Post by wordy on Oct 5, 2009 14:07:40 GMT 10
Title: One For Sorrow, Two For Joy
Rating (and Warnings): PG-13 (kissing)
Fairytale/Nursery Rhyme adapted: One For Sorrow, Two For Joy (nursery rhyme)
Word Count: ~2118
Summary: Briar/Sandry.
A/N: FINALLY finished! Enjoy ;D
One for sorrow,
She had spent days making the cloth, but now Sandry couldn’t stand to look at it. Five times she had taken the black silk from its basket to begin cutting and sewing, but every time she had to walk away from the table. The tears just kept coming. Each day seemed worse than the day before.
Daja found her that night, when everyone had gone to bed. It had been difficult staying at the Citadel, where so many memories of her uncle remained, so Daja had offered her a room for as long as she needed it. Sandry was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the black silk that lay unwrinkled before her. She didn’t turn her head as Daja came up and took the seat next to her.
Sandry sniffed, wiping her face on her sleeve in a very un-Sandry-like manner. “I’m sorry, Daja. I don’t mean to be any trouble, I just...” She couldn’t go on, her face had scrunched up in an effort to hold back the tears. Daja took her hand, squeezing it comfortingly, “You don’t have to apologise for anything, saati, you’re allowed to cry.” Sandry’s lip trembled as she tried to smile at her sister. I’ve spent so long trying to be noble and strong, I’ve forgotten how to be anything else, she thought. Letting go of her hand, Daja moved closer to envelope her in a strong hug. Sandry held on tightly, face buried in her sister’s shoulder. If she could allow herself to cry—to grieve—she could start to live her life. It would be heart wrenchingly difficult, to continue on without Vedris, who had always been there to guide and support her, a father figure. But she could do it, she had to. Besides, she wasn’t alone.
Pulling out of Daja’s arms, she searched about herself for a handkerchief and wiped her wet face. She still felt an ache in her chest; it would be a long time before she felt better. Knowing she wasn’t completely lost, though, gave her a sense of duty - to her friends and to herself.
“Now,” said Daja, “how about we finish this dress?”
two for joy,
“What is that squealing?” asked Sandry crossly. They were at the sink, Tris washing up while Sandry dried and packed away. Tris was wrist deep in soapy water. Although she was a stickler for cleaning, Sandry had already spied some miniature water spouts spring up in the washing water that morning, Tris’s mind obviously on other things.
Another squeal, this time accompanied by a dog barking, rang out from the front of the house. Tris hadn’t said anything, so Sandry was unsure if she should be worried about the sounds or not.
“Tris?” Sandry asked, nudging her arm.
“It’s just Briar and Glaki,” Tris replied, not taking her attention from the sink in front of her. Sandry watched for a moment as another water spout came into existence, then wiped her hands and put down her towel. “Well, I need a break. I’m going outside.”
Following the happy squeals out into the front garden, Sandry stopped on the doorstep. Little Bear was frolicking about after Briar, who had Glaki on his back, her arms clinging around his neck. They were racing around the garden, Glaki bouncing happily on Briar’s back as he ran. Sandry smiled.
When Briar saw Sandry watching them, he slowed and walked over to her. Glaki still clung to him like a little monkey, swinging her bare feet too and fro.
“It sounded like you two were enjoying yourselves,” Sandry said. Glaki smiled shyly at her.
“You mean three,” Briar grinned. A coil of dark hair flopped over his forehead, at that awkward in-between stage where it was too long to ignore yet too short to do anything with. Sandry looked past them to see Little Bear watching them, probably wondering why the fun had stopped so abruptly.
About to turn and rejoin Tris and the washing up, Sandry was stopped by the sight of grass stains on the knees of Briar’s breeches. She bit her tongue, trying to contain her annoyance.
“Briar,” she said sternly, “You have grass stains on your knees. Why aren’t you wearing the clothes I made you.”
He looked down at his knees as Glaki struggled to see too. When he looked up at Sandry again he shrugged, teeth white against his tan skin, “Sometimes, you have to get dirty.”
Three for a girl and four for a boy;
“Silly kaq” Daja said, shaking her head. Tris looked up, wondering who her foster sister was talking about; she rarely called anyone a kaq, but the way she had said it sounded like she didn’t mean it as an insult. Sweeping her eyes across the crowded ballroom, Tris stopped at Briar. He was dressed up finely, talking to a small group of noblewomen. All of them were smiling and laughing, like a bunch of peacocks.
They had been invited to the ball because they were Sandry’s family, to celebrate the elevation of Vedris’s son Gospard to the title and role of Duke. Tris had been sceptical at first—everyone had wondered if Vedris would name Sandry as his heir and successor, for she was obviously the most prepared for the role—but upon meeting Gospard (Duke Gospard, she corrected herself) and talking with him briefly, Tris was soon reassured that the new Duke was neither stupid nor naive.
“I don’t see why you’re so surprised to see him making nice with the women,” Tris told Daja, “He’s been that way ever since he came home.”
Daja smiled, “Oh, I expected that. But that’s not why he’s a numbskull.” Puzzled, Tris sighed noisily; why couldn’t people just speak their minds? It would certainly be quicker than all these allusions and big words that meant nothing, she thought as she looked around. Daja nudged her, inclining her head toward Briar once more.
Briar was still talking to the group of noblewomen, flashing his handsome smile and waving his hands about as he spoke. The ladies smiled back, eyes flirtatious, laughing too loudly.
It happened in a moment, a moment that passed unnoticed for the butterflies that were clustered around him; Briar looked away and across the room, toward a young lady dressed in blue, her light brown hair held away from her neck by a shiny silver clasp. His eyes swept over her for a second, and suddenly he was laughing again, all of his attention on the array of pretty women standing around him.
“Ah,” said Tris.
Daja grinned.
Five for silver,
The moonlight glinted on Sandry’s hair clasp, which now hung limply from her hair. It had been a long night, and the four of them were most definitely ready for bed.
“You know, I’m surprised our boy doesn’t have a, umm, guest,” Daja said, trying to hold in a yawn.
Briar rubbed his eyes, almost walking into the gatepost in the process. “Are you kidding? I almost fell asleep twice during the ride home.”
“Almost?” muttered Tris. Sandry and Daja laughed.
It would only be a few more hours before the sun rose. Sandry found that she was glad to be staying at Cheeseman Street with her friends, despite Gospard saying that she could live at the Citadel for as long as she liked. With Uncle Vedris gone, it didn’t feel...right, she thought tiredly. It was strange, but she was starting to call Daja’s house ‘home’. Even though it felt so new and different, Sandry got a small thrill every time she thought about it. Her heart just wasn’t in the Duke’s Citadel anymore.
Sandry was startled from her thoughts; they were inside now, Tris calling a weary ‘goodnight’ as she climbed the stairs to her room. The thought of climbing stairs made Sandry sigh, but since Briar and Daja had both of the ground floor rooms, she didn’t have much choice. Her feet ached from dancing and standing all night, a dull throbbing she hoped would have vanished by morning.
“’Night,” Daja said, disappearing around the corner into her room. Sandry watched her vanish into the cool blue shadows, shadows that weren’t black enough to prompt her fear of the dark.
Briar had been standing in the doorway that led to his workroom, silent. The subtle embroidery that lined the collar of his tunic caught the moonlight. He had looked quite handsome tonight, Sandry thought, pleased with her work; she hade made his tunic and full-sleeved shirt only days ago. Still, he lingered, before nodding goodnight, turning, and vanishing just had Daja had. For a moment, Sandry felt as if she had been on the precipice of something important, something that lurked quietly in her mind, waiting. But then she shook her head sleepily and made her way slowly up the stairs.
Six for gold
It was almost midday. Briar considered going back inside to escape the heat, but then he changed his mind. Lying on the grass in Daja’s garden—his garden, he reminded himself happily—he was admiring the sunflowers that he had planted last week. Their bright yellow faces turned to the sun, following it on its path across the blue, blue sky. He sighed, content. How wonderful to be a sunflower, forever facing the sun.
Rolling onto his back, Briar put his arms under his head for a makeshift cushion. Out of the corner of his eye he could see someone watching him from the back door. A tiny questing along their magical tie confirmed that it was Sandry.
“Hovering doesn’t become a noble lady,” he called out. A moment later she was standing over him, a shadow blocking out the sun. He frowned. “You’re blocking my sun, Sandry.”
She ignored his last comment. “So I’m a noble lady, am I? Never mind that I could tear your clothes to pieces and wrap you in a cocoon quicker than a blink.”
“I wouldn’t mind a bit as long as you left me in the sun.”
“Is that so,” she replied. Glad that she had worn breeches today, Sandry sat down on the grass next to him. She leaned back on her elbows and crossed her ankles. “I thought too much sun was bad for plants.”
Briar shrugged. “Some plants. Not sunflowers though.”
Shading her eyes from the midday sun, Sandry looked over at the sunflowers. She smiled. “They’re very happy looking.”
“Wouldn’t you be too if you could laze in this sun all day?”
Silence greeted his words. Glancing over at Sandry, he saw that she had closed her eyes. She had a smile on her face, her usually pale skin lightly tanned from riding every day. Briar watched her for a moment, taking note of her long brown eyelashes, the golden highlights that shone in her light brown hair, and the pleasing curves that were on show when she wore breeches.
Tearing his attention away from her (away from the lovely line that travelled from her throat to her collarbone), Briar turned his eyes back to his sunflowers. A thought entered his mind that he had never considered before.
And seven for a secret that’s never been told.
His heart was beating too fast. With all the other girls he had been calm and charming, but Sandry wasn’t other girls and she was standing so close that he could see the golden threads in her hair and when her soft lips parted his heart skipped a beat and she kept looking at him like that before he realise why neither of them was moving. She was looking up at him with wide blue eyes and he almost could have laughed; she was too proud—too stubborn—to make the first move, to take responsibility for what was inevitably about to happen.
Instead, Briar reached out to touch her chin, directing her mouth up to his until her lips parted against his. Her pride melted away as he deepened the kiss and suddenly she was kissing him back, fiercely, her hands searching and stroking his chest and arms.
Little Bear’s bark from the front garden alerted them to their surroundings once more and they tore away from each other with difficulty, Briar’s hands lingering on her waist.
When Tris stepped inside moments later, arms full with baskets from the market, Briar and Sandry were decidedly not looking at each other. Tris smiled to herself as she walked upstairs to her room, pretending not to notice how Briar crossed the room in two strides as soon as she had turned her back, or how Sandry bit her full lower lip and grinned as his lips met her neck.
Rating (and Warnings): PG-13 (kissing)
Fairytale/Nursery Rhyme adapted: One For Sorrow, Two For Joy (nursery rhyme)
Word Count: ~2118
Summary: Briar/Sandry.
A/N: FINALLY finished! Enjoy ;D
ONE FOR SORROW, TWO FOR JOY
One for sorrow, two for joy,
Three for a girl and four for a boy;
Five for silver,
Six for gold
And seven for a secret that’s never been told.
~
One for sorrow, two for joy,
Three for a girl and four for a boy;
Five for silver,
Six for gold
And seven for a secret that’s never been told.
~
One for sorrow,
She had spent days making the cloth, but now Sandry couldn’t stand to look at it. Five times she had taken the black silk from its basket to begin cutting and sewing, but every time she had to walk away from the table. The tears just kept coming. Each day seemed worse than the day before.
Daja found her that night, when everyone had gone to bed. It had been difficult staying at the Citadel, where so many memories of her uncle remained, so Daja had offered her a room for as long as she needed it. Sandry was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the black silk that lay unwrinkled before her. She didn’t turn her head as Daja came up and took the seat next to her.
Sandry sniffed, wiping her face on her sleeve in a very un-Sandry-like manner. “I’m sorry, Daja. I don’t mean to be any trouble, I just...” She couldn’t go on, her face had scrunched up in an effort to hold back the tears. Daja took her hand, squeezing it comfortingly, “You don’t have to apologise for anything, saati, you’re allowed to cry.” Sandry’s lip trembled as she tried to smile at her sister. I’ve spent so long trying to be noble and strong, I’ve forgotten how to be anything else, she thought. Letting go of her hand, Daja moved closer to envelope her in a strong hug. Sandry held on tightly, face buried in her sister’s shoulder. If she could allow herself to cry—to grieve—she could start to live her life. It would be heart wrenchingly difficult, to continue on without Vedris, who had always been there to guide and support her, a father figure. But she could do it, she had to. Besides, she wasn’t alone.
Pulling out of Daja’s arms, she searched about herself for a handkerchief and wiped her wet face. She still felt an ache in her chest; it would be a long time before she felt better. Knowing she wasn’t completely lost, though, gave her a sense of duty - to her friends and to herself.
“Now,” said Daja, “how about we finish this dress?”
two for joy,
“What is that squealing?” asked Sandry crossly. They were at the sink, Tris washing up while Sandry dried and packed away. Tris was wrist deep in soapy water. Although she was a stickler for cleaning, Sandry had already spied some miniature water spouts spring up in the washing water that morning, Tris’s mind obviously on other things.
Another squeal, this time accompanied by a dog barking, rang out from the front of the house. Tris hadn’t said anything, so Sandry was unsure if she should be worried about the sounds or not.
“Tris?” Sandry asked, nudging her arm.
“It’s just Briar and Glaki,” Tris replied, not taking her attention from the sink in front of her. Sandry watched for a moment as another water spout came into existence, then wiped her hands and put down her towel. “Well, I need a break. I’m going outside.”
Following the happy squeals out into the front garden, Sandry stopped on the doorstep. Little Bear was frolicking about after Briar, who had Glaki on his back, her arms clinging around his neck. They were racing around the garden, Glaki bouncing happily on Briar’s back as he ran. Sandry smiled.
When Briar saw Sandry watching them, he slowed and walked over to her. Glaki still clung to him like a little monkey, swinging her bare feet too and fro.
“It sounded like you two were enjoying yourselves,” Sandry said. Glaki smiled shyly at her.
“You mean three,” Briar grinned. A coil of dark hair flopped over his forehead, at that awkward in-between stage where it was too long to ignore yet too short to do anything with. Sandry looked past them to see Little Bear watching them, probably wondering why the fun had stopped so abruptly.
About to turn and rejoin Tris and the washing up, Sandry was stopped by the sight of grass stains on the knees of Briar’s breeches. She bit her tongue, trying to contain her annoyance.
“Briar,” she said sternly, “You have grass stains on your knees. Why aren’t you wearing the clothes I made you.”
He looked down at his knees as Glaki struggled to see too. When he looked up at Sandry again he shrugged, teeth white against his tan skin, “Sometimes, you have to get dirty.”
Three for a girl and four for a boy;
“Silly kaq” Daja said, shaking her head. Tris looked up, wondering who her foster sister was talking about; she rarely called anyone a kaq, but the way she had said it sounded like she didn’t mean it as an insult. Sweeping her eyes across the crowded ballroom, Tris stopped at Briar. He was dressed up finely, talking to a small group of noblewomen. All of them were smiling and laughing, like a bunch of peacocks.
They had been invited to the ball because they were Sandry’s family, to celebrate the elevation of Vedris’s son Gospard to the title and role of Duke. Tris had been sceptical at first—everyone had wondered if Vedris would name Sandry as his heir and successor, for she was obviously the most prepared for the role—but upon meeting Gospard (Duke Gospard, she corrected herself) and talking with him briefly, Tris was soon reassured that the new Duke was neither stupid nor naive.
“I don’t see why you’re so surprised to see him making nice with the women,” Tris told Daja, “He’s been that way ever since he came home.”
Daja smiled, “Oh, I expected that. But that’s not why he’s a numbskull.” Puzzled, Tris sighed noisily; why couldn’t people just speak their minds? It would certainly be quicker than all these allusions and big words that meant nothing, she thought as she looked around. Daja nudged her, inclining her head toward Briar once more.
Briar was still talking to the group of noblewomen, flashing his handsome smile and waving his hands about as he spoke. The ladies smiled back, eyes flirtatious, laughing too loudly.
It happened in a moment, a moment that passed unnoticed for the butterflies that were clustered around him; Briar looked away and across the room, toward a young lady dressed in blue, her light brown hair held away from her neck by a shiny silver clasp. His eyes swept over her for a second, and suddenly he was laughing again, all of his attention on the array of pretty women standing around him.
“Ah,” said Tris.
Daja grinned.
Five for silver,
The moonlight glinted on Sandry’s hair clasp, which now hung limply from her hair. It had been a long night, and the four of them were most definitely ready for bed.
“You know, I’m surprised our boy doesn’t have a, umm, guest,” Daja said, trying to hold in a yawn.
Briar rubbed his eyes, almost walking into the gatepost in the process. “Are you kidding? I almost fell asleep twice during the ride home.”
“Almost?” muttered Tris. Sandry and Daja laughed.
It would only be a few more hours before the sun rose. Sandry found that she was glad to be staying at Cheeseman Street with her friends, despite Gospard saying that she could live at the Citadel for as long as she liked. With Uncle Vedris gone, it didn’t feel...right, she thought tiredly. It was strange, but she was starting to call Daja’s house ‘home’. Even though it felt so new and different, Sandry got a small thrill every time she thought about it. Her heart just wasn’t in the Duke’s Citadel anymore.
Sandry was startled from her thoughts; they were inside now, Tris calling a weary ‘goodnight’ as she climbed the stairs to her room. The thought of climbing stairs made Sandry sigh, but since Briar and Daja had both of the ground floor rooms, she didn’t have much choice. Her feet ached from dancing and standing all night, a dull throbbing she hoped would have vanished by morning.
“’Night,” Daja said, disappearing around the corner into her room. Sandry watched her vanish into the cool blue shadows, shadows that weren’t black enough to prompt her fear of the dark.
Briar had been standing in the doorway that led to his workroom, silent. The subtle embroidery that lined the collar of his tunic caught the moonlight. He had looked quite handsome tonight, Sandry thought, pleased with her work; she hade made his tunic and full-sleeved shirt only days ago. Still, he lingered, before nodding goodnight, turning, and vanishing just had Daja had. For a moment, Sandry felt as if she had been on the precipice of something important, something that lurked quietly in her mind, waiting. But then she shook her head sleepily and made her way slowly up the stairs.
Six for gold
It was almost midday. Briar considered going back inside to escape the heat, but then he changed his mind. Lying on the grass in Daja’s garden—his garden, he reminded himself happily—he was admiring the sunflowers that he had planted last week. Their bright yellow faces turned to the sun, following it on its path across the blue, blue sky. He sighed, content. How wonderful to be a sunflower, forever facing the sun.
Rolling onto his back, Briar put his arms under his head for a makeshift cushion. Out of the corner of his eye he could see someone watching him from the back door. A tiny questing along their magical tie confirmed that it was Sandry.
“Hovering doesn’t become a noble lady,” he called out. A moment later she was standing over him, a shadow blocking out the sun. He frowned. “You’re blocking my sun, Sandry.”
She ignored his last comment. “So I’m a noble lady, am I? Never mind that I could tear your clothes to pieces and wrap you in a cocoon quicker than a blink.”
“I wouldn’t mind a bit as long as you left me in the sun.”
“Is that so,” she replied. Glad that she had worn breeches today, Sandry sat down on the grass next to him. She leaned back on her elbows and crossed her ankles. “I thought too much sun was bad for plants.”
Briar shrugged. “Some plants. Not sunflowers though.”
Shading her eyes from the midday sun, Sandry looked over at the sunflowers. She smiled. “They’re very happy looking.”
“Wouldn’t you be too if you could laze in this sun all day?”
Silence greeted his words. Glancing over at Sandry, he saw that she had closed her eyes. She had a smile on her face, her usually pale skin lightly tanned from riding every day. Briar watched her for a moment, taking note of her long brown eyelashes, the golden highlights that shone in her light brown hair, and the pleasing curves that were on show when she wore breeches.
Tearing his attention away from her (away from the lovely line that travelled from her throat to her collarbone), Briar turned his eyes back to his sunflowers. A thought entered his mind that he had never considered before.
And seven for a secret that’s never been told.
His heart was beating too fast. With all the other girls he had been calm and charming, but Sandry wasn’t other girls and she was standing so close that he could see the golden threads in her hair and when her soft lips parted his heart skipped a beat and she kept looking at him like that before he realise why neither of them was moving. She was looking up at him with wide blue eyes and he almost could have laughed; she was too proud—too stubborn—to make the first move, to take responsibility for what was inevitably about to happen.
Instead, Briar reached out to touch her chin, directing her mouth up to his until her lips parted against his. Her pride melted away as he deepened the kiss and suddenly she was kissing him back, fiercely, her hands searching and stroking his chest and arms.
Little Bear’s bark from the front garden alerted them to their surroundings once more and they tore away from each other with difficulty, Briar’s hands lingering on her waist.
When Tris stepped inside moments later, arms full with baskets from the market, Briar and Sandry were decidedly not looking at each other. Tris smiled to herself as she walked upstairs to her room, pretending not to notice how Briar crossed the room in two strides as soon as she had turned her back, or how Sandry bit her full lower lip and grinned as his lips met her neck.