Dryad Eyes, part 20
2,426.
Mmm... part 20. Even if my output has taken a hit from when I first started, I'm still pretty f'n proud of making it this far. I'm pretty sure that I've topped 40,000 total words now, though I will have to count it all up again to be sure.
How awesome is that?!
Though her eyes were still red and a bit light sensitive, Charis felt much better than she had since her misadventure involving Bea the Apothecary at the Silver Kettle. For the first time in several days, during which none but Kimera, Geran, and his trusted maid named Kella saw her, she had decided to venture forth from the rooms she presently shared with Geran and pay a visit to the kitchens. Hunger was a harsh mistress, and to wait for dinner would be to wait too long she had decided. The Battle King, her beloved husband-to-be, was gone to see Kimera about Orun the Untamed, who lay at death's door when Geran had helped carry him in from the cold. Charis tried to not think of that. As a Fyrendi citizen, she had heard often of neighboring Soldaria's Lion. She had even seen the man once, during a parade in a Soldarian city she had passed through after leaving her homeland. He had been the biggest man she had ever laid eyes on. The thought that Geran had not only fought him, but also fought him in a fist fight and won, was overwhelming.
That thought had preoccupied her thoughts during her uneventful journey to the Keep's kitchens. Lifting some bread, a bit of ham, a large hunk of cheese and a bottle of wine, she had been all set to make the return trip to the rooms when she overheard a conversation between two women that apparently served on the kitchen staff. They had been unable to see Charis, who stood just around the corner from the mouth of the little used stairway they were hiding in, and had they been able to they likely would have ended their conversation and moved on about their business. Her face was not unknown to them, and they were speaking on a topic that was of particular interest to her.
"Did you hear?" One of the women asked.
"Hear what?" The other responded.
"What they're saying about Geran!"
"Who are 'they' ?"
"Everyone, that's who!"
"Well, what is it?"
"What is what?"
"Whatever it is that everyone is saying?"
"Oh!" The first to speak sounded sheepish. "They are saying that he was born of a dryad womb!"
"Dryad? But dryads are always girls, everyone knows that."
"Yes, yes." The first cut in again. "Try and keep your voice down! I'll be lucky to get away with my hide attached if Kella catches me shirking my duties again."
"Okay, okay. But it's true. Dryads don't make boy babies. Everyone knows that!"
"Not recently. But there was a man-Dryad before, named Malor, who tried to overthrow the royal house of Camelot. So it's not impossible."
"Maybe not. You know what it sounds like, though? Horse dung. A whole lot of it."
"I agree. But there must be something to it. The City Council had a meeting over it, and everything. They even drafted a letter asking Geran to come before them and fess up!"
"You're not kidding? Wow... "
"I know, right?"
Listening for a bit longer before deciding that she had heard enough, Charis eased back away from the entrance to that downward stairway. Cutting back through the kitchens, she took an alternate, more round-about route that took her past them and, eventually, to the stairs that lead up toward the sleeping quarters. It did not matter to her that two members of the kitchen staff were taking a long break. They probably deserved it. What they had been speaking on, however, was on her mind and breaking other thoughts to the forefront, starting with Haron's warning that Geran had been secretly 'dealing' with dryads. Had there been a grain a truth in all of that?
She had seen the letter they had mentioned, delivered by the boy Andrek. Her sight had been obscured by swelling and pain at the time of his arrival, but Geran had seemed preoccupied with the letter ever since. He had even called Andrek back the next day, before the incident involving Orun the Untamed, to go over the details. It had been during that exchange that Bawo's treatment of the boy had come to light. Try as she might to refrain from being petty, Charis had been unable to suppress the surge of satisfaction that welled up within her when her husband-to-be had promised the boy that he would have justice, and ordered the man's arrest and lashing before going to see Haron.
Arriving back at Geran's room, and reflexively giving herself a mental chiding for not thinking of it as 'their' room, she found that he had still not returned. Good, she decided. That would give her some time to think, and that was much needed. Pushing the door closed behind her, and dumping her snack items unceremoniously on a nearby table, she sat cross-legged on the bed and rested her chin on folded fingers.
A dryad womb, they had said. Somehow, it made sense.
--------------------
"Shush, shush!" An older woman urged her husbands and sons. They had been arguing politics, and the question of the King's fate was their subject of choice. This had been the case for two days running, since the moment Lin Repu had burst into Big Tom's Tavern with a story about Geran's heritage that had set the entire city alight. The only point that the three of them had been able to agree on in that entire time was that a dryad, regardless of sex, could not be allowed to rule 'normal, decent' folk. "There he is!"
As he rounded a corner and passed them by, Geran pretended to be oblivious to the stares he received. It was not difficult. He had been practicing since leaving the Keep, all too aware of what people were talking about and saying when they thought that he could not hear. His defeat of Soldaria's Lion, Orun, the day before had only added fuel to the fire of which he had not yet been fully aware. Perhaps it was foolish and naive, but he had assumed that the attack on him by way of knowledge of his bloodlines had been limited to the City Council chambers. Imagine, then, his chagrin when he awoke that very morning to overhear Kella scolding another servant, whom had brought up a tray for her from the kitchens, for spreading such a filthy, unfounded rumor.
Finally, the sign that he had been looking for came into sight, and he quickly ducked through the doorway, relieved to be off the street. The sign above the door read 'Vy's Flower Shop.' The owner, Vy Miegga, was a woman with whom he had become briefly intimate during the past year. She had been among the first business owners to move into the city, and while she had never become interested enough to take a seat on the City Council, she did enjoy the status and income that owning the first establishment of its kind brought her. She had become a firmly entrenched institution long before any credible competition could be set up. Her flowers were always in perfect order, fresh, lovingly cared for and preserved with minor-but-potent magics after being cut. It was rumored that a single rose from her shop could be made to last for almost a full year with but a few drops of water each day. Vy had told Geran once that this was not the case, that it would be almost impossible to achieve such an effect even with her resources, but that she did not mind the free publicity and did little to quell it.
Bold in the face of danger, and brave enough to tackle the political arena though he felt himself ill-suited for it, Geran had to admit that he dreaded this moment above more than he had facing Orun or would the City Council. The affair between himself and Vy had been short, sweet, and ended quickly. However, several weeks had been lost to him while lost to a higher plane of existence where he had fought a monstrosity that had been trying to warp the very fabric of reality in order to change the nature of who he was. In that time, he had been replaced in this world by a near-perfect doppleganger with whom he shared a few memories because of the nature of what had been going on. It was his believe, based upon a few brief flashes that he could recall from that creature's time here, that it had picked up and continued his 'relationship' with Vy. Now, then, it fell to him to pick up the pieces. He would have to 'break up' with the woman all over again, and tell her why, before she heard the news in the form of a formal wedding announcement from the Keep. She deserved better than that.
"There is a face that I have not seen in quite some time." The familiar female voice came from behind him, and he winced. The bitterness there was tangible.
"Vy." He said her name by way of greeting as he turned to face her.
She was not a tall woman. Her face was even with his sternum, and her body was slender, even slight. Short, carefully styled brown hair fell in ringlets to her shoulders, and a simple green robe, which left her neck and much of her shoulders bare, clung to her petite form. Big, brown eyes studied his from a pretty face that tried to remain impassive.
"I began to wonder if you would return here at all, Geran."
"I... have been preoccupied."
"Really?" Anger written across her face, Vy stabbed a manicured finger against his chest as she spoke. "My aunt Kella tells me that another woman occupies your bed. She tells me that you are likely betrothed, though she could not say for certain, and that I should find another 'mark.'"
"I--"
"Can you believe that? My own aunt! She speaks to me as if I am a common whore! As if I had ever asked you for money, or received a gift that was not freely given!"
"You have my apologies, Vy. I will speak to her if you wish it."
"Oh, don't bother." The flower shop owner snapped, then worried at her lip for a moment. There was a question in her eyes, and she found the answer in his. The bitterness returned to her voice a moment later. "You did not come here to see me. Not like before."
"I am sorry."
"So you are betrothed."
"There has not been a formal announcement as yet, but yes. I am."
"Okay. Well. I'm happy for you." Walking past him, Vy Miegga headed for the back of the shop at a quick pace. She was pleased that her voice had not cracked on that last note.
"Vy, wait... "
"No, no!" Turning back to face him, she backed away step by step until her back was against the wall next to the door that lead to her personal space at the rear of the building. "Don't worry about me. I have a busy day ahead, and I just... well, there is nothing more for us to say."
"Goodbye, Geran."
--------------------
Though not heated throughout, the Keep was a good deal warming than the wind outside that cut through clothing and dug its icy, painful fingers into every bit of exposed flesh. Even Geran, more resilient than average, appreciated that relative warmth. With every step that carried him deeper into the mighty fortress, he found himself looking that much more forward to sitting near the fireplace in his and Charis' rooms. Had he any luck, she would be awake and feeling well enough to join him on the great bearskin rug that lay sprawled out before the hearth. Even if sex was not involved, and even if neither of them had anything to say, he enjoyed being near her.
When he reached their rooms and opened the door, the first thing he saw was her. Brow furrowed and hands clasped behind her back, she was pacing back and forth between the bed and the doorway where he stood. After a moment, though he was certain that she had noticed him immediately, she turned and acknowledged him.
"Please, Geran, come inside and close the door."
Doing as she asked, with a knot of worry forming in his guts, he asked, "What is this about, Charis?"
"Is it true?"
"What?"
"What people are saying. Is it true?"
"What people? And what are they saying?"
"Everyone!" Agitated, Charis recalled the very similar conversation that had taken place between the two women she had overheard. Later, she would laugh over it, but at present, the humor was lost on her. "There is talk, throughout the Keep and likely the entire city, that you are a Dryad by birth. A male dryad."
"Treyp is one of them, isn't she? And you are... what? Her father? Brother? Uncle?" Receiving only silence in response, and being largely unwilling to wait for an answer anyway, Charis continued. "That is also why you became so upset with me over the Lithuain girl, isn't it? It is why you became so defensive when I compared the reputation of her people to that of the dryads."
Finally, taking a breath, she allowed the silence to stretch out between them. She stared at his silent, deliberately impassive face. Finally, unable to allow it to fest any longer, Charis snapped at the man she loved. "Geran, talk to me!"
"What would you have me say?"
"The truth. I want the truth."
"Then, yes." His voice, in that moment, carried a bitter note of its own. "What they're saying is true. I am the first male dryad to be born in at least four hundred years. I am a half breed. A bastard. I have kept my heritage a secret on purpose, so as to not be treated callously by the world at large."
"I see. Well, I have only one thing to say to that."
"What?"
"I want there to be no misunderstandings between us, Geran." Closing the gap between them with a few quick steps, Charis reached up and took his face in her hands. With the fingers of one hand tangled in his whiskers and the other in his hair, she pulled him down to eye level. "I love you. You can trust me."
She brushed her lips across his, and then, as the tension melted from his body, kissed him in earnest. "No more secrets."
"Okay."
Mmm... part 20. Even if my output has taken a hit from when I first started, I'm still pretty f'n proud of making it this far. I'm pretty sure that I've topped 40,000 total words now, though I will have to count it all up again to be sure.
How awesome is that?!
Though her eyes were still red and a bit light sensitive, Charis felt much better than she had since her misadventure involving Bea the Apothecary at the Silver Kettle. For the first time in several days, during which none but Kimera, Geran, and his trusted maid named Kella saw her, she had decided to venture forth from the rooms she presently shared with Geran and pay a visit to the kitchens. Hunger was a harsh mistress, and to wait for dinner would be to wait too long she had decided. The Battle King, her beloved husband-to-be, was gone to see Kimera about Orun the Untamed, who lay at death's door when Geran had helped carry him in from the cold. Charis tried to not think of that. As a Fyrendi citizen, she had heard often of neighboring Soldaria's Lion. She had even seen the man once, during a parade in a Soldarian city she had passed through after leaving her homeland. He had been the biggest man she had ever laid eyes on. The thought that Geran had not only fought him, but also fought him in a fist fight and won, was overwhelming.
That thought had preoccupied her thoughts during her uneventful journey to the Keep's kitchens. Lifting some bread, a bit of ham, a large hunk of cheese and a bottle of wine, she had been all set to make the return trip to the rooms when she overheard a conversation between two women that apparently served on the kitchen staff. They had been unable to see Charis, who stood just around the corner from the mouth of the little used stairway they were hiding in, and had they been able to they likely would have ended their conversation and moved on about their business. Her face was not unknown to them, and they were speaking on a topic that was of particular interest to her.
"Did you hear?" One of the women asked.
"Hear what?" The other responded.
"What they're saying about Geran!"
"Who are 'they' ?"
"Everyone, that's who!"
"Well, what is it?"
"What is what?"
"Whatever it is that everyone is saying?"
"Oh!" The first to speak sounded sheepish. "They are saying that he was born of a dryad womb!"
"Dryad? But dryads are always girls, everyone knows that."
"Yes, yes." The first cut in again. "Try and keep your voice down! I'll be lucky to get away with my hide attached if Kella catches me shirking my duties again."
"Okay, okay. But it's true. Dryads don't make boy babies. Everyone knows that!"
"Not recently. But there was a man-Dryad before, named Malor, who tried to overthrow the royal house of Camelot. So it's not impossible."
"Maybe not. You know what it sounds like, though? Horse dung. A whole lot of it."
"I agree. But there must be something to it. The City Council had a meeting over it, and everything. They even drafted a letter asking Geran to come before them and fess up!"
"You're not kidding? Wow... "
"I know, right?"
Listening for a bit longer before deciding that she had heard enough, Charis eased back away from the entrance to that downward stairway. Cutting back through the kitchens, she took an alternate, more round-about route that took her past them and, eventually, to the stairs that lead up toward the sleeping quarters. It did not matter to her that two members of the kitchen staff were taking a long break. They probably deserved it. What they had been speaking on, however, was on her mind and breaking other thoughts to the forefront, starting with Haron's warning that Geran had been secretly 'dealing' with dryads. Had there been a grain a truth in all of that?
She had seen the letter they had mentioned, delivered by the boy Andrek. Her sight had been obscured by swelling and pain at the time of his arrival, but Geran had seemed preoccupied with the letter ever since. He had even called Andrek back the next day, before the incident involving Orun the Untamed, to go over the details. It had been during that exchange that Bawo's treatment of the boy had come to light. Try as she might to refrain from being petty, Charis had been unable to suppress the surge of satisfaction that welled up within her when her husband-to-be had promised the boy that he would have justice, and ordered the man's arrest and lashing before going to see Haron.
Arriving back at Geran's room, and reflexively giving herself a mental chiding for not thinking of it as 'their' room, she found that he had still not returned. Good, she decided. That would give her some time to think, and that was much needed. Pushing the door closed behind her, and dumping her snack items unceremoniously on a nearby table, she sat cross-legged on the bed and rested her chin on folded fingers.
A dryad womb, they had said. Somehow, it made sense.
--------------------
"Shush, shush!" An older woman urged her husbands and sons. They had been arguing politics, and the question of the King's fate was their subject of choice. This had been the case for two days running, since the moment Lin Repu had burst into Big Tom's Tavern with a story about Geran's heritage that had set the entire city alight. The only point that the three of them had been able to agree on in that entire time was that a dryad, regardless of sex, could not be allowed to rule 'normal, decent' folk. "There he is!"
As he rounded a corner and passed them by, Geran pretended to be oblivious to the stares he received. It was not difficult. He had been practicing since leaving the Keep, all too aware of what people were talking about and saying when they thought that he could not hear. His defeat of Soldaria's Lion, Orun, the day before had only added fuel to the fire of which he had not yet been fully aware. Perhaps it was foolish and naive, but he had assumed that the attack on him by way of knowledge of his bloodlines had been limited to the City Council chambers. Imagine, then, his chagrin when he awoke that very morning to overhear Kella scolding another servant, whom had brought up a tray for her from the kitchens, for spreading such a filthy, unfounded rumor.
Finally, the sign that he had been looking for came into sight, and he quickly ducked through the doorway, relieved to be off the street. The sign above the door read 'Vy's Flower Shop.' The owner, Vy Miegga, was a woman with whom he had become briefly intimate during the past year. She had been among the first business owners to move into the city, and while she had never become interested enough to take a seat on the City Council, she did enjoy the status and income that owning the first establishment of its kind brought her. She had become a firmly entrenched institution long before any credible competition could be set up. Her flowers were always in perfect order, fresh, lovingly cared for and preserved with minor-but-potent magics after being cut. It was rumored that a single rose from her shop could be made to last for almost a full year with but a few drops of water each day. Vy had told Geran once that this was not the case, that it would be almost impossible to achieve such an effect even with her resources, but that she did not mind the free publicity and did little to quell it.
Bold in the face of danger, and brave enough to tackle the political arena though he felt himself ill-suited for it, Geran had to admit that he dreaded this moment above more than he had facing Orun or would the City Council. The affair between himself and Vy had been short, sweet, and ended quickly. However, several weeks had been lost to him while lost to a higher plane of existence where he had fought a monstrosity that had been trying to warp the very fabric of reality in order to change the nature of who he was. In that time, he had been replaced in this world by a near-perfect doppleganger with whom he shared a few memories because of the nature of what had been going on. It was his believe, based upon a few brief flashes that he could recall from that creature's time here, that it had picked up and continued his 'relationship' with Vy. Now, then, it fell to him to pick up the pieces. He would have to 'break up' with the woman all over again, and tell her why, before she heard the news in the form of a formal wedding announcement from the Keep. She deserved better than that.
"There is a face that I have not seen in quite some time." The familiar female voice came from behind him, and he winced. The bitterness there was tangible.
"Vy." He said her name by way of greeting as he turned to face her.
She was not a tall woman. Her face was even with his sternum, and her body was slender, even slight. Short, carefully styled brown hair fell in ringlets to her shoulders, and a simple green robe, which left her neck and much of her shoulders bare, clung to her petite form. Big, brown eyes studied his from a pretty face that tried to remain impassive.
"I began to wonder if you would return here at all, Geran."
"I... have been preoccupied."
"Really?" Anger written across her face, Vy stabbed a manicured finger against his chest as she spoke. "My aunt Kella tells me that another woman occupies your bed. She tells me that you are likely betrothed, though she could not say for certain, and that I should find another 'mark.'"
"I--"
"Can you believe that? My own aunt! She speaks to me as if I am a common whore! As if I had ever asked you for money, or received a gift that was not freely given!"
"You have my apologies, Vy. I will speak to her if you wish it."
"Oh, don't bother." The flower shop owner snapped, then worried at her lip for a moment. There was a question in her eyes, and she found the answer in his. The bitterness returned to her voice a moment later. "You did not come here to see me. Not like before."
"I am sorry."
"So you are betrothed."
"There has not been a formal announcement as yet, but yes. I am."
"Okay. Well. I'm happy for you." Walking past him, Vy Miegga headed for the back of the shop at a quick pace. She was pleased that her voice had not cracked on that last note.
"Vy, wait... "
"No, no!" Turning back to face him, she backed away step by step until her back was against the wall next to the door that lead to her personal space at the rear of the building. "Don't worry about me. I have a busy day ahead, and I just... well, there is nothing more for us to say."
"Goodbye, Geran."
--------------------
Though not heated throughout, the Keep was a good deal warming than the wind outside that cut through clothing and dug its icy, painful fingers into every bit of exposed flesh. Even Geran, more resilient than average, appreciated that relative warmth. With every step that carried him deeper into the mighty fortress, he found himself looking that much more forward to sitting near the fireplace in his and Charis' rooms. Had he any luck, she would be awake and feeling well enough to join him on the great bearskin rug that lay sprawled out before the hearth. Even if sex was not involved, and even if neither of them had anything to say, he enjoyed being near her.
When he reached their rooms and opened the door, the first thing he saw was her. Brow furrowed and hands clasped behind her back, she was pacing back and forth between the bed and the doorway where he stood. After a moment, though he was certain that she had noticed him immediately, she turned and acknowledged him.
"Please, Geran, come inside and close the door."
Doing as she asked, with a knot of worry forming in his guts, he asked, "What is this about, Charis?"
"Is it true?"
"What?"
"What people are saying. Is it true?"
"What people? And what are they saying?"
"Everyone!" Agitated, Charis recalled the very similar conversation that had taken place between the two women she had overheard. Later, she would laugh over it, but at present, the humor was lost on her. "There is talk, throughout the Keep and likely the entire city, that you are a Dryad by birth. A male dryad."
"Treyp is one of them, isn't she? And you are... what? Her father? Brother? Uncle?" Receiving only silence in response, and being largely unwilling to wait for an answer anyway, Charis continued. "That is also why you became so upset with me over the Lithuain girl, isn't it? It is why you became so defensive when I compared the reputation of her people to that of the dryads."
Finally, taking a breath, she allowed the silence to stretch out between them. She stared at his silent, deliberately impassive face. Finally, unable to allow it to fest any longer, Charis snapped at the man she loved. "Geran, talk to me!"
"What would you have me say?"
"The truth. I want the truth."
"Then, yes." His voice, in that moment, carried a bitter note of its own. "What they're saying is true. I am the first male dryad to be born in at least four hundred years. I am a half breed. A bastard. I have kept my heritage a secret on purpose, so as to not be treated callously by the world at large."
"I see. Well, I have only one thing to say to that."
"What?"
"I want there to be no misunderstandings between us, Geran." Closing the gap between them with a few quick steps, Charis reached up and took his face in her hands. With the fingers of one hand tangled in his whiskers and the other in his hair, she pulled him down to eye level. "I love you. You can trust me."
She brushed her lips across his, and then, as the tension melted from his body, kissed him in earnest. "No more secrets."
"Okay."