Work Text:
A new day has begun. The sailors are going about their work. I sit in the bow, tasting the sea air. The master is still asleep, and so are Gwynplaine and Dea. Her head is resting on his chest, her ear pressed against his heart. She fell asleep listening to his heart last night.
It is not the first time she has heard his heartbeat. She could not see the boy who plucked her from her mother’s frozen arms and carried her away through the snow and wind, but she must have listened to his heart beating while bundled up inside his coat. She must have loved that heart then, for its rhythm meant she was safe. It is the same heart she loves now.
I had barked and growled at the boy who wandered out of the snowstorm that night, bearing with him a baby smelling of death. Who was he to disturb my master’s rest? I meant well, but acted foolishly. There are worse things in this world than sleep interrupted by a child of ten seeking food and shelter; I know that now.
Gwynplaine has plenty of reasons to hate the world: the execution of his father for refusing to kiss the king’s hand, the ghastly grin carved upon his face, the laughter and mockery he receives from all who see him. Yet there is no trace of anger or hatred in his heart. His heart is full of love for my master, for me, and most of all for Dea. She may not be able to see his face, but she sees his heart more clearly than anyone.
Gwynplaine’s eyes open and catch sight of me. I wag my tail. He grins at me, like always, but I can tell he means it. Those of us who know him can always tell when he means it. And his grin has never been more genuine than it was last night, when he and Dea were reunited. Gwynplaine’s face is a clown’s and his blood is a lord’s, but his heart is a man’s.
The master yawns and stretches. Dea wakes, sits up, and smiles. Gwynplaine squeezes her hand.
A new day has begun.