Chapter Text
Aurora
“There’s going to be a storm tonight,” Ria mentioned as Aurora prepared herself for bed. She had just bathed, and was clad in a simple white nightgown, sleeveless and reaching her feet, with a white robe over it. “Will you be sleeping soon?”
“I think so,” Aurora replied, as she finished drying her hair while she was sitting in front of her dresser. Ria came over and began combing the wet strands.
“You have not quite been yourself, my lady,” Ria mentioned, as she combed.
“Aurora,” she corrected automatically. She could see Ria smile from the dresser’s mirror, then continued.
“You have not quite been yourself, Aurora.”
“Have I not?” she sighed. “I am sorry.”
“You are sorry? Please, do not be! I – we are only concerned, Aurora.”
“We?” came the curious question.
“Yes, we; Jasper, Sayra, and myself.”
“Jasper as well?”
Ria put the comb down and frowned. “You sound surprised.”
“I haven’t seen much of him the last few days. I thought I had offended him and that he was avoiding me,” Aurora explained.
Ria burst into peals of laughter. “You, my lady? Offend anyone? Only if niceness is offensive.”
Aurora smiled. “You’re too kind, Ria.” She paused, and Ria waited for her to continue. “You really think that I have not done anything to offend him?”
Ria shook her head emphatically. “I am sure you never could.”
“You do not see us together every moment,” Lady Aurora pointed out.
“Perhaps not,” Ria returned energetically, “but I know you, and I know him, and any awkwardness – if I humour you and agree, which I don’t, but this is all hypothetical – would stem from simple misunderstanding. If it exists, and you know I don’t think it does.”
“How very delightfully logical,” was the murmured reply.
A comfortable silence ensued, and soon, Aurora’s locks were combed to Ria’s satisfaction. “All done,” she declared as she put down the comb.
“Thank you, Ria.”
“Shall I blow out the candles for you?”
Aurora shook her head. “No,” was the gentle reply. “I think I shall sit down and read a bit more.”
“As you wish, my lady,” Ria reverted back into formality. “Remember to close the windows before you sleep. We don’t want the gales and rainwater to destroy your room.”
“I’ll close the ones all of them except the ones in my bedroom; those I will do before I sleep.”
“Just remember to! I’ll makes sure Sayra knows, or even Jasper, if I don’t see Sayra,” Ria said. “Vail thunderstorms can be very strong, and it’s been known to damage many structures.”
“It is very good of you to care so much about my well-being, Ria.”
“Not at all, Lady Aurora. You are so kind, and so good… People cannot help it; no one can, and I am no exception. Good night.”
“Good night, Ria,” she replied, and she was left all alone in the room. The room was bright, lit as it was by candle-light. Aurora moved to sit near her bedroom window and lost herself in deep thought.
In the distance, she could hear the rumbling of thunder and howling of the wind. She wrapped her robe more closely around her, and took a book to read.
“Aurora!” a voice called out to her desperately.
Cold. And wet.
She woke up suddenly to the sensation of rain falling incessantly on her, drenching her from head to toe. No wonder she was wet. What had Ria said earlier? There was a storm brewing that night. No wonder. Somehow she had sleptwalk.
And no wonder she was cold; she was dressed only in her sleepwear from earlier that night. Luckily, she had not removed her white robe. Somnambulant her did not have the foresight to even wear an outercoat or shoes, and her feet ached. She must look like a drowned cat, with wet hair and cut feet. How mortifying.
More importantly, how was she to get back to the castle? She was near the cliffs and shuddered.
The last time she had found herself here by accident, she nearly dove off the cliff from a sabotaged horse. If she had not woken up, would she have died?
She hadn’t sleptwalk for such a long time, the last time being right before her marriage ceremony to Baron Ulysse Kasmarek. She wondered what the trigger was this time. It had always been emotional distress, but she had often had her emotions well-regulated.
(She knew what the trigger was; she just did not want to admit it.)
And to sleepwalk in such inclement weather! She could barely see the outline of anything. It was lucky that the castle remained well-lit enough so that she could make it out in the distance.
“Aurora!”
“Jasper?” She called back, disbelievingly.
His silhouette came into view, drenched as badly as she was from head to toe, and carrying a lamp. She ran towards him, away from the treacherous cliffs, as he sprinted towards her. He grasped her cold, cold hands, and she collapsed against him, her weight supported by his arm.
“Are you all right? You’re as cold as ice to touch,” he murmured. He let go of her hands and she sank onto her knees on the grassy moors, whimpering at the loss of warmth, only to be stunned into silence when Jasper put down his lamp and shucked off the great coat he was wearing to bundle her up inside it.
“No, don’t! You’ll be cold and wet as well, Jasper!”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said firmly, and she felt tears prick at her eyes. He must have seen it, for he then said, in a gentler tone of voice. “What happened? Why did you come outside? I know Ria warned you about the storm.”
“I –” she hiccupped, only to burst into tears and bury herself in his chest. “I didn’t intend to! I haven’t sleptwalk for years!”
He said nothing, but stroked her hair gently as they knelt on the ground near the cliffs, with the rain beating around them.
Lightning struck, and she jolted in surprise. She could see the flashing of light, as the world went white for a second, before they were shrouded in darkness again. It was followed by the slow rumbling of thunder relatively nearby.
“We had better leave,” Jasper said. “It is not safe here, and I would rather reduce the risks of you catching a cold.”
“I can walk,” Aurora said stubbornly, as she stood up as well when he did.
“I can carry you.”
“I’ll walk,” she said stubbornly.
Jasper began removing his shoes. “What are you doing?” Aurora asked, curiously. “I’m not going to wear your shoes.”
“Your feet are hurt,” he said calmly, as he removed his socks and handed them to her, before slipping his feet back into his shoes. The socks were wet, and ordinarily, Aurora would have found it distasteful to wear used, wet socks, but he was not wrong, and moreover, her feet ached.
She reached out to take them with trembling fingers and thanked him. She knelt down, only to nearly fall over from shivering, despite Jasper’s greatcoat.
“Here, let me help you,” she heard him, his breath close to her ear. He was far closer than he had ever been, and her body responded with a frisson of something that was a cross between attraction and anticipation.
She felt him pry open her cold wet hands so that she relinquished his socks back into his possession, before he knelt down in front of her, taking hold of one of her bare feet. “You can hold my shoulders to support yourself,” he remarked, and she was thankful for that, for she could hardly balance herself on one leg.
“The other leg,” he said, when he had put one wet sock on, and she dutifully stuck her other foot out.
Once both feet had socks on, they began the slow trek back towards the castle.
It seemed like it would take forever to reach the castle. Jasper pressed her close to him, as though trying to shield her from the worst of the elements. Her heart warmed at that. Even now, he tried to protect her. He had always been so good to her…
Was it so surprising that she would fall in love with such a man?
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked him, as the castle came into view. It felt like she was shouting, so loud was the sound of the rainfall and thunderstorms.
“I followed you.”
“You… what?” She tried to look up to see his face, to see if he was joking, but the rain continued to fall heavily, obscuring her vision except for the sight of his strong jaw and fair hair.
He took a deep breath. “Ria told me you were reading, but that you had not slept. I was patrolling the corridors, about to check on you, when I saw a shadow slip from your room down the stairs. I ran in, only to realise that the room was empty. I knew that it must have been you I saw when I looked out of the open window and saw your figure crossing the lakeside gazebo towards the sea. I closed the windows, and from there, it was a matter of running after you.”
Silence ensued as Aurora tried to formulate a response. It was broken by Jasper, who pointed at the distance, “We’re nearly there. We’ll enter via the kitchens, if that is okay. The fewer people know about your sleepwalking, the better.”
She nodded assent against him, her head against his firm chest. Though the rain still fell, and she could hardly hear anything, she could feel his heart beating from where she was tucked into his left side, as steady as a drum, and as reliable as him.
There wasn’t a soul in the kitchens when they entered. “Here, sit down,” he suggested, “I’ll see that your bath is ready, and once you’ve regained some of your strength, we’ll make our way upstairs.” She nodded, and he eyed her before disappearing into the corridors.
She collapsed exhaustedly on the stone benches and began peeling off the wet socks and removing his greatcoat. It felt like a lifetime before he returned, but it was definitely not that long, because she had only just taken both socks off before he reappeared. (Or perhaps she was just weakened by the ordeal.)
“Sayra has gotten up to assist you,” he said, and then eyed her feet. “I did not think you would want both Ria and Sayra up at this hour, and Sayra is a far lighter sleeper than Ria. Your bath will be ready soon.” A strange look overcame his face, as though he was trying to repress his emotions. She saw his line of vision and shook her head, trying to not think about how his white shirt clung to him so well.
“Don’t worry, it only looks bad.”
“I wonder how you can say that when I know it definitely does not. I should have carried you.”
“And have you collapse in exhaustion halfway through?” She gave him a wry smile. “Not a chance.”
For him to say that now, in the light and without the rain obscuring her vision, was almost cruel and her cheeks burned all of a sudden. She could remember the firmness of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders, and the beating of his heart; how she felt tucked next to him in the rain. She could remember how he felt, and the sight of him now brought back those fresh memories.
He was still talking as he put his greatcoat back on. He must still be wanting to maintain an image of propriety and so forth, she supposed. For her, dressed as she was and in her current condition, there was nothing she could salvage about her appearance. “Have you so poor a belief in my strength?” He asked her, interrupting her thoughts.
“Not at all, but I would rather us be safe, rather than meet an accident by you trying to carry me, and a lamp, and try to make your way back to the castle in the middle of a moonless, starless night with heavy rain and thunderstorms.”
He lifted her up, as though she was as light as a feather, one arm supporting her back, the other hooked under her legs. She yelped at this, taken by surprise, and clung to his shirt. She shook her head in consternation, endeavouring to steady the thumping of her heart, racing as it was.
He must have sensed her anxiety, as he gave her a low chuckle. “Don’t worry,” he said as he carried her up the stairs. “Only servants use these stairs, and no one is currently around; I checked.”
“Why, that sounds almost nefarious!” she said, lightly.
“You’re nervous,” Jasper observed, looking down at her. She looked up at him. He was still wet, and had not dried himself yet. With the torches, she could make out the droplets of water that still clung to his hair and face…
She could not help but give a small laugh. “That is true.”
“It’s unsurprising,” he commented. “You were out in probably one of the worst thunderstorms you have ever seen in your life. It is a normal physiological response.”
She nodded.
They made their way back to her chambers. No one had seen them; a fact that Aurora found rather anti-climactic.
Sayra was inside and said nothing. Her expression was words enough, and she looked at Aurora with great concern. Perhaps Sayra knew she was exhausted and therefore did not make much attempt at conversation. Silently, Sayra helped her disrobe, and she entered the bath. The warm, scented bathwater was balm enough for her skin and feelings.
She luxuriated in the warm water, until Sayra’s voice outside the bathroom interrupted her reverie.
“Are you all right there? I haven’t heard a sound for ages.”
“Yes, I am. You shouldn’t have to stay here, Sayra. I’ll be fine now.”
“You went sleepwalking in the rain! I hardly think that can be considered fine.”
“It hardly happens!”
“And thank goodness too!”
“I’ll be all right, Sayra, I promise. I don’t know why it happened,” (her conscience pricked at her, because she had an inkling of an idea why it happened), “but I’ll be all right.”
A pause, and Aurora could hear Sayra fail to stifle a yawn. “You should go to sleep, Sayra,” she insisted. “I really will be fine.”
“If you’re sure,” Sayra said. She still sounded uncertain.
“Yes!” Aurora said emphatically. “Having you stand outside the door to babysit me is mortifying and I feel incredibly guilty. Please go to bed.”
She could sense Sayra still hesitating. “Well, Jasper told me he would be up with tea and refreshments for you shortly…”
“Let’s compromise,” Aurora said. “Once I’m all dressed and ready, you can go back to bed.”
A pause. “That sounds acceptable.”
A few minutes later, Aurora found herself dressed in a light blue floor-length nightgown, wrapped in a white shawl to keep her arms warm. She bade Sayra good night, and sat in her bedroom alone. Despite the rain, and the cold, she felt stifled, and opened the windows that she had left open and that Jasper must have closed when he had been in her rooms earlier that night.
“What are you doing?” Came a voice. She jumped, even though she recognised the voice a second later as Jasper’s.
“Just opening the windows,” she replied. The latch unlocked, and an ungodly howl was heard.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Jasper asked, an eyebrow quirked in askance.
“If it annoys me too much, I can just shut it,” she replied, looking away from where he stood tall him her doorway, to look out towards the wild sea. It was dark, but she fancied she could make the wild, dark waves at a distance.
There was something romantic about being caught in the rain with someone. These last few weeks, she had been lying to herself. She had not lied to the matchmaker, with all her impertinent questions; she had perceived them as truth then, even if they were not.
Time, and experience, revealed how things truly stood in her mind. She loved him, in the deepest recesses of her heart. Even though she knew what her family would say, what Revaire society would say, if they caught wind of her feelings and they were made public, it was too late. Her feelings were as undeniable as the sea that surrounded Vail Isle.
“Lady Aurora –”
“Jasper, I –” she began, only to be interrupted by the roaring of thunder in the distance. It startled her enough that she decided to close the window again, but her fingers were trembling yet again.
“Let me help you,” Jasper said, as he crossed the room to stand next to her. It was quite unnerving now, how cognisant, how hyperacute she was of his presence. He must have taken the time to dry himself off and change clothes as well.
He easily closed the windows. She did not trust herself to look at him, not yet, not until she was in control of her emotions.
“There,” he said. She could feel the weight of his gaze, light violet eyes staring intensely at her. “Were you about to say something?”
“Only that…” she took a deep breath and bravely continued. “I am so grateful, so very grateful to you, Jasper. I honestly don’t know how I would have survived all these weeks without you. As horrendous as it is to say it, this summit has been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”
“For example,” she continued, “I think there have been three separate murder attempts on my person, and if you hadn’t been here, well, I don’t know what could have happened. I’m… I’m so glad I met you, Jasper. I don’t know how I could have survived without your kindness, your concern… and frankly, I would not want to find out.”
“I’ve always kept my thoughts, my dreams, my aspirations to myself. Oh yes, I had a stock standard answer when it came to the common questions, such as those that the Matchmaker threw at me… The reality is that you are the first person who has asked me these questions that I knew had no strings attached. You were not waiting to judge me, or criticise me… You’re a very precious person to me, and I wanted to tell you how invaluable your friendship and help has been to me.”
Dear God, she was glad when her rambling came to an end. She looked at him; truly looked at him. He looked pensive, thoughtful, as though he was trying to understand her and formulate a reply. She had chickened out in the last minute, and so her speech became more of a declaration of friendship than anything else.
And really, how was she to know if this was truly love or infatuation? It was not as though she had ever had any precedent for either; she had been married off too young before such thoughts of love and romance could be formulated. This was new territory for her too. Even the concept of friendship was an alien one in the cutthroat high society in Revaire.
It was incredibly unfortunate, however, that as he opened his mouth to reply, the room lit up. From the corner of her eye, she saw lightning at a distance which distracted her from whatever Jasper was saying. Not that she could hear him saying it, since it was followed by a thunderous roar, loud even though they closed the windows. Jasper (and Ria, too, many hours ago) was right to want to close the windows during a Vail thunderstorm. It seemed as though the weather would get worse for much longer, before the thunderstorm would break. His mouth looked like as though he was speaking, forming words…
“I’m afraid you might have to repeat that, Jasper,” she said ruefully. “I couldn’t hear anything.”
His face wore a conflicted expression, and he appeared to hesitate. He offered her his arm.
“You must be tired,” he replied. “Come with me, I’ll pour you some tea.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure that was truly what you were saying? I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”
“Why should you apologise for the weather? I could hardly hear myself.”
She took his arm, and looked up at him as he led her out of her room. He had a patrician profile, handsome and aristocratic, even if he did not belong to any member of nobility within the Seven Kingdoms.
The thunder and rain continued to echo outside the castle. Inside, however, she was content, the warmth of Jasper’s arm comforting. Her affection for him may have been as imprudent as it was irrational, but it was not as though it was within her power to control. She turned her face to the opposite direction, trying to will her tears away, only to catch sight of her latest artwork that Ana had referenced to not so long ago; two snowy white turtledoves carrying between them a bright red heart. There was less than a month until the end of the summit. Would that she could find the courage to unveil her feelings. If only she knew whether he felt the same way.
The storm continued to rage on outside the castle, mirroring her internal turmoil.
Fin