Wild Roses Prompt 080 "Why"
Title: The redheads are Mad, didn’t you know?
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses, Madeleine Sabaey, Jasmine Sabaey
Prompt: 080 "Why"
Word Count: 646
Rating: PG
Notes: . . grah. Words. Timeline here may help.
She was leaning against the window, legs half-curled beneath her, a blue shawl haphazardly across her knees.
She stirred slightly when Madeleine touched her near shoulder, looking back from the window with half closed eyes. " . . . Why?" she asked slowly, the word court-Formal.
Madeleine sighed, pulling Jasmine forward a little on the window seat so she could slide in behind, back pressed against the frame and her shoulder chilling quickly from the window. "You’ve asked this before,” she replied, as formally, “has my answer ever changed?”
“Not yet,” Jasmine said, dropping from the formal to slightly slurred French. “But someday it might.”
“It’s not ‘someday’ yet,” Madeleine said in crisp English, then switched to French. “We’d lost so many friends already,” she wrapped her arms loosely around Jasmine’s shoulders, hands brushing Jasmine’s chilled upper arms, “and no one short of the king our grandfather himself could have saved Melanie. Not only Maya’s friend, like you, but her killer, as well?”
Jasmine shivered, and Madeleine tightened her hands slightly, a reminder that Jasmine was not alone. “The king would have loved to ask Maya how she managed to get so close, who she’d allied to and who was still alive . . and with her dead, he had to vent his anger elsewhere.”
“On the survivors.”
“Oui. On those so foolish as to survive a failed coup de etat, he chose to call Trial, and exile upon the woman who’d stopped the war.” She frowned out the window, wondering how long her cousin had been sitting here, sliding gradually into thoughts of the war.
“ . . In saving me, you gave him power over you.”
Jerked away from contemplating the window, Madeleine scowled at Jasmine’s tangled hair, then switched back to the formal. “It was worth it, to my eyes. We’d lost two of the Six already--"
“I was the youngest, Madeleine.” This in English.
“That does not make you expendable, Cousin.”
A half-sob, “I am not who I was.”
“No,” Madeleine agreed, “But you are neither dead nor exiled, and all things change. I am not who I was then, either.”
Jasmine laughed suddenly, half-twisting to look at Madeleine. “You marinate, Cousin. All that you are, you only get more intense, stronger with time. I warped, I broke, powdered eggshells where once was--"
“A prince’s daughter.” Madeleine whistled, half under her breath, until directionless lights lit both their faces. “A prince’s daughter is still a prince’s daughter, even though the prince is dead and the daughter half-broken.” She reached out, tapped her cousin’s nose with her smallest nail. “Art not broken yet, Cousin. Cracked, yes. But still yourself, despite all that Maya did to you and the King would have done. And I’d rather not lose you, too, along with all the other friends we lost that day.”
“ . . . Why?”
Madeleine felt her mouth twist wryly. “I would have guessed my cards held wrong-way out, as Giovanni asked me years ago why I’d not said anything.” She sighed, then pulled the lights a little higher. “Why, Cousin? Because while all the things I’ve told you every other time you’ve asked, and this time too, are true, I’ve also a very selfish motive. I love you.”
Blank silence, then a soft, helpless giggle, the other’s eyes beginning to twinkle for the first time in much too long. “Is it a redheaded thing, to overcomplicate everything so?” Jasmine asked finally, still laughing to herself.
Madeleine snorted softly, pulling Jasmine back against her and setting her chin firmly atop her cousin’s blond head. “Oh, very likely. Hast not seen uncle Fintain in love before?”
Another giggle, that slurred softly into a sleepy mumble. “At least you’ve never left poems and flowers at my door.”
“I do have some dignity left.”
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses, Madeleine Sabaey, Jasmine Sabaey
Prompt: 080 "Why"
Word Count: 646
Rating: PG
Notes: . . grah. Words. Timeline here may help.
She was leaning against the window, legs half-curled beneath her, a blue shawl haphazardly across her knees.
She stirred slightly when Madeleine touched her near shoulder, looking back from the window with half closed eyes. " . . . Why?" she asked slowly, the word court-Formal.
Madeleine sighed, pulling Jasmine forward a little on the window seat so she could slide in behind, back pressed against the frame and her shoulder chilling quickly from the window. "You’ve asked this before,” she replied, as formally, “has my answer ever changed?”
“Not yet,” Jasmine said, dropping from the formal to slightly slurred French. “But someday it might.”
“It’s not ‘someday’ yet,” Madeleine said in crisp English, then switched to French. “We’d lost so many friends already,” she wrapped her arms loosely around Jasmine’s shoulders, hands brushing Jasmine’s chilled upper arms, “and no one short of the king our grandfather himself could have saved Melanie. Not only Maya’s friend, like you, but her killer, as well?”
Jasmine shivered, and Madeleine tightened her hands slightly, a reminder that Jasmine was not alone. “The king would have loved to ask Maya how she managed to get so close, who she’d allied to and who was still alive . . and with her dead, he had to vent his anger elsewhere.”
“On the survivors.”
“Oui. On those so foolish as to survive a failed coup de etat, he chose to call Trial, and exile upon the woman who’d stopped the war.” She frowned out the window, wondering how long her cousin had been sitting here, sliding gradually into thoughts of the war.
“ . . In saving me, you gave him power over you.”
Jerked away from contemplating the window, Madeleine scowled at Jasmine’s tangled hair, then switched back to the formal. “It was worth it, to my eyes. We’d lost two of the Six already--"
“I was the youngest, Madeleine.” This in English.
“That does not make you expendable, Cousin.”
A half-sob, “I am not who I was.”
“No,” Madeleine agreed, “But you are neither dead nor exiled, and all things change. I am not who I was then, either.”
Jasmine laughed suddenly, half-twisting to look at Madeleine. “You marinate, Cousin. All that you are, you only get more intense, stronger with time. I warped, I broke, powdered eggshells where once was--"
“A prince’s daughter.” Madeleine whistled, half under her breath, until directionless lights lit both their faces. “A prince’s daughter is still a prince’s daughter, even though the prince is dead and the daughter half-broken.” She reached out, tapped her cousin’s nose with her smallest nail. “Art not broken yet, Cousin. Cracked, yes. But still yourself, despite all that Maya did to you and the King would have done. And I’d rather not lose you, too, along with all the other friends we lost that day.”
“ . . . Why?”
Madeleine felt her mouth twist wryly. “I would have guessed my cards held wrong-way out, as Giovanni asked me years ago why I’d not said anything.” She sighed, then pulled the lights a little higher. “Why, Cousin? Because while all the things I’ve told you every other time you’ve asked, and this time too, are true, I’ve also a very selfish motive. I love you.”
Blank silence, then a soft, helpless giggle, the other’s eyes beginning to twinkle for the first time in much too long. “Is it a redheaded thing, to overcomplicate everything so?” Jasmine asked finally, still laughing to herself.
Madeleine snorted softly, pulling Jasmine back against her and setting her chin firmly atop her cousin’s blond head. “Oh, very likely. Hast not seen uncle Fintain in love before?”
Another giggle, that slurred softly into a sleepy mumble. “At least you’ve never left poems and flowers at my door.”
“I do have some dignity left.”