Chapter Text
Ten-year-old Nia Helmer lay on her stomach in her grass, absolutely entranced by the book that lay open before her. She propped herself up on her elbows (the sleeves were surely becoming more and more grass-stained by the minute, but she did not mind) and rested her cheek in her left hand, her right pointer-finger following the line of text and mouthing each word, not so much to keep her on track or focused as to keep her from reading too quickly. She had just gotten it from the Great Library at the center of Ban Rona the day before, and she had wanted it to last for at least two days.
Her family's dog, Krista, was a great listener when it came to her book rants. She would just sit there and wag her tail, cocking her head or tilting her ears every few seconds, making it seem like she was really listening. Her mama, Wendolyn, was always thrilled to talk to her about books, provided that they did not involve innocent animals being maimed in one way or another. Her papa, Podo, was more than happy to listen, as long as he got to spend the same amount of time that she spent rambling about her fantasy world telling tales of his own adventures from his "younger days," though, in truth, he was not all that old. He always seemed to avoid the important details, like how he actually lost his leg (he had a peg-leg that made him seem very much like a pirate, but a jolly pirate, not the evil sort). Not only that, but Nia doubted his stories were entirely true. Growlfist the Strander King from the West Bend of the River Blapp in Skree sounded far too much like Hollishfolk to live in Skree. Everyone knew the Hollish were the strongest and the fiercest challengers and fighters in Aerwiar, or at least in the general vicinity of Dang. Still, her papa had come from Skree and he was the most vicious and protective man she knew. That was his reputation and he valued it, which happened to be the main reason why she kept it a secret that he would do almost anything for any soul who asked him.
A flutterfly landing on the very top of Nia's book distracted her, and she held her breath as she watched it's gold and red wings trembling ever-so-slightly. She could see the little feathers on its delicate wings and drank in the moments that it stayed there, its tiny feet pattering almost silently. It was as if time stopped and she and the flutterfly were the only two living things in all the meadow, the only movement coming from the gentle sway of the grass surrounding her and hiding her from the rest of humanity.
"NiNi Girl, it's time!" the flutterfly started in terror and flew away as fast as it possibly could. Nia watched it for just a second and felt an ache in her heart at the loss. After it left, she stood up as slowly as possible and clutching her book to her chest tightly she began picking her way through the tall glasses to where her father stood on the back porch of Chimney Hill, the family title for their home.
All homes and houses, stables and barns, buildings and ports had names in Ban Rona. Their ancestors had spent such loving time building their homes, crafting them into something beautiful that would sustain their families for generations, that they deserved names. Nia's home, Chimney Hill, had existed for far longer than she could comprehend, but she knew Wendolyn had lived there before her, Wendolyn's father before that, her father's grandmother before then, and back and back and back for many, many years.
Traditionally, the home was first occupied by and eventually given to the oldest child in the event of their parents' death, whether they be boy or girl, married or unmarried. The only time when things changed was if the oldest boy and the oldest girl, or the oldest girl and the oldest boy, of two different families married, theoretically giving them possession of two houses. When this occurred, the couple would normally decide between the houses bestowed upon them which they liked better and would in turn offend some relative for the rest of time and be subjected to any number of pranks.
Being an only child, Nia knew she would inherit Chimney Hill one day and that thrilled her to the core. She had a feeling that whoever her husband was, even if he was the oldest child in his family, he would want to live in Chimney Hill. Besides, then his next oldest sibling would have a chance at owning their family home, and who wouldn't want that?
"Nia! Are you coming?" her Papa's bellowing voice called, more urgently than before. Nia rolled her eyes and picked up her pace a little, but not enough to make much of a difference. Her parents already knew what she thought about the situation, and that they were making her participate at an unfortunately obvious level was frankly irritating. She didn't want the drastic change that was going to happen, she didn't want more people in their home, she didn't want to deal with royal snobs who were coming solely for diplomatic purposes and would likely be sissies at Guildling Hall.
When she finally trudged out of the grasses and saw her father, Nia felt herself dragging her feet even more, this time not because she was being forced to participate in something she didn't want to be a part of, but because of the way her father was standing with his legs planted far apart, his arms crossed, his mouth a hard line, and his dark, bushy eyebrows drawn so close together that she could not see his eyes. That meant business and scolding and punishment, just, of course, because she had purposely defied him.
Nia stopped walking when she was a few feet in front of him and stood there, avoiding the piercing stare of his eyes that she knew was hiding somewhere beneath his enormous eyebrows.
“Nia Helmer,” he began slowly, his voice completely serious. Nia shifted nervously. She knew she was going to get it. “Oh, NiNi Girl,” he whispered tenderly, his tone switching abruptly as he swept her up into a tight hug. Nia was stunned that her Papa hadn't roasted her or scolded her or done anything even resembling punishment at all to her, even though she clearly ignored his instructions. She was also thinking about how the corner of her book was pressing into her stomach rather uncomfortably, since she hadn’t had the chance to move it out of the way. “I know you don't want it, but please try for your Mama’s sake. She and Nala are old friends and we just want things to work out. Will you promise me you'll at least try?”
As her mind tracked through what her Papa was saying, she couldn't help but feel her heart sink. He said nothing about keeping things the way they were, only about changing them because it was good for others. No one had ever asked her if she thought it was a good idea for them or for their family. No one bothered to see what she would think if two boys moved into her home and suddenly became a louder part of her life.
“NiNi Girl,” he repeated, clearly still looking for an answer.
Nia pursed her lips. She knew how she wanted to answer him. She knew what answer would be most truthful to her longings. At the same time, though, the mercy and grace her Papa had just shown her blew her mind away, and she found herself unable to respond in any way other than a nod.
“Thank you. Listen, I know it's hard, but I promise it'll all work itself out in the end. Now, Nia,” his voice became stern and Nia knew she was receiving part of not all of the lecture from before. “I shouldn't've had to call you twice before seeing you," he told her, an edge of sternness in his voice. “And when I do have to call ya twice, you had better get yourself over to me quickly.”
Not willing to look at him, Nia buried her face in his shoulder and whispered a muffled, “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl,” he said softly. “Now I’m gonna set you down and you’re goin’ ta get changed out of those soiled clothes fast as a buttered thwap,” — Nia smiled in spite of herself at the sound of the familiar phrase — “Because your Ma needs ya to be presentable in town. And then we’ll go.”
He lowered her to the ground and gently steered her towards the back door. Nia began walking slowly, still upset that no plans had been changed, but switched into a trot when she heard a throat clearing impatiently behind her.
She walked up the stairs to her room, an urge to change slowly simmering in her heart. She knew she couldn’t, though. That would be rude and disrespectful and just the way to earn a real scolding. She would have to be fast. Though, she mused just a bit grumpily as she began brushing the tangles out of her dark, curly hair. I don’t think anyone could be as fast as a hypothetical buttered thwap.
Fifteen minutes later, all traces of the very disheveled Nia Helmer were entirely gone, replaced by a clean, poised girl in a pale yellow dress with lace trim. Her hair was pulled back in two neat braids, and her bangs fluttered playfully in the breeze. It was all quite a contrast to the rather frustrated and upset look on her face. She couldn’t bear the way it felt for her mama to stare at her the way she did, looking at every inch of her clothing but also at her face and eyes and mouth.
“Nia, darling,” Wendolyn said a little sadly as she pulled her into yet another hug, though one much more dainty and less bearish than the one from before. “I know you don’t like it and I’m very sorry that you don’t, but there’s nothing I or anyone else can do about it. Nala asked and I couldn’t bear the thought of turning her down.”
I wish you could, Nia thought smugly, but then realized that she could never turn anyone down, either. Even if they did want her to do something she didn’t love, as long as it wasn’t wrong, she would never be able to refuse.
“I understand,” she replied softly, looking down at the ground.
Wendolyn crouched so she was eye-level with her and lifted up her chin gently with her finger. Now she was forced to look into her mother’s eyes, and she saw love and tenderness and understanding there. “Nia, I promise that nothing will change. We’ll have two extra people in the house but nothing between us will change. I won’t pay less attention to you, I won’t forget to tuck you in at night —”
“We’ll still sit together in the armchair in the evening?” Nia asked, her voice breaking just a bit at the thought of not being able to cuddle close to her mama and feel perfectly safe.
“Absolutely,” Wendolyn whispered, and Nia saw tears in her mother’s eyes. “I promise. Don’t worry.”
Nia nodded a little and threw her arms around her mother’s neck, closing her eyes tightly against hot tears that threatened to spill over. She couldn’t cry. She wasn’t supposed to. Hollish women were strong and firm. They could be gentle and kind — like her dear, dear, mama who couldn’t even say anything cruel or unkind to the thwaps that ravaged her totato patch — but it was their forcefulness and no-nonsense attitude that made them who they were. There were three “rules” regarding Hollish women: they never complained, they never said they couldn’t do something, and they certainly never cried. Maybe she had broken the first rule and nearly broken the second, but she was not about to stomp on the third.
Never, she whispered in her grieving heart. Never. No tears. Especially not over something like this.
“Now, you're a strong girl and I've no doubt you'll be able to do this,” Wendolyn said firmly. “But, please, try to make them seem welcome.”
Nia nodded reluctantly in response and glanced behind her mother, where Krista had trotted up from wherever she had been sniffing. She broke away from Wendolyn's embrace to pet Krista and whisper a goodbye to her.
Wendolyn let her do so for several moments before urging her to hurry. “Now run along and go with your papa. If you get there early, you might get a chance to go to the library.” Wendolyn winked, and Nia could not help but smile.
As she started towards the wagon, now with something to look forward to in addition to something to dread — surely the two balanced each other out, didn't they? — she realized she had forgotten something. Well, two somethings.
She spun around and dashed inside quickly, replying to her mama's, “what are you doing?” with: “I need to get The Grand Adventures of Genlinia Swoof from my room! If I'm going to the library, I might as well return it!”
Nia raced up the stairs, grabbed the book from her bed where she had set it down so dejectedly a few minutes before, and ran back down, stopping to hug her mother as she passed.
“I love you,” Wendolyn said as she quickly planted a kiss on Nia's cheek. “Now make sure to tell your papa not to dawdle too much. I'd like the food to still be hot when you get back.”
Nia nodded, feeling the frustration creeping in again at the thought of their guests joining them for a meal. Pulling away from Wendolyn, she held back tears again and clambered into the wagon, ignoring her papa's outstretched arm meant to help her up to the seat.