vanilla #11, chocolate #4, strawberry #5, whipped cream
Author: chickadelle
Title: The Lord
Story: Graywillow
Challenge: vanilla #11: a walk in the woods ; chocolate #4: frustration ; strawberry #5: bucket
Toppings: whipped cream (Primrose is 14; she’s 21 in the main arc)
Rating: PG
Word count: 1600
Summary: Garnet knew it was risky; dangerous; too early; yet, in the end, showing Primrose the true powers of the Lady of the Gardens was the only option he had.
Notes: This ended up a lot longer than I intended… it wasn’t supposed to be so lecture-y either, but oh well.
It wouldn't work, Garnet realized; no matter how he formed the words, the sentences, it would all crumble at the point where letters became actions. With a frustrated sigh he lifted the paper sheet, now ruined with the angered scrawl of his pen, and placed it over a pile of similar doodles. The pen instantly attacked the clean paper underneath, scribbling down the one thing Garnet was sure of: he needed the book.
The man rubbed his eyes tiredly. It wasn't that late yet; the sunset was yet to come, the evening tea still hadn't been served, so he really had no reason to be so fatigued. He was, however, and he knew the reason.
He also knew the solution. It just wasn’t one he wanted to face - not in a few years, if he could avoid it.
Another heavy sigh. Garnet looked at the pen, now hovering still over the papers, then lifted his gaze; a mistake, he knew as soon as he saw the painting hanging on the opposite wall. It was nothing too spectacular, just a beautiful but boringly unoriginal piece depicting a summery garden, pale blue flower bushes shimmering in the light of an early morning.
As soon as the though entered Garnet’s head, the pen began moving.
It was the only solution to the problem.
She was also too young. She was loyal, trustworthy, ready to walk on burning coals for him and the manor; but there was no way around her age.
Garnet closed his eyes, feeling. Earlier the day Primrose had been busy trimming the rose bushes in the greenery inside the manor, but her presence had since disappeared. He could still feel her - he always could - but pinpointing her in the Gardens wasn’t as easy as it was inside the House. Eventually he found her, a warm, steady heartbeat pulsing with the simplest of joys as she tinkered around in the forest.
The pen fell silent and Garnet opened his eyes, having made his decision.
“Grayson!” he called, leaning back in his chair. ”My jacket, please. Also, bring a box or a bucket or something. Anything you can find.”
The ancient-looking chair scraped the floor as Garnet stood up, taking the finished notes from the table. He glanced over them, almost regretting his decision, but as he remembered the goal, the book, he shook his head.
He would do it.
Primrose would do it.
Grayson hadn’t been too happy when he realized what Garnet was up to; but that was to be expected. The old butler never liked it when one of the younger servants had to run an errand; he had told Garnet so more times than the Lord could count.
His reaction had been entirely predictable, Garnet thought as he walked briskly along the road leading towards Primrose’s current location.
“She’s only fourteen,” Grayson had said. ”Garnet, she’s fourteen.”
Garnet never replied.
It took him surprisingly long to reach Primrose; it was almost like the Gardens were trying to keep him away from her. They probably were - Garnet could feel the confused mix of adoration and resentment radiating from the forest around him.
Primrose was on her knees next to a small, budding tree that Garnet couldn’t name. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, a quick, nervous smile forming on her lips as she saw him.
“Sir,” she greeted him.
Garnet smiled tightly. “Good evening, Primrose. What are you doing?”
“Oh, um… The oak was lonely so I… came here to talk to her.”
So it was an oak… in the middle of birches. Garnet nodded, holding out the bucket Grayson had brought him, and spoke, “fill this with dirt. I need to show you something.”
Primrose looked puzzled but she stood up, taking the cold metal bucket from him. She gazed around, frowning.
“Is there a problem?”
“Ah… the ground here isn’t… it’s not… it shouldn’t leave this place. Sir.”
Garnet sighed but didn’t ask. “Please, Primrose. It doesn’t have to be much. One handful is enough.”
The girl opened her mouth to say something, but instead of speaking, she shook her head. “Of course. Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. The Gardens… they’re yours, after all.”
Primrose’s shoulders tensed as she crouched down to gather a handful of dirt into her hands. She scraped the ground with her fingers, looking for a suitable spot; Garnet watched on but remained silent. She could have these few seconds.
Eventually Primrose found what she was looking for. Hesitating, she grabbed two handfuls of dirt, dropping them into the bucket. She then stood up, looking at Garnet questioningly.
“Sir? What next?”
Garnet stuck out his elbow. “Would you take us near the border fence? Preferably near the Northern side of the hills; I’d rather we didn’t have any onlookers tonight.”
Primrose gripped the bucket tighter as she stepped towards him. Her fingers barely touched his arm; she wasn’t scared of him, he knew, but seeing her so tense was enough to make him feel bad. Garnet often wished that the Gardens hadn’t chosen her; they wouldn’t be able to keep the secret forever.
“How close, sir?”
“As close as you can.”
Garnet closed his eyes; blackness covered the darkened forest. When he opened them again, the atmosphere around him changed, as did their surroundings; what had been an endless farm of trees was now a grassy hill.
Primrose stepped away from him, looking around. Behind her, the iridescent protective ward shone brightly.
“Put your hand on the fence and look towards the manor.”
She did as told.
“When you understand, tell me.”
Primrose looked at him, then back towards the middle where the tall dome of the ward was at its highest. Her brow furrowed, her mouth drew into a sharp line; Garnet waited.
She had to understand it herself.
“The manor is moving away.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Think again.”
She looked at the manor once more, thinking. She was close, Garnet knew; it didn’t take her long to figure out that the distance between them and the manor was growing. Technically they shouldn’t have been able to see the building at all; the grounds were simply too large for human eyes to span more than a fraction at a time. Such was the power of the Gardens; strong, unbelievably strong, never found elsewhere.
When Primrose let go of the fence, Garnet smiled.
“The fence is moving away.”
“Yes.” He walked through the ward, signaling at her to follow. “Or, actually, the ground is stretching - but the end result is the same, really. It’s been doing that since the place was built; I think the original grounds were smaller than the manor’s foyer. That‘s what my grandfather said, anyways.”
“Ah.” Primrose looked back at the manor, now squeezed down to a reasonable size between the hills. Even after almost four decades of seeing the place from both sides of the fence, Garnet couldn’t help the feelings of awe; the Ashwood Manor was, after all, the only place in the entire history of the world where it was possible to break the laws of time and space.
More importantly, the Lord and the Lady were the only people in the world able to do it.
It was thrilling.
“Now that we are standing on this side of the fence,” Garnet spoke again, “I’ll have to give you the same order: tell me when you understand.”
This time it took even less time for Primrose to speak. “The fence isn’t moving.”
“Yes.” Things were going better than Garnet had expected. “On the inside, the earth grows at a steady pace. Basically this means that the area where you can take yourself gets larger every day. Do you follow?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever tried leaving the Gardens?”
Primrose hesitated. “A few times, sir. I was trying to… understand what I could do.”
“That’s okay - you know you’re free to leave whenever you want to, dear. Point is, however, that you can’t go outside the fence using the Gardens‘ powers. Do you know why this is?”
This was the part where it got tricky; despite all the notes and books left by his ancestors, Garnet had barely been able to understand the issue - the very spell that guarded the manor and the Gardens. It seemed so simple, something very mundane, not unlike any other protective chant; yet it was something so much grander, so special that there was nothing in the world to compare.
“I can only shift inside the Gardens?”
“Then how are you able to move into the manor just like that? I can’t move freely in the Gardens with the strength of my thoughts; I need to use my legs for that.”
“I… I don’t know, sir.”
Primrose looked almost ashamed. Garnet smiled at her.
“It’s okay. Right now, I’m the only one who does.” He nodded at the manor. “When it was built, people sprinkled dirt beneath the floorboards in every room. Dirt from the Gardens. Reword, please?”
“Uh… the dirt is… it allows me to enter the House using the Gardens’ powers? By making the House a part of the Gardens? And because… because I‘m the Lady, I‘m the only one who can.”
An expression of understanding fell over Primrose’s face, though it was still shadowed with something much darker.
“Exactly. The dirt is a part of the Gardens, no matter where it is. Stress on that last part, Primrose. No matter where.”
Garnet clapped his hands together, smiling brightly as Primrose bobbed her heard up and down slowly, processing the information.
She understood.