like she imagined she would be married any time soon. She was already past the acceptable age range.
Responsibilities. Though it was his sister who said it, he could hear the word in his father's voice, loud and angry. Diya dropped her hand, expression hardening. "This is my responsibility," he snapped. "All of what you could have... it would be wasted on me. And I don't want a wife, you know I don't want a wife, you know how miserable I'd make her, I can't--"
He rolled his lips together and drew a deep breath, glaring at the wall before he forced himself to meet Merena's stare. "I won't. It's yours. There's nothing you can do to convince me."
Like a ripple in a lake, mere moments after Diya's expression hardened, so did hers. "It would not be wasted." She raised her voice, but it was not yelling yet. "You need some focus in your life. You are--" Wasting your life away. "--going to crash into an early grave at the rate you're going. Do you really want that? Do you think I want that? Do you think I will stand aside and watch you do that?" A part of her knew she was starting to sound a little like her father, and she hated it, but she didn't know what else to say. Right now, all she could do was parrot or else she'd let all her vulnerabilities spill from where she thought she'd had them tightly wrapped.
She stared straight at him, daring him to look away from her. "So find a wife. Find a wife you can make an arrangement with. You don't need to be faithful to her, as long you have one." It would be fine if they knew what Diya was like; it was fine if it was just convenience or political. It would work out if the other woman was understanding or didn't care. "There are so many things people don't want in their life but have to have them. Accept this one."
Her hand unconsciously went up to her left cheek as soon as she said those words. As quickly as she realized, her hand dropped to her side. She knew it could be read as guilt manipulation; she didn't want to do that. She crossed her arms, to keep her from touching her scar again and to show she wasn't backing down.
The one thing Merena hadn't said yet, and one of her biggest reasons why she wanted Diya so desperately to have a wife, was that it would mean he would be back in her life more after so many years, but she couldn't say it. It was too selfish.
When she touched her scar, he flinched. "I don't--" he started angrily, then wet his lips. "I don't care what happens to me. Do you think I'd live this way if I did? I don't care. And it's my life to throw away if I'd like to." It was a stupid and selfish thing to say, but he meant it. Diya glared at his sister. "I will not take a wife and I will not take this from you." You can't make me was on the tip of his tongue, and it was so ridiculous he would've laughed if he wasn't so shaken. His sister's glare was piercing.
"I'm staying here until father's patience runs out. Then I'll go to... to whatever Court Ishmael sends me to. And I'll be happy. You ought to be happy too. Why make yourself miserable about me if I'm alright? Father will be thrilled to disinherit me, you know he will." He drew a deep breath after his tirade, black eyes meeting hers. "I'm not backing down in this. Scold me all you like, but I won't."
His words shocked her almost to tears. She knew he was reckless, almost too willfully reckless, but she didn't know he was actually that self-aware about it. Quickly closing her eyes, she willed her eyes to dry. They were still wet when she opened them but at least no tears fell. "You. ... Don't care. You... don't care?" She echoed slowly, softly, like she was unsure she heard right. "Do you think no one else would care if you threw your life away? Do you think I wouldn't care? Do you think I won't care? I care, Diya!" Her voice went sharp and cracked at the end.
As quickly as her temper flared, she calmed again, as if the small outburst drained her energy. "I--" It was her turn to look away, to say something selfish and maybe stupid. "I won't be happy if you're gone." She finally admitted it. She bit her lip before she could blurt all her insecurity and sadness from years ago. "I'm sorry. I know it's your life, but getting disinherited isn't taking anything away from me when it was yours first. It isn't going to make me happy. I won't be happy."
Diya looked away when her voice cracked, unable to meet her eyes. Would she cry now? He could never take it when women cried; he didn't know what to do. It was even worse that it was his sister, on the verge of tears because of him. What could he do? He couldn't give in, not this easily. He was nothing if not stubborn. He wanted this for her. She'd understand later, he was sure she would.
"You will be. Eventually. You'll... you'll understand." Hands curling and fidgeting restlessly at his sides, Diya looked back to his sister's face and winced. "I'm sorry."
No, Merena wasn't crying yet. She just shook her head slowly and kept shaking it while she took steps back until she could sink onto the bed. "No... no, I don't think I will."
Was that it? Was there nothing more she could say? She couldn't still ask why won't you stay? Why can't you get a wife? Why couldn't he do something responsible for once? He already answered those questions, one way or another. He wanted to be free and away and would make whoever married him miserable. "I'm sorry, too."
She was sorry to think that he would even consider doing something to stay because she wanted him to. Sorry to hope that she could instill some sense of responsibility in Diya eventually. Sorry that she knew she would forgive him even though she wanted so much to be angry but all she could be was sorry and hurt.
She couldn't look at him.
His heart twisted looking at her, and Diya drew a deep breath, voice weak when he tried, "Merena, please. I'm sorry. But you know it's... it's for the best, it's the right thing." Even to his own ears, he didn't sound convincing. He reached out to take her by the elbows, lightly, ducking his head to try to catch her eyes.
"Don't-- Don't take it like this. Please."
Merena told herself she wasn't going to cry until Diya left, but it was getting more and more difficult. She didn't move when he took her elbows but she avoided his eyes. "It's--it's not," she said brokenly. "It's not." She shook her head fervently enough that her hair tumbled over her shoulders.
"You're saying you don't want to be my brother anymore." And suddenly, she was twelve again, alone and wondering when she would ever see Diya again. Her tears fell, unbidden.
"No," he said quickly. "No, no, that's not what I'm--" His voice cracked at the sight of the tears on his sister's cheeks; he watched one tremble and spill over her puckered scar. "That's not what I'm saying, Rena," Diya said firmly, his grip on her elbows tightening. "We'll still see each other. I can, I can visit..."
He had to leave. He had to end this somehow, and he had to leave. If he stayed much longer, watching his sister cry, seeing the lonliness and disappointment in her eyes, he'd give in. "Please, just... just trust me. Think on it. It might look bad now, but it won't..." Diya forced himself to let go of her arms, and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and he turned and left before she could say anything more.