Chapter Text
Trixie kept to her own bedroom, and the main room in Violet’s quarters as she grew accustomed to being left behind.
Outside, the sun was bright and cheerful. She could hear birdsong wafting through the windows. Ignoring her pitiful requests for the reverse, Kim insisted on keeping them open for her.
“If my lady refuses to take in the fresh air by her own volition,” she would say, with exasperation and concern in equal measures. “It’s my duty as a friend to bring the air to her .”
Trixie’s only desire was to sit in the feeling of missing Katya, to the point of silencing the part of her that otherwise would not hesitate to berate her about how utterly ridiculous it was to live like a ghost, refusing to speak to another living soul or enjoy nature in the full splendour of spring. She became devoted to wallowing in misery in a way she never had allowed herself before, wryly thinking that she may have been better off crying over her every unhappiness when it first arose so she could have more practice in it.
Valentina called on her one morning, more contrite in her demeanour than Trixie had thought possible for her. She requested to see her alone, and Trixie agreed to it. Valentina may have been nasty in the past, but Trixie felt like she could handle whatever she chose to throw at her in her present state of mind.
There was no need to handle much of anything, though; Valentina proved to be on her best behaviour. She apologized for her indelicate treatment since, now that Trixie had been left quite alone, it seemed as though she might not have posed as much of a threat as Katya’s own willfulness. In her opinion, Katya had delighted in captivating both her and her poor, poor brother (who was already looking through eligible princesses for a more suitable bride, having learned the folly in attempting to harness a wild creature) only to abandon them when it struck her fancy.
“Not all common girls are like that, of course,” she said, while an uninterested Trixie exerted herself enough to maintain polite eye contact as she spoke. “But I do believe the character of the girl needs to be taken into account before one tries to work a miracle. Some people were simply not made to be royalty, regardless of how much help they receive. It’s simply not that easy, and being born beautiful does not a princess make.”
Thankfully, Valentina hadn’t taken the trouble to visit just to share her views on the requirements of royalty, or to flatter Trixie by suggesting she would have made a better candidate for a royal marriage. She had come into possession of Katya’s miniature, as it had been rejected by the fugitive’s would-be groom, and wished to present it to her as a gesture of goodwill.
“After all,” she explained. “You loved her the most.”
Trixie accepted it gratefully, though upon opening its case she found that the artist had not captured her fully. She had nothing to remember Katya by otherwise, so this would have to do.
After some days, she received a visit from Adore. The time had come for her to return to the sea, and she was on a quick farewell tour. She refused to leave without first presenting her dearest friends with tokens of her affection, even if they insisted on becoming hermits.
Trixie had to receive her. There was no knowing if they would ever meet again, and Adore had been a bright enough presence in her life to deserve that much. She bid Trixie not to miss her too much, leaving her with a glittering seashell affixed to a chain. If she could hear the sea when she held the shell to her ear, she would know Adore was well. She may even hear her sing, but Adore wasn’t too well-versed with the full capabilities of Trixie’s new trinket. She asked her to try speaking into it once in a while, in case the sound of her voice could reach her. She asked this of every lady she gave this type of pendant to.
They shared a warm hug, and parted ways. Trixie hung the chain around her neck. She found pressing the charm to her ear soothing, and would listen into it for hours while she remained stuck in her doldrums.
***
Kim soon resumed her original role as the princess’ chief dressmaker. She did not need to travel, she had built strong enough relationships to know where she could have the materials she needed sent for by then, but she was required to get back into the business of outfitting Her Royal Highness. The warm months brought on a need for an entirely new wardrobe, and as kind as Violet had been in giving leave for Kim to attend to Trixie, she could not go without just because one of her ladies was struck down by a lingering fit of heartache.
Being a person who was truly devoted to her work, this suited Kim greatly. However much she loved Trixie, she itched to serve her true purpose in her princess’ entourage. Trixie had neither the right, nor the desire to object. She had always liked watching Kim work, and took to sitting with her to pass the time. Though she was no longer any help, Kim would say that it was a vast improvement from her fast-paced lifestyle as a sad creature who only left her bed to sit on a sofa, and could not be relied on to eat three square meals a day if left to her own devices.
She carried Katya’s picture with her wherever she went. It hurt to look at her, but she felt better if her picture was nearby.
Violet finalized her engagement, and threw a small party in her quarters to celebrate. By then, Trixie was beginning to grow tired of moping, so she dusted herself off and made an appearance. Pearl had resolved to put on a brave face, and to be grateful that she was not obliged to part with Violet if she did not wish to.
Her mood suited Trixie’s, and the two found solace in each other as the evening went on. They both found the future uncomfortable to contemplate, so they spoke only of fond memories they shared, allowing silence to settle between them if they ran out of positive thoughts to share.
In time, Pearl found her way back to Violet’s side. They spoke softly, hands clasped, heads together.
Fame filled the empty space Pearl had left beside her. She had been monitoring Trixie closely in her own way, to make sure she was surviving well enough. Trixie informed her that she was as well as she could be.
“I’m glad to see you among us,” said Fame. “You have been missed.”
Trixie smiled.
“I intend to spend more time among the living,” she replied. “Keeping myself company is getting dull, I don’t make very lively conversation nowadays. I fear I might be mistaken for a palace ghost.”
“I think I heard someone whisper about a jilted lady haunting the halls,” said Fame.
“Must be another lady, I only haunt these rooms.”
Fame had no news of Katya, could only confirm that she had been given up for lost by the administration. It seldom happened that a lady escaped their care like this, but the main concerns when it did occur was conveying their regret to any injured royal parties and ensuring that the situation was framed as the actions of one foolish girl. The Academy as an entity would only concern itself with its own image. Katya mostly took her own belongings, and though Ginger was employed by the Academy, everyone knows that it is a fae’s prerogative to act as a free agent if she sees fit. A horse went missing from the stables, but replacing it was a simple matter. There was no danger of the fugitives being hunted by the Academy in the end.
Trixie nodded, and told Fame that she was glad to hear any information she was able to provide. In truth, she did not feel much better, but she appreciated the gesture.
She asked Fame if it was within a fae’s power to magically put her heart back together, just to ease her curiosity. Fame replied that it was doable, but not advisable.
“Emotions have a strong self-preservation instinct,” she said. “They would surely return, more devastating than when you last parted.”
She was advised to let her feelings run their course. There was nothing else she could do.
***
Trixie grew accustomed to the dull ache inside of her. She remembered what a loyal friend solitude had been throughout her life, and was resolved to be as good to it as it had been to her going forward. She had no hope of finding the kind of companionship she had lost again in her life. She had to get used to that, let her skin turn to steel.
She started helping Kim with her sewing again, jokingly offering her services as a permanent assistant if she was truly desperate. She hadn’t expected Kim to respond that she would be welcome to assume such a role if she pleased, but did not take it seriously enough to give a solid answer.
She picked up her instruments for the first time after weeks and weeks of depression. It was like getting reacquainted with an old friend, and she soon felt some cheer creep back into her life.
Wandering the halls aimlessly also became a favourite pastime. It was decent exercise, and if Trixie walked briskly enough she could forget her troubles for a moment. When she ventured outdoors, she avoided the lake, and found a new favourite place in the East Woods. They tended to be less crowded than the West Woods, for there was no remarkable beauty to be found in them unless one squinted. Sometimes, Pearl would join her and they would walk together, arm in arm.
Lately, their conversation had been focused on how odd it was that they had heard nothing from their mother since about Midwinter. She was not a prolific correspondent, but she had regularly sent small updates on the house, the surrounding village, how proud she was of Pearl, and her own well-being.
Trixie paid little attention to the content of these missives, as she was seldom addressed directly. Being caught up in love, and the loss thereof, had taken up too much of her attention to notice that letters had stopped coming. Thus, Pearl was the only one out of the pair of them who could find it in her heart to worry. She speculated aloud about the reason for this loss of communication, while Trixie listened. There was an appropriateness to discussing their family affairs in the middle of the woods, where a passing squirrel might be entertained by their little domestic drama.
“If Papa died, our cousin may have established himself at home and sent Mama away somewhere,” Pearl said, with a hushed voice and furrowed brows.
Trixie frowned. “Cousin Edward? Was that his name?”
“I believe it was Edwin,” said Pearl. “Or Edgar. In any case, if Mama’s silence means she has been put out of the house, we are effectively homeless.”
“You mean I am effectively homeless,” Trixie insisted. “You have little to worry about. Your place at court is secure, I can’t be so certain of mine.”
Pearl distracted herself for a moment by watching a small bird hop about from branch to branch above them.
“You are not the least bit concerned about Mama, are you?”
Trixie sighed. “I have very few feelings left altogether.”
“I guess you have always been a little heartless,” Pearl muttered.
She blanched, then, eyes wide.
“I don’t mean it in an insulting way,” she added, hastily. “I can imagine how you came to be so. Gosh, I must have sounded awful. What I meant to say is that no matter how tender your heart is, you have never been very open about it—”
Trixie waved her hand.
“Pearl, don’t worry,” she said. “I am heartless in regards to our mother. But the situation is truly concerning.”
“Even if Cousin Edbert has established himself as master of our house, he must be well-bred enough to send us a note about it. Just so that we know,” said Pearl.
Trixie snorted. “I wouldn’t say so, our family breeds terrible men.”
“But it breeds good women,” said Pearl. “If anything has happened, I will make sure you are taken care of. No matter what I have to do, my dear little sister will not be homeless.”
Trixie stopped them for a while so she could face her, and tenderly brush a lock of hair from her face. She let any cutting words about how they were twins, and that she was hardly little, die before they could make it out of her mouth. It was not the time for sass.
***
It did not take long for Trixie and Pearl to receive news from home, and though it was not as dire as they had imagined, all was not well. Their father had taken the time to write to them, confirming that he had not passed, but according to his account their mother had been ill for quite some time. She had not wanted to disturb them, much less Her Royal Highness, but her condition was not improving with time, as they had hoped it would.
The house was falling into disarray, as Papa was struggling with the demands of running a household while maintaining his rakish lifestyle. He wished for at least one of his daughters to return home, and to help tend to their mother. The servants needed direction, and only a woman could concern herself with domestic matters.
Of course , he wrote, your Mama would be glad to see her darling Pearl again if HRH Princess Violet can spare her, but as far as I am concerned you would both be capable of assuming this duty, so it makes no difference to me if Beatrice wishes to return in her stead.
There was no question of Pearl leaving Violet’s side, not when she was still in need of a companion abroad. She had been the one Violet had wanted to begin with, there was no reason Trixie should be left behind when Pearl’s company was more precious to her. Pearl had her own sort of chivalry, though, and the two of them nearly ended up in a screaming match over which of them would be forced to leave.
“Mama has never treated you as she ought to,” cried Pearl, in her valiant attempt to spare Trixie of what she thought was too horrible an ordeal for her to bear. “I do not wish to see you abused.”
“What could a sick woman possibly do to hurt me?” Trixie replied.
She excused herself to take the air before Pearl could be compelled to raise her voice, making sure to look Violet in the eye and proclaiming that Pearl would not be going home, before leaving. She was resolute, could not be convinced of a more logical course than to be the one to care for her mother whether the woman could find it in her to be grateful or not.
It was time for Trixie to mentally prepare herself to leave the Academy, a feat more difficult than she had thought. Her heart no longer had an anchor there, but it was still a place where she had found happiness, brief as it had been. At the very least she would have to say goodbye to as much of it as she could reach, like Adore had when she felt her departure approaching.
Trixie would have less time to do that than her friend had before her. News of their mother had reached the castle with their morning post, and it was scarcely high noon before her wanderings were cut short by Fame’s sudden appearance. Though she normally favoured lavender hues, Fame had come to her dressed head-to-toe in black.
“Her Majesty the Queen requires your presence,” she said, holding out her hand for Trixie to take.
***
Violet greeted her small household with the bearing of a queen, and a slight, but unmistakable redness around her eyes. Her voice never wavered as she informed them that it was time for all of them to go home. The throne was waiting for her.
Trixie lingered long enough after the address to catch sight of their new queen falling into Pearl’s arms before going to pack her things.
The king’s death effectively settled the argument of which sister would return to their mother. As far as anyone had known, the king had been in perfect health before he was carried off by a sudden bout of illness overnight. Violet needed her closest friends as she adjusted to her role sooner than she had expected, and she needed Pearl more than ever. As much personal power as she had gained in her father’s passing, Violet had loved him. As the queen’s woman, Pearl could not leave her.
Farewell messages were dispatched to the ladies that could not be left without a word, and the royal party was soon on their way home. Trixie recalled the journey to the Academy taking several days, yet their return was somehow a matter of hours. Fame had not given them the choice to remain awake this time around, requesting that they all let her induce them to sleep. Perhaps that had something to do with the speed of their progress.
Trixie was given a room at the palace to stay in for a couple of nights. She wrote home to advise that she would be arriving soon. She allowed herself some days to be available to Pearl, who would seek her out for a daily chat. She would update her on Violet’s condition, and how proud she was of the way she held herself up at every meeting she was required to attend, every audience she was obligated to give despite wanting nothing more than to be in Pearl’s arms for the whole day.
Violet summoned Trixie to offer her the choice of returning to court as a musician, when the situation at home had passed. She only requested that she take care not to embark on any more torrid love affairs, for the sake of her own sanity, though she said this with a wink. Trixie responded by telling her that she aspired to be an old maid, so there would be no more love affairs, torrid or otherwise.
“If that is what you want, I hope you will be comfortable enough imposing on our hospitality,” Violet said. “You will have to play for us, though. If you could be so kind as to become a renowned musician known across the land and outside of it, that would be much appreciated. We may regret our kindness otherwise.”
She suffered the most stilted embrace of her life in Violet’s arms, but was able to leave the interaction with some certainty of her sovereign’s favour.
Pearl held her in a much warmer, more lingering embrace upon her departure. As her carriage pulled away, she kept her eyes on the shrinking form of her sister, standing at the palace entrance until she was truly gone. When she lost sight of her, Trixie turned her gaze homeward.
***
Trixie was briefly received by her father upon her return home. It took her some time to recognize him as the man who had once stumbled into the nursery and picked her up for a drunken dance, while Pearl frantically reached to pull her back down, afraid of the strange man with the funny smell. He cleaned up pretty nicely, might even pass for someone worthy of a noble title, but he struggled to muster anything beyond the most basic pleasantries for his own daughter.
Predictably, her mother gamely tried to conceal her disappointment upon seeing her, but she did approve of the decision to leave Pearl with the queen.
“She must be so loved, that the queen couldn’t possibly spare her,” said her mother, hanging on to the faintest spark of joy she could get out of having to suffer Trixie’s care. “We may soon be truly respectable again, despite your father’s best efforts.”
Trixie did not tell her the depth of the queen’s love for her favoured daughter.
***
There were news of a dragon making a public appearance in some faraway land. Trixie heard them from a kitchen maid, who heard it somewhere in the village. One of the greatest mysteries of the world is how such giant creatures were so seldom seen, so whenever anyone so much as imagined catching sight of a dragon, it was a matter of public interest the world over. No details were to be had on what it looked like, where it had manifested, and if anything had gone up in flames as a result of it being there. Trixie imagined that if anything had been burned by dragon fire, it would be widely known. This one must have been on its best behaviour.
It was a testament to the magnificence of the event that Violet’s coronation was still spoken of at all, even with a dragon on the loose. Kim had sent copies of the sketches for Violet’s gown in the mail, so that Trixie could appreciate her friend’s work through them, and she could only just about hear the gasps of onlookers as she rode through the crowds in the capital. Pearl had been noted for her great beauty as she was spotted riding in a carriage with Fame behind the one that conveyed the queen.
She wrote with great amusement of how she had received at least three offers of marriage after that, but did not wish to consider them unless she was in dire need of a husband. She didn’t have any observable examples of a husband leading to greater happiness than what she could find with the love of a queen, and as long as it could maintain her she saw no need to fix herself to one. It delighted her that the clearer her position as the queen’s favourite became, the more people sought her favour, as she did not think there was anything about herself that merited such treatment.
With the imposed mourning period for the late king at an end, and the new queen’s coronation done with, it was time to set a date for the royal wedding.
Pearl had written to Trixie with promises of procuring an invitation for her, and seeing if their mother could be brought along. Perhaps, she mused, an official invitation to such a grand event would be just the thing to raise her from her bed.
Their mother clung to life so stubbornly that whatever was ailing her did not worsen, nor did it improve. Her symptoms were limited to a simple refusal to engage with the wider world in any way, as if all the bitterness in her heart had finally robbed her of her mobility. Whatever was keeping her shackled to her mortal coil was likely doing so in spite of her wishes.
If Trixie had ever formed a close bond with her, it may have been in her power to alleviate her condition. The best she could do was to keep the house running and let her mother retreat into herself, for she knew not where she could find adequate treatment for her. Sometimes she woke up in a sweat, having dreamt of taking her breakfast to her only to find herself lying in that bed instead.
She kept her mother’s windows open to let in the air, like Kim had done for her once. She dutifully sat by her side when she wanted company, and even played a song or two if she was asked. She had her meals sent to her on time, which was a small thing her father was not able to do when he had his hands on the reins. Her mother never praised her, but she never complained either.
Keeping up with news of her friends became the most important thing to her, as a way of keeping herself tethered to the world. She had almost succumbed to her sorrows once, and her fighter’s spirit would not allow that to be her eventual fate.
Valentina had written to Violet with news of her once-spurned brother receiving a peculiar visit on the eve of his wedding. She had been vague in her description of the visitor, but did say that it was a mutual acquaintance, and that dear Lady Beatrice might like to know of this strange happening. Pearl had included the news in the postscript of one of her more recent letters.
Trixie did not dare to hope, but there was only one person she cared about who might have business with Valentina’s brother, and it did bring her joy to hear that she was well. Ever since she received Pearl’s letter, she would catch herself entertaining the thought that Katya might still find her and take her away. It did her no harm to lift her spirits with the occasional daydream as long as the chickens were fed, and the house was still standing.
Sometimes, she tried to picture herself as a married woman, but only as far as having a household of her own to run, one that would not be so surely taken away from her in due time. She could not picture her husband for the life of her, nor could she fully see Katya in that role. The life she had imagined with Katya had been different than that of a country wife, though she did think she would have liked keeping a comfortable home for her if she had wanted it. Perhaps if they ever got old and weary of travelling, they could have settled down some place where they could have a pretty view to look at from their sitting room window.
She kept Katya’s picture on her bedside table, propped up in its case so she could see it with a quick glance. Sometimes she would sit on her bed and play her lute, and she would imagine Katya there in the place of the picture. She missed the light she brought everywhere she went, she missed her laugh, and her touch, and the way she would look at her like she was a precious gift from the gods.
It was a small mercy that she could now look back on her time with Katya without pain, and it comforted her when she wanted to remember what it was like to be so happy.
***
The invitations to the royal wedding arrived one sunny morning, nestled alongside a letter from Pearl. Trixie let her mother know that she was welcome to attend, but she only shook her head at the notion, insisting that a frumpy old woman like her had no business at the court of a fashionable young queen.
“It’s up to you, and you alone, to quit wasting time,” she told her. “Pearl is so valuable to the queen that she’s been made a duchess, but the gods alone know where you will end up if you keep on refusing to apply yourself. You have all the tools you need. I’m determined to die soon, and your father can’t possibly live forever. That would be too cruel.”
Trixie left her to natter on if she wished, choosing instead to occupy her thoughts with pleasant ways she could spend the day. She decided to take a walk. There was a little copse nearby, where she could read her letter and think of how she might respond to it under the light of the sun. When she returned, she might play a little outside if the weather didn’t turn gloomy. The summer skies could be unpredictable.
She ended up on an aimless ramble, leaving the letter at home, letting her thoughts wander freely.
For a brief moment, the skies went dark, and Trixie heard a strange whoosh overhead, too alien to be the sound of thunder. Though startling, this was not followed by the coming of rain or the end of times, and clear sky was all that could be seen after the period of darkness.
Even so, she was compelled to hurry home in case there were more potential heart attacks in store for her. In doing that, she inadvertently ran headlong into the greatest of them all.
A dragon was stood on the grass near the front of her house. It was gray in colour, with small black spots and black hair growing in a mane along its neck. There was something rather horse-like about it, but it resembled the creatures she’d seen in books enough that it had to be some species of dragon. It had spared her flowers, and paid no mind to the servants crowded around the window to gaze at it in awe, as it was engrossed in covering an increasingly irate Ginger in smoke from its nostrils for what could only be its own amusement.
Katya was perched on its back, as high as she could to see as much as possible, and to be easily spotted by Trixie as she crept up the path home. She quickly dismounted when she saw her, cautiously approaching her where she stood.
Trixie stood stock still, waiting for the sight before her to vanish. She kept her eyes fixed on Katya, who only looked more solid and real the closer she got. She would have to catch up to the fact of her wildest dreams having come true when she came to be within touching distance.
Soon, Trixie would find out what Katya had been up to in the time leading up to that moment, accept her apologies for the way she had left her, and agree that they should never be parted again, at least not without sufficient notice. They would map out the life they would share together over tea, after she had introduced her guests to the household staff and worked out the best way to care for their needs, particularly those of the largest, most exotic of the group.
At that moment, though, all Trixie could do was gather her Katya into her arms.