"Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run"
Title: Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Cain, DG, Glitch, Raw (appearances by: Jeb, Tutor, Lavender, Azkadellia, Ahamo)
Pairing: Cain/DG
Rating: 14+ (subject to change)
Summary: The fade to black was merely the blink of an eye. Respite for only seconds. After all, the road is long.
Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: Outside the oppressive walls of the Central Palace, the four heroes travel due south to the safety and seclusion of Finaqua, summer estate of the Gales. With the truth of the intention of the New Resistance finally out in the open, Cain and the others remain forced to accept that Lady Lavender's intention of sending them away is infinitely harder to guess.
Chapter Eleven: A Place to Rest
There was a familiar split in the road, where the greenest of the summer leaves tinted the sunslight as it came down in thick shafts, painting the ground with jagged streaks of pale verdure. The fork to the right led them on a snake-dance journey down a gradual decline, a path that eventually wound its way around the maze. They came out near the lake, where an old potting shed was nearly lost to ivy.
The trees grew tall and straight and white here, closest to the lake where it was said magic ribboned through the water. Summer thrived, where further north, through the country he'd just travelled, the season was still new with only a delicate grip. Cain breathed deeper as they dismounted and walked their horses over a narrow path choked with reedgrass.
The palace grounds were vast, without even considering the headache of the maze. Surrounded by deep, cold lakes, the endless, old-growth forest, all in the shadow of the distant Ruby Mountains, it was the most remote corner of the Zone, and the most unknown. Much of the adjoining lands - the forest, the mountains - were uncharted territories; beyond the borders of Finaqua, the maps were dotted with as much legend as landmarks. As far back as the histories of the Gale dynasty went, the O.Z. had been cut off, with only the absent threat of invasion from all-but-forgotten kingdoms keeping them in current memory at all.
He let DG and Glitch lead the way; together, the two of them managed to find the way to the estate. Along the grassy banks of the lake, the fields had erupted in wildflowers which Glitch identified as Hesperis matronalis; Cain remembered his own mother calling it Dame's Rocket. The marsh fields surrounding his house up north had already bloomed and gone to seed in the spring; it seemed, in Finaqua, nature had changed the rules.
Steps were lighter, faces brightened; smiles graced every face, even his own. The suns were warm and unhindered, the sky wide-open above them and cloudless. The calls of the palace guard echoed out across the lake as they were met along the lakeshore path; the horses were taken to the stable by two boys whose mouths gaped at the sight of a Viewer, the princess going completely unnoticed. It made her laugh as they were led toward the palace.
The crystal-glass windows near blinded Cain; the refraction threw a million colours at him, assaulted his senses and left him broken and agitated by the painful beauty of it. His muddy boots scraped against the white stone of the steps, the mammoth doors were open wide to swallow the group whole. In short order, they were swept up by beaming maids and led down different corridors, separated in relative safety, and yet the palace of Finaqua did little to assuage Cain's spirit. A comfortable room with a breathtaking view of the lake and mountains, what else could there be for a saviour of the Zone and protector of a princess?
A spell of peace, woven over the eyes, the soul. The sunslight streaming in his window was soft, pale yellow; the breeze coming in off the lake smelled of damp and natural decay, masked the scent of reedgrass and wildflowers.
Finaqua.
Grumbling to himself, Cain slammed the sill down and wrenched the curtains shut. He was in no mood for this perfection, this world untouched by the march of time. His thoughts were too dark, too encompassing to allow them to be so easily sated by a pristine lake on a beautiful day.
The shade and shadow comforted him, more than a gentle hand or quiet voice ever could. Was he as deserving as he'd once been? Being too focused on his solitude for the past six months had skewed his perception, and he was beginning to think he couldn't trust his own judgement, let alone those who were pulling the strings in his life of late.
He removed his boots, and sat back in a wing back chair that turned out to be deceivingly more comfortable than at first glance would suggest. With his legs stretched out before him, hands folded over his stomach, he began to relax. His eyes closed. Though he was far from sleep, his mind had slowed, his muscles eased.
Eventually, his belongings were brought up; food followed. He did little more than grunt that entry was allowed, the intrusions mere annoyances, unworthy of even opening his eyes. His things stayed pack, and he left the fancy fare to congeal on the tray.
He'd been searching for quiet that belonged only to him; not shared with others, filled with unsaid words and stolen glances, not heavy and laden with threat and despair. For the first time since leaving his cabin - no, since leaving Central City six months before - he wasn't wondering, worried about what the others were doing, how they were managing without him. There was no guilt over this fact, nor was he concerned in the least. Glitch was suspicious, Raw careful, and despite an adventurous streak, DG had a good, sensible head on her shoulders. They'd keep each other out of trouble, if indeed they weren't doing exactly as he, and resting with their thoughts.
They'd made it to Finaqua. It was time to breathe.
The shadows had lengthened, overtaking his room by the time Cain awoke. He didn't remember falling asleep, or if he'd dreamed, only that falling asleep in chairs was becoming an uncomfortable habit, one that he'd rather not continue. He stood and stretched, walked slowly to the window to open the curtains once again. The lake was still, reflecting the faded purple of the sky as the suns set to the east; far down the shore, the gazebo was lit with lanterns, leaving the shallow shores dancing with light.
Shaking his head, he turned away from the window; the fairytale feel of this place was going to get to him in the end, and he'd be itching to leave here just as badly as he'd been to leave Central. With a palace full of distractions, and DG so morose that she did little more than sit and draw most days, he was going to be hard-pressed to find ways to keep his hands busy. He didn't want to picture himself with an idle mind.
This wasn't going to do any good. He needed to clear his head; a walk by the lake would do him good. Just getting outside, away from the rooms that still reeked of non-existence; it was stuffy, warm, and doing him no favours.
He changed his clothes, and sat down on the bed to retrieve his boots from underneath; when he leaned down, he realised with no minimal amount of surprise, that he wasn't alone. Even in the murky twilight, there was no mistaking the figure sitting next to him. As he sat up slowly, eyes following the slender silhouette until his back was straight and he was staring into the pale, greying face of Lady Lavender.
Frowning deeply, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, rethinking just how awake he'd thought he was.
"Hello, Mr. Cain."
"Yeah, hi," he sighed. When he looked up, she hadn't disappeared.
"My daughter will not be safe in your charge."
He cocked an eyebrow, doing nothing to hide his annoyance. "Is that so?"
Lavender, whatever form of her appeared before him, smiled gently. "She is far too powerful; she must not be allowed to return, it will lead to ruin. She is whole, and pure, and so she should remain."
Cain, exhaling hard, let his head hang. "There'll be no convincing her of that fact."
The apparition beside him continued on, unabated by his interruption. "She cannot be permitted to go back."
Raising his head to look at the ghost of a woman who sat beside him, no more substantial than an autumn leaf, dried and colourless, Cain did nothing to hide his confusion. "Cannot -"
Lavender's eyes settled on him, chilling him down to the core. Her conviction was something that he readily recognised, something that echoed deep inside his chest, parts of himself he'd forgotten existed. "She cannot go back." She reached out to touch his sleeve, and in that instant, Cain pushed himself upright so forcefully that he was almost thrown bodily from the chair. Breathing hard, he looked around, and then down at himself. He was still in his rumpled travelling clothes and stockinged feet. Still in the chair. Still half asleep.
He blinked hard once, wiping a hand over his face, trying all the while to shake the visions of Lavender out of his head. His bed was empty. When he went to the window, he revisited the same deep and dusky purple sky, the same fairy lights shimmering on the surface of the lake, only - only a lone figure now sat in the gazebo, small and near lost to the gloaming.
His hands trembled as he washed up, changed his clothes. Going through the motions of retrieving his boots bristled the hairs on his arms, his neck. The room around him remained quiet, the shadows shifted, the light left.
He left his coat - and his gunbelt - in his room, and quickly retraced his steps downstairs to the grand hall. The front doors were still opened to the night breeze off the lake, the lights out on the steps fighting back the darkness beyond the terraces. It was into this veil that he threw himself, the hazy evening opening to accept him. The path to the gazebo was well worn, unmarked by lanterns, but the lights by the lake led him, the beacon from his dream.
A dream, just a dream, brought on by stress, by a lack of sleep, by a lifetime spent locked up on his feet; that's all it was, all it could be. Dreams were for fools who had time to follow them.
"She cannot go back."
Gods help him, it was all DG wanted, the only thing she wanted.
Cain slowed his long strides as he approached, squinting into the brightness. She was sitting on the swing, her sketchpad in her lap; the central figure on a platform of luminescence. The lanterns that hung from the eaves were burning with a different sort of light; no flame flickered on the wicks, instead little wisps of pure white floated lazily inside the glass. At least two dozen of her conjured lights; was she truly in control of them all?
Still hidden in the evening's depths, he stayed planted, watching the strong, even strokes of her wrist as she drew the pencil tip over her page. Her brow was furrowed, the entirety of her concentration absorbed in whatever she'd tasked herself to capture. She did not look up, did not seek a subject out, so he knew she was drawing from memory.
He thought back on all the times he'd interrupted her while she was working, and reconsidered disturbing her at all. If she hadn't at that moment pulled a distasteful face at her piece and flipped to a new page, he would've turned on his heel and headed back to the house. Instead, he called out.
"Hey, kiddo." He walked out of the shadows, and into the circle of light that surrounded the gazebo.
She glanced up quickly, but it was a few moments before her eyes focused on him. Her expression was nigh unreadable. "I was wondering when you were going to show your face." Then she smiled, and he felt himself ease closer to her, despite whatever reservations he had.
"Fell asleep without meaning to." He stopped a few feet shy of the step up to the platform.
DG closed her sketchbook, leaving the pencil pressed in between the heavy pages. The soft blue cover was stained with ink and paint. After she'd tucked it beside her on the swing, her hand passed lazily in the air, as if wiping at steam coated glass. One by one, the small conjured lights disappeared, and flames leapt to life in their place. The glare off the lake dimmed, the shadows crept in.
"Glitch napped, too. I don't know where Raw went off to. Nobody came down to supper. Just me," she said, and shrugged in afterthought. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it here."
"Me too," he said, stepping up under the ring of lanterns to stand inside the gazebo. "Me too."
Her smile returned, almost, but not quite, reaching her eyes. The distance seemed impossible. "So what are we supposed to do now?"
"Meaning what, exactly."
"Meaning," she said, "are we really going to just... sit around and wait?"
"Pretty much."
"For how long?"
"Don't know, myself. Glitch might have a better understanding, why don't you go badger him for a while?"
She let out an exasperated sigh, and let her head hang, obscuring his view of her face with her hair. Without looking up, she braced her feet against the wooden floor, giving the swing a gentle push; her hands wrapped around the chains, and it was only then that she let her head fall back, staring up into the carved rafters. He watched her in silence, standing with the flickering lanterns to his back, the palace lights in the distance, and all manner of blackness in between. She made a fragile picture, reminding him of the world he'd once known, before tin badges and revolutions and iron suits. It was a world that would never exist for him again, but perhaps it might for someone else, someone with better luck.
Long minutes passed filled with every sound but that of voices; the lap of water against the banks, the night breeze whispering through the reedgrass, the dull creak and groan of the swing as DG went back and forth.
She was still seeking out the why of it all, and he couldn't make her see the folly in it, there was no making her, period. He could only stand by until she gave up on it, moved onto something else just as futile.
"Cain?"
He looked up from studying the floorboards. "Hmm."
"Was my mother a good queen? I mean, well - before."
He smirked. "Are you sure I'm the one you want to be asking that question?"
"Please," she said, rolling her eyes, "you're the only one who is going to give me a real answer. Everyone else is either in love with her or bound by loyalty."
Bound or blinded, kiddo?
"Well, then," he said, and sighed. He leaned his back up against a carved support beam, crossing his arms over his chest; he made a show of thinking hard, of remembering so far back. "As I recall it," he began slowly, "those were good annuals. Peaceful. Unremarkable, considering how her reign ended." He watched her wince at his easy way; he almost could have lied to her, to keep that pain away. "DG, you've got to remember now that I wasn't anyone special before the eclipse. I wasn't more than a fool wearing a scrap of tin on his chest before the Mystic Man found me."
"I know that," she muttered, barely audible. She'd stopped swinging, though her hands still clutched the chains. She looked up from her lap, and she offered him a small smile as their eyes met. He couldn't help but smile back, ruefully shaking his head.
"My -" He paused, cursed himself, and tried again. "Adora admired your mother, DG, as did near everyone in the whole damn country. Do you know how many the Sorceress killed who had sworn undying oaths to the true queen?"
She pursed her lips and looked away.
Cain growled quietly to himself. "I know these things are hard for you to hear, darlin', but -"
"I told you I wanted a real answer, didn't I?"
"Listen," he said firmly, and her blue eyes sought his out again. "You'll drive yourself half-mad trying to figure out what you're doing and why. You can make your demands when we get home, I'll be right there beside you, honest. For now, just... let it be."
"You just -"
"Promise me," he said.
Wide-eyed, she nodded, and he could have stayed satisfied with that. He could have taken her back up to the house, bid her goodnight, and spent a quiet evening with his usual demons and their usual torments, but then -
"You said, 'when we get home'."
Had he really thrown around those words so carelessly? Uncomfortably, he cleared his throat. "I did."
"Does that mean -" She stopped herself short, and her eyes dropped; the internal struggle beginning, clear as glass. He watched her stand, run those blackened fingertips over her hips, as if brushing off unwanted thoughts could be so simple. "I should go check on Glitch before he takes all the good books out of the library." Her sentence was half-hearted, distracted, and even she didn't believe it. For a girl who didn't want to run away from a possible civil war, she sure as hell could move her feet when chased by her own uncertainty.
"Hey," he said, reaching out to touch her arm as she went past. She stopped for him, gave him that much, but her eyes were impossible to catch. "I don't know what it means, darlin', not just yet."
A brief moment passed where she seemed to want to say something; she thought better of it, stayed silent. She offered him up a small smile, penance for keeping her tongue. He listened to her footsteps through the reedgrass for as long as he was able, and once she was gone, he let go a long-held breath. He leaned a little heavier on the pillar, and took a moment to languish in his own stupidity.
He hadn't thought of staying in Central City, his mind had been focused on returning home, to his much prized solitude, where he was free to be unneeded. Here, by the lake and under the gazebo's lights, was it so easy to forget that he'd made a promise to himself, that he owed the girl nothing, that he didn't want -
No, there it was. Want. It had been a long, long time since seeking out what he'd wanted had ended in anything but heartache, despair, or death. He was accustomed to loss, and detachment - as was DG, and it caused him to feel a sort of softness toward her that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in far too many annuals.
Cain closed his eyes against the glow of the lanterns, hoping once again to wake up and find himself back in his room at sunsdown, to let his mind guard his weak human heart against the foolishness that was becoming something akin to courtship, the very pain he'd wanted to avoid when he left Central City behind after the eclipse. He didn't have it in him to do this again, not when the outcome was always so very, very unclear.
The future wasn't his to plan, and until word arrived from Central, his life was not his to command. He could ignore his mind, and he could ignore his heart. He could bury deep down in him whatever response he had to DG's sky eyes, her smile.
What he couldn't ignore was the dream of foreboding, words that still echoed in him. Nor, he found, could he ignore the sound of a dog barking, sharp and high-pitched, or the fact that, though he wished he were imagining the whole damned thing, the barking was growing steadily closer.
Table Of Contents
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten
Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen
Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty
Twenty One - Twenty Two - Twenty Three - Twenty Four - Twenty Five
Twenty Six - Twenty Seven - Twenty Eight - Twenty Nine - Thirty
Thirty One - Thirty Two - Thirty Three - Thirty Four - Thirty Five
Thirty Six - Thirty Seven - Thirty Eight - Thirty Nine - Forty
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Cain, DG, Glitch, Raw (appearances by: Jeb, Tutor, Lavender, Azkadellia, Ahamo)
Pairing: Cain/DG
Rating: 14+ (subject to change)
Summary: The fade to black was merely the blink of an eye. Respite for only seconds. After all, the road is long.
Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: Outside the oppressive walls of the Central Palace, the four heroes travel due south to the safety and seclusion of Finaqua, summer estate of the Gales. With the truth of the intention of the New Resistance finally out in the open, Cain and the others remain forced to accept that Lady Lavender's intention of sending them away is infinitely harder to guess.
Chapter Eleven: A Place to Rest
There was a familiar split in the road, where the greenest of the summer leaves tinted the sunslight as it came down in thick shafts, painting the ground with jagged streaks of pale verdure. The fork to the right led them on a snake-dance journey down a gradual decline, a path that eventually wound its way around the maze. They came out near the lake, where an old potting shed was nearly lost to ivy.
The trees grew tall and straight and white here, closest to the lake where it was said magic ribboned through the water. Summer thrived, where further north, through the country he'd just travelled, the season was still new with only a delicate grip. Cain breathed deeper as they dismounted and walked their horses over a narrow path choked with reedgrass.
The palace grounds were vast, without even considering the headache of the maze. Surrounded by deep, cold lakes, the endless, old-growth forest, all in the shadow of the distant Ruby Mountains, it was the most remote corner of the Zone, and the most unknown. Much of the adjoining lands - the forest, the mountains - were uncharted territories; beyond the borders of Finaqua, the maps were dotted with as much legend as landmarks. As far back as the histories of the Gale dynasty went, the O.Z. had been cut off, with only the absent threat of invasion from all-but-forgotten kingdoms keeping them in current memory at all.
He let DG and Glitch lead the way; together, the two of them managed to find the way to the estate. Along the grassy banks of the lake, the fields had erupted in wildflowers which Glitch identified as Hesperis matronalis; Cain remembered his own mother calling it Dame's Rocket. The marsh fields surrounding his house up north had already bloomed and gone to seed in the spring; it seemed, in Finaqua, nature had changed the rules.
Steps were lighter, faces brightened; smiles graced every face, even his own. The suns were warm and unhindered, the sky wide-open above them and cloudless. The calls of the palace guard echoed out across the lake as they were met along the lakeshore path; the horses were taken to the stable by two boys whose mouths gaped at the sight of a Viewer, the princess going completely unnoticed. It made her laugh as they were led toward the palace.
The crystal-glass windows near blinded Cain; the refraction threw a million colours at him, assaulted his senses and left him broken and agitated by the painful beauty of it. His muddy boots scraped against the white stone of the steps, the mammoth doors were open wide to swallow the group whole. In short order, they were swept up by beaming maids and led down different corridors, separated in relative safety, and yet the palace of Finaqua did little to assuage Cain's spirit. A comfortable room with a breathtaking view of the lake and mountains, what else could there be for a saviour of the Zone and protector of a princess?
A spell of peace, woven over the eyes, the soul. The sunslight streaming in his window was soft, pale yellow; the breeze coming in off the lake smelled of damp and natural decay, masked the scent of reedgrass and wildflowers.
Finaqua.
Grumbling to himself, Cain slammed the sill down and wrenched the curtains shut. He was in no mood for this perfection, this world untouched by the march of time. His thoughts were too dark, too encompassing to allow them to be so easily sated by a pristine lake on a beautiful day.
The shade and shadow comforted him, more than a gentle hand or quiet voice ever could. Was he as deserving as he'd once been? Being too focused on his solitude for the past six months had skewed his perception, and he was beginning to think he couldn't trust his own judgement, let alone those who were pulling the strings in his life of late.
He removed his boots, and sat back in a wing back chair that turned out to be deceivingly more comfortable than at first glance would suggest. With his legs stretched out before him, hands folded over his stomach, he began to relax. His eyes closed. Though he was far from sleep, his mind had slowed, his muscles eased.
Eventually, his belongings were brought up; food followed. He did little more than grunt that entry was allowed, the intrusions mere annoyances, unworthy of even opening his eyes. His things stayed pack, and he left the fancy fare to congeal on the tray.
He'd been searching for quiet that belonged only to him; not shared with others, filled with unsaid words and stolen glances, not heavy and laden with threat and despair. For the first time since leaving his cabin - no, since leaving Central City six months before - he wasn't wondering, worried about what the others were doing, how they were managing without him. There was no guilt over this fact, nor was he concerned in the least. Glitch was suspicious, Raw careful, and despite an adventurous streak, DG had a good, sensible head on her shoulders. They'd keep each other out of trouble, if indeed they weren't doing exactly as he, and resting with their thoughts.
They'd made it to Finaqua. It was time to breathe.
The shadows had lengthened, overtaking his room by the time Cain awoke. He didn't remember falling asleep, or if he'd dreamed, only that falling asleep in chairs was becoming an uncomfortable habit, one that he'd rather not continue. He stood and stretched, walked slowly to the window to open the curtains once again. The lake was still, reflecting the faded purple of the sky as the suns set to the east; far down the shore, the gazebo was lit with lanterns, leaving the shallow shores dancing with light.
Shaking his head, he turned away from the window; the fairytale feel of this place was going to get to him in the end, and he'd be itching to leave here just as badly as he'd been to leave Central. With a palace full of distractions, and DG so morose that she did little more than sit and draw most days, he was going to be hard-pressed to find ways to keep his hands busy. He didn't want to picture himself with an idle mind.
This wasn't going to do any good. He needed to clear his head; a walk by the lake would do him good. Just getting outside, away from the rooms that still reeked of non-existence; it was stuffy, warm, and doing him no favours.
He changed his clothes, and sat down on the bed to retrieve his boots from underneath; when he leaned down, he realised with no minimal amount of surprise, that he wasn't alone. Even in the murky twilight, there was no mistaking the figure sitting next to him. As he sat up slowly, eyes following the slender silhouette until his back was straight and he was staring into the pale, greying face of Lady Lavender.
Frowning deeply, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, rethinking just how awake he'd thought he was.
"Hello, Mr. Cain."
"Yeah, hi," he sighed. When he looked up, she hadn't disappeared.
"My daughter will not be safe in your charge."
He cocked an eyebrow, doing nothing to hide his annoyance. "Is that so?"
Lavender, whatever form of her appeared before him, smiled gently. "She is far too powerful; she must not be allowed to return, it will lead to ruin. She is whole, and pure, and so she should remain."
Cain, exhaling hard, let his head hang. "There'll be no convincing her of that fact."
The apparition beside him continued on, unabated by his interruption. "She cannot be permitted to go back."
Raising his head to look at the ghost of a woman who sat beside him, no more substantial than an autumn leaf, dried and colourless, Cain did nothing to hide his confusion. "Cannot -"
Lavender's eyes settled on him, chilling him down to the core. Her conviction was something that he readily recognised, something that echoed deep inside his chest, parts of himself he'd forgotten existed. "She cannot go back." She reached out to touch his sleeve, and in that instant, Cain pushed himself upright so forcefully that he was almost thrown bodily from the chair. Breathing hard, he looked around, and then down at himself. He was still in his rumpled travelling clothes and stockinged feet. Still in the chair. Still half asleep.
He blinked hard once, wiping a hand over his face, trying all the while to shake the visions of Lavender out of his head. His bed was empty. When he went to the window, he revisited the same deep and dusky purple sky, the same fairy lights shimmering on the surface of the lake, only - only a lone figure now sat in the gazebo, small and near lost to the gloaming.
His hands trembled as he washed up, changed his clothes. Going through the motions of retrieving his boots bristled the hairs on his arms, his neck. The room around him remained quiet, the shadows shifted, the light left.
He left his coat - and his gunbelt - in his room, and quickly retraced his steps downstairs to the grand hall. The front doors were still opened to the night breeze off the lake, the lights out on the steps fighting back the darkness beyond the terraces. It was into this veil that he threw himself, the hazy evening opening to accept him. The path to the gazebo was well worn, unmarked by lanterns, but the lights by the lake led him, the beacon from his dream.
A dream, just a dream, brought on by stress, by a lack of sleep, by a lifetime spent locked up on his feet; that's all it was, all it could be. Dreams were for fools who had time to follow them.
"She cannot go back."
Gods help him, it was all DG wanted, the only thing she wanted.
Cain slowed his long strides as he approached, squinting into the brightness. She was sitting on the swing, her sketchpad in her lap; the central figure on a platform of luminescence. The lanterns that hung from the eaves were burning with a different sort of light; no flame flickered on the wicks, instead little wisps of pure white floated lazily inside the glass. At least two dozen of her conjured lights; was she truly in control of them all?
Still hidden in the evening's depths, he stayed planted, watching the strong, even strokes of her wrist as she drew the pencil tip over her page. Her brow was furrowed, the entirety of her concentration absorbed in whatever she'd tasked herself to capture. She did not look up, did not seek a subject out, so he knew she was drawing from memory.
He thought back on all the times he'd interrupted her while she was working, and reconsidered disturbing her at all. If she hadn't at that moment pulled a distasteful face at her piece and flipped to a new page, he would've turned on his heel and headed back to the house. Instead, he called out.
"Hey, kiddo." He walked out of the shadows, and into the circle of light that surrounded the gazebo.
She glanced up quickly, but it was a few moments before her eyes focused on him. Her expression was nigh unreadable. "I was wondering when you were going to show your face." Then she smiled, and he felt himself ease closer to her, despite whatever reservations he had.
"Fell asleep without meaning to." He stopped a few feet shy of the step up to the platform.
DG closed her sketchbook, leaving the pencil pressed in between the heavy pages. The soft blue cover was stained with ink and paint. After she'd tucked it beside her on the swing, her hand passed lazily in the air, as if wiping at steam coated glass. One by one, the small conjured lights disappeared, and flames leapt to life in their place. The glare off the lake dimmed, the shadows crept in.
"Glitch napped, too. I don't know where Raw went off to. Nobody came down to supper. Just me," she said, and shrugged in afterthought. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it here."
"Me too," he said, stepping up under the ring of lanterns to stand inside the gazebo. "Me too."
Her smile returned, almost, but not quite, reaching her eyes. The distance seemed impossible. "So what are we supposed to do now?"
"Meaning what, exactly."
"Meaning," she said, "are we really going to just... sit around and wait?"
"Pretty much."
"For how long?"
"Don't know, myself. Glitch might have a better understanding, why don't you go badger him for a while?"
She let out an exasperated sigh, and let her head hang, obscuring his view of her face with her hair. Without looking up, she braced her feet against the wooden floor, giving the swing a gentle push; her hands wrapped around the chains, and it was only then that she let her head fall back, staring up into the carved rafters. He watched her in silence, standing with the flickering lanterns to his back, the palace lights in the distance, and all manner of blackness in between. She made a fragile picture, reminding him of the world he'd once known, before tin badges and revolutions and iron suits. It was a world that would never exist for him again, but perhaps it might for someone else, someone with better luck.
Long minutes passed filled with every sound but that of voices; the lap of water against the banks, the night breeze whispering through the reedgrass, the dull creak and groan of the swing as DG went back and forth.
She was still seeking out the why of it all, and he couldn't make her see the folly in it, there was no making her, period. He could only stand by until she gave up on it, moved onto something else just as futile.
"Cain?"
He looked up from studying the floorboards. "Hmm."
"Was my mother a good queen? I mean, well - before."
He smirked. "Are you sure I'm the one you want to be asking that question?"
"Please," she said, rolling her eyes, "you're the only one who is going to give me a real answer. Everyone else is either in love with her or bound by loyalty."
Bound or blinded, kiddo?
"Well, then," he said, and sighed. He leaned his back up against a carved support beam, crossing his arms over his chest; he made a show of thinking hard, of remembering so far back. "As I recall it," he began slowly, "those were good annuals. Peaceful. Unremarkable, considering how her reign ended." He watched her wince at his easy way; he almost could have lied to her, to keep that pain away. "DG, you've got to remember now that I wasn't anyone special before the eclipse. I wasn't more than a fool wearing a scrap of tin on his chest before the Mystic Man found me."
"I know that," she muttered, barely audible. She'd stopped swinging, though her hands still clutched the chains. She looked up from her lap, and she offered him a small smile as their eyes met. He couldn't help but smile back, ruefully shaking his head.
"My -" He paused, cursed himself, and tried again. "Adora admired your mother, DG, as did near everyone in the whole damn country. Do you know how many the Sorceress killed who had sworn undying oaths to the true queen?"
She pursed her lips and looked away.
Cain growled quietly to himself. "I know these things are hard for you to hear, darlin', but -"
"I told you I wanted a real answer, didn't I?"
"Listen," he said firmly, and her blue eyes sought his out again. "You'll drive yourself half-mad trying to figure out what you're doing and why. You can make your demands when we get home, I'll be right there beside you, honest. For now, just... let it be."
"You just -"
"Promise me," he said.
Wide-eyed, she nodded, and he could have stayed satisfied with that. He could have taken her back up to the house, bid her goodnight, and spent a quiet evening with his usual demons and their usual torments, but then -
"You said, 'when we get home'."
Had he really thrown around those words so carelessly? Uncomfortably, he cleared his throat. "I did."
"Does that mean -" She stopped herself short, and her eyes dropped; the internal struggle beginning, clear as glass. He watched her stand, run those blackened fingertips over her hips, as if brushing off unwanted thoughts could be so simple. "I should go check on Glitch before he takes all the good books out of the library." Her sentence was half-hearted, distracted, and even she didn't believe it. For a girl who didn't want to run away from a possible civil war, she sure as hell could move her feet when chased by her own uncertainty.
"Hey," he said, reaching out to touch her arm as she went past. She stopped for him, gave him that much, but her eyes were impossible to catch. "I don't know what it means, darlin', not just yet."
A brief moment passed where she seemed to want to say something; she thought better of it, stayed silent. She offered him up a small smile, penance for keeping her tongue. He listened to her footsteps through the reedgrass for as long as he was able, and once she was gone, he let go a long-held breath. He leaned a little heavier on the pillar, and took a moment to languish in his own stupidity.
He hadn't thought of staying in Central City, his mind had been focused on returning home, to his much prized solitude, where he was free to be unneeded. Here, by the lake and under the gazebo's lights, was it so easy to forget that he'd made a promise to himself, that he owed the girl nothing, that he didn't want -
No, there it was. Want. It had been a long, long time since seeking out what he'd wanted had ended in anything but heartache, despair, or death. He was accustomed to loss, and detachment - as was DG, and it caused him to feel a sort of softness toward her that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in far too many annuals.
Cain closed his eyes against the glow of the lanterns, hoping once again to wake up and find himself back in his room at sunsdown, to let his mind guard his weak human heart against the foolishness that was becoming something akin to courtship, the very pain he'd wanted to avoid when he left Central City behind after the eclipse. He didn't have it in him to do this again, not when the outcome was always so very, very unclear.
The future wasn't his to plan, and until word arrived from Central, his life was not his to command. He could ignore his mind, and he could ignore his heart. He could bury deep down in him whatever response he had to DG's sky eyes, her smile.
What he couldn't ignore was the dream of foreboding, words that still echoed in him. Nor, he found, could he ignore the sound of a dog barking, sharp and high-pitched, or the fact that, though he wished he were imagining the whole damned thing, the barking was growing steadily closer.
Table Of Contents
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten
Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen
Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty
Twenty One - Twenty Two - Twenty Three - Twenty Four - Twenty Five
Twenty Six - Twenty Seven - Twenty Eight - Twenty Nine - Thirty
Thirty One - Thirty Two - Thirty Three - Thirty Four - Thirty Five
Thirty Six - Thirty Seven - Thirty Eight - Thirty Nine - Forty