Work Text:
Gran works carefully, humming as she weaves the smooth thread. Through turn after turn it forms the delicate heart shape that her mother had taught her, as she had learned from her own.
“Pretty hearts for kind children.” She smiles, remembering her mother saying the same words to her when she was young. When she was a little girl with hearts threaded through her hair.
“There you are Yagna?” She smiles down at the beady eyes of the girl. “Sit still, let Gran put it in your hair. There. Yes, Genny, Gretka is making yours. You’ll be patient, boy, or you’ll wait till last.”
Gretka uses a blue thread so that it matches Genny’s shirt, and after attaching it to the lapel she starts humming as well as she sorts the remaining threads into tidy bundles, ready for use.
“Aynara.” Gran suddenly snaps, a finger raised in warning. “You apologise now. Apologise. Nothing wrong with boys wanting pretty hearts too, you naughty girl.”
A pause, and then the softness returns to her voice as she reaches out, stroking the girl’s string hair.
“There, there. Good girl now. A heart of your own next, to put you at ease.” She weaves a thread that is green to match Aynara’s eyes. “Maybe a bowl of scratchings tomorrow.”
“Cook said I could have cakes tomorrow.” Gretka says. “Because I cleaned the stock cauldron and all the tools today. She’s gonna make them specially for me.”
“Such a sweet, helpful girl.” Gran says. “You should have a pretty heart of your own too.”
“Thank you.” Gretka says as she points at the heart in Yagna’s hair. “Can I have the same colour as that?”
Gran smiles as she starts weaving the heart through Gretka’s hair.
“Mother made shapes like these.” The girl says. “Weaved them into blankets. She said they ward off evil monsters that eat kiddies in the night.”
“Aye, that they do.” Gran studies the threads in the fading light coming from the window.
“Maybe if I had had one, the Wolf King wouldn’t have found me?” Gretka looks down, but then smiles. “I wonder where Ciri is now? I should make hearts for her and that friend of hers.”
“Ah such pretty hearts they are. Made them all the time with my Tamara. Sometimes in chains, so she would wear them as a belt. Didn’t like them in her hair. She had such pretty hair. Long down to her waist like yours. It’s too short now. Far too short. Far too short. Doesn’t suit her.
“What’s that, Travik? Ah yes, one for Johnny. Good boy. Thoughtful boy, you are. Red, that’s his favourite colour. But you’ll not be taking it into the swamp. No. Wait for Johnny to come get it. A nice surprise for him. Look after it for now.” She carefully pins the heart to Travik’s tunic.
That done, Gran sits back, hands lowering to her lap as she watches the children sitting with their hearts.
“Gran?” Gretka asks, resting her hand on Gran’s knee.
“Johnny doesn’t visit.” The old woman’s hands tremble, but then she smiles. “Ah, Mikula, sweet girl of course I’ll show you. Watch Gran closely, here’s a thread of your own to follow with. Loop through, not too tight, don’t pull tight. Good girl, now loop again. Ah, Gretka no.”
The child groans as she drops the knot onto the ground.
“You pulled too tight. We all do, sometimes. Here, another thread. Try again. Oh that’s a lovely heart, Mikula.”
“If boys are allowed hearts, Gran, then I could make one for Symko?”
“Ah a girl’s heart given to a boy.” Gran teases, tapping Gretka’s forehead. “We’ll make a handsome purple heart for your boy. Handsome purple for a handsome boy’s shirt.”
Gretka giggles as she takes the purple thread, following Gran’s demonstration to make a heart.
There is a gentle knock, and the door to the room opens.
“Gretka?” Tamara says, quietly. “Cook is looking for you. It’s time for bed.”
“Alright, but I should help Gran tuck the grandkids in first.” Gretka says.
“Aye, such a good girl, help Genny and Travik. Make sure they say their prayers.” Anna nods, turning back to eyes like beads staring back at her. “Let’s get you tucked in, girls. More games tomorrow. Prayers now.”
Tamara is smiling, but she can’t help the tears forming in her eyes as she watches Anna and Gretka lay the children side by side in their little bed, tucked under blankets and each now holding a small heart made from woven thread.
She picks up a pink thread, and starts weaving.
“More games tomorrow. Oh but no. No.” Anna shakes her head, eyes wide as she looks into Tamara’s. “Dea. I should make one for Dea. But what colour to use? Green like the grass or red maybe. Would that be her favourite colour like Johnny’s, or blue. What colour would her eyes have been? Never saw them. Never saw her eyes.”
Seeing that Gretka is becoming upset, Tamara quietly encourages the child to go back to the kitchen, before returning to her mother.
“Never…” Anna shakes her head.
“The blue thread, Mother.” Tamara takes both hands into her own. “She would have liked blue. It’s the colour of the sky on a nice day.”
“Yes. Yes sky. That’s where our Dea is now. The sky.” She picks up the blue thread.
“Come on, Mother.” Tamara takes the heart. “We’ll hang it from the hollyhock blooms on her grave. It will look lovely there.”
“Pretty grave. A grave.” Anna sniffs. “A grave.”
“It’s alright.” Tamara wipes her eyes, then stands and gently pulls the woman to her feet. “Come on, let’s go together.”
“Yes. Yes.” Anna smiles. “See our Dea.” She looks down at the threads on the floor. “Would have made hearts with her. Made them with you when you were little. Make them with my Grandkids now.”
Anna leaves the room, still muttering more to herself than to her daughter.
Just before following her mother, Tamara crouches down and takes one last look into the box, one last look at the string hair and bead eyes of the five handmade dolls laid under the blanket, each holding their hearts.
“Goodnight, children.” She sighs, and closes the lid. “May the Eternal Fire protect your souls from evil.”
And on top of the lid, Tamara lays a pink woven thread.