Lament of the Asphodels - Chapter 14: Polydeuces's Choice
Title: Polydeuces's Choice, Chapter 14 of Lament of the Asphodels
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 2,600
Rating/Warnings: For rating and full warning, please see the primary post.
Note: Written as part of Captain Swan Big Bang 2016.
[see Chapter Notes]
The Survivor had very little in the way of hope or faith these days. It was a strange thing, for not two months previous, she had an abundance of both. She had faith that, if she did her best, justice would be served and those she loved would remain safe. She had hope that the future would be better than the past.
But that was before her memories were filled with faceless people, many of whom had been near to her heart. In some cruel twist of fate, the one man whose face she wished never existed persisted exactly as it was, appearing in her dreams as the kind Barkeep who listened to the Sheriff's problems until, one day, he screwed up his courage and asked her on a date. The dreams all ended the same way: the Barkeep losing his mind, attacking, and dying.
No, she murdered the Barkeep, Walsh Ozman. 'Dying' made it sound natural, normal.
The Keeper had told her that today she would face the Dockmaster, and while she wanted to believe that she could trust someone with something as simple as doing the right thing, she couldn't dismiss her nagging, lingering doubts.
She and the Bailiff - no, she and Graham - crossed the Great Untamed Ocean for a reason. After Walsh's body was discovered, all of New Brook became so enraged that her parents and brothers had to pull up stakes, despite having neither a hand in nor connection to the Barkeep's death. For all she knew, they were still living elsewhere, their decades of dedication to good cast into doubt by the evils of their adopted daughter.
Many who were closest to her - in her dreams, the faceless friends that haunted her - rallied together and put a bounty on the head of the Fugitive. They wanted her alive, but beyond that, they didn't care if she was dragged back from Northedge against every written law.
A bounty meant payment, and payment meant corruption. She couldn't trust the Dockmaster. Her only hope resided in the Keeper, for he had promised to bear witness to her words, lest the Dockmaster attempt to deny them.
Perhaps the fear from that doubt was what kept her in her room until late morning, allowing her to avoid sharing breakfast with the Keep. Had he required her presence, he would've called on her, and he had not.
She went downstairs and forced herself to eat something. Then she dressed in the best clothing she could find, for though she doubted her deportment would affect the day's course of events, it was something she could do. And she badly needed some semblance of control and action, even if only a veneer.
The Survivor didn't know if she wanted the Keeper to return with the Dockmaster later or for it to fall upon her swiftly that it may finally be over. On one hand, she was far from ready to make her pronouncement. On the other, saying the words would free her of a few of her burdens, and a lightened load could relieve her many anxieties.
It was after midday when she heard the approach of rowboats. It startled her, for the Keeper wont was to row so smoothly through the water that the sound of his oars was masked by the waves and wind. She peered out a north-facing window to see two approaching vessels: one rowed by the lithe and sure-moving Keeper, the other by a scrawny man with knobby knees. Unlike the Keeper, however, knobby-knees was not alone. His traveling companion was taller than him with a scruffy beard that matched his hair. His great, rotund belly strained the unflattering shirt he wore.
The Survivor couldn't abide another second of stalling, so she marched down the stairs, determined to meet the Dockmaster outside rather than wait one more second for his arrival.
She had no way to know that both boats were moored and disembarked before she made it to the basement until the Keeper opened the door just as she descended the last few steps.
The Dockmaster left the Rower in the boat to follow the Keeper, who he found intolerable. That was why giving him the position of Keeper had been perfect, for the Dockmaster need not be annoyed by his presence. After the requisite inspection of Cellar Island's new dock, the Keeper had requested his assistance at the lighthouse in such an odd manner that he roused the Dockmaster's curiosity, for he had no idea why the Keeper would invite company of any kind, let alone himself. Though he was aggravated by the prospect, he agreed for the novelty of it, even though he knew nothing of the treasure hidden at Stagrock. So when the Dockmaster saw the Keeper speaking to someone he couldn't yet see, he had no reason to think that a prized quarry awaited him.
He removed his cap as he stepped inside; it was a custom his grandmother had impressed upon him in his youth and had yet to fade with time. The dimness inside obscured his vision for a few moments.
"Dockmaster, may I introduce the Survivor," the Keeper said. "As named because she survived the last storm and since has been recuperating under my care."
The Dockmaster ignored him as soon as his eyes fell upon a woman with golden hair, fair skin, and jade-green eyes. He doubted there was another like her in all the world, let alone in Northedge. Her appealing face almost matched the pretty price on her head.
"Fugitive!" the Dockmaster snarled.
In a flash, he grabbed the wench, and, thinking quickly, he shoved his knitted cap in her mouth to prevent her from speaking before wrapping his arm around her and covering her lips with one hand. With the other, he searched his pockets for ropes to bind her. Excitement welled up inside him as he imagined turning her over for the promised fortune. The People of New Brook would get their murderer, and he would be a very wealthy man.
His sudden spryness surprised both the Survivor and the Keeper. The Survivor didn't respond until after he gagged her, which cut off her air and diminished her strength so that her struggles proved fruitless against his formidable arms. The Keeper stepped back, caught off-guard by the abrupt aggression.
The Dockmaster despised the Keeper even more deeply, for by his own word, she had been here since the last storm, which was over a week ago. Of course he would be foolish enough to think that a fugitive deserved rest and treatment, and he certainly wouldn't have considered the price on her head. All the better, for it meant that the Dockmaster had full claim to the bounty.
"What are you doing?" the Keeper demanded. "I brought you here for introductions."
"A woman who cannot speak nor write cannot make the pronouncement," the Dockmaster said wryly. "I will handle this."
"Aye, and collect a full bounty," the Keeper said shrewdly.
The Dockmaster stopped attempting to bind her, though he held fast to the girl, who was still struggling. He hadn't thought the Keeper capable of independent thought, let alone demanding a bribe.
"You can have a ten percent finders fee," the Dockmaster said.
The Survivor stomped at her captor's feet and tried to elbow him, but he wrapped an arm around her neck and tightened, forcing the breath from her body. The look on his face was horrifying: a combination of pleasure and wrath, daring her to attempt escape, that he might have cause to inflict further punishment upon her.
The Keeper couldn't believe his eyes. He knew the Dockmaster to be a man of shallow character and low cunning, but he never had occasion to witness the violence of which he was capable. He wanted nothing more than to unleash the pent up fury of his life upon this one putrid man, but he saw the Survivor's face. She was fighting for her life, even after her captor released his choke so she could breath. Her eyes were wide in terror, but they were also pleading, begging for his aid, his promise.
Polydeuces's choice came at a price, he thought to himself, the words from his conversation with Liam rising to the surface.
And the price was worth it.
"I will not allow you to do this!" the Keeper announced loudly.
"There's nothing to allow," the Dockmaster snapped. "You'll take ten percent or nothing."
"Ten percent of nothing is still nothing," the Keeper said levelly. "And the Survivor has already pronounced her allegiance to Northedge. To me."
"The word of a embittered Recluse against the Dockmaster of the Northmost Harbor?" the man taunted. "Who shall anyone believe? If I have to, I will strip you of your title and drown you in the sea!"
With that, the Keeper yanked the front door open and yelled so loudly that his voice carried. The knobby-kneed Rower could not help but hear every word.
"I, the Keeper of Stagrock Light, Sole Beacon of the Northmost Lands, name the Refugee, formerly the Survivor, formerly the Fugitive, as Second Keeper in the service of Stagrock Light!"
Furious, the Dockmaster threw the Survivor across the basement, where she crashed into the wall and fell to the floor, her hands partially bound and gag firmly in place. Abandoning her, he shoved the Keeper outside, his huge form bearing down on him. He had no qualms casting the Keeper into the sea and holding him down until he drowned.
"You have no right to claim her in the service of Stagrock!" the Dockmaster shouted.
"I am the Keeper!" the Keeper retorted. "Should I chose, I could name that Rower of yours into service as well, and you would have to blister your hands returning home!"
"You should know your place!"
The Dockmaster grabbed the Keeper by the throat, lifting him off his feet before he could react, breaking his breath. The Rower, unsure of how to act, cowered in his boat, pretending he could not see what unfolded before him.
Crack!
The Dockmaster's grip failed him as he was thrown forward, his knees buckling beneath him. Behind him, the Survivor stood, holding an oar like a sword.
"You bitch!" the Dockmaster snarled. "You will pay for that!"
He tried to get to his feet, but the Survivor swung the oar again, this time landing a blow to his stomach. He doubled over from the force of it. Then she hit him across the face, the light thwap stunning him before he collapsed.
The Keeper bound the Dockmaster's hands and feet while he struggled to recover from the beating. His eyes flickered open, and his ire rose to his cheeks.
He growled, "I gave you everything, you ungrateful - "
The Survivor interrupted by shoving his knitted cap into his mouth.
The Keeper said, "Perhaps it's time you learned your place, Dockmaster. You cannot strip me of my title unless I relinquish it, and I do not! You cannot kidnap a citizen of Northedge without pain of death, and you cannot threaten the life of a man or woman in service to the Sole Beacon of the Northmost Lands without consequence."
He brought his fist across the man's face again and again until he stopped moving. Even though his arm hurt a great deal and his fingers were bloody, the Keeper showed no weakness.
He took out a scrap of paper from his pocket and wrote a note in his tidiest handwriting, which was quite a painful feat, as his hand was worse for the ware. Casting a sharp look to the Rower, he folded it neatly and handed it over in a manner bordering on reverence.
"As soon as you moor this boat, you are to run - not walk, but run - to the Lawmaster of the Docks," the Keeper said. "This note explains why the Dockmaster has been returned trussed and beaten, so if he is found otherwise, it will appear as if you freed a lawbreaker without authority. Do not wake him. Do not untie him. What will you do when you moor the boat?"
"Run to the Lawmaster of the Docks," the man replied. "And deliver this note."
"Indeed. Whatever questions the Lawmaster puts to you, answer honestly," the Keeper continued. "As of this moment, you have done no wrong. Be sure to keep it that way."
The Rower nodded his head, and the Keeper fumbled with the mooring. The Survivor came to his aid, untying the knot and releasing the boat.
"How discourteous of me. My I introduce the Second Keeper of Stagrock Light," the Keeper said. "Freshly pronounced."
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," the Rower said politely.
"And you," she replied, her voice hoarse.
The Rower pushed away from the dock and began to move steadily and quietly north, back to the mainland.
"What will happen to him?" she asked, her words harsh from the rawness of her throat.
"Nothing he doesn't deserve," the Keeper replied. "I apologize, I should've asked before I named you Second Keeper, but it was the only - "
"Thank you," she interrupted. "You saved me."
"Only after endangering you," he replied.
"You're bleeding."
"You're voice is raw."
She nodded and exhaled loudly. It was quite nearly a laugh, though the only hint was the smile on her face.
"It appears we're both quite a mess," the Keeper continued. "Perhaps we should render today's services complete, secure the boat, and rest. I've little doubt that the Lawmaster will want to speak to us and soon."
She nodded and said, "You go up."
"I can hardly leave you to handle the boat on your own," he protested. "It's your first hour as Second Keeper. Surely that kind of work should be left till your second day."
"Your knuckles," she hissed. "The salt water."
He appreciated the sentiment, but there was no way he would go upstairs while someone who was nearly choked to death dealt with the rowboat. He learned long ago how to handle the burn of salt water on an open wound.
"Save your voice," he said. "Tell you what. I'll hoist with the rope, you lift. Once she's ashore, you can carry her inside. I'll take the oars."
She smiled at him, and his heart thumped in his chest. He had seen her beauty before, yet somehow remained unaware of how utterly enchanting she was. He nodded his head and led the way.
As they worked together, he was secretly glad that he named her Second Keeper in an unexpected moment of life-or-death crisis, for had it been under any other circumstance, he would wonder if he hadn't named her in the service of Stagrock Light that he might have a reason to keep her close, not for her benefit but for his own selfish desires.
<<< Previous:
Chapter 13: The Mirador of Helios
Next: >>>
Chapter 15: To Invoke Hestia with Sweet Wine
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
Polydeuces was the twin brother of Castor, who together were known as the Dioskouroi. They were born to Leda, but while Castor was the mortal son of Tyndareus, King of Sparta, Polydeuces was the immortal son of Zeus. When Castor died, Polydeuces begged his father to keep them together, so they were transformed into the constellation Gemini.
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 2,600
Rating/Warnings: For rating and full warning, please see the primary post.
Note: Written as part of Captain Swan Big Bang 2016.
[see Chapter Notes]
The Survivor had very little in the way of hope or faith these days. It was a strange thing, for not two months previous, she had an abundance of both. She had faith that, if she did her best, justice would be served and those she loved would remain safe. She had hope that the future would be better than the past.
But that was before her memories were filled with faceless people, many of whom had been near to her heart. In some cruel twist of fate, the one man whose face she wished never existed persisted exactly as it was, appearing in her dreams as the kind Barkeep who listened to the Sheriff's problems until, one day, he screwed up his courage and asked her on a date. The dreams all ended the same way: the Barkeep losing his mind, attacking, and dying.
No, she murdered the Barkeep, Walsh Ozman. 'Dying' made it sound natural, normal.
The Keeper had told her that today she would face the Dockmaster, and while she wanted to believe that she could trust someone with something as simple as doing the right thing, she couldn't dismiss her nagging, lingering doubts.
She and the Bailiff - no, she and Graham - crossed the Great Untamed Ocean for a reason. After Walsh's body was discovered, all of New Brook became so enraged that her parents and brothers had to pull up stakes, despite having neither a hand in nor connection to the Barkeep's death. For all she knew, they were still living elsewhere, their decades of dedication to good cast into doubt by the evils of their adopted daughter.
Many who were closest to her - in her dreams, the faceless friends that haunted her - rallied together and put a bounty on the head of the Fugitive. They wanted her alive, but beyond that, they didn't care if she was dragged back from Northedge against every written law.
A bounty meant payment, and payment meant corruption. She couldn't trust the Dockmaster. Her only hope resided in the Keeper, for he had promised to bear witness to her words, lest the Dockmaster attempt to deny them.
Perhaps the fear from that doubt was what kept her in her room until late morning, allowing her to avoid sharing breakfast with the Keep. Had he required her presence, he would've called on her, and he had not.
She went downstairs and forced herself to eat something. Then she dressed in the best clothing she could find, for though she doubted her deportment would affect the day's course of events, it was something she could do. And she badly needed some semblance of control and action, even if only a veneer.
The Survivor didn't know if she wanted the Keeper to return with the Dockmaster later or for it to fall upon her swiftly that it may finally be over. On one hand, she was far from ready to make her pronouncement. On the other, saying the words would free her of a few of her burdens, and a lightened load could relieve her many anxieties.
It was after midday when she heard the approach of rowboats. It startled her, for the Keeper wont was to row so smoothly through the water that the sound of his oars was masked by the waves and wind. She peered out a north-facing window to see two approaching vessels: one rowed by the lithe and sure-moving Keeper, the other by a scrawny man with knobby knees. Unlike the Keeper, however, knobby-knees was not alone. His traveling companion was taller than him with a scruffy beard that matched his hair. His great, rotund belly strained the unflattering shirt he wore.
The Survivor couldn't abide another second of stalling, so she marched down the stairs, determined to meet the Dockmaster outside rather than wait one more second for his arrival.
She had no way to know that both boats were moored and disembarked before she made it to the basement until the Keeper opened the door just as she descended the last few steps.
The Dockmaster left the Rower in the boat to follow the Keeper, who he found intolerable. That was why giving him the position of Keeper had been perfect, for the Dockmaster need not be annoyed by his presence. After the requisite inspection of Cellar Island's new dock, the Keeper had requested his assistance at the lighthouse in such an odd manner that he roused the Dockmaster's curiosity, for he had no idea why the Keeper would invite company of any kind, let alone himself. Though he was aggravated by the prospect, he agreed for the novelty of it, even though he knew nothing of the treasure hidden at Stagrock. So when the Dockmaster saw the Keeper speaking to someone he couldn't yet see, he had no reason to think that a prized quarry awaited him.
He removed his cap as he stepped inside; it was a custom his grandmother had impressed upon him in his youth and had yet to fade with time. The dimness inside obscured his vision for a few moments.
"Dockmaster, may I introduce the Survivor," the Keeper said. "As named because she survived the last storm and since has been recuperating under my care."
The Dockmaster ignored him as soon as his eyes fell upon a woman with golden hair, fair skin, and jade-green eyes. He doubted there was another like her in all the world, let alone in Northedge. Her appealing face almost matched the pretty price on her head.
"Fugitive!" the Dockmaster snarled.
In a flash, he grabbed the wench, and, thinking quickly, he shoved his knitted cap in her mouth to prevent her from speaking before wrapping his arm around her and covering her lips with one hand. With the other, he searched his pockets for ropes to bind her. Excitement welled up inside him as he imagined turning her over for the promised fortune. The People of New Brook would get their murderer, and he would be a very wealthy man.
His sudden spryness surprised both the Survivor and the Keeper. The Survivor didn't respond until after he gagged her, which cut off her air and diminished her strength so that her struggles proved fruitless against his formidable arms. The Keeper stepped back, caught off-guard by the abrupt aggression.
The Dockmaster despised the Keeper even more deeply, for by his own word, she had been here since the last storm, which was over a week ago. Of course he would be foolish enough to think that a fugitive deserved rest and treatment, and he certainly wouldn't have considered the price on her head. All the better, for it meant that the Dockmaster had full claim to the bounty.
"What are you doing?" the Keeper demanded. "I brought you here for introductions."
"A woman who cannot speak nor write cannot make the pronouncement," the Dockmaster said wryly. "I will handle this."
"Aye, and collect a full bounty," the Keeper said shrewdly.
The Dockmaster stopped attempting to bind her, though he held fast to the girl, who was still struggling. He hadn't thought the Keeper capable of independent thought, let alone demanding a bribe.
"You can have a ten percent finders fee," the Dockmaster said.
The Survivor stomped at her captor's feet and tried to elbow him, but he wrapped an arm around her neck and tightened, forcing the breath from her body. The look on his face was horrifying: a combination of pleasure and wrath, daring her to attempt escape, that he might have cause to inflict further punishment upon her.
The Keeper couldn't believe his eyes. He knew the Dockmaster to be a man of shallow character and low cunning, but he never had occasion to witness the violence of which he was capable. He wanted nothing more than to unleash the pent up fury of his life upon this one putrid man, but he saw the Survivor's face. She was fighting for her life, even after her captor released his choke so she could breath. Her eyes were wide in terror, but they were also pleading, begging for his aid, his promise.
Polydeuces's choice came at a price, he thought to himself, the words from his conversation with Liam rising to the surface.
And the price was worth it.
"I will not allow you to do this!" the Keeper announced loudly.
"There's nothing to allow," the Dockmaster snapped. "You'll take ten percent or nothing."
"Ten percent of nothing is still nothing," the Keeper said levelly. "And the Survivor has already pronounced her allegiance to Northedge. To me."
"The word of a embittered Recluse against the Dockmaster of the Northmost Harbor?" the man taunted. "Who shall anyone believe? If I have to, I will strip you of your title and drown you in the sea!"
With that, the Keeper yanked the front door open and yelled so loudly that his voice carried. The knobby-kneed Rower could not help but hear every word.
"I, the Keeper of Stagrock Light, Sole Beacon of the Northmost Lands, name the Refugee, formerly the Survivor, formerly the Fugitive, as Second Keeper in the service of Stagrock Light!"
Furious, the Dockmaster threw the Survivor across the basement, where she crashed into the wall and fell to the floor, her hands partially bound and gag firmly in place. Abandoning her, he shoved the Keeper outside, his huge form bearing down on him. He had no qualms casting the Keeper into the sea and holding him down until he drowned.
"You have no right to claim her in the service of Stagrock!" the Dockmaster shouted.
"I am the Keeper!" the Keeper retorted. "Should I chose, I could name that Rower of yours into service as well, and you would have to blister your hands returning home!"
"You should know your place!"
The Dockmaster grabbed the Keeper by the throat, lifting him off his feet before he could react, breaking his breath. The Rower, unsure of how to act, cowered in his boat, pretending he could not see what unfolded before him.
Crack!
The Dockmaster's grip failed him as he was thrown forward, his knees buckling beneath him. Behind him, the Survivor stood, holding an oar like a sword.
"You bitch!" the Dockmaster snarled. "You will pay for that!"
He tried to get to his feet, but the Survivor swung the oar again, this time landing a blow to his stomach. He doubled over from the force of it. Then she hit him across the face, the light thwap stunning him before he collapsed.
The Keeper bound the Dockmaster's hands and feet while he struggled to recover from the beating. His eyes flickered open, and his ire rose to his cheeks.
He growled, "I gave you everything, you ungrateful - "
The Survivor interrupted by shoving his knitted cap into his mouth.
The Keeper said, "Perhaps it's time you learned your place, Dockmaster. You cannot strip me of my title unless I relinquish it, and I do not! You cannot kidnap a citizen of Northedge without pain of death, and you cannot threaten the life of a man or woman in service to the Sole Beacon of the Northmost Lands without consequence."
He brought his fist across the man's face again and again until he stopped moving. Even though his arm hurt a great deal and his fingers were bloody, the Keeper showed no weakness.
He took out a scrap of paper from his pocket and wrote a note in his tidiest handwriting, which was quite a painful feat, as his hand was worse for the ware. Casting a sharp look to the Rower, he folded it neatly and handed it over in a manner bordering on reverence.
"As soon as you moor this boat, you are to run - not walk, but run - to the Lawmaster of the Docks," the Keeper said. "This note explains why the Dockmaster has been returned trussed and beaten, so if he is found otherwise, it will appear as if you freed a lawbreaker without authority. Do not wake him. Do not untie him. What will you do when you moor the boat?"
"Run to the Lawmaster of the Docks," the man replied. "And deliver this note."
"Indeed. Whatever questions the Lawmaster puts to you, answer honestly," the Keeper continued. "As of this moment, you have done no wrong. Be sure to keep it that way."
The Rower nodded his head, and the Keeper fumbled with the mooring. The Survivor came to his aid, untying the knot and releasing the boat.
"How discourteous of me. My I introduce the Second Keeper of Stagrock Light," the Keeper said. "Freshly pronounced."
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," the Rower said politely.
"And you," she replied, her voice hoarse.
The Rower pushed away from the dock and began to move steadily and quietly north, back to the mainland.
"What will happen to him?" she asked, her words harsh from the rawness of her throat.
"Nothing he doesn't deserve," the Keeper replied. "I apologize, I should've asked before I named you Second Keeper, but it was the only - "
"Thank you," she interrupted. "You saved me."
"Only after endangering you," he replied.
"You're bleeding."
"You're voice is raw."
She nodded and exhaled loudly. It was quite nearly a laugh, though the only hint was the smile on her face.
"It appears we're both quite a mess," the Keeper continued. "Perhaps we should render today's services complete, secure the boat, and rest. I've little doubt that the Lawmaster will want to speak to us and soon."
She nodded and said, "You go up."
"I can hardly leave you to handle the boat on your own," he protested. "It's your first hour as Second Keeper. Surely that kind of work should be left till your second day."
"Your knuckles," she hissed. "The salt water."
He appreciated the sentiment, but there was no way he would go upstairs while someone who was nearly choked to death dealt with the rowboat. He learned long ago how to handle the burn of salt water on an open wound.
"Save your voice," he said. "Tell you what. I'll hoist with the rope, you lift. Once she's ashore, you can carry her inside. I'll take the oars."
She smiled at him, and his heart thumped in his chest. He had seen her beauty before, yet somehow remained unaware of how utterly enchanting she was. He nodded his head and led the way.
As they worked together, he was secretly glad that he named her Second Keeper in an unexpected moment of life-or-death crisis, for had it been under any other circumstance, he would wonder if he hadn't named her in the service of Stagrock Light that he might have a reason to keep her close, not for her benefit but for his own selfish desires.
<<< Previous:
Chapter 13: The Mirador of Helios
Next: >>>
Chapter 15: To Invoke Hestia with Sweet Wine
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
Polydeuces was the twin brother of Castor, who together were known as the Dioskouroi. They were born to Leda, but while Castor was the mortal son of Tyndareus, King of Sparta, Polydeuces was the immortal son of Zeus. When Castor died, Polydeuces begged his father to keep them together, so they were transformed into the constellation Gemini.