Post by Rosie on Jul 8, 2020 21:08:43 GMT 10
Series: Skating By
Title: Comfort and Joy
Rating: PG
Event: The Gift that Keeps Giving
Words: 1,264
Summary: Sacherell comes to supply an unexpected source of comfort. Warning for period-typical homophobia (not direct)
--
"Gwynnen, either you let me in, or I remove the hinges from your door," Sacherell called through. "The choice is yours."
Gwynnen had no doubt he would follow through. In truth, she had expected something like this, but she hadn't known what else to do. She couldn't have Cythera tainted by association with her; Gary's parents would direct him elsewhere for a wife. She'd been on the brink of sending her maid to fetch Sacherell, but what would he be able to do?
It was some comfort that he'd come without being summoned.
He was amusing himself with unhinged jokes when she pulled open the door. "Thank Mithros," he said, checking the hallway before entering. "I wasn't sure I could actually manage it. You look dreadful."
"Sacherell," she choked out, at a loss for words.
He pulled her into a hug, letting her sob into his tunic. "I know. You're in a mess. Let's get you back into bed, and we'll see what we can do."
Gwynnen should have been embarrassed, having Sacherell in her bedroom, but she felt somewhere beyond that. He pulled his boots off, but otherwise lay on top of her covers, making sure she was tucked securely beneath them, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Finally, she felt safe enough to admit, in a small voice that hardly seemed to belong to her, "I'm pregnant."
And there it was, out in the world.
"I guessed as much," Sacherell said quietly. "Your maid thinks it's mine. Goddess knows everything would be easier if it were."
"I can't tell you whose it is."
Sacherell squeezed her upper arm. "Did you know, Douglass is positively green with jealousy over you? I wouldn't normally be so frank, but, let's face it, you can hardly be without suspicion, and you have your own pretty weighty secret now."
Gwynnen pulled a face, too worn out to follow the conversation, and unable to care what Douglass thought. They had never been close, despite her efforts, and she'd given up trying. "If he wants to be pregnant and unwed, he's welcome to it."
"That," Sacherell said slowly, untangling himself from her and digging his fingers into his calf muscle instead, "was quite unnecessary. I'll make an allowance for you, but neither Douglass nor I are responsible here."
"Sorry."
Sacherell nodded, and though he didn't resume his previous position, he did place his hand over hers. "Douglass saw Jon leaving your rooms, the night of the earthquake."
"Jon thought it was magical," Gwynnen said absently, before realising what she was admitting to.
"Lord Thom of Trebond thought he'd like to remind us all of his gracious presence," Sacherell confirmed. "I talked to Duke Baird, he seems to think Trebond sapped all local magic for his little experiment. Charms, wards, Gifts, you name it, he took it. Baird had a patient in a magical coma, so you can imagine how impressed he was."
Gwynnen touched her hand to her stomach. "Lovely. Perhaps Trebond will pay for my upkeep when my family turn me out."
Sacherell's fingers tightened round hers. "Darling Gwynnen, we won't let it come to that. Let's talk about your options. I presume you know there are certain herbs available?"
She shook her head, swallowing hard.
"Well, then. You could always tell Jon. He'll probably marry you, but given his mother's state of health, there's every chance you'd be packed off to some remote village. You'd probably own the village, you could be the lady of the goats."
Gwynnen half-smiled. "I'm not sure I fancy life as a lonely goatherd." She didn't say what they were both thinking, that this news may well finish his mother off. Also Princess Josiane might take it as a personal slight and they'd be thrust into conflict with the Copper Isles. When Gwynnen made a mess, she did an extremely good job of it.
"All right. I have one more option for you - me."
She stared at him, uncomprehending.
"That," he drawled, clearly uneasy but affecting otherwise, "is not very flattering. This is my first proposal, you know, I think you could stand to make some allowances."
"What about Douglass?"
"I don't think you'll get him to marry you."
Gwynnen set her chin firmly. Part of her wanted to protest that she'd wanted to marry for love, but she recognised that Sacherell had probably also wanted the same. Nonetheless, she thought she deserved the truth. "Sacherell. What about Douglass?"
He gave her a sad smile. "Well. I couldn't get him to marry me either. We do all right for ourselves at the moment, can't keep squires because we can't have too many eyes around, can't take lodgings together because people will talk. He doesn't care so much about those things, but I… my family isn't like his. Neither of us are independent, eventually I'd have to make a choice anyway." He turned her palm over in his, lacing their fingers together. "Sometimes I think it would be easier if I'd met you first."
"Sacherell, I- I don't want you to resent me."
"I think I could consider myself pretty lucky if I got to marry my second favourite person in the world," Sacherell said frankly. "You wouldn't be Queen, of course."
She gurgled out a laugh, wiping at her eyes. "I wouldn't want to be a queen anyway."
"Oh, I know. All those beautiful clothes, parties in your honour, expensive jewels. It sounds rubbish." He produced a handkerchief, Wellam insignia embroidered in the corner. "Here, this could be yours… for the small price of a husband. Just think about it. My great-uncle wants me to follow him into the law. I've got no property to speak of, but we could get a nice place in Corus. I think we could be happy together. Most people seem to think we're courting anyway, it wouldn't come as much of a surprise."
Gwynnen closed her eyes, trying to process it all, the prospect of marriage and security compared to being holed up at Anak's Eyrie for the rest of her life. Sacherell pulled her into a hug, and she clung to him gratefully. "Do you think Douglass will…?"
"Douglass is very black and white. I don't expect he will want anything to do with either of us once I tell him - you either get all his love, or none of it."
"It's a lot to ask of you," she said, muffled into his shoulder, because she knew she was teetering on the brink of saying yes.
"Look at it this way," Sacherell advised, pulling back enough so that she could see his face. He was more serious than she’d ever seen him, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that soothed her. "I'd be marrying the girl who thought transforming my room into a swamp was adequate revenge for a minor disturbance during her afternoon tea. We could get away with a quiet temple ceremony, and you wouldn't ever have to dance attendance on Princess Josiane again."
"All right, all right," she said, an enormous fondness swelling up inside her. Now wasn’t the time to point out that eight palace dogs was a considerable disturbance when one factored in delicate crockery and excitable nerves. "Thank you, Sacherell. I'll marry you."
"Excellent," he said, as though she was the one saving him from certain ruin. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'll make arrangements. Just so you know, I will be in terrible trouble if my first born comes out looking like a Naxen, so do have a word with your unborn child."
Title: Comfort and Joy
Rating: PG
Event: The Gift that Keeps Giving
Words: 1,264
Summary: Sacherell comes to supply an unexpected source of comfort. Warning for period-typical homophobia (not direct)
--
"Gwynnen, either you let me in, or I remove the hinges from your door," Sacherell called through. "The choice is yours."
Gwynnen had no doubt he would follow through. In truth, she had expected something like this, but she hadn't known what else to do. She couldn't have Cythera tainted by association with her; Gary's parents would direct him elsewhere for a wife. She'd been on the brink of sending her maid to fetch Sacherell, but what would he be able to do?
It was some comfort that he'd come without being summoned.
He was amusing himself with unhinged jokes when she pulled open the door. "Thank Mithros," he said, checking the hallway before entering. "I wasn't sure I could actually manage it. You look dreadful."
"Sacherell," she choked out, at a loss for words.
He pulled her into a hug, letting her sob into his tunic. "I know. You're in a mess. Let's get you back into bed, and we'll see what we can do."
Gwynnen should have been embarrassed, having Sacherell in her bedroom, but she felt somewhere beyond that. He pulled his boots off, but otherwise lay on top of her covers, making sure she was tucked securely beneath them, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Finally, she felt safe enough to admit, in a small voice that hardly seemed to belong to her, "I'm pregnant."
And there it was, out in the world.
"I guessed as much," Sacherell said quietly. "Your maid thinks it's mine. Goddess knows everything would be easier if it were."
"I can't tell you whose it is."
Sacherell squeezed her upper arm. "Did you know, Douglass is positively green with jealousy over you? I wouldn't normally be so frank, but, let's face it, you can hardly be without suspicion, and you have your own pretty weighty secret now."
Gwynnen pulled a face, too worn out to follow the conversation, and unable to care what Douglass thought. They had never been close, despite her efforts, and she'd given up trying. "If he wants to be pregnant and unwed, he's welcome to it."
"That," Sacherell said slowly, untangling himself from her and digging his fingers into his calf muscle instead, "was quite unnecessary. I'll make an allowance for you, but neither Douglass nor I are responsible here."
"Sorry."
Sacherell nodded, and though he didn't resume his previous position, he did place his hand over hers. "Douglass saw Jon leaving your rooms, the night of the earthquake."
"Jon thought it was magical," Gwynnen said absently, before realising what she was admitting to.
"Lord Thom of Trebond thought he'd like to remind us all of his gracious presence," Sacherell confirmed. "I talked to Duke Baird, he seems to think Trebond sapped all local magic for his little experiment. Charms, wards, Gifts, you name it, he took it. Baird had a patient in a magical coma, so you can imagine how impressed he was."
Gwynnen touched her hand to her stomach. "Lovely. Perhaps Trebond will pay for my upkeep when my family turn me out."
Sacherell's fingers tightened round hers. "Darling Gwynnen, we won't let it come to that. Let's talk about your options. I presume you know there are certain herbs available?"
She shook her head, swallowing hard.
"Well, then. You could always tell Jon. He'll probably marry you, but given his mother's state of health, there's every chance you'd be packed off to some remote village. You'd probably own the village, you could be the lady of the goats."
Gwynnen half-smiled. "I'm not sure I fancy life as a lonely goatherd." She didn't say what they were both thinking, that this news may well finish his mother off. Also Princess Josiane might take it as a personal slight and they'd be thrust into conflict with the Copper Isles. When Gwynnen made a mess, she did an extremely good job of it.
"All right. I have one more option for you - me."
She stared at him, uncomprehending.
"That," he drawled, clearly uneasy but affecting otherwise, "is not very flattering. This is my first proposal, you know, I think you could stand to make some allowances."
"What about Douglass?"
"I don't think you'll get him to marry you."
Gwynnen set her chin firmly. Part of her wanted to protest that she'd wanted to marry for love, but she recognised that Sacherell had probably also wanted the same. Nonetheless, she thought she deserved the truth. "Sacherell. What about Douglass?"
He gave her a sad smile. "Well. I couldn't get him to marry me either. We do all right for ourselves at the moment, can't keep squires because we can't have too many eyes around, can't take lodgings together because people will talk. He doesn't care so much about those things, but I… my family isn't like his. Neither of us are independent, eventually I'd have to make a choice anyway." He turned her palm over in his, lacing their fingers together. "Sometimes I think it would be easier if I'd met you first."
"Sacherell, I- I don't want you to resent me."
"I think I could consider myself pretty lucky if I got to marry my second favourite person in the world," Sacherell said frankly. "You wouldn't be Queen, of course."
She gurgled out a laugh, wiping at her eyes. "I wouldn't want to be a queen anyway."
"Oh, I know. All those beautiful clothes, parties in your honour, expensive jewels. It sounds rubbish." He produced a handkerchief, Wellam insignia embroidered in the corner. "Here, this could be yours… for the small price of a husband. Just think about it. My great-uncle wants me to follow him into the law. I've got no property to speak of, but we could get a nice place in Corus. I think we could be happy together. Most people seem to think we're courting anyway, it wouldn't come as much of a surprise."
Gwynnen closed her eyes, trying to process it all, the prospect of marriage and security compared to being holed up at Anak's Eyrie for the rest of her life. Sacherell pulled her into a hug, and she clung to him gratefully. "Do you think Douglass will…?"
"Douglass is very black and white. I don't expect he will want anything to do with either of us once I tell him - you either get all his love, or none of it."
"It's a lot to ask of you," she said, muffled into his shoulder, because she knew she was teetering on the brink of saying yes.
"Look at it this way," Sacherell advised, pulling back enough so that she could see his face. He was more serious than she’d ever seen him, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that soothed her. "I'd be marrying the girl who thought transforming my room into a swamp was adequate revenge for a minor disturbance during her afternoon tea. We could get away with a quiet temple ceremony, and you wouldn't ever have to dance attendance on Princess Josiane again."
"All right, all right," she said, an enormous fondness swelling up inside her. Now wasn’t the time to point out that eight palace dogs was a considerable disturbance when one factored in delicate crockery and excitable nerves. "Thank you, Sacherell. I'll marry you."
"Excellent," he said, as though she was the one saving him from certain ruin. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'll make arrangements. Just so you know, I will be in terrible trouble if my first born comes out looking like a Naxen, so do have a word with your unborn child."
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!