Homesickness
An SSSC III submission by MrSimple.
“...Please, I want to go home!”
With only the shallow breaths to contend with, I caught myself before another shouted plea ripped from my throat. I saw now, with the stark differences between where I was and am that it would’ve been useless to continue my begging.
This room was dark, but I could make out shapes. A boundary. Walls.
A real room. To be more precise, a bedroom.
This was a bed. A rather huge as Hell one. It surrounded me with enough expanse to roll over twice or thrice before I risked falling off the edge. And to add, there was a rough topography of pillows to thwart any perilous tumbling.
But this bed, the room, and the kind of darkness I laid in was not where I last remember being in. That memory was difficult to bring back, but after some effort, I managed.
An abysmal environment. It was where darkness only existed and would’ve been all I could make out if there actually was more to be discovered.
Back then, a moment or lifetime ago, it was from there that I’d helplessly stood to be judged. But by whom, I had no idea because there was then nothing to be found around me.
A voice. I had looked for it, but the sound of the voice had been heard and found a listener. Somehow, it plucked me right up and out of whatever I had been involved in doing before this all started. But nothing from before that point was possible for me to recollect.
Not absolutely nothing, but remembering a tiny bit about myself was… I just had to stop. The exertion to pull up memories of who or what I was had been mentally exhausting me.
Here and now, I had sat up, and if this was the same as being picked up and out of wherever I used to be, then I dropped down here to be left in confusion.
But at least I could make out the time of this setting was sometime at night. I wasn’t in an empty plane of existence as if a deity created it for the sake of a moment’s convenience.
Kind of like an extra pocket on a jacket.
Shutting my eyes, I tried to recall the last thing I remembered: home. Not the place, but the desire to return there.
Then there was that spectral being. The voice.
If I remembered correctly, it had said, “You will have your chance.” But I thought it had more to say. Something along the lines of, “Prove to me that the story won’t make you happy, and I will send you back.”
To me then, what that thing had said made sense. And I was afraid it meant I’d never return.
But here and now, I had no idea what it meant to me. It wasn’t what that thing said which was important to remember, but the notion of remembering was important.
As if I’d been cheated.
I wondered, ’Was what I had been told vital? Or had I to accomplish something…?’
“What did you tell me?” The more I thought about it, the heavier my mind felt. As if I was trying to frantically swim up in desperation for air, but it was my head doing all the flailing and pedalling. “And where am I?”
If I had not known any better, I’d say that unseen entity had wiped my mind of anything that could interfere with what I had to accomplish. I thought, ’But I have to know what my goal was to do it, right?’
That was if I had anything to be done.
This was exactly why remembering what our discussion was all about had been so important. It was crucial in understanding what had to be done next.
Having to experience this kind of situation was so very much like waking up from a dream… which I just did.
“Ugh, I hate it when I forget every last detail.” All I needed was one split second to be awake and every iota of my mind would be purged of whatever I had been fantasizing about in my sleep.
With the exception of how burdened my mind felt trying to remember this stuff, the forgetfully awakened -- kind of like the dazed and confused -- would be exactly how I’d describe my current state of mind. I already had the impression this day was going to be a total flop.
“Okay.” I established that my mind was drawing blanks. “Let’s go from there.” To myself, I repeated: “Where am I?” Again, I looked around. “Bedroom. A bigassed bedroom.”
It took me a few scoots to the side before I slipped out from under the covers and off the edge of this ginormous bed. When I stood, I was really impressed by how frickin huge this bed was.
To give a perspective from my view, the height of the mattress came up to my waist with a closed curtain hung from a boxed-frame enclosure towering beyond my reach.
“That would be a hard fall… yeesh, talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed,” I duly noted to myself to never monkey around on that thing.
Then I took in a new sensation: cold. As if the wind blew by me and a chill pierced my flesh. It was as if that frigid bite had struck me straight down to the bone.
Once more, with a sub-zero feeling, I asked: “Where am I?”
A quick glance down at myself explained one mystery. I had already begun to suspect I hadn’t a stitch of clothing on me, and I was rather surprised to find myself dressed in…
“Is this a nightgown?” As if to silently answer that self-directed question, I pinched the silky thin material until I supposed it was a gown of some sort.
The gown was very soft, but also far too fragile. By gradual rips and tears, I could see myself accidentally twisting out of this thing in bed.
Not entirely turning myself around, I carefully looked over and down my shoulder to see if this thing had a tied bow or loose string of ribbon in the back. Kind of as if it was something akin to a hospital gown.
But I honestly should’ve known better than to be this active shortly after getting out of bed.
To review what I had gone through up to this point; I had just woken, stood up, and nearly spun around. That made me dizzy enough to feel like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
So for the time being, I kept stock still with the monstrous bed as my support, and sort of a failsafe in the event I fell, until the lightheadedness passed.
For some strange reason, it felt as if I took a couple of minutes to end this balancing act. Regardless of the apparent time I waited, I played it safe rather than foolishly fighting the lack of orientation.
In that time, I only stood and absorbed what I saw and felt.
My bare feet could feel the cool smooth surface of wood. There was a breeze in here.
Something like that hadn’t bothered me. Not yet. I had yet to figure out where I was in this bedroom.
Looking up, I saw the high ceiling was obviously out of my reach. I believed it would take four or five people my height to stand on each other’s shoulders before touching the support beams. At least, those looked like supports running across the ceiling.
The only light coming in here was from a pale moon outside… A window!
My toes curled for a moment, then I broke out of my frozen state to walk toward the open window. I laid my hands palm down on the bottom edge of the portal before poking my head out.
Dark and towering shapes that rose higher than my ability to crane my neck and see their tops. At first, I thought they were skyscrapers, buildings. Not the case here.
Mountains. I could tell by the trees that poked out of their crusty hides like splinters or needles with the tiniest of hairs breaking away before reaching the top tips of the spires. The closest branch had no leafs, but was decorated in bristly pines.
Below the window, I was greeted by a new sense. I heard the bubbling crash of water. I wondered, ’A brook?’ But the thought of there being a stream in this kind of landscape didn’t fit the image in my head well. I would’ve expected there to be more greens and less dark browns.
“Inhospitable?” That was my first impression of this place, but I knew I was wrong. Water was a sign of life, and I too was here, so those were proofs of my poor assessment.
Being unaware of my location, I was likely dead wrong how I pictured this place.
One thing was for certain, I was in a building. And if there was construction here, then there had to be people.
“Only one way to find out.” As I said that, I left the window to explore the rest of this bedroom.
Along the farthest wall from the window, there was a long wooden couch with a soft cushioning in leathery covers. I couldn’t tell if that was real leather or not, but I wasn’t interested in finding out.
Beside the couch was what caught my eye. An unfolded standing divider with multiple ornate designs across the papery panes had revealed a shadowy shape hunkered down on the other side.
At the first glance, I thought it would be a person. It had the resemblance of a head, shoulders, and the rest of the bust with their arms drooped down to the floor, but I was wrong again.
Once I looked around the divider, I discovered some kind of a half complete mannequin wearing a decorative outfit. With the lower half of the clothes draped over a low-risen table, I understood why the rest of this lifeless humanoid wasn’t required.
“A… is that a dress?” I wasn’t sure, and thought voicing my own uncertain observation would help me find an answer.
“A battle dress.”
At the sound of the voice, I had whirled around in a searching moment, but found no one. I looked about myself one more time, and had the same luck finding anyone.
Just to be sure, I asked: “Someone here?”
“I never left.” Once that voice spoke again, I felt the burden in my mind become heavier. It was as if the voice reminded me of something, but it was too much for me to process the thought. “Don’t try, just enjoy the story.”
“What story?” I remembered this all had something to do with a novel.
“What did I say? Don’t.” The voice grew a bit more insistent. “If you know what is going to happen, you’ll spoil this.”
“Wait, if you are… were here the whole time, why didn’t you answer me?” I hadn’t found any peace of mind by dropping the earlier subject, but at least I could distract myself with previous topic of, “Where am I?”
“This is Switzerland… or, it will be.” In response to that, I shook my head in bewilderment. “This is the fifteenth century. The Holy Roman Empire is having a one Hell of a time keeping it together. And those who are going ballistic are having a real free for all with each other.”
“That only raises more questions.” As I stated this, I moved back over to the window and peered out at the rising mountains. “So this… these are the Alps?”
“Yes. You’re in a mountain pass.” I hadn’t asked that, but I was thankful for the clarification. “You’re welcome.”
“May I know why you hadn’t answered me before?” I thought it was an easier question than asking why I was in the middle of the Swiss Alps.
“I was busy ensuring the players were all in position.” I could hear, or sense, this voice hum in a concentrated process of thought. “They’re good enough. It takes awhile to set up a story.”
“Story?”
“Don’t worry about it.” There was a little titter coming from the voice. “I’ve got you under my protection.”
“...I need protection?” The fact there was a battle dress in this room did sort of confirm there was cause for worry.
“Like I said, don’t worry about it.” As another series of laughter rang out in my skull, I heard it suggest: “Enjoy and show me how you’d play this storyline out.”
“Storyline…?” The thought ran through my mind again. Despite what the voice had suggested, I couldn’t help myself.
“Do I need to go back in there and fiddle around with you some more?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
But it raised a huge red flag and I asked: “What did you do to me?”
“You knew the story. Read it and blasted me with a horrid review.” There was the sound of that voice hocking before it rang out with a spat. “Load of rubbish, really. You had a bird’s eye view and in depth knowledge on every character, but you based the whole affair off of an omnipresent point of view. And I --”
“You placed me here as a character?” That worried me all the more. “Who… wait, am I me?”
“Sorta?” I wondered, ’Did that mean I wasn’t the real me? Like this is an avatar?’ “I mean, I did take you out, as in, there’s no more you to go back to. Not yet. I threw that away and placed what good stuff I found inside one of my creations.”
“Threw away… wait, what? Good stuff?”
“Your mind. Look, don’t worry about this.” In a soothing voice, I heard: “Right here and now, you are you. I won’t take that away. Be you and show me how this story plays out. Your way.”
“This… this isn’t right.” If I could believe this, I was no longer who I used to be and had been inserted into a character that belonged in a novel. “Why… how --”
“I do have to go back in there, don’t I?” I shut right up. “No. Don’t try to hide it now. If this keeps up, you’re going to worry yourself to death.”
The only sense I had of whoever this was entering me was the sudden weight in my mind having increased.
“Please, don’t… don’t take more…” I quieted as the burden became less.
“See? Well, feel. Nothing different about you, just less worry. Isn’t that better?” After it said that, I had to silently admit this lighter sensation was a load off my mind. “I thought so… look, don’t worry. And, yes, you can still feel worried, just not so much. Plus, I have you under my protection. More specifically, you’ve got plot armor.”
“Why --”
“You won’t die, but if you’re careless, a lot of hurt will be coming your way.” I still didn’t like that answer.
It basically told me I had to watch my step while going in blind.
“Yes, but no,” it sorta confirmed. “As I mentioned, this will become Switzerland. See? I’m not throwing you in without some knowledge.”
“I don’t care about that.” I had lost more of who I was, but I still knew this wasn’t the real me. “Who… who was I?”
“A reader.” To explain, it said, “An individual who had the ignorance to tell me what a single person couldn’t possibly have known under certain circumstances. You had the sense and knowledge of their predictable outcome, but your reaction was...”
It was quiet for a time, but I heard a humming in my mind. Then it spoke again.
“In their perspectives, you refused to believe their character.” With the shake of my head, I had shown how unsure I was of what that meant. “These characters had committed actions that had unreasonable reactions. But life is not always logical.”
“I was a harsh critic of your work?” I heard a ’Mhm’ which angered me. “Explaining… oh, Hell. Telling me to shut up would’ve been more preferable than this.”
In a curious tone of voice, it asked: “What do you believe is ’This’?”
I took a crack at what I thought was going on. “You want me to learn a lesson.”
“...Close, but much more than a lesson.” Despite what it had said earlier, this statement worried me a helluva lot more than anything.
Just to be certain, I asked: “Am I being punished?”
“No.” I didn’t believe that, but it went on to say, “I could’ve killed you. Torture was possible. There was plenty of warfare back in those days to have you found in some dung heap or in somebody’s hanging cage. Maybe in the back of a wagon heading for the chopping block?” And to conclude on this statement, I heard it say, “I could have given you plenty of other roles to play in this story. Anyone, but look around. And while you are at it, look over yourself.”
For the most part, I had. If this was the fifteenth century, I was staying in a relatively wealthy establishment. I’d yet to discover if I owned all of this, but it was safe to bet that battle dress was mine. The decorative designs on the velvety curaise had given me the impression that dress was custom made and expensive.
“Yes it was and is.” After a moment of silence, I was about to wander back over to that battle dress. Then it asked: “Have you actually taken the time and seen yourself?”
“I’m in a nightgown.”
“Yes, but I meant about you.” I shook my head in confusion. “Have you inspected yourself?”
“What does it matter? I won’t recognize who I am… on top of not remembering who I was, I don’t know anything about this story.” Now that I had that out there, I asked: “So why should I bother?”
Again, it hummed in a moment of thought. “Okay, you got me there. I should implant some memories.”
“That…” I was choked up for a second. “That would be great.”
And as I comprehend what was about to happen, I had to retreat back to the bed and sit down before I knew more about my fate.
“Hey, I said this wasn’t a punishment. Just enjoy.” I thought, ’As if I have a choice?’ “You do, but please try…” I could’ve been wrong, but I thought I heard it sigh. “Here you go. A fresh background just for you.”
These memories, they weren’t what I had thought it had meant to give me. I had expected to remember my former self, but instead I received the backstory to this character as if I had lived her life.
“Daniella Hafyardottir of Gotland?” It took me a tick or two before I got that I was not Swiss, but I was nobility that belonged to one of the three major kingdoms that made up the Kalmarunionen. It surprised me that I happened to be noble-born. “Why am I…?”
The more I thought about it, the greater these memories fleshed themselves out and up in to the forefront of my mind. I saw who I was and how I came to be here.
And the man who courted me from afar: Baron Rogier Deuchler.
In hesitation, I asked: “Is this someone I am to marry?”
“He will, but… I don’t want to spoil too much, but I can reveal you’re not quite of age.” I hadn’t felt that was a true statement. Once I stood, I knew I was tall. “Of course, you are Norse.” And in response, I rolled my eyes. “Anyways, what will happen between you two is no more than a chaste kiss here and there until the day of the wedding.” I cringed at the thought of wearing a pristine white gown. “Mention a different color?”
“I’d rather not be married?”
“Ah, yes, right, but there’s plenty of time to change that mind.”
“...No?”
“We’ll see, since there is conflict throughout the Empire, you two will not consummate the marriage until he feels you are safely matured.” Again, I heard a humming in my mind as it took time to ponder something. “Maybe a nunnery will keep you well? Sounds reasonable, you’d like that. And when you are capable, the two of you will work on securing an heir for him.”
“Ugh, no. No. And, fuck that: no!” The thought of me carrying a child was enough to cover me with a new series of shivers and goosebumps.
“You realize becoming a mother is an incredible experience?” As if to establish a fact, it said, “ A great joy?”
“That wouldn’t be so great. This is not for me.” Becoming a mother was not a pleasant thought at all. “Look, is there some way I can avoid all of this?”
“Think about the man. He is a good person, but as all do, there are some flaws to be found in everyone.” And I had thought about what this voice stated.
In my mind, I recalled the man was a stubborn dork. On second thought, more like he was impulsive. A man who spoke or acted first and then considered his words or actions after all had been done. As an example, I remembered he had mentioned how well I smelled, but when I heard the Baron’s voice in my head, it sounded like, “Du reek sir gut.” Or something close to that. I believed that was his attempt to speak my language, but that wasn’t it.
That brought another thought to mind: ’I understand German?’ And I somehow comprehended and spoke the Swiss dialect… Among other localized tongues.
What was worse happened to be this entity was right about how old I was: an unlucky thirteen. But when I looked over myself, I saw how tall I happened to be and didn’t feel all that childishly young.
In fact, I felt more than mature enough to do whatever I wished. And since I was more skilled with the sword than my brothers, I was a bit more willful than they ever were to become.
Despite my age, I would have liked to’ve been considered an adult by my peers. But my height and appearance meant little…
“Not an imposing woman.” I shook my head and clarified what I was. “Just a tall girl.”
Then again, I looked down and noted how my breasts were not very big at all. As I looked, I noted the word ’big’ shouldn’t be included in the same line of thought as these frozen muffins. If I were to be a harsh judge, I’d say someone cut a sour lemon in half and stuck the split middles to stick on my chest. Just a pair of hard and bitter bumps with freezing tips.
“Wow, you really are a harsh critic.” After hearing that, I really wished it was possible to glare at this voice.
But a thought occurred to me, and I asked: “If I’m noble, why am I thin?” Before I got educated, I put out a queried my thought: “I thought nobility had food in abundance?”
“You’re young, a girl from the land of ice and snow, and a son takes priority to fatten and grow over a slip of a girl like you.” There was a moment of it humming in thought. “Also, traveling takes a stressful bite out of you. I know some say wandering around the world will pack some meat on your bones, but if you’re living in this time period, it is the other way around.”
Once I had heard that, I had quieted, but wondered, ’What is there to gain in being courted by a baron?’ “Why am I being paired with this creep?”
“A leverage. Baron Deuchler owns the northern pass through the Alps, and your father doesn’t just control several ports in Gotland, but can interfere in any portion of business and transport across the Baltic coasts.” I had to take a moment to remember where that sea was located. If I was right, that was located South-East of Sweden. “Yes. An upset for any relation with Sweden, but also neighboring Denmark, Lithuania, as well the English, French, the Novragods… a lot of powerful people would be very unhappy in the Empire when you marry the Baron.”
“What am I doing in this story?”
“You can go back to sleep?” The suggestion was tempting until I heard: “Your beloved will join you shortly --”
“NO!” I absolutely was not willing to tolerate a shared bed. Especially with a man… “Wait…”
Something wasn’t right. I didn’t feel like this body had fit me before, but now the situation I was presented with had given me a wrong feature on plain display: I wasn’t a girl.
“Why…?” I couldn’t remember who I was, but now I knew what I wasn’t. “This is sick. You want me to live a role as a betrothed noble who’s only duty is to be knocked up?”
“This is the prot--” There was evidence in the noise I heard that it was frustrated. “Don’t think too hard on… I’m not punishing you. I just want an honest...” The voice plagued my mind again with the heavy burden until I felt light once more. “There. Go on, choose whatever you will. It’s your life now.”
What I had been contemplating had somehow derailed and become lost in my mire of thoughts. I still had a sense of wrongness, but I couldn’t place my finger on what subject that might be.
However, I had wondered why I felt this still was some form of punishment.
“...Why did I read your story if I hated it so much?” I had to ask that question.
“You never said... Listen to me, you never hated it.” Now I sensed myself becoming incapable and had to sit down before I fell. All I had done was just listen, and my body had shut itself down in an episode of near anxiety. “Ah, calming down now?" I silently nodded. "Okay, a remark or two on how unbelievably loathsome everyone had become, especially the main characters: male and female leads.” Not entirely understood, but I nodded. “Well, I didn’t hear a good excuse from you why these characters’ actions had lost your immersion.”
“I’m sorry.” In all honesty, I stated: “I don’t remember.”
A sound like air escaping a tiny hole was heard. Not exactly a whistle, but not a quiet sigh either. I thought, ’Maybe it can’t whistle?’
“This is why I literally put you here. You’re immersed in the story like no other had been and allowed everything to be played out as you see, feel, and -- and everything!” This time, it had sighed. “Do you understand? I’m offering you an opportunity to live a life I created and see how I envisioned everything.”
To be sure, I suggestively asked: “What you mean is, I will show you how I truly feel about this story?”
“As Daniella, yes.” I shook my head in rejection. “What is the matter?”
I thought about it, and said, “I don’t want to do this.”
“...May I ask why?”
“As my former self, there was one thing I remember.” I closed my eyes and focused on that very last moment before I woke in this bed. “I want to go home.”
“Do you remember what ’home’ is?” Again, I shook my head. “How could you harbor a want when this might set sail to a better life?”
“Why does that matter? I want something more than to live in this fantasy.” As a fact, I stated: “I don’t know what my life was before coming here, but I know that was real. This is just your imagination.”
“...” Nothing was said in response, but I heard an unusual and unsettling silence in my mind. I couldn’t think clearly.
That decided it for me, and I said, “Enjoy this? I’m not going to be lied to when knowing I had been ripped from a solid truth. You’ve taken and disposed of whoever I once was. How am I supposed to go along with everything if I’m…” As I choked up again, I had to take a moment to find my voice. In a shuddering voice, I stated: “I feel like I am losing my way home the longer you keep me here. I’m lost.”
“I see.” There was a pause, as if it went back into thought, but then started to say, “Wait until after...” I waited to hear more, but instead I had felt the burden on my mind increase once again.
And I felt that lightness doubling in me. As if the sloshing around for a concealed thought was becoming less of an issue as actually having any thought to find.
“Ye-- you’re taking it all. All of me?” I heard no response, so I asked again. “You said I was not going to die, but this... You are going to kill who I was, aren’t you?” I continued to sit on the edge of the bed and wait for an answer. But nothing…
Time passed slowly as I patiently awaited a voice to fill my head.
Very slowly, I worked up the courage to plead one last time. “Please, I want to go home.”
“Do you remember where that is?”
“...No.” I dropped my gaze down to my lap and crossed my hands until I grasped them together in a locked form of a begged prayer. “Please, please… whatever I said, I’m sorry. Please, let me go back home?”
A sigh breezed through my almost empty mind. “I don’t believe you will ever understand that this is not a punishment.” I shook my head again, but didn’t get the chance to question this voice as it said, “Your review was requested. The story? I asked for your opinion.” There was a laugh, but it had not sounded amused. “I gave you a chance to see my world the way I saw it: crazy, insane, and chaotic with all of its life. You told me these people would never behave this way in real life.”
“Please, I want to go --”
“You will.” My breath caught in my throat and I hoped this voice had truly meant what it said. “I promise, there will come a chance for you to return. Not right now.” I was crestfallen. “Once you show me differently. Right now, I am leaving you to --”
“PLEASE!” I tried not to do this earlier, but I screamed my plea.
“...I can’t trust your state of mind. Just watch, and Daniella will... I won’t have her in complete control. She will perform in the manner in which you’d respond. A mimic of your personality. Think of it as a behavioral auto-pilot.”
Something happened to me. I blacked out. It felt like just a second had gone by in silence, but when I came to, I caught the sight of a pale shade of moonlight in the wrong corner. I could have sworn it was aimed at the divider.
With that natural light was how I had inspected the battle dress. But now it had shifted in a different corner of the bedroom. And from that lit up region, I saw a door.
“This is so you may rest, recover, and… in a manner you’ve not become accustomed to yet, watch your life unfold as well.” I wanted to protest, but the burden returned for one last time. “If you remember, I said you won’t die. I gave you my word to protect you. Sleep and dream, enjoy a life unlike you’ve ever experienced before. Until the day I can take you back.” Before I had said a single word, it stated: “Do remember the cherished moments. I want to know your thoughts. When you reach the end of your story, I will take you back.”
“But…?” With my mind being blown further away from my reasoning, it was difficult to latch onto a sound point reason anymore. But then, that might’ve been all I needed and I said as much. “If I couldn’t believe what I read before, then why would I now?”
“I believe I already went over this… Never mind. I know what you are going through is hard on the mind. It takes time. Think of it as getting into shape.” After being ever more confused, I listened as it tried to explain. “Not everything in life is supposed to make sense. As an example: love and hate. You can hate making something happen, but once it is completed; you’d love the result.” The lighter I became, the less I felt the need, let alone capable to ask anymore questions. “That is why you couldn’t be immersed by just reading. See, hear, taste, feel, and live this life as it will be your own is asking too much. Experience the society and interaction with each character one at a time is bordering on a personality disorder. All I ask is give this one life a chance and show me how you’d live.”
A gradual drop onto a soft landing. That was how I felt myself going. I hadn’t fully understood the implications of its last statement, but I hadn’t spoken up about anything anymore.
Not even a thought to ask again.
“I promise.” This voice spoke, but I had no idea who or where it came from. I thought maybe I was dreaming, but I felt awake. “I promise, after this is over, I will take you home.” In just an instant, I was aware of what had happened.
...But I was lost, and yet, I found myself held within a secured comfort: a promise.
With nothing more to lose, I relaxed as I gave in to a new perspective and fell into a role. Someone else’s life.
A character of this story.
In the dark, I stared across my room at the divider. I wondered when and why I had left my bed.
Then I let go of that strange thought as I pondered about the battle dress and why was it dreadfully necessary to bring. There was bound to be no trouble here.
This pass was secured by the baron and his men. A fortified manor that was supported by the nearby contingent of men who’d fought with the Milanese.
A battle would never occur on this pass. Perhaps a skirmish between mountain bandits recovering scraps from the last conflict, but that was all.
As I stood up, I wandered behind the divider and closely inspected the battle dress. “What should I do with this?”
-KNOCK-
In a near fright, I had jumped at the hard knock on the door before realizing there could only be one person warning me of their presence. “Roggie, you may come in.”
A handsome man opened the door to poke his head inside the dark room. I had to wave at him from behind the divider for his attention to be directed my way.
In a brusque voice, I heard his first complaint of the young night. “I dislike that name, you know?”
With mischief, I gave him my response. “I know, but what will you do about it?” And I hid behind the divider in wait.
“Oh, I don’t think…” As I patiently awaited him to finish his response, I was startled by a name from behind me. “Danny!”
“Aaaih!” With a pout, I turned to face him grinning at me from the other end of the divider. “Yooou!”
“Yes, me.” He smiled, but there was a glance here and there around the small space behind the divider. “It’s Rogier, not Roggie.”
Now I understood, and in response, I deflated my pout with a puff of laughter and curved my lips into an open smile at this correction. But I made my own mind up. “Roggie, and in exchange, I’ll be your Danny.”
“Oh?” Before I could take a step back, I was pulled forward by the snatch and grab at my narrow waist and into him. He looked down at me to ask: “Is this how we will come to know each other?”
“This is one way.” Being given the opportunity, I hinted him with another way with the mockery of making furtive glances back at the expansive bed. “Another…?”
“Mhm, I would enjoy the opportune company in becoming more acquainted with you.” As he said that, I was lifted and carried back to bed. “I do not believe I will ever tire of your smell.”
I cringed at that. “Please?”
“What is it?” After I gave him a pleading look, I shook my head at him. “You smell great.”
“I smell?”
“Of course.” He kept his smile, but I wasn’t sure if I could regain mine. But then, he said, “As the soft petals of wool flower are compared to only your touch, you too have a remarkably similar crisp fragrance that fills my heart with warmth in this chilly pass through the mountains.”
He tried, rather hard too. But since I had never encountered a wool flower, I asked: “Will you present one to me?”
“Look outside the window, and you will spot the sparkling whites in the darkness.” When I raised my brow at him questioningly, he clarified: “They grow on the mountain’s cliffs.”
“Bright as the stars?”
Sheepishly, he said, “Not quite that sparkly.” I lost the image, but found it again when he said, “Shines like dewy wool. At dawn, you will see in them the light within this mountain’s shadow.”
That cleared up some confusion, and I kept my smile, but I thought, ’If there’s a shadow, doesn’t that mean all light is being blocked?’ Even if there was morning dew on the flowers, light must still be present to reflect off the wet surface.
...Sometimes, I wasn’t fond of my ability to reason.
Keeping my rationale to myself, I wondered, ’Where can I ensnare a wandering minstrel in this passage to give my sweet and yet hardheaded baron a few lessons?’ I believed they’d picked up a common core rule or two found in the art of poetry.
As he laid me down, and him to follow beside me, I had lost my happy smile. I was unsettled by a worrisome sensation. That I should not belong here.
“Rogier?”
Using his proper name, I saw he had become more serious. I was glad that he had not swayed back to his less chivalrous side, an awkwardness would always follow his comments when that behavior came into the light, but I had to stop this sweet moment.
I asked: “Will I see home again?”
“Of course... after you have just arrived in Sicherheit, why ask?” He had a good question. One that I wasn’t sure how to answer.
But I tried and said, “I miss home.” As he smiled down at me, I returned to gazing back at him happily. “You promise?”
“Yes. If you will have me be your Roggie for awhile longer, one day you and I will return together.” He set down a light peck on my lips and whispered. “I promise, we will visit your home. Now, shall we find peace while it is still night?”
With a return mischief, I suggestively asked: “Won’t you play with me first?” A slightly reproachful look had been casted down upon me. As to explain, I said, “What is that look for?” That look of disapproval from him had a knowing smirk. “I had only thought… since you’ve shown to have the strength and spirit to lift me and mine as you pleased, it would be reasonable to tire ourselves first, and we should have fun before slipping under and into retirement.”
He laughed, lightly shook his head, and softly rubbed the tip of his nose against mine. “No. I’ve a mind to wake early…” His lips brushed over my brows before he whispered, “When we know happiness together, I will welcome any suggestion and accept anything you wish on a night such as this.”
A tilt up and tiny peck on his lips later, I asked: “And if I return home without you?”
“Are you unhappy?” In the same manner as he had done earlier, shook my head and wiggled my nose against his. We equally smiled at this moment, but he asked: “What then?”
“I’ve…” I was afraid if I were to say what was on my mind out loud would bring all the misfortunate thoughts straight to us, but I tried. “I know what is out there. I’ve seen the Empire tear itself apart, the Angenevin had been sundered in half and are being ripped away from the mainland, the Church has divided into three, and --”
“Danny, I will continue to watch over you until the two of us stand together and our eyes meet at a fair height on equal ground.” Once again, I restrained myself from asking him what he meant by that.
Instead of pushing for him to speak more clearly, I contemplated on the supposed point he tried to make. And I believed he meant to say he’d protect me until I grew up and saw what he could see.
For that, I gave him a smiling peck on his full lips and folded my slender arms around his thick neck and broad shoulders. But in a case I would take too literally, I had wondered, ’I am already so tall, so wouldn’t I look down on him?’
With a bit of amusement, I voiced my concern, “I may outgrow you.”
“In height or width?” Before I could respond with incredulity at his suggestive comment, he pinched my hip and ribs. “‘Come breakfast, I will fatten you up.”
“Yoooummph!” His lips silenced mine. It wasn’t a peck, but no more than laid there to share a warmth of our breath.
When we broke from our comfortable serenity, he stated: “I’ll be with you ‘till the end.”
Before we retired for the night, I smiled at his answer and pulled myself closer into his embrace.
The thoughts of home still remained in my mind. I’d miss the familiarity, but I had been beyond our borders for so long that I wasn’t certain I remembered what that was like. I thought, and wondered: ’Perhaps I have traveled for far too long?’
That was perhaps what I missed: what a home was like.
After all this time sailing around coasts, traveling in coach, rowed up and down the rivers, and riding over mountains; I no longer knew what I considered home.
In silence, I thought, ’Maybe I’ll find it here?’
