X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
XX Derynxx#403A60
Bertrand's smile is bright, and real, and Deryn feels her heart melt a little at it. They may never be the kind of husband and wife a kingdom wants, but that smile will always lift Deryn's spirits.
"My mother cares deeply for you. I think she always has." Bertrand tells her.
Deryn can't help the the way his words churn her stomach. They're good words, kind words- they are words she's wanted to hear since she arrived, because she wants the Queen to care for her. She wants to be a daughter again- a Queen's daughter, not just the child her father promised away.
But the words still churn her stomach, because she loves Queen Mavis, and somehow it feels as if loving Queen Mavis is an insult to her own mother, whose love and memory has faded in time.
But love doesn't run out, does it, in all those stories? Love is endless. There is always enough.
"I’ve always considered you one of my closest friends," Bertrand's words distract her, helpfully. "Though you could never compare to Corbett." ... and there's the needed levity.
Deryn doesn't stop herself from chortling, because she's witnessed many an argument between the two princes, often over trivial things, important in the moment but hilarious in retrospect.
"All the same, Your Highness, I hope you always consider me your friend, above all else."
And without hesitation, "Of course I do, Bertrand." She says- and it's true. "You have always been, and will always be, my dearest friend. From the day we met, until the day we die."
It's strangely intimate- those words, together. But Deryn refuses to feel ashamed. They will never have the intimacy desired of them, but this- this quiet, comfortable closeness...
... is this not simply another kind of love?
A silence grows between them, and Deryn ventures further into the garden, trusting Bertrand to follow. When she glances back at him, there's something distant in his eyes. Something weighing on his mind. Deryn doesn't ask what it is. If he wants to tell her, she trusts that he will.
She's just reached out to cradle glowing blue blossoms in her hand when Bertrand speaks,
"Is Callum still not speaking with you?"
Ah, so that's what it is. I suppose I should have known.
She should have known it would be Callum weighing on Bertrand's mind; it's been Callum since they arrived here. It's been Callum since they were children. And Deryn understands.
The moment the question leaves Bertrand's mind, he starts frantically backpedaling, because it's a sensitive subject for both of them and Deryn suspects he's wary of hurting her any further. Deryn also suspects that a part of Bertrand, a deep part of him, doesn't want to hear her answer.
But the question doesn't hurt Deryn. After all, it's harder to hurt at Callum's absence when the hole he's left behind has been so utterly filled by Bertrand's sweet, loving, adoring sisters.
"No, it's alright. I'm alright." She tells him. "And yes. I've seen very little of him."
The silence is palpable in the air between them, and Deryn wonders which is better- for Bertrand to move on from Callum and find someone who can love him without question, or for Bertrand to find Callum and force him to talk so they can be the friends Deryn remembers loving so dearly.
She knows the answer she favors, but a part of her isn't sure if she should tell.
"I don't think Callum is ever going to come to us."
As if it were even a question- Deryn could never keep anything from Bertrand.
"I think he's scared, or beholden to my father. Possibly both." A pause, to think. "Certainly both." Deryn turns to look Bertrand in the eye. "What I mean to say is, I think if you wish to know Callum as he is now, you must go to him. He's never going to come to you."
And I'm not sure you should desire someone who refuses to meet you halfway.
Bertrand's smile is bright, and real, and Deryn feels her heart melt a little at it. They may never be the kind of husband and wife a kingdom wants, but that smile will always lift Deryn's spirits.
"My mother cares deeply for you. I think she always has." Bertrand tells her.
Deryn can't help the the way his words churn her stomach. They're good words, kind words- they are words she's wanted to hear since she arrived, because she wants the Queen to care for her. She wants to be a daughter again- a Queen's daughter, not just the child her father promised away.
But the words still churn her stomach, because she loves Queen Mavis, and somehow it feels as if loving Queen Mavis is an insult to her own mother, whose love and memory has faded in time.
But love doesn't run out, does it, in all those stories? Love is endless. There is always enough.
"I’ve always considered you one of my closest friends," Bertrand's words distract her, helpfully. "Though you could never compare to Corbett." ... and there's the needed levity.
Deryn doesn't stop herself from chortling, because she's witnessed many an argument between the two princes, often over trivial things, important in the moment but hilarious in retrospect.
"All the same, Your Highness, I hope you always consider me your friend, above all else."
And without hesitation, "Of course I do, Bertrand." She says- and it's true. "You have always been, and will always be, my dearest friend. From the day we met, until the day we die."
It's strangely intimate- those words, together. But Deryn refuses to feel ashamed. They will never have the intimacy desired of them, but this- this quiet, comfortable closeness...
... is this not simply another kind of love?
A silence grows between them, and Deryn ventures further into the garden, trusting Bertrand to follow. When she glances back at him, there's something distant in his eyes. Something weighing on his mind. Deryn doesn't ask what it is. If he wants to tell her, she trusts that he will.
She's just reached out to cradle glowing blue blossoms in her hand when Bertrand speaks,
"Is Callum still not speaking with you?"
Ah, so that's what it is. I suppose I should have known.
She should have known it would be Callum weighing on Bertrand's mind; it's been Callum since they arrived here. It's been Callum since they were children. And Deryn understands.
The moment the question leaves Bertrand's mind, he starts frantically backpedaling, because it's a sensitive subject for both of them and Deryn suspects he's wary of hurting her any further. Deryn also suspects that a part of Bertrand, a deep part of him, doesn't want to hear her answer.
But the question doesn't hurt Deryn. After all, it's harder to hurt at Callum's absence when the hole he's left behind has been so utterly filled by Bertrand's sweet, loving, adoring sisters.
"No, it's alright. I'm alright." She tells him. "And yes. I've seen very little of him."
The silence is palpable in the air between them, and Deryn wonders which is better- for Bertrand to move on from Callum and find someone who can love him without question, or for Bertrand to find Callum and force him to talk so they can be the friends Deryn remembers loving so dearly.
She knows the answer she favors, but a part of her isn't sure if she should tell.
"I don't think Callum is ever going to come to us."
As if it were even a question- Deryn could never keep anything from Bertrand.
"I think he's scared, or beholden to my father. Possibly both." A pause, to think. "Certainly both." Deryn turns to look Bertrand in the eye. "What I mean to say is, I think if you wish to know Callum as he is now, you must go to him. He's never going to come to you."
And I'm not sure you should desire someone who refuses to meet you halfway.