Chapter Text
Though the halls of the Clifford manor are never cold, there is a distinct chill that settles in the bones of the charming new-build when winter happens upon the family. Welcomed home with open arms by his mother and father, time home for Lawrence is spent the same as it usually is, the halls of his home the same as when he left for Strixhaven those months ago.
However, an undeniably new stirring ripples in his chest, his thoughts occupied by the one man he has tried so hard to rid from his brain ever since returning home. Bentley Hallwinter had plagued his mind from the carriage ride home all the way through the first few weeks of the break - and Lawrence finds that he is hardly able to stop him from doing so.
It’s unbearable, really, how much Lawrence finds himself missing him - and even more unbearable that the only way he had been able to silence some of the wonderings about the young mage was to pick up his fountain pen some dreary Thursday afternoon, and begin to write a letter.
Dear Bentley Hallwinter,
I figured that I should keep good on our promise. I don’t know if you were entirely joking when we spoke of the two of us exchanging letters, but the days come and go with nothing much of significance happening, and Strixhaven feels further away with each passing day. I thought letter writing would do good for me to not forget I had studies to attend when the break comes to a close.
Of course, I wished to hear from you too. I’m sure you’ll be absolutely thrilled to know I'm using my best pen.
It seems we’ve a rather full house over the break. Kathy’s boyfriend is here to stay for a few months, and Hyacinthe is living at home for the time being whilst her place within the company is being determined. She is unsure if she will relocate, but finds herself preferring to stay home for the time being whilst she makes up her mind. I do not know why I am telling you this. Perhaps you find the inner workings of the Cliffords amusing. Ensure you keep this highly interesting top-secret information to yourself, or risk ruining me.
How are you finding Strixhaven in the winter months? Have you much to occupy yourself with? I’m sure you’re much preferring the lack of students everywhere, and quieter libraries, though I'm sure one misses scaring the first years. Please send my love to Royce. I miss her terribly, as I imagine she misses me also.
Do not worry yourself if you do not find the time nor inspiration to write back. You need not indulge a bored man's scrawlings if you find yourself too buried in books or spellwork, but know I would be glad to hear from you.
I hope you are well.
Yours truly,
Lawrence Achilles Clifford
A reply arrives surprisingly promptly, a mere three days from the first. It is written in a familiar, scratchy hand.
Lawrence,
You should know by now that I never joke. Alas, I jest; your letter is appreciated.
Strixhaven is cold, but peaceful without the rabble. The Spire has been stocked with only the most studious, which makes my work easier. Far from the excitement of your own home, I’m sure. I imagine you shall be hosting many a visitor over the break? I cannot say I miss the constant pestering of Gate life.
However, you may enlighten me to it. If you wish. I would request you send your family my best wishes, but I wager you may be a better judge of the propriety of such. If they are to keel over from such news, do let it be.
What is it you get up to on your breaks? Besides your duties, of course. I am intrigued as to the hobbies of the great Laurie Clifford.
Royce says hello. We both send our best.
Bentley.
Lawrence manages a response that arrives a few days later, neat cursive ink stark against the white of the paper. It appears this letter is a little more conversational than the last.
Dear Bentley.
I am pleased to hear you’re finding comfort in the quiet. You’re quite correct - it seems a rare occasion now that we go a day without a visitor over for lunch, or a family over for dinner. I try and enjoy it, but sometimes I find myself becoming quite like yourself - wishing for a quiet moment with perhaps a book to keep me company. Alas, I must suffer the torture. It is good for me to make acquaintance even with those I do not care for.
I have sent your regards to my family. My mother and father thank you for your words, but Kathy merely laughed and Hyacinthe sent some kind of confused glare my way. I beg your forgiveness for their blatant rudeness.
If you must know, I spend most of my time either entertaining the neverending stream of guests mother and father bring home or escaping into the grounds to practise spellwork. Never for too long, as the chill seems to rather quickly find me, but enough to feel like I am making some progress. The hound has not yet deigned to return, but perhaps I am simply not around those who spark enough anger in me (though Kathy has certainly been trying me).
I am also hoping to bake a cake, if inspiration strikes me. The last time I tried to bake anything other than a pastry with mother it burnt to a crisp, so perhaps I will try to hone my skills such that no one ends up poisoned if I ever decide to spoil someone. Life in the kitchens is certainly a hard one.
What is it that you occupy yourself with, outside of your time in the library? Do not say reading. I already know you are fond of a book, so it does not count. Tell me something surprising.
I eagerly await your next response. Please give Royce some fussing on my behalf, and tell her that I'm but half a man without her.
Yours Truly,
Lawrence Clifford
Bentley’s reply returns about a couple of days later. Enclosed within the envelope are two candies - one of green, and one of pink.
Lawrence,
Do make sure you are finding some time away from the adoring hordes, won’t you? I do, however, find myself ever curious to witness the goings on you describe first-hand. It has certainly been a while, and the Hallwinter home was never so lively.
The concept of yourself attempting to bake amuses me. A chef for the ages, I imagine. Perhaps I should try my hand at such a thing, too - it cannot be too far from the intricacies of spellwork, I’m sure. I have been working a little at enchantment, amongst other things. The fruits of my labour are enclosed. The pink should cause one’s eyes to glow in the dark temporarily, and the green should cause quite the billow of smoke from one’s nose. I have tested them myself, but if you fear poison, do feel free to foist them onto someone hapless and enjoy the consequences.
As you can see, I have kept myself busy. Passing fancies. Thank the gods we’ve no winter assignments, or I’d have no time for nonsense.
But if you reject spellwork and reading as sufficient hobbytalk, this may amuse you instead: I have taken to visiting the greenhouses at Quandrix. Despite the winter chill, they are fully stocked. Beautiful places. I have made a nuisance of myself to a few of the student gardeners with my questions. Lucky for me, they are glad for an extra pair of hands.
Again, Royce says hello. She demands your opinion on the Ruins of Marseilles, to the south of Faerun. I have suggested it for the trip she and I will be taking, but she is sceptical. Lord knows why.
Sending my best,
Bentley.
Lawrence’s next response comes a little later than Bentley’s had. Another few days pass before a sturdy envelope with a gold wax seal arrives for Bentley. However, inside the envelope is a secondary card - an invitation - alongside the letter.
Dear Bentley,
Consider yourself curious no longer. As if the gods themselves had arranged it, a mere few hours after your letter arrived mother asked me if I wished to bring any university friends to the charity fundraising formal we host at the country house every year. Naturally, you came to mind.
Enclosed is a formal invitation addressed to you (and of course Royce), but you’re invited to stay a night either side of the event, if you’d like. I believe it would make it easier on the travelling, and I’m sure you’re curious to visit the Clifford country house again now that we’re both grown.
I shall take no offence if you decline, as I understand it may not be exactly to your liking, however I would be more than happy to host you. Do consider it, but please get back to me soon with an RSVP. Mother is rather particular about knowing the exact guest list.
I’d like to thank you tremendously for the enclosed gifts you sent in your last letter. They worked a treat. I used the pink to scare Hyacinthe in the middle of the night when she had been working late, and Kathy and I conspired to trick her boyfriend with the green over dinner (when we had rather influential guests). I’m sure this was the intended use for such a gift. Both have provided me with a great deal of amusement.
It is not out of the realm of possibility for me to picture you gardening (though I hope you have not been wearing your finest to dig around in dirt). As I write this letter, the plant you gave me that night we had dinner together sits rather proudly atop my desk. I have decided to name her Tabitha, and she is growing into herself rather well. You shall have to put your newfound skills to work when she needs repotting. Do you have a favourite plant in the greenhouses? If so, I'd like to hear of it.
I have asked Kathy’s boyfriend what he thinks of the Ruins of Marseilles, as I believe his family once visited on a holiday. He had little good to say of the place, but he has absolutely no taste whatsoever, so from that alone I believe it would make a suitable trip destination. Please tell Royce my thoughts on your destination, and also that if she forces your hand to accept the formal invitation that she will receive immeasurable love upon your arrival.
I hope the break is treating the both of you well.
Yours Truly,
Laurie Clifford
Bentley’s next reply is not as prompt as his other letters, and the hand is sharper than usual.
Laurie,
You are very kind to invite me. As you know, my re-entry into Gate society is a difficult topic is quite the point of interest. You must tell your mother the nature of who you intend to invite, and if there is any trouble, I could not possibly impose upon your family nor your home.
However, if there is no trouble, I shall accept your invitation. A place to stay either side is appreciated, for I find travel tires me too easily now. Royce will be very happy.
There are too many plants in the greenhouses to choose a favourite, but I find myself drawn to a particularly unbecoming bunch of Terrible Climbers (quite the name, isn’t it?). They are ungainly, but charming, and bloom an awful lime green. They have their own culture of magic we can hardly begin to understand. Fascinating.
Your tales of mischief are good to hear. I am glad my work could serve. The Ruins of Marseilles will await myself and my familiar in the coldest of Strixhaven’s weeks. I hear it is warm all year round, and the locals make the best ice cream in the whole of Faerun. That, along with a historical ruin, is persuasive enough for me.
Do you plan to holiday during the break? I would like to hear of it if so.
Yours in misdemeanour,
Bentley
Laurie’s response is prompt, but the hand is not quite as neat as before.
Dearest Bentley,
You must not worry yourself. Your name has already been seen on the guest list - someone had to review it before it was sent to the calligrapher - so allow yourself to be reassured that there is no trouble. Though, I must apologise in advance for any questioning my family will haunt you with. It seems society has not heard from you in quite some time, as you’ve told me previously, and it has left the rest of the Cliffords to view you as somewhat of a prize gem. Please know I will be batting them away with a stick, so you mustn’t worry about having to tell them anything you don’t wish.
I have not told them anything you have said to me in confidence. Please know that.
The plant you mention sounds incredibly fitting for yourself (despite the part about blooming a lime green - please do not dye your hair such a colour). You will have to show them to me upon my return to Strixhaven - perhaps we could make a day of touring the greenhouses. I will have to pick a favourite plant too, if possible, as you make the greenhouses sound like such a vast place that I worry I'd lose myself in them.
The mention of your trip is even exciting to me, as I know you’ll be able to indulge me in many story from your travels whilst I waste away in the cold of Gate winter. I hope the two of you enjoy your time away tremendously - perhaps you’ll even be kind enough to bring me back a souvenir.
Sadly, I do not think we are to travel further than my grandmother’s estate this holiday. Of course I will enjoy the trip nonetheless, but I do find myself missing the sun. I shall keep you updated on the trip regardless - I find letter writing is doing well to keep me occupied.
As per usual, tell Royce that she is the most beautiful little snake in the world.
Yours truly,
Laurie Clifford
P.S. Mother would like to know if you would like to sit on the family table for the charity formal. There is a seat reserved for you as my guest, but I understand if you do not wish for the attention to be drawn to you. Take some time to think.
Bentley’s next replies return to their usual promptness and neatness of hand. However, this particular reply has a small, odd burn scar marring the upper right corner. Within the envelope is a second piece of parchment, smaller than the letter. Upon it, a series of rune sketches and scribbled notes detail a modification to the spell ‘Mind Sliver’.
Laurie,
Your reassurance is appreciated. I shall take ‘prize gem’ and any barrage of questions over what I might otherwise have expected. I’m sure you understand. I would be honoured to accept a place at your family’s table; please pass my utmost gratitude onto your mother. Her offer is very kind.
This may seem a little sudden, but I have been thinking of dyeing my hair again. Lime green is the current plan.
I do not remember Strixhaven ever being this cold last year. Royce is not a fan, and rarely leaves the safety of my person. Perhaps we shall both enter a state of hibernation. Alas, you shall be glad to hear I’ve not let myself become such a layabout as all that; the Spire requests extra shifts during the holidays, the only time at which I can tolerate so many hours of employment. They have constructed a new archive - something I would have sooner thought belonged in the Library of Speakers. It is rather magnificent, and Professor Lundnum has requested my personal help in its organisational structure and transference. I’m making sure to stay humble about it.
I want to invent another spell. Or, more realistically, modify something existing. I’ve attached some preliminary thoughts on a modification to a spell I know you personally employ. It’s mere play, but I thought you might be interested.
Don’t mind the burn mark on this particular letter. The serpents have taken to play-fighting (as Royce would call it) on my desk as I am trying to write. Seeing as they can both cast rudimentary magic without my help, you can imagine the occasional issue.
As always, we send our best,
Bentley
P.S. I jest about the lime green. Do not lose sleep. It shall be a ghastly shade of pink instead, just in time for your function).
Lawrence’s response comes another few days later. His usual response time. Inside this envelope is a swatch of gold fabric alongside the usual immaculately written letter.
Dearest Bentley,
Enclosed within this envelope is a swatch of fabric detailing the colours that those sat on the family table will be wearing. You’re encouraged to match with us (for the event photo, though it is not a requirement), and I felt you’d be more comfortable looking for any suitable pieces in your own wardrobe before I let you borrow some of mine. My father is set on you borrowing a tie of his if you’ve nothing suitable, but please do not worry too much. No one will mind if you wish to wear colours of your own.
Apologies for all the fuss. I’m sure you’d much prefer to be talking of more interesting things.
I am very pleased to hear about the new archive. I can imagine you’ve begun to build quite the rapport with Professor Lundnum - I would not be surprised if you find yourself being requested for other projects too later down the line. I hope your ever curious mind is satiated by this recent endeavour - I'd worry that I'd come back to find you had chewed all of your furniture out of boredom if you didn’t have projects such as this.
Your spellcraft continues to both fascinate and elude me. I shall not pretend that I understood the notes that you mailed to me, but I'm sure with some careful explanations and perhaps a demonstration from yourself when you are visiting I shall be able to fully grasp it. Before I forget, I also arranged a short meeting for you with the family lawyer. Don’t be too scared - he was to be visiting anyway - but now that you’re in the business of invention I'd hate for you to lack legal ownership of your inventions. Forgive me for overstepping if you feel I'm meddling too much.
Please send my love to both of the little rascals. I shall treasure the letter even more knowing it has little markings on it from the two of them. It is not a surprise that they are both prone to a little bit of casting - they have you for their daddy after all.
Yours,
Laurie
Bentley’s reply returns with his usual pattern; unlike the previous two letters, this one does not contain any addendums or accompaniments within the envelope.
Dear Laurie,
If I could not rustle up some slip of gold to accompany the table’s scheme, I’d have to ask you to give me a merciful end. I shall bring one or two options, and you shall have to help me decide. What, in general, intrigues your father most? I feel I must at least attempt to impress him.
You mustn’t fear for the furniture, but perhaps the training dummies at the Stadium instead. They take so very well to flame, I’ve found.
The spell I sent you is rather silly; I apologise for not including an explanation. It’s a little rudimentary in the notes, but it details theory on switching the damaging effect of the spell we both know as Mind Sliver. Having tested it, it feels exactly as a brain freeze does. I’m sure you can imagine the situation in which I found inspiration for such arcane nonsense. I hope that amuses you.
I must say, that about the lawyer surprises me. I confess I have not thought much of ownership over my work. You do too much for me, but I will speak with him, and call it curiosity. It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken with a lawyer on anything, though I have some practice.
Enlighten me - is there anything I should know before attending this event of yours? As I understand it, do-gooding and charity work are quite lauded, and I wouldn’t wish to bungle it for you or your family. I could smile and nod obediently, if that suits? Perhaps learn a song and dance to entertain?
You’ll have to excuse my poor attempt at jest. I am calling it apprehension.
I’ve one last request. Do tell me something that has delighted you this week, if you could.
Yours in trouble-making,
Bentley
Three days pass. Laurie seems to have acquired new letter writing stationary - the paper now features a Clifford family crest and the family motto in the top right corner. Bentley’s name is written in overly extravagant handwriting.
Dear Bentley,
The thoughts have permeated all of my waking hours, distracting me from any work I hope to accomplish and even following me to the late hours of the night when I decide to sleep. You deserve nothing less than perfection for your debut back into Gate society - which is why I have decided that I am to write and direct a play (possibly a musical) starring yourself to be performed at the event.
I am truly sorry. I made myself laugh at the thought of such a thing that I had to share my idiocy with you. I’m sure you’re missing my absolutely top notch sense of humour.
In all seriousness, nothing major is required. I’m happy to have you act as yourself - you know perfectly well how to behave at events like these, and I shan’t patronise you with reminders to smile and be polite. I’m sure the rest of the family will expect you to be a good representative of the ‘Clifford brand’ however, so I can perhaps go over a few points when you arrive. It’s not particularly long now until the event anyway. It’d be better to give you a half hour of training the night before - who we like, who we don’t, and who we have to please (generally everyone).
Father is fond of silks and overly detailed patterns. I shall be honest, though - he’s rather easily pleased. Dress to your usual calibre and I'm sure he’ll be impressed just fine.
I should hope you’re not spending all of your time gorging on ice cream and smashing dummies to smithereens. That would be far too much fun, and I've decided that you’re simply not allowed to enjoy yourself that much without me. I’d become far too jealous.
I’ve been thinking we can duel again when you come to stay. You can show me your altered Mind Sliver in person - and then I can proceed to decimate you on home turf. I’m sure that the most fun will come from explaining to mother why we’re both bloodied and bruised.
This has turned into quite the essay. I’ll finish on your request from the last letter.
I think a more satisfying answer would be that Tabitha has grown a new leaf, but truth be told the thing that delights me the most is receiving letters from you. I am glad to be keeping in contact.
I’m looking forward to seeing you,
Laurie
Bentley’s next response arrives fast - two days later. The evening prior to his arrival in Faerun to play guest at the Clifford house. A crude drawing of a coiled serpent is scratched onto the top right corner of the parchment, under which is a phrase written in Celestial. If one were to bother translating the Celestial, it would read ‘He’s mad that disturbs the slumber of serpents’.
Dear Laurie,
I’ve not much to say, writing this at speed. Lundnum has me slaving over the archive today, and I must ready myself to visit you. If all is to plan, I believe we shall see each other the morning after you receive this note.
I’m supposed to have sworn off of duelling, but I’m not particularly in the habit of doing what is expected of me. I agree to your terms, Mr Clifford, if you would be so kind as to take any fall from your mother. If I die at the hands of motherly revenge, I will return to haunt you personally.
Royce is beyond excited to visit. She has deliberated over which ribbon to wear for the past two days, and no conclusion has been reached. Your assistance is required. I give you fair warning; she will ask permission to explore, but will ignore the answer. You may wish to warn your family to expect a snake loose in the house. I hold no jurisdiction over her.
I do hope my training has not grown too outdated. Choosing the correct bottle to bring has been quite the process.
I look forward to seeing you,
Bentley