Chapter Text
She brought the letters with her in a bundle tied with twine. Each envelope was worn and wrinkled until they had become like soft leather to the touch, and the pages of each letter fell open at the folds, so very fragile. The edges where her fingers held them as she read had worn down, and many of them were speckled with long-dried tearstains from the nights where she would pull them out and her heart would break again and again. Jane would be the first to admit that doing so was inherently masochistic, borne from a very silly selfishness. After all, she was not the only one who received letters from Dirk, or from anyone back in Derse. These two years had been filled with much correspondence. But they were very special letters, for out of all the things they could be, they were personal above all else; there were jokes tucked neatly into discussions of foreign affairs, rambling accounts of the mundane told in the most outrageous of metaphors, and sometimes a thought or two appeared for her to mull over. Every time she read the letters, she found something new to appreciate in them, and she would never dare to leave them behind. She felt as if they were pieces of Dirk himself.
This, of course, would be very concerning to those who loved Jane, so she did her best not to make her pining obvious. On this trip of hers, with only Jake to accompany her, she kept the letters at the bottom of her carpet bag, not daring to retrieve them. Just knowing they were there was comfort enough. That being said, it would be nice to read them soon.
The autumn winds blew colder in the north than she ever remembered, but then again, Jane had not been to Crocker Hall in a long time. It stood before the Princess and the Duke in the driver’s bench of their little caravan – a villa built to weather winters that had only somewhat begun to dilapidate. The lanws were overgrown with blue asters and littered with a decade’s worth of autumn leaves, this years’ layer still brilliant upon the trees around the house. Around them were rolling hills in which they used to scamper and roll, where the sky went on forever above their heads.
Jake wrinkled his nose. “I always thought this place was bigger. Wasn’t it bigger?”
“I don’t think a building can shrink,” Jane said. “We’re the ones who’ve grown, Jake.” He whistled at that, standing up from the bench and shielding his eyes from the sun.
“She’s still a beaut, though! Such a grand old thing, don’t you think?” Jake lept from the wagon and ran towards it. “We should give her the old one-two fix up. A bit of paint and a spit shine and she could be good as new!”
Jane snorted and climbed down after him. Jake had gotten so much taller, and she knew there was no way she could match his stride, but she wanted to try anyway. Gathering her skirt in her hands, Jane began to run. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s no way we could make this old home as good as new by the time Roxy arrives. We’ll have to settle for passable and make due.”
“I mean for the future,” He called back. Jake was already at the door, jiggling the handle experimentally. “Can’t you see spending more time up here again? Summers at least, they are positively beastly everywhere else!” There was a click, and the door creaked open, much to Jake’s amazement. He hurried inside, an exclamation surely on the tip of his tongue, but when Jane reached the doorframe, all she saw was a dark room, and she stuck her head inside only to flinch when Jake sneezed something fierce.
“Are you okay?” She called, and something fluttered. A hand pulled back a curtain, letting sunlight spill into the room, its colors muted by a thick coating of dust, and at the curtain stood Jake, sniffling and snuffling as the air around him danced with motes.
“Never better-” Jake began but he sneezed again, the force shaking more dust from the curtain. Jane hurried inside to guide him out by the shoulders.
“Maybe you should clean up a bit outside,” She suggested, “And I’ll get this room ready, at least. We can spend a night or two sleeping on the floor, it shalln’t hurt.”
“But Jane-”
“No buts, buster! Really, by the sound of things you’re going to sneeze yourself to death if you stay inside!” She pointed to the bramble around the house. “Please try to make this look somewhat presentable, okay? I think it might be a good idea to pull the caravan closer, but we can’t if all of this is in the way. Can I count on you to do that?”
Jake’s mouth moved, and he looked from the villa to the front with the kind of bewilderment a dog might have, but finally he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “If you insist,” He said, and trudged off to begin. “But the minute you need a hand-”
“I’ll holler for you, I promise,” Jane said, and she ducked back into the villa. She wanted to close the door to keep Jake from sticking his stuffy nose inside, but if she was going to clean this room, she was going to do it right, and airing it out would be a good start.
They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Roxy, Jane thought, foggy memories leading her to where the cleaning supplies had been kept. They were still there, a bit dingy themselves, but it was a relief to know that nothing had changed here. But yes, through wobbling words and misspelled coaxing, Roxy had convinced Jake that perhaps it was a good idea to go up to the old house again, ‘relive sum majyky kiddie memories’ as one letter put it. Of course, they agreed. Roxy hadn’t been quite right when the Cherubs died, and most of what was really going on with her they heard from Rose, who frequented between the two countries the most, acting as an ambassador as well as spending quite a bit of time acquainting herself with Prospit, Kanaya at her side. “It’s not a stretch to say she’s hiding her alcoholism,” Rose confided in Jane once, “But it would be a lie to say that she’s adept at it. It’s like she’s trying to drown herself in bourbon and rum, and she won’t tell anyone why.” Perhaps the week they decided to spend in the villa, just the three of them, would help Roxy shatter the wall that she had built from empty bottles inside of her – but it would have to be habitable first.
In many ways, even after two years of learning her station and taking the mantle of leadership, Jane was still a maid at heart. She found herself waking early and readying herself for the day, often shrugging off assistance from servants unless she was in absolute need of help, like if she was sick. That was why cleaning the entry room of the villa came so easily to her; from dusting the ceiling to sweeping the floors, there was not a trick she had forgotten, and it was nice to see the warm tones instead of green and felt when things were clean. But there was so much to do! Jane went from section to section, emptying a bookshelf here, beating out a rug there, and throwing open every window she came across until their curtains were a heap on the floor and the room was as bright as it had been in her memories. The wallpaper had yellowed and the upholstery of the couches and chairs held a dubious musty smell, but those were not troublesome things, and most certainly not an issue for a weeklong stay. There might have been something to Jake’s suggestion, though – to make a summer home out of this place. It wouldn’t be very convenient for diplomatic business, no, but everyone needed a break sometimes, right? And if everyone did their part, then everyone could use it, royal and noble alike.
Just thinking about all the cleaning and renovations that would mean made Jane’s growing aches worse, and she set that thought aside for another time.
A sense of time had escaped Jane by the time she came to the last piece of the sitting room. It was off to one side in a corner, and the sun’s rays fell in such a way that they began to stretch towards it, making even its dusty cover sparkle. She removed it as carefully as possible and dragged it to rest with the curtains, for Jane remembered what this was. By all outward appearances, it looked to be an ornate table with a matching bench placed in a room for no other purpose than to look nice. After she made sure it was clear of dust, however, Jane opened its top, revealing a row of keys and its stringed innards. On the inside of the cover a scene had been painted in gold leaf and still-vibrant pigments, something she now recognized as the Palace of Prospit. It was a clavichord, and it had held up remarkably well these ten years, for there was not any sort of marring that she could see on the wood, and a gentle plunk of a key or two revealed that it was still tuned well. Never perfectly, but then again, Calliope hadn’t been good at that or at playing.
But Jane had loved to play the clavichord as a little girl. It had come naturally to her, and now that she was wiser she could wonder if, at any point in her past incarnations, she had picked up the skill. It was a silly idea, yes, though she did not see why she couldn’t investigate it. Even now her fingers itched to dance along the keys, smooth and nimble as no one else could be. There hadn’t been a clavichord in the House of Lords in Derse. She might be out of practice, but she wouldn’t know that unless she gave it a go, now would she?
Relief spread through Jane’s body in a tingling wave when she sat down, and she inhaled, fingers positioning themselves above the keys. When she exhaled – that was when the music began. There was something tottering and whimsical about the song that came forth, like a carnival passing through a town, or some silly tune that children sing as they walk home from school, and though here and there she missed a key or hit some notes that did not seem to fit, it still felt good to play. Maybe they could bring the clavichord back with them, when they left. Maybe she could teach someone in the Palace to play, too. John, perhaps. As if she needed an excuse to be with her brother when they had so many state affairs to tend to-
Someone was knocking to the tune of the song. Jane stopped short, and a flush bloomed from her neck to her cheeks; she had forgotten for a moment that there was a world beyond the sunlit room. She turned, ready to usher Jake back outside, but when Jane looked there was no figure in the doorway. If her cousin really was there, he would have lingered. Curious as always, Jane rose from the bench. “Hello?” But no one answered. It would be smarter to stay inside and find something to defend herself with, for an abandoned villa in the middle of the wilderness was bound to attract some sketchy folk, but Jane hurried forward. Even if that was an inkling in her head, she wasn’t afraid of some nutter in her childhood home, for she had known real monsters.
With a hand on the doorframe she leaned out. Her caravan was a ways away, and if there was something else it was obscured by the trees and bushes. There was a rustling beside her, and a hundred somethings brushed her cheek. Jane caught blue in the corner of her eye, and she turned. For the briefest of moments her vision was nothing but blue aster flowers, her nose in a bouquet of suns with rays like the sky. Then they pulled back, and a face revealed itself, and there was wind in the trees but none of it whistled in Jane’s ears as it blew, none of it could compare to the beat of her heart.
Lips parted. A thumb came up and wiped the bridge of her nose on impulse. “Oh. Sorry, got some pollen on you there-”
She reached out and grabbed his wrist, and his eyes flickered behind those ridiculous spectacles, unmarred and dim. His jaw had sharpened with age, though she couldn’t quite explain how she could tell. He’d gotten taller, by an inch at least, and perhaps a tad broader about the shoulders, and the more Jane looked the warmer her chest became. “…Dirk?”
He smiled; not a half smile, not like before, but something small and easy. “That’s my name, Jane, don’t wear it out.”
His words snapped Jane from her stupor, and she pulled his wrist down, pulled him closer, looked at him long and hard with an ever-deepening frown. “How in the – what are you doing here?!” She exclaimed, and she turned around wildly. “I never mentioned – you never mentioned-”
“Whoa, whoa, hold on a second.” Dirk pulled his wrist back. There was a twitch to his face, a struggle not to appear surprised. “This is totally not how a reunion is supposed to go. I was all prepared for you to leap in and hug me.” He tilted his head. “You’re not happy to see me?”
“Of course I’m happy!” How could he ever think she wasn’t? Was it the frown? It was probably the frown. “But consarn it, Dirk, I want some answers! We haven’t heard a thing from each other outside of letters, and now you show up out of the blue?”
“It’s not really out of the blue,” Dirk said, and he pointed behind Jane. She turned, her eyes widening as she spotted a new caravan, just as small as hers and Jake’s. Speaking of her cousin, he had been drawn to it immediately, and chatted amiably with a form that swayed on the driving bench that might have been Roxy. “Like you can really let Ro-lal travel anywhere on her own these days.” When Jane turned back to Dirk, his smile had relaxed, and he bumped his fist to her shoulder. “Or have a party without me. That right there is an offense to our alliance, Jane, I think it breaks the ‘No Rad Bro Left Behind’ Clause. Do you really want to risk screwing the pooch on that one?”
Oh, it had been too long since she’d heard one of Dirk’s tangents and not been subjected to read it. Jane couldn’t help but smile. “Now, now, it’s not a party. We would take care to invite you if it were. But…thank you, I suppose. For making sure she came to us safely. Can I assume you’ll be staying to bring her home?”
“You got it. Man, haven’t lost that edge of yours at all, have you?” He held out the blue asters to her once more, taking care not to shove the bouquet in her face. “By the way, uh. Since I’m technically barging into your house uninvited, I thought I should bring a gift. It’s kind of last-minute.” Jane chuckled at that, taking the flowers gratefully.
“That’s alright. They’re lovely, thank you.” She sniffed them before holding them close. “Would you…like to come inside?”
He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Oh hell yeah. Rox built this place up the whole trip. I have been thoroughly convinced that I missed out on the ultimate childhood.” And he followed Jane inside, steps slow as she parted from him to find a vase. That old love thrummed in her anew, like the strings in a clavichord that was a little out of tune, but Jane had lived two years pretending that there was no reverberation, and was confident that she could hide it. “You ever think about stuff like that though?”
“Like what?” Jane asked. She went to the bookcase, briefly remembering a white, fluted vase among the knickknacks.
“Like if things had been different.” Dirk had wandered by the pile of curtains, toeing the dusty fabric with mild interest. “If we’d met earlier. Like, what if I went with Roxy when she first jumped through the Void to get here? What if the four of us grew up together?”
Fingers brushed porcelain, and Jane plucked the little vase from the shelf, just managing to put the bouquet in its mouth. Water would have to come later. “I imagine we would be quite the motley crew,” Jane said, and she went to the clavichord and placed the vase on a corner. She could have put it on a table, but it was only here that the light slanted just right, casting a gold sheen on all it fell upon. “But it’s also very unlikely that we would be as we are now.”
Footsteps approached. “And what’s that, exactly?”
Jane turned. Dirk wasn’t right behind her, but he was close enough for her heart to flutter. “Why, free of course.”
It took her a moment to realize that he had stilled, and though she could not see his eyes she could feel them upon her, a gentle sort of gaze that lingered as if it had fallen there by chance. How his eyes could be a force she did not know. “Is something wrong?” Jane asked.
Dirk shook himself, just slightly. “Hm? Nah, no, I spaced out for a second. It’s been a long trip.” He drew closer and stopped in front of the clavichord, brushing the keys with the tips of his fingers. “That and the sun caught on this something fierce. Prospit never fails to surprise me when it comes to the beautiful things it’s had hidden away.”
There was a prickly sort of warmth in Jane’s chest, and she eyed him as he experimentally plunked a key. He hadn’t been looking at the clavichord until this moment, of that she was sure, but what did he need to cover himself up for? She dared not presume to know why. “Doesn’t Derse have things like this?” She asked. He nodded.
“Oh, of course. No doubt this is probably Derse made, you can tell by how the wood’s been carved.” He pointed to the painting on the inside of the lid. “But paintings in Derse don’t really look like this.” Dirk leaned forward, using his other hand to lean on the bench as he examined the piece, and Jane sat down to get a closer look herself. “I guess it doesn’t matter who made it, though. Just that it was made well so it could be played well.”
Now that was something Jane could suppose was flattery, as Dirklike in its delivery as anything, and she couldn’t help but feel like he was avoiding something. His words and movements were sure, but it was what he spoke of that rubbed her wrong. Jane leaned closer. “Dirk…surely you didn’t come all this way to compliment me. I want you to be frank with me about why you’ve come to visit now.”
Dirk sighed. He took off his spectacles and hung them from the collar of his shirt, and if Jane had not known him before, she would have never thought his eyes could be dark or tired, for now they were bright and alert. “You really don’t want to go back and forth for a little longer?” He asked, “Were you not having fun?”
“I was having fun,” Jane said, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “But think about how I feel for a moment. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of each other in over two years, and it’s not like I never extended the opportunity for you to visit!” Her hands scrunched up, catching fistfuls of her skirt. “Prospit and Derse are supposed to be on good terms now, but whenever there’s an event at hand, the only person who comes is Rose – not that it’s not lovely to see Rose,” She added, “And not that I wouldn’t love to see everyone else again! But I…”
And this was where it was hard, where something selfish balanced on the tip of her tongue. A ruler couldn’t really be selfish, Princess or otherwise. They couldn’t afford that kind of longing, not when they had people to care for who needed things that were far more important. But in that moment Jane was weak, and it was better to be so here than in her past or future, but she did not know that.
“I’ve missed you,” Jane said, and she hung her head.
The bench creaked softly. Then it groaned, and Dirk’s upper arm brushed her shoulder. His hand came to rest between them.
“…I’ve missed you, too.”
“Then why did you never visit?”
“I wasn’t ready.”
“What could you possibly have to be ready for?” Jane asked, and her head came up, eyes meeting Dirk’s; the sun’s light made them all the more fiery, all the more strong. Her breath hitched.
“Dunno if you’d believe me if I told you,” He said, and for a moment Jane thought the world was white and blue and empty save for them. Her hands relaxed, though her grip had left deep wrinkles on her skirt.
“Oh…gosh, I don’t know,” she said despite herself, “I think I’d be willing to believe most anything at this point.”
He quirked an eyebrow then, and took a deep breath, the kind that pulls a body up and then lets it drop when it’s exhaled. “I…felt like I had to be ready,” Dirk said slowly, “Before I could see you at all.” His eyes slid closed, as if the only way he could speak his mind was if he did not look at her. “It’s dumb. I had it in my head that I had to figure out how I felt about you after…you know, everything happened. And if I didn’t know, then it wasn’t right to come when you called.”
Something dropped inside of Jane, it was either the bottom of her stomach or her pounding heart, but she could not discern which. She remembered that day in the hay loft of her stables. She remembered many days, particularly when it rained, returning to listen to the pitter patter just above her head. “So…you know, now?”
“Yeah. Just now.” Dirk shook his head. “Deciding to come was more like an impulse. I was fed up with dicking around about it and thought, fuck it, I miss her, I’m going. Might’ve pissed off a few people when I didn’t mention that I was bailing for a while, but hey, they have their issues and I have mine-”
“Dirk, please,” Jane said, and one of her hands came to rest on his in a gesture of comfort, “Don’t do this again. Just tell me what you’re feeling-”
“But that’s the problem!” His hand curled into a fist under hers. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so many things in one day before, and it’s worse that I know exactly what they are and exactly where they come from.” Dirk paused to heave another breath, eyes flickering open. He looked so young, and Jane’s hand curled tighter around his. “I’m…I’m fucking terrified, Jane, but I know it’s only going to get worse if I don’t spit it out.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “Fuck me, I’m not ready at all. I shouldn’t have done this.”
Jane looked at him in bewilderment. He made no sense, this Prince, and his distress was less cute and more concerning. “If saying it’s the problem,” She tried, “Why not express how you feel some other way? Write it down!”
“Oh hell no, I don’t trust writing it either,” Dirk said, and he laughed without smiling. “But I could definitely express it another way. Just – just hold still, okay? And close your eyes. If you’re looking at me, I don’t think I can do it.”
After a quick glance and a flickering doubt, close them she did. “Um, okay, sure. Whatever helps you feel better-”
It was quick and soft, but something pressed against Jane’s lips, and her eyes popped open immediately as a thrill shook her to her very core. At first she couldn’t tell what was in front of her, and then the something on her lips moved, pulling away to reveal pinkening cheeks and eyes that searched for a reaction. Jane felt hot from head to toe, and she pressed her hands to her face, bowing her head, shoulders shaking.
“Oh, shit-” Hands came to rest on her arms, then they pulled back, as if they thought better of it. “Jane, I’m sorry, I am so fucking sorry-” He was babbling again, and Jane tried so very hard to keep her breaths even and calm, but even then they came in little puffs, and when his hands finally took her shoulders she looked up at him. Her eyes shined, polished stones in a red face.
“No – no, don’t apologize,” She said, “It felt – it was lovely!” But there was no way it could be for real, she had to know – “But why? You can’t…you don’t…”
“Why ‘can’t’? Why ‘don’t’?” There had been panic in his expression, and now it melted back into something that was too hard to be indifference or calm, but by gum did it try. Jane could barely breathe.
“I thought – Jake,” She said, and he shook his head vehemently.
“I thought so too, for the longest time,” He admitted. “But Jake…I never really knew him, did I? I creeped on him, yeah, and there’s definitely something there when I look at him, but that probably never would’ve happened. Or, maybe it would’ve, but knowing me I’d probably cajole him into it. Make him feel obligated. And if things had kept on as they were, maybe I would’ve done that and found out about you, and it would’ve been nothing but a bad end for everybody. But that didn’t happen.” A hand came to tip her chin up, a thumb pressed just below her lip. “And you were the only one who cared to know me. To save me, and everyone else-”
Jane’s heart sunk, and she shook her head, trying to pry herself from Dirk’s grasp. “You don’t owe me for that, I don’t deserve-”
“-It’s not about owing and it’s certainly not a matter of who deserves what,” Dirk said; his words were flame and fury and passion in a way that Jane had never heard. “It’s about knowing every day that passes hurts you because I’m the only Goddamn thing you’ve held yourself back from all this time, and it’s about wanting to kiss you the moment I came back to life because you put my fucking soul back together and didn’t ask for a thing in return, Jane, anyone else would’ve demanded a kingdom for something like that!” And now he shook, for he had abandoned all attempts to keep himself in check, alone with her. That was what struck Jane the most, and perhaps that was what helped make everything fall into place when he said, “I admire you, Jane, and I’m pretty sure that’s why I love you.”
The room had grown dim. Jake and Roxy would surely join them soon. Jane knew this, and yet it did not matter. Her hands had fallen into her lap, and everything ached and shook to such a point that all she wanted was to be held and to breathe, to let the feeling pass, but at the same time she clutched it close, unsure of what to make of it. What was it you did when someone loved you back?
Well, Jane thought, she wouldn’t know unless she gave it a go, now would she?
“Dirk,” She said, “Could I…ask you to do something for me?”
His grip loosened, and the passion in his voice faded, as if he expected rejection. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”
She swallowed hard. “Don’t move. And…close your eyes.”
When she looked at him, his eyes had closed, and his mouth had curled into that easy smile. It did not seem quite right on his face, not like his smirk, but in time it could grow on him. Goodness knows he needed happiness. “Yes ma’am.”
Outside, there was a world that lay quiet, a day that few would think significant, but in that moment Jane caught Dirk’s lips with hers before he said another word, and though there was no magic spell that broke, no rolling wave of pearly pink that fell upon the lands of Prospit and Derse, from then on all was different.