Yarrow sketched a quick bow to appease the glaring Ghia and tried to keep in her laughter. "Aye, M'Lady," she said, in all seriousness, and Ghia glared harder. "What? You technically outrank me," she said softly, teasing only slightly.
Ghia sighed, though it sounded more like a huff, and started walking down the hall again. "Only in times of peace, Bellica."
Yarrow sobered then, and matched pace with her younger cousin. "True. Too true." They reached the junction of the North Wing to the more central and populated area of the castle and Yarrow dropped her hand to Ghia's shoulder briefly. "Have you the rest of the day off? Good," she said to Ghia's nod. "Saddle up your horse and meet me outside the stables at 1600 hours. We need to talk, but not here."
Ghia nodded her assent and silently the two women blended themselves back into the human traffic of the halls.
Molly
Molly awoke to the sound of dripping water. It was not the first time. The dungeons were dank, dark, and full of noises associated with the characteristics each held. And the smell -- damp, wet, like clothing left on the line during the rain and then piled in a corner, left to rot. She'd been here long enough that the smell had become part of her olfactory senses; the darkness, her sight; yet the dripping woke her. She caught what little sleep she could, but inevitably her dreams crawled towards the 'drip drip drip' that permeated her very existence in this cell.
At least the cot was not terribly uncomfortable and the cell not terribly cramped. Small, sure, but with nothing but a cot and a chamber pot to occupy it, she had room to stretch. Someone had done her and Jester the small courtesies of pillows and blankets, which was more than she could say for the other prisoners she could see -- wretches who'd been there so long no one knew what for anymore, their clothing naught but dark rags, their hair long and lanky, their bodies atrophied with years of bad food and no exercise, their skin pale with the lack of light.
She was sure she didn't look much better -- at least as bad as Jester, who was sallow-skinned, stringy rope an excuse for her once lustrous hair, shadows under her eyes testimony to the quality of her sleep. Sitting up and leaning back against the wall of her cell, Molly breathed in the damp air and looked at her companion, her partner in insurrection. Jester -- or Autumn? Molly wasn't sure what name was preferred now -- slept curled up on her side, looking for all the world like a little girl. Strange, considering how maturely the woman had addressed the problem of whom to take back to Atherton as a rebel leader.
"You need someone who looks the part so you can leave someone who can actually lead back here to keep things calm. Take me, then," she'd said in the hacienda.
"Whoever goes will be in extreme danger, you realise," Yarrow had responded. "I cannot guarantee to keep you from execution, though I'll do my damnedest."
Jester had merely shrugged. "There is nothing more for me here. Let me help the cause," she'd said with a note of finality. Then she said nothing else for over a sevenday.
Molly assumed it had been a sevenday. The passage of time was meaningless in the dungeons -- her days were punctuated only by the meal-times she'd given up on a while ago, the increasing tension in the castle's denizens, and the changing of the guard. So far, she only recognised one, the lieutenant who'd guarded them from Aeril on, which was confusing because he was part of Yarrow's regiment; so why he was assigned dungeon duty was anyone's guess. For her part, Molly assumed it was part of Yarrow's attempt to protect the fugitives. Occasionally the lieutenant replaced the torches when the fires grew dim. The tension was on gradual increase, something that would end soon. It was not so much a measure of how long she'd been there but of how long she would be alive.
The Birthright Ceremony was the knell of her doom. Whatever Bellicas Yarrow and Anala were doing to protect Molly and Jester now would become far less powerful when Zardria became Empress.
Not that it mattered much to Molly, anyway. She and Jester had chosen this role because they were ready to die. Jester had not said it so succinctly but had made it clear that she felt there was nothing left in life for her. This saddened Molly for reasons she could not explain -- after all, she felt the same. Should she not be happy someone would walk to the noose with her? Besides, Jester was older than she was; so it was not that Molly felt sadness over the loss of a young person -- a legitimate excuse. People always found it tragic when young people died, no matter the character of the deceased.
She glanced over at the sleeping woman again, and thought how their lives would have been different had Lady Danika not taken Luis and Damien. She and Jester would have become sisters-in-law, or at least sisters in love. Their respective parents never would have allowed the union between the two boys, for it would have been shameful for someone so poor as Damien to be with someone so middle-class as Luis, but the four of them could have escaped to another town, where no one cared about caste so much as people did in uptight Aeril. Or perhaps right out of Athering altogether -- life had to be better in other countries. Maybe we could have lived with the gypsies of the Southern Desert, Molly thought with a grim smile. Now there was a thought. The gypsies certainly had no love of Athering, but Molly wasn't entirely sure what their view was on boys loving boys, girls with girls, and everything in between. She'd heard their views were...strange, differing from the norm. They might have been just as ostracised there as in Aeril.
That was neither here nor there. Damien and Luis were...dead, she forced herself to think as the tears invaded her eyes and the lump in her throat choked her breath from her again. Dead, and Jester would never be Molly's sister -- not in reality or her wildest dreams.
Jester hated her, she was sure. It had taken Jester's yelling at her to snap her out of her catatonic state following their finding of the harem, and Jester had kept things going when she and Lucy were completely useless. Molly would hate herself, too.
Did hate herself, truth be told. She'd had time to think about things. To come to realisations about the truth and depth of her feelings for her brother. His death had made them clearer to her and the thought of them made her sick. Her love for him was not what a sister's love should have been. Her love for him had been a lover's love, and that was forbidden by Athering traditional custom. Disgusting.
It was strange, because, had he been a cousin or a sister, there would have been no problem -- not for her, not for Athering. Because she was his sister and he her brother, however, she felt sick to her stomach every time she thought about it. If anyone else knew the truth she was sure they'd have much the same reaction. If only she'd been born a different gender! Then Luis and she would have been free to love.
But would he have loved me that way? She closed her eyes and felt a fresh tear run down her cold cheek. Two wracking sobs came and went and left her shuddering on the cot, salt stinging her eyes and cheeks. The one piece of information that could save me, purify me of my wickedness, I'll never be privy to. And so am damned to Tyvian.
She sniffed, as silently as possible, and opened her eyes. The darknesses behind her closed eyes and before her opened ones were similar but soon she could see as well as before. Using her not-so-scratchy-as-it-could-have-been blanket, she dried her eyes gently, resolving not to cry any more. With difficulty she moved into a prayerful position beside her cot, one knee bent, her bad leg stretching out behind her straight, unable to genuflect as fully as she'd like to.
Since waking up in Aeril, she'd started to pray, pointless though it may have been. Would the Goddesses listen to one damned as she was? Doubt it, she thought, placing her hands together and resting her forehead against them. Breathing in deeply, she started praying to the Goddesses -- any Who would listen, but mostly Muerta for mercy, and Althea for cleansing. And this time she said an extra prayer, one for Jester.
Amora, Compassionate Lady, hear my plea. I care no more for my life -- I know I am doomed, and accept this fate calmly. Someday I'll have another chance, and that is enough for me. I pray for my sister who never was, I pray for the sister of my brother's lover -
- Jester, or Autumn, who is in the cell beside mine. Please, Compassionate Lady, cover her with Your cloak and protect her in the days to come. I can go to my death peacefully if I know she will be protected, and given another chance at life.
Her prayers finished, she crawled back onto her cot and curled up under her blanket, facing Jester. Looking at the tension on the other woman's face, she hoped her prayers were heard and answered. She did not know why, but she felt strongly that despite Jester's seemingly cavalier attitude towards her own life, the woman did not want to die. This was why Molly prayed -- Jester was in here because of her. She deserved another chance under a more benevolent leader.
The unanswering silence that met her prayers every time did nothing to ease the sinking feeling in her stomach.
Ghia
"Surprised" would have been the wrong choice of words for Ghia's reaction to Yarrow's behavior at the charnel house. Caught off guard worked better. But Ghia had not been found on the streets of the city yesterday. She figured out rather quickly what in Tyvian to do. She wrapped her arm around the bellica's waist and leaned into Yarrow's embrace with a great display of affection. It felt awkward but the bellica gave no indication that she was fecking up and no one looked at them sidelong as the Domina led them to a room, Yarrow's usual, it seemed.
A perfect plan, really. No one would be surprised (and indeed, no one was) to see Yarrow take another conquest to The Queen and the Rogue. Such tales were long since old news in Athering, and no one would care enough to 'accidentally' eavesdrop on whatever the bellica spent her time doing at the charnel house. It was the most private place for them to talk, and the safest.
But such a plan might have unintended consequences that Yarrow has maybe not considered, Ghia realised. When the door to the room shut behind them she asked Yarrow as much.
The bellica, already moving around the room to check every nook and cranny, shook her head briskly. "Caelum's smarter than he seems. He'll figure it out. If he doesn't, it's still my choice to do as I please. We're not committed."
"I was referring more to what might happen when all the dust settles -- might be a scandal in Queen Yarrow having been seen with her cousin at The Queen and the Rogue."
Yarrow was still moving throughout the room, her eyes sweeping over every surface. Ghia stayed by the door, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Burn that bridge when we come to it, Princess," Yarrow said, directing a saucy wink towards the healer before going back to securing the room. "You're suddenly very keen on the whole 'being my cousin' and 'ruling Atton' thing."
Ghia rolled a shoulder in a shrug, though Yarrow missed the gesture, back turned to the healer as it was. "Not much of a choice, from where I'm standing. May as well make the best of it."
Yarrow nodded briefly, and Ghia felt the bellica understood far more of that sentiment than she let on. She said nothing, however, and when the silence stretched on Ghia changed the subject. "I'm a bit surprised that you and Caelum aren't committed. You're undoubtedly together."
Yarrow sighed and moved to the bed, the securing of the room apparently done. "Nothing official, Healer. Been too caught up in the glow of it all to really discuss anything -- which, frankly, I'm fine with. Doing enough talking these days." She looked at Ghia pointedly, but the healer didn't waver. With a sigh Yarrow fell onto the bed and, for all anyone could see, relaxed, though Ghia knew the bellica was tense as a cat. "We're not here to talk about my love life, Ghia," the bellica said. "I shouldn't have to tell you that."
Ghia shrugged and took a seat at the lavish table -- lavish like everything else in the room. It was a thin veneer to hide the poverty beneath. "Curiosity."
"Killed the gato. Francesca knows that well and is discreet. We'll not be spied upon."
"Well that's a blessing." Ghia tucked her legs up underneath her and made herself comfortable. "What did you want to discuss?"
Yarrow smiled sardonically at her. "What do you think?"
"Oh, well, I was really looking forward to an earnest discussion of our love-lives, complete with obligatory munchies, giggling, and maybe a pillow-fight." She smiled brightly at her cousin, and ducked as the pillow Yarrow lobbed at her came sailing towards her face. "Missed me."
"Never was any good at long-range weaponry," Yarrow responded as she got settled back against her remaining pillows. "Alright, fine -- tell me about your love life, cuz." Yarrow smiled at her, challengingly, and Ghia felt her face heat.
"Haven't got one, so terribly sorry to disappoint. You'll just have to spill the beans about yours."
"You're a terrible liar, Ghia Lihin."
Ghia raised her left hand in the air. "Healer's Honour."
"Doesn't apply here. You mean to tell me you and Jules have absolutely nothing between you?"
Ghia looked away, unwilling to talk about the fresh hurt where Jules was concerned. "We're friends." she said quietly, and there was an awkward silence.
Yarrow cleared her throat suddenly. It was an embarrassed sound. "Let's put our love lives -- or lack thereof -- aside, alright cuz?" she said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
Ghia nodded and looked at her cousin again. "So let's get on with this cousin bonding session, or whatever it is."
Yarrow let out a bark of laughter. "We can call it that. Specifically, though, I want to talk to you about your role on the third."
"What's special about the third?" Ghia asked, wrinkling her nose. "I thought the second was your..."
"My birthday, yes," Yarrow said, finishing Ghia's sentence. "We have to wait until Zardria is fully in power to stage a coup or the legality of my new sovereignty may be called into question by her supporters. There'd be no end of trouble."
"There wasn't for Zanny," Ghia pointed out.
"That was different. It was perfectly legal for Zanny to rule as regent, which she has done, technically. Zardria is the next in line to the throne and I'm not an heir at all; so I must call challenge on my sister once she's sworn in and not before."
"But if she were dead, then you would be the next in line..." Ghia said, trailing off as she saw the look on Yarrow's face.
"Your point?" Yarrow asked, too quietly.
Ghia sighed and quirked her mouth. "You know what I'm suggesting, Yarrow, and you know I'm not the only one who will, or has."
Yarrow got up off the bed and started pacing the room. "Zardria will stand trial for her crimes against her citizens, Ghia, make no mistake of that. I can and will make sure that justice is served. But not by my own hand, without benefit of a trial."
Yarrow fell silent, and Ghia watched her pace for a moment before commenting on the obvious. "There hasn't been a professional lawyer in Athering for over a hundred years, Yarrow. You going to be the first?"
"No, but I am going to follow the spirit of the law here, and that means calling challenge to my sister the day after the Ceremony, when she's officially en-Sceptred," the bellica said sternly. Clearly that was the end of the matter. "It's just more of Athering's complicated inheritance law, Ghia. Don't worry about the details and just trust me when I say the third is the key. I'll call challenge, and if I win the fight --" here Ghia snorted, because the thought of the trained bellica losing to her court-soft sister was laughable -- "Zardria will not hold to the conventions, and will try to usurp me. That's when we need to strike."
Ghia suppressed a groan and tried to will away her headache. This was all far too involved. "Why not just take it tomorrow and say bugger the law?"
Yarrow stopped her pacing and sat down across from Ghia at the table. She sighed, a tired sound. "There may be few things on this earth that I care about, Ghia, but the law is one of them. I'll not take this country wrongly." Ghia nodded, feeling silly for not having known as much. But then, Yarrow was a private person, and someone Ghia had stopped reading for a while. This fact was not one that was well-known at any rate. Caelum knew it; maybe no one else.
She had nothing to contribute to the fresh silence; so gestured for Yarrow to go on.
The bellica shook her head as if trying to pick up where she'd been a moment ago. "So. Anala and I have discussed our regiments' roles -- should be fairly easy to disarm the other regiments -- just going to give their watch a sleeping draught and lock 'em in the barracks." Yarrow smiled, obviously pleased with the simplicity of her plan. "We've got most of the castle covered except the most important part -- that's where you come in." Ghia raised her eyebrows in surprise. "The hospitalis. We need you to secure it."
"Why is the hospitalis so important? It's no danger to anyone," Ghia said, but she felt the nagging sensation there was a key fact she'd missed.
"Have you never noticed, Healer, that in the top floor of the hospitalis there is a strange looking square in the middle of the ceiling?"
Ghia frowned, trying to remember anything like the bellica described, but her memory could not piece together a picture. She shrugged helplessly.
"Your mother hasn't prepared you fully for your post, then. The hospitalis sits right underneath the spire, Ghia. That square leads to the Elevator, which leads directly to the Queen's quarters. If you hold the hospitalis, you hold the castle."
Ghia sat absolutely still, in total shock, as the significance of her post hit her. How had she never noticed such a key part of her domain before? How had it never occurred to her? And why hasn't my mother fecking told me?
"Sweet Althea," she breathed, hardly able to believe it. Hardly able to believe she could hold the most important area of the castle. "I'm not a soldier, Yarrow," she said, in a mild protest she knew wouldn't work.
"No, but you have the will and leadership qualities of a good bellica. You'll have a large amount of the second regiment under your command -- including your paxwoman, Aro, and Anala's paxwoman and Honour Guard. They've already sworn to protect your life with theirs, and you can be damned sure if they fail in that I'll bring them back from the Forgotten Realm myself so I can kill them again." Yarrow grinned, and Ghia let out a nervous laugh. "I'm counting on you, cuz," Yarrow continued, more serious. "Can you do it?"
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