Realms of Magic
realms of magic
history/background wc 333
The world began with faeries. Creatures of immortal strength, of immeasurable virtues. Every one of them blessed with magic, dark, glittery, and utterly other. Humans came later. Greedy creatures destined for ruin, created from disputes between the gods. Creatures that should never have existed, and yet the faeries lived in harmony with these inferior beings for millennia, working alongside them to create a peaceful future.
As a show of faith, of friendship, of gratitude, the faeries gifted their mortal counterparts with bits and pieces of their powerful magic. A fatal mistake on their part. Humans are fickle beings with no stomach for power. The world broke into chaos, the natural order tipped as feats that shouldn't be, were. The faeries quickly realized the error they had made and appealed to the gods, begging for them to restore the order. Unfortunately, gifts as powerful as the faerie magic could not be taken back so easily. That was not the way with gods.
The faeries were granted passage into an ether realm, one filled with other creatures of their kind, a faerieland, if you will. The gods purged the world of the leftover magic, or at least believed that they had. What they could not see was that strains of magic stayed, their roots growing deeper and deeper into the humans who inherited it. The island of Irili was thus split into two warring nations.
To the side where these magic-filled human beings were banished went those who worshiped them like gods. They formed a republic based solely on those magically talented. The nation of Ashea. To the other side went the magic-fearers, those who called them unholy. In the nation of Tavaxe, the mere mention of magic could get one imprisoned.
Years passed in a weak truce, a border that held purely out of each side's unwillingness to go to war. But tensions only rose, year after year. Every gifted child's story is one of terror. No one can stop it, can they?
☽ Ophelia Lynn Northwell | i have a whole universe in my mind | Aurélie Nathalie Duval ☾
Realms of Magic
prologue
wc 1558
The basket was heavy. Much heavier than any normal basket of berries should be, but the guards didn't need to know that. In fact, the guards didn't need to know much of anything. It was better that way, for the whole lot of them. It was best that they saw only what the young woman wanted them to see, which was that she was a cute, completely gullible maiden. Foolish. That was the word she wouldn't use, but the word that they must think of all the same.
It wasn't hard, the men at these checkpoints often weren't paid enough to attract those who actually cared to think. No, these were the brutes, the men they hired solely for their aggressive behaviour and muscled build. A gingham dress that exposed a bit more ankle than it should, hair that curled up innocently, and a bounce to her step was all it took to distract them from the way her arm drooped with the weight of the basket, from the dark bruise-like circles underneath her eyes, from the haunted expression in her gaze that no eighteen year old girl should have.
This checkpoint was the smallest of them all. Right where the river widened to a point uncrossable without a bridge, away from every town, major and minor, except for little Dushaq. The perfect place to cross when one wanted not a single soul to know. Dushaq was called criminal city for a reason, after all.
Only one layer of security, with two active duty guards. Both were dressed in warm furs and wools on top of their uniforms, muffs over their ears and mitts over their fingers. Clearly the snow and wind was getting to them, clearly they weren't locals, born and brought up in Dushaq. Having grown up there, having lived there her whole entire life, the young woman was accustomed to it all. This was nothing, the guards would likely be off by the coming winter months, the warm hearths and mead of the locals not enough to keep them here. Before long, the government would find some more brutes to replace them, starting the cycle over again.
She skipped over to the checkpoint, pretending her knees weren't weak, her stomach didn't churn with exhaustion. Pretending the winces that her body wanted to react with were truly laughs, grins in disguise. She made it to the checkpoint, attracting enough attention to make the guard look at her with interest. "Miss, the checkpoint is closed for the holidays."
What a joke. This was a border, not some corner store. It couldn't just close on a whim. Yet, that's what they'd been doing for ages, hadn't they? Closing the border every time the nations disagreed on something so trivial, opening only after a lengthy trade agreement was made.
"Is it, really?" She asked, her voice higher pitched than usual. She pouted, the expression overdone. "Well, that's just awful, because my grandmother tasked me with collecting berries for pie. We always make berry pie for the holidays, you see. The berries are sweetest on the other side of the river, everyone in Dushaq knows that!" She let the basket slide down towards her elbow and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, my grandmother won't like this at all. If we don't have berries, we can't make pie. And if we can't make pie," She sniffled, as if tears were threatening to fall down her porcelain cheeks. And they were, the tears had already begun, though it was for a much more profound reason than a lack of berries. "Oh, I'm going to be in so, so much trouble. She told me to go earlier, told me the cold would set in, but I didn't listen, did I? I never listen, that's what she says." Her sobs were as real as they came, though she thought of the contents of her basket, not berries.
The guard took the bait easily. His hands, larger and meatier than her delicate ones, took hers and took them out of their resting place on her face. Instead, he held them between them, squeezed them reassuringly. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry." He had an accent, the accent of a northerner. Like Lyam. That thought only made the girl sob harder. "Your grandmother, she won't know a thing about this. Tell you what, I'll let you across the border."
The girl perked up, though she was ever-careful with her basket. "Really, sir? You'd do that, for me?"
She couldn't see most of his face, just his dark eyes. The rest was covered by fabric to keep him from the cold. Still, she pictured him smiling, a young man not much older than she. She pictured him worried for her, and she felt a little bad about lying to him. He was just a pawn in this, after all, they all were. But that made her work all the more important. She couldn't stop now. What would Lyam tell her?
"As long as you've got yourself some papers, miss, I'll let you right through." He said, letting go of her hands so she could rifle through the pockets of her dress. She pulled out crumpled papers, as fake as her story. He took them, reading through. "Ysa, is it?" He asked as he scanned the information.
That wasn't her name, she didn't even recognize the name. She'd forgotten to look through the fake papers before she gave them to him. Still, she nodded fervently. "That's me."
The guard looked at her, and she imagined him smiling again. "Well, Ysa, I'd love to see you again soon." He winked, and let her go. Let her go, just liked that. The girl had been through checkpoints with fake papers before, it was a part of growing up in Dushaq and being who she was, but it never ceased to amaze her, how everything matched so perfectly with the true documents.
"Of course, sir." She hurried through, not daring to look back, her basket cradled in her arms. Just a little longer.
---
The little town of Arabelle was miniscule on the map, barely making it onto one. Yet it was the only place she could go. The closest center of civilization to the Dushaq border. She pulled the cloak that she'd stored in her basket out, putting on the dark garment to mask her silly little dress.
The streets were mostly deserted. It was getting later than she'd expected. She only hoped the place she intended to go was still open. She had work in the morning, and could not afford to spend the night in Arabelle.
Thankfully, it was. The lights were on in Madame's Home, and the girl didn't hesitate before going in. She'd already convinced herself there was no better option, and there was no going back now. The lights of the parlour were harsh compared to the steady darkness of the approaching night. A woman stood behind the desk, her glasses slipping to the edge of her nose as she read a novel voraciously. "Um, excuse me?"
Now the girl was playing a different part. Not one of the meek, foolish girl that she'd shown the guard at the checkpoint, but of a matured woman who knew exactly what she was doing. The woman behind the desk wouldn't take her seriously otherwise. She looked up. "Can I help you, mademoiselle?"
The girl took a deep breath. "I found this in the streets. I believe you were the best ones to give it to." It. The wording stung her. She placed the basket on the counter and removed the warm cotton blanket that she'd placed over it hours earlier. Underneath was a parcel like no other.
My baby. She had to get those thoughts out of her head.
The woman glanced inside, then looked up sharply. "Are you sure she's not yours, mademoiselle?" Her tone said that she would be understanding, that she would take care of the baby the same whatever the answer. But the girl could not afford anyone else to know. She couldn't.
"No, I assure you, I found her in the streets." She paused. "Please do take good care of her, madame."
The woman nodded, taking the baby out of the basket and holding her tenderly. "Of course, of course." She paused. "Was there anything else?"
The girl closed her eyes, took another breath to steady herself. The tears were threatening to come once more, her sobs ready to take over her again. She was sure this woman would take care of her too, if she asked for it. But she was not the sort of girl to require that assistance, nor was she one to show her weakness. She pulled out a piece of paper from the basket. "This, too." The woman took it. "That is all, madame."
"Good day." The girl repeated the sentiment, then turned and walked out of the parlour. When she stepped outside, her eyes began to sting, and she felt rivulets stream down her cheeks, soon turning into rivers into oceans. She'd wanted so much, and this was what her life was. But it was all for the best, she knew that. And so, she walked, one foot in front of the other, back where her the rest of her life awaited her, pretending once more.
☽ Ophelia Lynn Northwell | i have a whole universe in my mind | Aurélie Nathalie Duval ☾
Realms of Magic
chapter one
wc 1160
Her eyes were bright and grey like morning mist. Her smile was contagious, always just a breath away, waiting to come out for the smallest of reasons. Her hair gleamed, silky and long, waves of water rather than locks of hair. She was Adrienne d'Esterre, adopted and only daughter of the king's minister of finance. She was the best friend and groomed to become the lady-in-waiting of the youngest daughter of the king-- Vivienne Giraudoux. She was envied by many, loved by some. She was an utter failure.
A child of Ashean origin, a child who had shown signs of magic early in life, a child of the high nobility. That was who she was. And still, she was twenty-one years old as of six months ago, and she was yet to receive any signs that the magic that had seemed so strong in her core once, was anything more than a fluke. As of now, she was nothing more than an Ungifted woman, two words that were dangerous to be in the nation of Ashea.
Everyone in the palace knew what that meant for the esteemed d'Esterre house-- they were soon to be not so esteemed anymore. Twenty-two years old was the last anyone could conceive their Gift, and with six months left of her freedom, Adrienne knew she had only three options. To leave the haven her parents and Vivienne had created for her in the palace, to accept the death sentence that came with being an Ungifted woman in the nobility, or to give her hand in marriage to man she'd never love.
It was clear from Maman's expression as she delivered these words to Adrienne just which of these three end-all options was the expected one to choose. "Adrienne, you will be married by summer's end." And with those words, her mother sealed the fate of our young heroine long before she could discover it for herself.
---
The suitors began arriving at half past noon on the first Saturday of June, almost without warning. I say almost, because the only warning I received was the order from my mother to put on my most wondrous gown and put it on quick. For what reason, she did not explain, for that was not how Maman worked, after all. Only she knew the intricate workings of whatever plan she had come up with, and we were all just players in the game until it all ended perfectly.
After donning my chosen armour for the day-- an ice blue gown with a drop waist, a flattering neckline, and a cut that made my figure look oh so lovely, as my mother put it-- I sat like the doll I was meant to be upon our divan, practising my smiles for when the boys arrived. And without fail, they did.
It was terrible, hearing the voice of my childhood enemy on the palace grounds when my mother opened the door to our opulent apartments. A torture all of its own. Seeing his face moments later, however, his mother trailing behind him, made my face ache with longing. I wanted to scowl at him, but I knew that such indecencies would only further my own torture. And so I endured the meeting with Luc. It was then that I realized that these suitors had not come to see me because of my charms, but because my mother had pulled in every favour that she and my father were owed, just so that I would have options to pick from. To think, these boys were only thinking of marriage with me because my mother had fixed up something or the other for their mothers years prior! Was I truly so useless, if I was not Gifted like them?
Madame Pauline was slight in stature, her voice soft and timid. It was a wonder that she'd birthed a child, nevertheless a brute such as Luc, who was at least twice her size and much less friendly. They both sat down on the sofa, facing my mother and I on the divan. Our eyes met, we exchanged glances. I did not know what to say. How do you ask a man whether he would be willing to bind himself to me so that I may escape the consequences of being the failure that I am? How do you ask such of a man who you would prefer the answer to be negative?
Maman began the conversation. "Lucien," He inclined his head in response. "You have grown into such a fine young man, my dear boy." I almost laughed at that. My mother and I both despised Luc, and the only thing he'd grown into was a boorish man who would do no better at court than a bear. But he was still a safe option, should he end up being the one to whom I am bound to, because his entire lineage served the sovereigns of this nation. The king couldn't kick him out, however much he wanted to.
Pauline shook like a leaf, whether it was in rage or in silent fits of laughter I was yet to confirm. "Mira! You summon us here, with your daughter dressed up so, and do not begin with the topic at hand?" It was rage, then, though laughter wasn't yet fully crossed out. Pauline was an interesting woman, however small. "Marriage, say it, Mira! You want my son, fine young man that he is, to your lowly daughter of common blood."
Rage. I had decided. I was quite unimpressed with Pauline's vocabulary, however. Truly, to describe her son using the same adjectives that my mother had used. And, to call me a daughter of common blood, when the entire palace had "forgotten" the term as soon as Vivi took me under her wing. Clearly, someone needed the Academy's tutors more than me.
Maman spoke quick, trying to appease Pauline. "Yes, marriage. Lucien would make such a wonderful groom. Is it not so, Pauline?"
I decided another thing, just then. I would not get into this conversation unless I truly had to. The mothers had it handled, as could be seen very clearly. And Luc wasn't speaking either.
"He would make a wonderful groom, but to a lady of elegance and class. A lady who is not your daughter." Pauline sighed, and I wondered whether she would acquiesce, finally. "Adrienne is a beautiful girl, and she has such potential, Mira, but my son needs someone who can help his standing at court. Who will be an equal by his side, not a burden. You must understand."
Now it was Maman's turn to sigh. What could she say to that? She smiled, tired, and I suddenly remembered before. Back when her smile used to light up the whole room, back when she became twenty years younger every time she smiled. Now, it only made her look older.
"Of course, you are right, Pauline. Thank you for coming."
☽ Ophelia Lynn Northwell | i have a whole universe in my mind | Aurélie Nathalie Duval ☾
Realms of Magic
chapter two
wc 966
Our evenings continued on like that for some time. Biscuits and tea replaced by sugary tea cakes and buttery scones. Board games and laughter replaced by stiff conversations facilitated by the stares of the mothers. Papa had taken to slipping into his friend's apartment after his time at court so that he wouldn't have to face the scene that my mother had normalised. Clearly, even he couldn't stand the awkwardness of every mother turning down the proposal.
I missed being by Vivienne's side during the evenings the most. My mother hadn't barred me from seeing her, exactly, but she'd increased the weight of my daily itinerary twofold, at least, and when I did have the time to slip away, I was exhausted. Dress fittings and etiquette lessons piled with wedding planning, though none of us knew who the groom was to be. Indeed, sometimes I wondered whether there would be a groom at all.
I finally made it to the Friday of that second week, thanking every lucky star that I'd been given the evening off from whatever duties my mother usually assigned me. The palace had a tradition, of sorts. Every other Friday the royal family opened up their part of the palace, and the noble families dined together. Papa told me that back when he was a little boy, the dinners were much more formal than they were now. A long banquet table, a classic seven course meal, and black-and-white dressed servants. The customs had deteriorated from there, with several small round tables replacing the banquet table, and the meal consisting of a measly three courses. It was less of a budget cut, and more that the current king was not as formal as his predecessor. In fact, the Friday dinners had quickly become a social event, rather than a customary one.
Still, Maman dressed me in fine silks and embroidery. "You are still representing all that you could offer, as a wife." She whispered in my ear after tightening my corset. She left her most prized pearls on my bed, then turned on her heel to get ready herself. I sighed at my reflection. I couldn't deny it, every time Maman dressed me up like a doll, I looked gorgeous. She always told me the grey of my eyes complimented any colour she could imagine, though it only ever seemed to work when she picked out the gown. But it was all so restrictive. Sometimes, I wondered where I would've been had I not been adopted into this palace life. If my commoner blood could've saved me, instead of being the cause of my downfall as everyone always seemed to put it. I shushed the thoughts now. It would do me some good to be grateful for all that I'd been given in my life.
After I wore the pearls, careful not to mishandle a single strand, I was allowed some free time, though roaming around the palace or its grounds were forbidden. It would, of course, ruin the gown, and we could not have that. I sat down on my bed, instead, thumbing through one of my old notebooks. I'd been a little bit of a writer for a long while, and writing in diaries was a habit I continued to this day, every night. When I felt particularly nostalgic, going through the years worth of diaries was a normal occurrence. My favourite was the one I'd filled as a five year old, the first time I visited the palace, when Maman and Papa had first adopted me. It was mostly drawings, rather than writings, but I did have words thrown in there-- the occasional "it's so pretty!" or a "big castle!" and even a "I'm a princess!"
As I flipped through the terrible drawings, a piece of paper fell out. Frowning, I picked it up from where it now lay on my lap. It was good paper, thick and creamy in texture. I flipped it to find blurred words, written a calligraphy most beautiful, that were tear-stained.
My child,
I wish you the very best in this life that I cannot aid you in. I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that I could be with you, but it is not possible. Whoever, wherever, you end up, know that I will find you one day. I love you, Ad--
I'm all yours,
Your Maman
Most of it was legible, but right where it seemed to say my name, there was a large stain and the words became unintelligible. I squinted at the writing, a feeling that I couldn't name rising up within me. I'd known that Maman and Papa weren't my birth parents forever-- I'd moved to the palace late, after all-- but I'd grown into a false sense of security. Some of the wealthy noblemen called me a girl of common blood behind my back, they whispered about my poisoned mind, but Maman and Papa had always protected me. It felt awful to see this, and to know that it wasn't Maman who had written it, who had cried over me, but some woman that I would never meet. A woman who mustn't have loved me as much as she claimed, because she'd abandoned me to an orphan's home.
At the same time, another part of me was confused. It didn't listen to my emotions, rather wondered where this paper came from. I would've known if I'd seen this paper before-- I would've read it multiple times before and puzzled out this feeling that was within me now. All of this wouldn't have felt so... new. So wrong.
So if this hadn't been in this notebook before-- and it definitely hadn't been, I flipped through these pages plenty of times-- then the question was, where had it come from?
☽ Ophelia Lynn Northwell | i have a whole universe in my mind | Aurélie Nathalie Duval ☾
Realms of Magic
chapter three
wc 876
Unfortunately, the questions that I had come up with were mostly left unanswered, for Maman came in during my ruminations. "We will be late!"
In truth, we were never, ever late. The royal dining hall was closest to our apartments, and so, usually, we were the first ones there. Tonight, though we weren't the first ones to arrive, we were a close third. Families split at the dinners, sitting with their friends or political alliances. This was a time to either forget about the politics that brought us together to live in this palace, or to embrace it wholeheartedly and forge truces and deals. Every round table could seat up to ten people, and was completely open for anyone to sit anywhere, except for, of course, the King's Table.
Every other Friday, the king chose a set of people to dine at his table, an honour greater than any other in the court. To have been chosen meant that you had pleased the king the past two weeks, and that he held your favour. Spots were coveted more than jewels, and the golden tickets that were delivered to your door had you been chosen for the following week were treasured. Most families in the palace had had a member of their family dine with the king at least once, but only few were called over and over again. Papa was one of those few.
At least once a month, Papa received a golden ticket, and this month was no exception. Tonight, Papa sat among the royals and the favoured ones. Maman, like always, sat at her usual table, with some of her closest friends. I sat, instead, with Vivienne and Vivienne alone. We had tried sitting with her older sisters, Violette and Odette, as well as their friends, but they had been quite disrespectful towards me, and we'd moved out from there. Common blood, if one hadn't noticed, was quite a terrible occurrence in the royal court.
I made my way to our usual table, and found Vivienne already seated, her hands folded across her lap as she stared at the first course, the appetizer. Today, it seemed to be some sort of soup. I slid in next to her, smiling. "Hello, hello, beautiful."
She looked over, and I quickly realised that I'd judged the situation wrong completely. She hadn't just been sitting properly, waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive. She hadn't been hungrily staring at the soup, just waiting to try it as the royal cooks always made the most wonderful meals. No, when she looked up to face me, I saw what was truly happening. My strong, beautiful Vivienne was crying.
I scooted my chair closer, and put my arms around her in a tight hug. She deserved a show of support and solidarity, regardless of the front that Maman wanted me to put up tonight to attract suitors. Vivienne deserved more than to be the sidepiece, she was my best friend. "What's wrong?"
It took a moment for her to get settled, clear the sniffles and try to dry her tears. I helped her with a napkin, removing the trails of mascara blackened tears on her cheeks and restoring her to the natural beauty she possessed. After that moment, she closed her eyes and began to talk. "I- oh, Adri, I'm so embarrassed." She let out a sob, soft because the women around us would gossip if they heard the youngest princess crying. "I went up to him, I thought I had a chance. I asked him to be my- my date. For the peace ball."
The him she referred to was surely Quentin DuPont. She'd been crushing on that boy since we were wee girls, chasing after the little boys in the palace grounds and running from our tutors. We'd always assumed he would love her back one day. Who wouldn't? She was the most loved princess of the nation and a dazzling girl with a beautiful face and personality. And with the power she held in her hands, she could have her pick from the list of eligible boys. But the way she was telling this story, I had to say that it didn't sound as if it had gone all that well.
"And then?"
Vivienne's head rested on my shoulder, and I could feel the excess tears soaking into my gown. I didn't dare tell her to move. I could face the wrath of my mother, but I couldn't hurt my best friend, not after everything she'd done for me. "Oh, Adri. He said no. To me. He said he already had a date." She let out an anguished sound. "And I, I just ran. I didn't know what to do."
I couldn't bear to hear anymore of this. It broke my heart, to see my Vivienne hurting like this. "Shhh," I whispered, helping her sit up and wiping her tears once more. "He will come to his senses soon, whoever his date is. They will not last long." I didn't know this for sure, of course. But I knew that Vivienne was beloved by everyone, and Quentin would be the luckiest man in the world to win her affections. "We will find a way." I promised.
☽ Ophelia Lynn Northwell | i have a whole universe in my mind | Aurélie Nathalie Duval ☾