Through Ages of Weary Fulfillment: Ch. 26

Doubt and Uncertainty

Notes:

I cannot remember the original chapter notes...but we have Ilana and Leeli here because they've been neglected for a while :DDD

(edit added)

*****

“So what’d he say?” Ilana asked half-heartedly, not bothering to look up from her journal that was currently filled with nonsense and story-openers she hadn’t endings for. 

Her mother sighed, and by the sound of her voice, it was easy to guess the look on her face: one of pity. “Ilana,” she began motheringly, coming closer, then placing her hand on her shoulder. “Remember, I told you to keep hope at a minimum. As I expected, he admitted to cowardice and denied ever loving you.”

“Admitting when you’re wrong is a good thing though, isn’t it?” Ilana murmured, still unwilling to look up from her journal. She wasn’t writing anymore, just staring at her pen.

Her mother sat down next to her and patted her knee out of affection. “Darling, it’s not good when you’re not sorry for it, when you pride yourself on it. I know it’s hard for you to grasp but…he’s not a good man. He never was. This should prove it to you.”

Ilana chose not to respond that time and instead went back to actually writing. It was something that didn’t really make much sense, but words were better than no words. 

Sighing as if in resignation, her mother stood up again. “I’ll leave you to think about it, hmm? I know it’s hard, darling, but you’ll understand it soon. I promise.” 

The sound of steady footfalls departing followed the words, and Ilana was left on her own again, blissfully alone. Not that she absolutely loved being alone. She would far rather someone be there with her. The sort of thing she was trying to process was not what one processed with others, though. She had to do it without help.

Closing her journal and leaving it on the small sofa where she sat, she stood up and walked to the door of the room. The door was perhaps the only obstacle between her and her father, or at least the man (or monster) whom her mother said was her father. The thought that he wasn’t really her father—that he was an imposter or some sort of evil twin, come to trick her into grieving too soon, or maybe that he wasn’t even actually there—did come to mind, but something deep inside her heart told her that wasn’t the case. 

The man somewhere on the other side of the door was indeed her father, and nothing she thought or hoped would change that. The question that remained was whether he truly was a monster as her mother had said, or if there was something else hiding beneath the surface.

Ilana had heard the Cloven and prisoners called monsters hundreds, if not thousands of times throughout her life. Those were the nicknames her mother and grandmother and, at times, uncle had given them. They were defective products of attempts to create beauty, a masterpiece or they were those who failed to bend to the wishes of their masters.

Had her father been called a monster in that respect? Was he really just a wayward cloven (whom she had always secretly adored; she had loved them and the prisoners) or a trapped soul, suddenly come to the Phoobs the very moment she arrived?

How could that be the case, though? Most Cloven were mad, many prisoners insane. Few could form a complete sentence, most could only say a word, and a handful couldn’t even speak. Yet her father had spoken. He had spoken enough to convey his hatred of her, his pride in his cowardice (who had ever heard of such a thing?). 

A part of her longed to chalk those mutterings up to be those of a deranged man or creature, one who had no knowledge of what he said or what it really meant. She had spent enough time around madmen and cloven, though, to know the purest truth about them, about their hearts, came out when they had no control.

Her heart sinking, Ilana feared there were only two rational possibilities. All sorts of irrational ones, ones she loved, ones she adored, existed, but many of those involved her mother’s burning anger, and she was terrified of that. Yet for some odd reason, she had no fear of her father.

He was either stark raving mad and capable only of telling the truth unmasked: that he hated her, that he wished she had died, that he was a coward, that he was proud of it, that he had left her mother willingly, that he was proud of that, too; or he was perfectly sane and capable of forming complete thought and sentence: his words were true, he spewed them freely without regret or remorse, and he really didn’t want her.

Ilana sighed. Both were terrible options, and the only way something else was true was if her mother had lied over and over and twisted the truth again and again. 

She wouldn’t do that, would she?

*****

Leeli bounced up and down on her toes, her hands clasped behind her back as the ship from Ban Rona slowly edged its way into the Annieran port. One had come every week or so, bringing extra supplies like animals, seed, building materials, and food. Neither country was in excellent shape, but the Hollish were willing to help where they could, considering they at least had houses to rebuild and uncharred food resources.

Another thing—rather, a person—who had come or gone every other week was Thorn O’Sally, whose actual motives for spending time in Anniera were still a bit unclear. Leeli felt silly thinking he was only there to see her, but it didn’t quite make sense for him to spend so much time helping them rebuild, since while he had been somewhat helpful, he hadn’t been incredibly helpful.

The truth was that she wasn’t completely certain how she felt about him coming this time, either. Things were such a mess at home, what with Artham’s absence and Janner’s sickness and everyone’s anxiety. Even though she desperately wanted something (Thorn!) to take her mind off it all, it seemed just a tad inconsiderate. But she was only nine, wasn’t she? How many nine-year-olds had dealt with everything she had?

“Hullo, Leeli!” Thorn’s voice called to her from the deck, and she couldn’t help but smile when she saw that in her mental absence, the ship had nearly docked and was about to send the gangplank down. 

Waving at him perhaps a bit awkwardly, Baxter’s incredibly joyous woof on sighting Thorn was enough to send her into a fit of giggles, which was how she remained until Thorn was at her side, grinning the goofy way he always did. “An’ how’re ya doin’ Princess Leeli?”

“I’m doing well, thank you,” she replied evenly, the smile still on her face. “How is everything going in Ban Rona?” 

As they made their way toward Castle Rysen, he answered her, more or less saying repairs were underway and going very well. “An’ it’s breedin’ season, of course,” he added. “So we’ve got plenty o’ puppies an’ dogs ‘n the Houndry. Do ya want another one?” 

Baxter growled a bit, and Leeli sighed longingly. “Thorn, I’d love another puppy. But Mama has a lot on her mind right now, and Baxter’s already jealous of Frankle, and he isn’t even here!”

Thorn nodded. “Alright. I git it, an’ thet’s jest fine. I wanted ta offer, thet’s all.”

A couple of boys chortling their way into the forest to their right passed them, and Leeli made sure to smile and nod at them in greeting (while Baxter barked politely) before she answered. “And it’s so sweet of you to do so,” she replied. “I wish I could have one, I really do.” A puppy to train would be just the thing to take her mind off what had happened and was happening and would happen, because if she had learned anything in the past year, it meant whatever they dealt with in the moment was just the calm before the storm. She really didn’t like the idea of the dreadful in the moment becoming a storm.

“Ya seem kinda quiet, Leeli,” Thorn observed when they had drawn closer to Rysen. “Is somethin’ goin’ on?”

Leeli pursed her lips, taking the moment to peer at the crumbled courtyard a bit more closely. If she wasn’t mistaken, it looked as though two people—who if she wasn’t mistaken again were Nia and Janner; whatever was he doing out of bed?*—were sitting there, not doing much other than that.

“Well,” she said, finally replying. “Uncle Artham had to leave because one of the Stonekeepers, Amrah, has his and Aunt Arundelle’s daughter and threatened to kill her if he doesn’t rescue her. Aunt Arundelle is dreadfully concerned about him and has tried busying herself around Rysentown so she can be productive. Not to mention that Janner’s been sick practically since Uncle Artham left, and Mama and Sara are both nearly worried out of their minds.” 

As she spoke, she felt herself growing more and more worried at the thought of everything, and she did her best to calm her nerves. She had kept from panicking by not thinking about everything too, too much so far, and if at all physically possible, she wanted to keep it that way. Not that she wasn’t worried about Uncle Artham and that she wasn’t concerned about Janner, more that she knew she couldn’t do anything and as such didn’t want to be terrified constantly.

They stopped behind the castle, looking out at the sea. “I’m sorry ta hear thet, Leeli,” Thorn replied quietly. “Can I do anythin’? Do ya wanna talk ‘bout it? Or do ya want a dis-trac-tion o’ some sort? I’m happy ta do whatever.”

“Thank you, Thorn,” Leeli whispered, her voice growing thick. She cleared her throat and blinked so she wouldn’t cry. “I…I think maybe start with a distraction and then maybe talk later, and then end with—”

“‘Nother dis-trac-tion?” he finished, smiling.

Laughing through a few tears that had escaped to her cheeks, Leeli nodded. “Exactly. That’s exactly what I’d like, if you don’t mind too terribly.”

Thorn smiled and held out his arm, and they began walking together toward the actual town of Rysentown. “Why, o’ course I don’t mind,” he began. “We’re gonna get married someday, Leeli, an’ I gotta be willin’ an’ happy ta do whatever ya might need. I’m jest practicin’ early, gettin’ a head start ‘n’ all.”

She burst out laughing on hearing that, and it was loud enough to where she saw (out of the corner of her eye) Janner and Nia turning their heads, trying to see what in Aerwiar she was doing. 

The day passed in a lovely blur of talking to Annierans, helping them with tasks, doing a few harder jobs, some lighter jobs, strolling to the forest for the walk (and talk), eating berries, crying a little bit, receiving tender comfort, heading to the beach to look for shells and starfish that needed rescuing from gulls, running into Arundelle and chatting with her, going to the meadow and picking flowers, and finally making their way back to Castle Rysen when it was nearly dark and the sun had begun edging its way toward the horizon. 

“Thank you for today, Thorn,” Leeli said softly when they were still a way’s off from the courtyard. “You were so considerate and it was just wonderful.” She felt lighter than she had in days, weeks, maybe even months, and it was all thanks to him. And the Maker, Who had surely sent him.

Thorn slipped his hand into hers very briefly. “I was happy ta give it ta ya,” he replied sweetly. “Seein’ as how hard it’s been, ya jest looked like ya needed a break.”

Leeli nodded. “I did need one. Something…something tells me I’m going to need it for the storm ahead.”

Furrowing his brow, Thorn pressed a bit. “What sorta storm?”

“A mess,” Leeli began. “It seems to be a regular occurrence in our family. Things get dreadful sometimes, really dreadful. I feel like they’re going to get worse really soon.”

Thorn turned a bit, now grasping both of her hands. “I’m here for ya if ya need me,” he said earnestly, looking straight into her eyes. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Leeli whispered, smiling and blinking back tears.

*****

Notes:

*this is my very subtle nod to Sara telling Nia about the success of the midnight excursion, and Nia acting on it.

Please let me know if there's anything wonky about conversations or thought processes or canonical issues^^