Chapter Text
‘Mama,’ the little boy cried, tugging at his mother’s sleeve, ‘what should I do?’
‘My dear, there is only one thing to do. Guard yourself and never let them hurt you.’
Sometimes, the world gave people the things they needed, not the things they wanted, even if that meant heartbreaking disappointment or vengeful anger. They were mostly lessons to learn from, blessings in disguise, not necessarily always the proverbial lemon. But for some people, all they ever got was the proverbial lemon. Bitter truths and the sour aftertaste of destroyed relationships turned people cold to each other, each one believing themselves more deserving of help than the next.
Lance was the kind of person that got more lemons out of life than he had bargained for. His home village of Farinwell sat on the skirts of the Altean kingdom and was filled with bitter sailors and mourning widows, which made for bad company when it was his turn to run the family shop. The job was fine; it was the business that made it bad. His parents were fishmongers; they gutted, scaled, and sold the fish delivered to them every morning. Which meant everything they owned reeked of mercury and the particular smell of dead fish . It also meant that on days Lance worked the shop, he had to wake up before dawn to help receive the fishermen's catch.
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes were dark grey clouds rolling across the backdrop of the predawn sky. They swirled low over the seas, heavy and threatening. Lance could see tiny flashes of light far into the distance, making the clouds glow momentarily. He pushed himself up from his bed and pulled on a shirt that already smelled faintly like fish over his pendant, the chain cold against his skin. He shook the morning feeling off his body and pulled his work boots towards him. He could hear his mother walk up the stairs to collect him as he tied his laces. Lance stood and closed his window with one last glance towards the churning waves at the docks below. He turned and greeted his mother at the door and followed her outside.
The cold wind stung at his fingers and face, the sky’s warning of an impending storm. Unhinged shutters rattled in the distance, barely audible over the creaking of the familiar wooden fishing boats bobbing at the docks. Lance could see his father calling up to the captain they usually bought from, a grumpy old timer who’d go farther out onto the sea than any of the younger fishers. As Lance and his mother neared, he looked past the edge of the dock and far off towards the sea, the dark waves churning treacherously. They crashed at the shore behind him. The wind caught his father’s voice and carried it towards him, snapping his attention towards the negations he should be learning from.
“-st be something.”
“There ain’t no fish today, I tell ye.” The captain shook his head. “I’ll give ye all we got but it ain’t much. Damn storm nearly scared off everythin’, blast it all!” He waved a hand at his two other ships, his men scattering to collect the fish. He turned back to them and trained his good eye on Lance, looking down past his long crooked nose. “The kid shouldn be out ‘ere.”
“He’ll be fine, Maroone. He’s sixteen; can handle his own, right boy?”
“Yes, dad!”
His mother smiled at Lance gently, trying to say something with her eyes. But he had long since forgotten how to read her sadness. They took their fish in boxes, one by one, to the shop as Lance’s father paid the captain. While he and his mother readied the storefront, the sky lightened, horizon set on fire with streaks of pink and slashes of orange, the rising sun following not long after. But as opening came and went, the storm clouds did not. They lingered, blocking out the sky and turning the world gray. The wind came in gusts, bringing the storm closer.
Then the rain started. A trickle at first, then a downpour. The crashing thunder and vicious moaning winds spurred Lance’s mother to head home to comfort his younger siblings, while his father stayed in the back to prepare the fish. People stumbled in and out of the shop, taking their temporary shelter from the storm outside. He smiled politely at them and wished them well as they left. As the storm howled outside, the power flickered many times and threatened to shut off completely. Lance lit candles and turned the lights off himself. A majority of the candles stayed in the back with his father and the fish, leaving Lance with a single candle near the front. It flickered as it burned, images swirling and twisting in the wisps of flame. Through the heavy storm outside, Lance could hear voices just beyond the front door of the shop. Three boys barged in, letting in a wind so strong, the sole candle’s flame trembled before blowing out.
“Lance, Lance, Lance…” one of the boys whispered, barely audible over the deafening wind. “Didn’t we give you fair warning?” The wind slammed the door shut with a loud thud, shutting out the noise.
“We did, Mark,” one of his friends breathed.
“And what was that warning again?”
“That if we saw him again-”
“You’d beat me up, yeah yeah I got the message.” Lance rolled his eyes. “But you came to my shop, so, no dice.”
Mark grunted and his two friends snickered behind him. Lance pulled up his sleeves and took a step back from the counter, in the general direction of the door to the back room.
“We just stumbled in to get out of the storm and what do we happen to find? A whiny queer.” Mark cracked his knuckles loudly. “It seems fair to me.”
The sound of his heavy steps echoed around the room, circling as if he didn’t know where to go. The footsteps stopped abruptly; Lance could feel the tension in the air. A flash of light illuminated Mark’s silhouette a foot or two away from him. The next flash of lightning caught on the metal of Lance’s necklace and Mark’s hand shot forward, reaching across the counter and yanking the chain from around Lance’s neck. The pendant fell with a thud to the floor as Lance shouted. Mark’s friend grabbed the pendent and handed it to Mark as they tore out of the shop, hollering insults at Lance. With the door already swinging open and the raging storm egging him on, Lance set off after them, using his familiarity with the lower levels to his advantage. Mark and his friends obviously had no idea where they were going and kept making wrong turn after wrong turn, leading them deeper into the lower markets. Lance chased them just enough to trap them onto the docks, the dark waves crashing together below, spraying salt water up into their faces. Lance thought he could hear his father calling for him in the distance but he didn't hesitate; his pendant was more important.
“Give it back!” Lance hoped they could hear his shouting over the crashing waves and creaking dock below them. Mark smirked at him and held out his hand over the churning water, the chain of Lance’s pendant trailing from his fist. “No!”
Lance lunged forward at Mark and his pendant, refusing to let it sink to the ocean floor below. He tackled Mark and the two fell to the ground, thrashing about to get an advantage. Mark’s friends tried to pry Lance off of their leader but Lance struggled against them, limbs flailing and blows connecting. Finally, Lance managed to punch Mark square in the eye and used his shock to take control of the fight. He kicked one of the other boys away from him and shoved Mark over onto his back. He gripped Mark’s collar in his fist and raised his hand again, threatening another hit. Mark squealed and brought his hands up, open and empty. Lance whipped his head around and just caught a glimpse of his pendant rolling off the edge of the dock. His father was definitely calling for him now, but he sounded so far away. Lance pushed Mark away from him and shuffled towards the edge of the dock, staring down into the waves. Mark and his pals scrambled towards the shore, heavy footsteps vibrating through the wooden planks. Lance fell into the raging water.
‘Come on, faggot! Are you going to fight or go home crying?’
The water wasn’t cold. Lance couldn’t remember how he fell in; did he mean to or was it an accident? But here he was, his body swaying gently like he was suspended in the water. He felt almost relaxed, detached from himself. He could hear muffled shouting from above him. The water wrapped around his body so softly. He could see the glimmering of his pendant in the distant sands below.
Their fists came back bloody as they sneered.
‘See boys? Emotional wrecks like him don’t deserve to live.’
Lance shut his eyes and willed himself to let go of his breath.
‘You were never supposed to exist.’
Lance drifted awake to the smell of the ocean. He could feel the sun tingling on his skin and the warm sea breeze drifting around him. Seagulls cried in the distance and the gentle ringing of ship bells made Lance open his eyes. His room was flooded with sunlight, the window open and letting the familiar sounds of the lower market drift upwards for Lance to enjoy. He looked out to the docks and beyond to the sea, where boats bobbed on glimmering aqua waters and the archipelago in the distance sat on glittering idyllic beauty. Lance sat up and shifted his bed sheets to free his body from the heat. There was a quiet knock at his door.
“Lance?”
His mother opened the door a crack and poked her head in. She smiled warmly when she saw her son awake. She leaned back into the hallway.
“Michael! Rebecca! Your brother is up!”
A moment later, people rushed into his room, all chattering and poking at him. It was really only family members; Lance’s littlest sister, Emily, vaulted herself onto his bed, eyes flooding with tears as she talked incoherently. The baby, Joshua, grabbed at Lance’s hair until their mom plopped him into Lance’s lap. The rest were talking over each other and Lance didn’t know where to focus. Michael and his girlfriend, Sophia, were giving him hard looks while Rebecca looked to be on the verge of tears. He decided to try and focus on her.
“-could you do that to us? What were you thinking, you could have died!”
“What?”
“How could you?” The panic in her voice was replaced by accusation. Lance felt even more confused, and mildly uncomfortable.
“Could have what? What did I do?”
The chatter suddenly stopped. Even Emily looked shocked, looking to her mother for answers through tear stained eyes. Only Joshua broke the silence while his older family members had a quiet conversation with each other.
“Lance is awake!” He said in a singing voice, reaching up and poking Lance’s cheek with a chubby finger. “Lance can play with me now!”
“Emily,” Lance’s mother laid a hand on her younger daughter’s shoulder. “Take your brother and go tell your father Lance is up.”
“But-”
“Go.”
“Yes mom.” Emily slid off Lance’s bed and took Joshua into her arms, pouting at Lance one last time before leaving the room.
The rest of the family waited a beat of silence to make sure Emily wasn’t sticking around to eavesdrop behind the door. Joshua’s voice from the street down below let them relax a little before turning back to Lance. The glare in Michael’s eye was back.
“Explain yourself.”
Lance only shrugged. “I really don’t know what this is about.”
“You’ve been sleeping for two days, Lance. You scared us!”
“I didn’t think you’d wake up…” Rebecca sniffled at him, her eyes wet with tears again.
“Your father saw you fall into the water during the storm.” His mother sat on the bed next to him, a warm comforting pressure to his shoulder. Which suddenly started aching. When did his shoulder start hurting so much? “You should know better than that.”
“The storm?”
“Yes!” Rebecca reached forward and poked Lance in the chest. “The storm you ran out into! The storm that trashed everything not tied down! The storm that tossed you into a pile of rocks before dad managed to save you!”
“Becca.” Michael smoothed his sister’s hair down and gently pulled her away from Lance. “Enough.”
“Why Lance? What made you want to fall into the water?”
“I- I don’t...” Lance looked from his mother to his siblings, each of them with sad, confused eyes staring back at him. The pain in his shoulder was growing harder to ignore. “I don’t remember.”
Michael sighed and let go of Rebecca’s shoulders. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes before hopping off the bed. The door shut softly behind her as she left the room. Lance grabbed his shoulder, feeling the heat of the swelling even through the layers of bandages over it. It stung with pain as he prodded it gently. Everything else just felt warm.
“Becca is just worried about you, Lance. We all are.” Michael’s glare softened into something else. “Dad said he saw people leaving the docks just as he got there. Said he thought they were in the shop that day.”
“One of them had a nasty cut on his face.” Sophia nodded at Lance’s hand. He looked down at his bruised knuckles; had there been a fight?
“Lance, I know you’ve had trouble in the past…” His mom put a reassuring hand on his good shoulder. She was smiling at him, the same sad eyes… She continued on, “so we’ve all talked it over. We think that if you left for a while, you might be happier. I know it’ll be difficult for you, but we want you to go to the capital.”
“The capital.” Lance turned a sceptical look to his mother who only nodded, a frown cut deep on her face. “As in, the heart of the kingdom.” He turned to his brother, who wore his mouth on a hard line. “Where the queen is,” Lance added, just to be sure they were all on the same, bizarre page.
“Well, not exactly.” Michael’s face relaxed a little as he settled himself on the corner of Lance’s bed. “You’d be in the city surrounding the castle. We already contacted someone there willing to take you in. He said he has a niece about your age, too.”
“So you're getting rid of me?” Lance felt his mother stiffen and heard her sharp breath. His anger dropped immediately and was replaced with guilt. He avoided turning towards her and tried to control the damage. “As if the capital would keep me away from all of you.”
Michael and Sophia smiled at him, but they could see through the act. They were hurt that he was hurt, but Lance knew the kind of people they were; they wouldn't let him talk them out of their opinions. The soft sniffling stopped and Lance decided to try and change the subject.
“What about the shop? And Emily? She would have to start taking my shifts.”
“She’s covered for you before. She’ll be fine.” Michael sighed heavily and scratched the back of his neck. “She’s been very upset, though. Between you and me, I think you're her favorite brother,” he grinned. He just looked tired to Lance.
“Don't joke like that, Michael.” Lance finally glanced back at his mom and his heart stabbed with guilt at the sight of her tear streaked cheeks. “Your sister loves you just the same and you know it.” She turned a sweet smile to Lance and offered her open arms to him and he leaned into her embrace, careful with his shoulder. She stroked his hair as she murmured to him. “You don't have to go if you don't want to. We’re just worried about you, and want what's best for you. We aren't getting rid of you, Lance.”
“I know mom. I just… got scared. I’ll have to think about leaving.” Lance leaned back from his mother's embrace and looked out the window and down into the lower marketplace. The vivid colors of the street vendors stood out against the faded ancient stones of the road and walls. He’d miss the sea as it lapped at the sandy shoreline and the smell of the ocean, the kiss of the sun- maybe even the smell of fish. Lance would miss all of it. “If I left...when would I leave?”
“The train to the capital leaves Farinwell every other week or so. You have plenty of time to decide if you want to go or not.”
“Okay mama.” The room was silent for a moment. “Could I have some time alone? I need to think about things.”
“Of course Lance.” Michael leaned forward and ruffled his brother’s hair before standing and leaving the room with Sophia. Their voices carried as they closed the door and walked down the stairs. Something about finding out who the boys on the dock that day were and making them pay. Michael had never been a good whisperer.
His mother kissed the top of his head and stood.
“Mama, one last thing.” Lance patted at his chest and neck. “Where is the pendent you gave me? The one with the lions on it?”
She gave him an odd look, one Lance couldn't quite read.
“It should be in the house. You didn’t have it when your father got you out of the water.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.”
The door clicked shut softly behind her, leaving Lance alone.
Lance had searched his bedroom top to bottom three times over before giving up on finding his pendent. Every drawer had been opened, every pocket turned out, and still there was no sign of it. It was then that Lance determined that it either was in the most obvious place he conveniently hadn’t looked yet or it sat on the sandy bottom of the bay, along with his memory of the whole incident. The scrapes and bruises on his shoulder slowly healed, stinging less and less when his mother or Rebecca smeared ointment on him as they changed the bandages. The muscle was still very sore, though. It had been difficult to tear apart the room with one arm resting snugly in a sling. The pain kept Lance up the first few nights after he regained consciousness, but he grew accustomed to the constant dull ache.
The thought of leaving Farinwell nagged at the front of Lance’s mind for days, a constant loop of weighing options and internal debating. He’d be sitting at the dinner table, or on the porch, or in the bath until the water grew cold, staring blankly at whatever was in front of him, his internal voice going back and forth over what he needed and what he wanted. Would he truly be happier far away from the town he grew up in? Or would it wear him out and drive him back home, where he’d live a sad, lonely life with his family walking on eggshells around him? They didn’t need to tread so carefully around him; he didn't purposely jump into the raging sea. He didn't want to die. Right?
Two weeks passed, and Lance hadn't left the house except to see the doctor. Rebecca and Emily would cover for him at the shop, claiming it was only fair since his arm was hurt. They joked that now it was Lance’s job to play with Joshua and that the baby would heal Lance’s shoulder with the pure power of love. Lance played along with them; everytime Joshua so much as smiled at him, he would exclaim that it was a miracle and pretend that his shoulder didn't hurt anymore. But even after the sling was taken off, Lance still felt sharp pains shoot through his arm if he moved it the wrong way. The doctor gave him no advice other than to take it easy for the next few months.
So, of course, Lance decided right then and there, while sitting in the doctor’s office and waiting for her to finish up the paperwork, that he would be leaving for the capital. Maybe he was being rash and he probably should think about his decision a little bit more, but Lance was also a spur of the moment kind of guy. He hated, above all else, being told he had to be idle. Besides, he had been weighing his options for weeks now- nothing would ever change if he never did anything about it, right? When he and his mom got home that afternoon, Lance scurried off to his room and started packing for his trip to the heart of the kingdom.
The next week flew by and found Lance and his family on the platform of the town’s only train station. The air between them all was heavy and silent. Lance’s good arm was holding the weight of two bags on his shoulder and a third, larger suitcase was resting on the ground. Emily was crying softly and Rebecca looked close to tears. Joshua, in contrast, was excited to be at the train station and pointed at all the passing trains.
“Look mama! Trains! Where are they going?”
“Very far away,” His mother smiled at Lance sadly, her stare passing through his body towards the tracks behind him. Lance suddenly remembered what that particular look was and he didn't want to see it again. He looked away quickly, trying not to think about the last time that haunted look was on his mother's face, the last time a child was taken from her.
“Yay! Are we going on a trip?”
The rest of Lance’s family quieted him down as best they could.
“And don’t forget to write home all the time!” Rebecca sniffed at him, her eyes starting to water. “You better not forget about us.”
“I won’t, Becca.” Lance smoothed his sister’s hair down as best he could with his bad hand. She appreciated the familiar gesture nonetheless.
“Make sure you take care of that shoulder, Lance. You’ll need it for the market when you come back.”
“Yes, dad,” Lance laughed (a nervous chuckle really.) His father laughed with him, not picking up on his son’s hesitation. An old fisherman like him didn't understand. He treated Lance's going away as some form of adventure, a growing up journey that would turn him from a boy into a man. Lance knew he could never become a man like that.
“Lance, Sophia and I can make the trip up there if you ever need us to. You only need to tell us.”
“Thank you, Michael. But I hope you won’t need to.”
“You’ll be back in a few months right?”
“Yeah, of course! So there’s no need for you two to make the long trip up.”
“Train 2870 to the capital will be here momentarily. Please stand behind the yellow line and wait for the train’s arrival.”
“Guess that’s my train.” Lance shrugged his shoulder bags higher and grasped the handle of the suitcase. Emily and Rebecca, now crying, wrapped their arms around him. He sighed and tried to hug them back with his free arm, ignoring the pain the motion gave him. His family huddled together as the crowd pushed towards the yellow line. Lance’s mother placed a soft hand on his cheek, a wake up call to the reality of his decisions. Joshua grinned up at him and tried poking at his face; Lance’s heart almost broke right there.
The train pulled into the station, billowing smoke and hissing steam. The conductor shouted instructions to the workers on the ground. The wheels rolled to a stop and the doors slid open, passengers watching the platform from their high windows. Not many people got off. Plenty got on. Lance swayed towards the door closest to him, pulling himself from his family’s arms. They let him go and huddled together as he left, moving with the crowd. He handed his suitcase to the steward and turned back to the crowd, half on the steps up into the train car, head held high above the crowd. He saw his family immediately. His mother was crying now, her facade broken into pieces. His father and Michael waved at him solemnly. For a moment, he felt the weight of the sea on his chest, crashing down around him as he stood on the steps. He almost raised a hand to wave back, but his body felt numb and he could do no more than stare. He was pushed forward into the car before he could summon the energy to wave back.
Lance stumbled his way to an open seat and dropped his bags onto the bench. He did his best to hoist them over his head single handedly but he ended up only haphazardly shoving them into the overhead compartment. It was fine for now, but if someone else wanted to sit in his box, he’d have to ask them to move his stuff for him. Lance settled on the cushioned bench and dug his ticket out of his pocket, letting it rest on his lap next to his hurt arm. A few moments passed as people bustled outside his box and on the platform below, rushing towards something. Lance felt like he was the only one not rushing, the only one unsure of his decisions and heading forwards with hesitancy.
The moment the train lurched forward, Lance felt his stomach go with it. There was no going back at this point; Farinwell was streaking past him and he was steadily heading towards the capital, a place so different from his home Lance was afraid he would become a different person.
The conductor walked by and asked for his ticket, punching various holes into it. He handed it back and Lance shakily lowered the butchered ticket back onto his lap. He could feel his stomach fall further, dates and times staring him in the face. There was no return date. No turning back. The lush green trees and grassy hills rushed past the window and started to blur, but not from the speed of the train. The door to Lance’s box slid closed behind the conductor and shut Lance in alone with his thoughts and tears.