Castles and Dreams

[Celvi Gray]

It was a wonderful thing to see Dagmara so relaxed. It was like Celvi got a glimpse of the woman her aunt had used to be, she seemed by far younger than usual, with her features all loosened up, her back not so stiff anymore. A miraculous change. But it was only due to the privacy the secluded library provided, once walking out of these large double wing door, she would return to her old ways, stiff, modest and untouchable.

Celvi didn't mind though. Now she knew the woman behind, maybe met her for real for the very first time. However harsh Dagmara would react to what she did or said in the future, now she could cling to a picture of reality behind pretense. This was a crucial encounter. It might help her in times to come, for it always had been important for Celvi to be liked, if not even loved. She had thought such emotions impossible when it came to Aunt Dagmara, but aching to see them even for once. With the knowledge that this woman didn't dislike her in the back of her mind, she would do easier in trying to abide by her set of rules.

Her mind returned to the amusing story Dagmara was telling. "He was?!" her voice sounded not just a little incredulous. Celvi would have never imagined her honourable father being up to no good as a boy. The occasional wag breaking through that image had never been enough to doubt his appearance. "I'd never seen him that way." She gave a little laugh. "Alright, now I at least know who to blame for my occasional slips."

To see Dagmara actually playing along with her joke, acting so unladylike down to the very expression of her face, filled Celvi with unknown joy. She could have stayed here forever, cracking one joke after another, never getting tired of the thrill.
Odd, how she felt like this the second time in just a few days. It had been like that with Chase, too. He, too, had shown a complete new side of him, causing her to feel happily surprised. The world she lived in suddenly didn't seem as gloomy anymore, also with the threatening thought of marriage being no longer an issue – at least for now.

"Alright, the bet is on then", she quipped. "It should not be the greatest of difficulties to spurn your faith in me. I could run off and get married to a Mar'volian."
As if she ever let one of those stinking pig dogs come near her, let alone touch her! Dagmara would rather rejoice in her fancying Chase than Celvi herself would allow herself stooping that low. This was really not going to be an option – ever.

[Ruler Of Ion]

A small ringing laugh left her lips in amusement as she nodded in truth to the unbelievable fact that Gordon Gray was a prankster as a boy. In their younger years, it had been said more than once he would end up disgracing the family name, instead of glorifying it. He was a nuisance, a pain, and a prankster but he was Dagmara’s brother, and she loved him all the same. But. Thank the Goddess that he had grown out of that childish stage and turned out to be a well mannered and decent being who had basked the Gray name in glory instead of shame. If he hadn’t, Dagmara was certain she would of dragged him by the ear where ever she went until he straightened out.

The Countess choked in a laugh, at the threat of her niece marrying a Mar’volian. That piece of teasing, would of stopped her heart on any other day if she hadn’t known it to be a tease. “I’ll drop dead the day that happens, or leap off a cliff if you took fancy to a peasant. “ she jovially teased back, “And don’t let that give you any ideas.”

Her faith in Celvi was stronger than what most gave her credit. She expected highly of the girl, for that is what Celvi should expect in herself. Stooping to such levels of marrying Mar’volian scum or peasantry, would honestly stop her heart. But not before she could get in a word of severe disappointment.
But then again, hating to say, she would rather have her dear niece take to a commoner of Lamora then any noble man of Mar’vol.
Marrying someone of the same country would bring a child of pure blood into the world, not a mutt of mixed heritage. She would be disgraced from the Nobility and the commoner hung, but that certainly was better than marrying a Mar’volian.

[Celvi Gray]

How long had it been since this place was ringing with laughter? Usually the old and dusty library was a place to study, the very air breathed erudition, and voices were hushed here, if not totally silent. Celvi glanced nervously to the left and to the right, making sure noone was there to be disturbed. Even more, how embarrassing would it be for Dagmara to be caught in such an unseemly fashion! This was private and it shouldn't be exposed to public eyes, but alas, this was how it had ended up to be, and there was nothing Celvi could do about it, just hope for the best.

At first Celvi was about to snort with laughter and reply something like 'Be assured, I would be the one dropping dead before this happens', but then the second part of Dagmara's sentence reached her ears.
It was like a slap into her face and a hard punch into her stomach at the same time, and Celvi had difficulties not doubling over and gasping – giving herself away.
There it was, the definite rejection of any dreams she might have had about Chase. Aunt Dagmara might be in a joking mood, but she meant every word, of that Celvi was sure. Someone like her aunt would rather kill herself than witnessing the disgrace her niece might cause by giving herself to a commoner.
Chase was no peasant, he was a messenger valued by the Queen herself, but she knew that this was of no difference for Dagmara.

"Uhh, that's gross!" she complained to hide her shock. "Don't you ever get this picture in my mind again!" She needn't fake the shudder that made her whole body tremble.
Then she tried to lighten the mood at least a bit by saying: "Ideas? Me? I'd rather hop off that cliff myself, before I let you do that. And then what would be the point in that? Two people dead over unhatched eggs. Reminds me of a bad juggler's tale."

A bad juggler's tale… Wasn't that just what her life had become? The classical story: A noblewoman in love with a commoner, their attempt to hide the relationship and the problems it caused. If it was a comedy they would be able to marry in the end and all others would look fools. And if it was to be a tragedy? Well, then the cliff would come in at some point.
Funny how the world could change from dark into light in a second and back again.
There was no future to her dreams if she wasn't ready to drag others down with her. And who could ever be ready for that?

[Ruler Of Ion]

She found amusement in her own joke, loving the feeling of being able to laugh with her niece. Their feminine laughter filled the tired library, who had been past due for a lightened mood. Being stiff and mannered all the time could be such a bore and not to mention very tiring. So this was a welcomed break to Dagmara as she teased with Celvi like two carefree, women of a class that didn’t expect so much of how they behaved. Being this carefree at moments could be a item she could look forward to in future encounters with her dear niece.

There was a faint oddity in Celvi’s reply. Her voice housed some odd tone that Dagmara couldn’t quite pick out but it made her wonder momentarily what had been said that may have caused this brief disturbance in their jolly mood. She quickly doubted any fragment of any difference in Celvi’s tone. It had to have been an odd echo in the library, a misinterpreted tone, that is all nothing more.
But then again, she was one to never misread someone’s tone. A master at detecting faltering tone in any mood. Something had clicked in her niece to set this off. But what? She denied even allowing the possible idea of perhaps her beloved niece had taken an unworthy lover, to develop. Pushing the remnants to the farthest corner of her mind and began to contemplate other reasons.

“Truth to your words, Celvi” she merrily replied, “What would your father do without us around? More than probably run around like a headless chicken,” She mellowed out her energetic outward emotions, regaining a bit of her unleashed excitement.
“Putting that aside, tell me some of your budding ideas for the greeting we shall give your father when he returns,” she spoke, her regal tone replacing her laughter, but an edge of informality stuck, keeping the pleasant tone current between aunt and niece.

[Celvi Gray]

Hoping Dagmara had not picked up her slightly strangled voice and stiff body, Celvi put on a happy face. She really needed to get her act together. She had always known it would be like that, if ever her love for a commonor might become public knowledge. So why did it shake her up so much? Was it that the words suddenly made fears come alive which mere thoughts were able to quell? That Dagmara's vividly painted picture of what she would do was so much more real than just thinking over it?

Anyway, there was no use in pondering further over this unsolvable matter, and Dagmara's words gave something to occupy her mind with. The thought of her father resembling a headless chicken amused her and she shook her head with a light chuckle, coming out better and more natural than she had feared. How could Gordon Gray, the pillar of her fragile world ever be seen tottering in circles like he didn't know what to do? He always knew, and that's what Celvi loved about her father. During the past years his letters had been the only way of imagining him to be beside her, a gentle hand guiding her along the steep and arduous path set up by Dagmara's school of life.

All the more reason to give this special person an even more special welcome! Since she had learned her father would return soon, a tiny part in the back of her mind had worked on such a plan, but since it had not been the prominent subject so far, her ideas were blurry at best, totally undecided on at worst.
"Well, …" she started hestitantly, "I might have to give this some further thinking, but one idea I had was that I should make something for him. A gift of some kind, something that shows him what I've learned and practised on since he's been gone."
But what exactly that should be completely evaded her mind.

"And I thought we should ask the Queen to hold a little celebration. Something like a banquet or even a little ball." Her eyes gleamed as she thought it over. "I mean, he's always been her loyal servant, doing great deeds on the battlefield. He should deserve at least as much, don't you think?"

[Ruler Of Ion]

“You should embroider something for him to show how much your stitching has improved” she offered, thinking over the girl’s other talents that would make suitable gifts and still came up with the solitary thought of embroidering as the best by far the most impressive. As a child Celvi’s stitching could easily be compared with chicken scratch, nothing definite to pattern or color just a mosh of threads on material. But as she aged her talent matured into something notable of not being ugly but borderline beautiful.

A party for Gordon? Outrageous idea. The Queen, would never do such a thing for a mere soldier. Maybe the Duke or a general, but as much as she hated to say it. It would never happen for her brother. The idea purposed by her niece was like having a marriage ceremony for a pair of geese, simple outrageous and out of reach. The Countess shifted ever so slightly, her gaze taking a brief break from her niece’s face and took to exploring the shelf of literature a few steps away. She mindlessly browsed a few titles before returning her gaze to its original mark of interest.

Not wanting to smother Celvi’s budding ideas of welcoming her dearly missed father home, she offered a small smile and a nod. “That would be lovely if you could get it arranged. But perhaps you should stay with the idea of a gift?”

Dagmara’s formality was slipping further and further into the emotionless expression of Lady that she was so accustomed to wear. This break of habit was taking a toll on her stamina, pushing her into a place of familiarity and slight discomfort. The unmannered laughter was dying in her chest as she slipped into the cool form she wore without falter on a daily basis. Back straightened, posture stiffened and expression muted as she looked over her niece with a new sparked pride of how delightful this girl could be given the right moment.

[Celvi Gray]

Disillusion followed on Celvi's happiness like rain follows sunshine. Of course… for a moment she had all but forgotten that her ladylike skills were dearly limited. Embroidery… was that all she could come up with? Her other talents, like mastering Artano's caprices and shooting a flying quail on horseback from several yards away would certainly not gain Dagmara's recognition. Reciting the names of all Lamoran queens and their deeds from the beginning to present time was maybe suitable for good measure, but that really was about it.

"I will get to it right away" she promised with a smile. "That is, after I helped with Princess Christabel's birthday preparations" she added to show good will.
Glorious prospects for the days to come, really. Sitting at the window all day, surrounded by blabbering and gossipping girls, with a tambour frame on her lap. Through the years she had gotten used to this boring pastime, her finger were not so stiff anymore and her little embroideries actually began to look what they should display. That still didn't ease the discomfort it caused her, but embroidery was still considered a woman's figurehead. Bad stitching, hopeless lady. How narrow-minded they all were!

Hmm… well, with that suggestion of a party Celvi might have crossed the line, pushed by her own excitement. Now that she thought it through, it was rather unlikely Queen Artemisia would even consider such a plea. However knightly Gordon Gray might have acted, he was still only a minor noble, no one to throw a party for.
But it spoke for Dagmara's different state of mind that she didn't scold her niece for voicing such silly ideas, only tried to guide her gently to a new path.
"You might be right… I should stay grounded", Celvi confessed with a self-critical expression on her face. "Still, he deserves nothing but the best. We will give him a warm welcome!"

The change in Dagmara's behaviour was visible. Celvi could see her aunt's face slip into its old mask of indifference, and she sighed inwardly. Gone was this moment of closeness, at least for now. Still, the air around the Ice Queen was warmer than usual and the young woman was sure it may last for a while. Aunt and niece had reached a new level of understanding, fragile and new, but with a bit of luck lasting.

[Ruler Of Ion]

Dagmara shifted her hand from her side to her nose where she gave it a delicate rub as it was beginning to itch with the dust the library’s air held on to so dearly. Sneezing was such an undignified human response to allergies or simply a tickle to the nose. It was completely awkward in a slightly humorous way, the convulsion of one’s diaphragm that led to a loud noise followed by slight sniffling. It could be distracting, disgusting, and outright annoying when the timing was right. If the goddess wanted all her people to be purposefully graceful, she would have not added the sneeze to their necessary functions.

“Very good, Celvi, I’m certain that your father would be simply delighted” she mused lightly, a kind smile gracing her lips every so gently. ‘I certainly know he will know the thought counts more than the quality’ she thought quietly to herself. Gordon was the type of man to graciously accept even the smallest of meaningless gifts, as long as it brought a smile to the one giving it to him. He was to kind that way sometime, to concerned with how others felt before himself.

Her smile warmed up a bit more as Dagmara nodded with slight enthusiasm, “That we will, he will have his own private party fit for any King, that certainly he will be surprised to have” she replied softly. Certainly that much could be arranged. A small gathering of her brother’s closest friends, maybe a distant cousin or two at one of their manors outside of the city. It would be exciting enough to be deemed a party but small enough it wouldn’t be in any form be competitive to the Princess’s birthday and infuriate the Queen.

[Celvi Gray]

A slight breeze coming maybe from one of the slightly unsealed windows – even the best glazier could solve that problem yet with any money – made little dust particles fly through the air, assaulting Celvi's nostrils at once. The young lady was highly tempted to just give in to the urge to sneeze because the tickling made her crazy, but she saw that her aunt had to fight the same foe – and succeeded so very ladylike in stiffling it without making a noise. For now…
Celvi tried hard to be as brave and composed and chose to distract herself, thinking of the duties she'd have to fulfil soon: Catch up with the ladies on the birthday preparations, maybe even suggesting a few things herself. Maybe there could be a masquerade? Each and everyoe wearing masks so that no one could guess his counterpart's identity? What unexpected depths that idea held…

She returned her attention to Dagmara as the sneezing urge had died down a bit. "Oh, yes, a little private feast sounds wonderful to me", she assured and smiled. "We could hold it on Moondew Manor, I haven't been there since Father left!" A dreamy gleaming made her eyes light up as she spoke about the house where she had been born and spent her childhood until Gordom Gray answered his call to arms. It held so many memories she had fed on in times of homesickness and solitude. How would it look now, through the eyes of a nearly adult woman? Smaller, perhaps, not so glorious. But illusions had to be broken in any way, and the thought of returning there and be it only for a short visit made her heart leap with joy.

"But we can talk about that in length some other time, I presume!" Celvi mused and curtsied before the elder woman. "For now I'd like to return to my duties, Aunt Dagmara. Please give me your blessing!"