Chapter Text
The air was thick with the smell of cooked meat and spices, as people chattered and danced, undeterred by the early-summer weather. The many invited had spilled out from the Great Hall onto the well-manicured terrace, and from there, you could barely hear the band, what with all the chatting and laughing.
And among those laughing was Marcille Donato, head thrown back after hearing the most absurd joke about a supposedly unknown use for mandrakes from her conversational partner. Maybe it wasn’t the most becoming thing to do while surrounded by dignitaries from all over the world (Melini was a new kingdom, on an island, in desperate need of trade and alliances, after all), but she found she could hardly contain herself around Falin.
Marcille realized there wasn’t much she could stop herself from doing in the presence of the cleric, as she took in her new dress, letting her eyes glance up and down. It was made from a fine linen that breathed in the heat and felt nice on the skin. Falin had made her feel it when it first arrived. It’s so light Marcille, but it’s not scratchy in the least! The distinguishing feature of the piece was ornamental stitching in a light color, some patterns around the edges of the sleeve and dancing lines and swirls around the neckline that accentuated Falin’s feathers. The garment’s deep red contrasted nicely against them as well.
“Taking another good look? I thought I let you inspect it thoroughly yesterday.”
Marcille was only somewhat abashed as her eyes drifted up to look at the smirk on Falin’s face. The wine and the giddy mood had made her somewhat braver. And with that bravery, In that moment, Marcille felt the noise of the crowd dim to a hum as she focused on the woman she loved in secret and said:
“Well it’s good craftsmanship! And, well… You look good in it. Beautiful.”
For her warm words, she got a fond smile and a slight flush in return. Did that mean Falin had just grown more self-assured, or was that a sign that Marcille’s chances of ever having her feelings requited was slowly dwindling more and more?
“Oh Marcille, you’re too kind. You look quite good yourself.”
Marcille smiled and allowed it, whether it was true praise or an innocent deflection.
“Thank you so much, Falin. I’m just glad I’ve managed to not make an embarrassment out of myself tonight. Though I suppose there’s still time.”
“I don’t think you have much reason to worry. I’m pretty sure my brother will have that covered by the end of the night.”
As if summoned by Falin’s quip, Laios’ laughter rang out from the open entrance. The two women turned to see him flanked by two people, likely visiting envoys, listening intently (or at least seeming to) and toasting to him.
Laios played the part of a newly minted king surprisingly well. He did a decent enough job of keeping his council in line and getting decisions made. And when it came to diplomacy, he thrived in a friendly, jovial atmosphere. The combination of drink and the heat the new season brought with it could bring anyone low though, and Laios clearly swayed a little, his draped cape shifting and moving with him.
“I should probably go and save him from himself.”
“Are you certain? Given I’m on the council, I should probably go and do it.”
Falin waved Marcille off as she drained the rest of her drink. ‘If what I’ve heard is correct, you’ve been through a lot these first few months. Laios is really putting those fifth year spell-work lessons at the academy to use.So, in my opinion, you deserve a break. Anyways, I think it’s part of the sibling contract to simultaneously save and make fun of each other when we’re compromised.’
Marcille let go of another laugh, loud and free.
“Will you be here when we’re done?”
“Somewhere out here, yes.”
“I’ll find you, then. Have a nice time, okay?”
And she disappeared into the crowd, that damned red linen rippling behind her as she stepped away. Marcille found a wall and leaned against it as she took in the rest of the crowd socializing.
Maybe it was the drink, but Marcille felt good. Fantastic, even. And it wasn’t just the fleeting joy of revelry, but something deeper.
It had taken her a long time to notice, but she felt happy. Not an ecstatic happiness, but a consistent one. Life felt lighter, and sure, feeling complex thoughts about your best friend was difficult, and her current work was difficult. Still, things were good. She wasn’t deep down in a dungeon scraping by to make ends meet or stuck in the academy unaware of what life had to offer.
Instead, here she was amidst a crowd of people, half-empty drink in her hand, dressed in nice clothes, with friends who cared about her and no pressing concerns. The trees swayed and the bugs sang the coming of summer.
And it felt like the world and her life would be honestly okay. At least for a bit.
Sure, some things—things she felt, things she had done, things that were not yet resolved in her heart but surely—
“I appreciate the free booze, but I also feel like a prize horse being trotted out for show.”
Marcille lost her train of thought and swept her eyes around, landing on the halfling who appeared beside her, clad in a light-toned shirt and cream colored gambeson.
“Chilchuck!”
The man grimaced and seemingly hid his face with the tankard of ale he held.
“Please don’t yell it so loud. It’s in your job description to play the ‘Heroes of Melini’ part and rub elbows with people who you never would’ve associated with otherwise. I’m just here as a favor to my friends.”
“And for the drink.”
He smirked in a way that made Marcille regret the jab.
“Maybe.” He took a thoughtful sip and seemed to look out into the crowd even if it was clear he was preparing something.
“So have you and Falin gotten things together?”
“Chilchuck!” She hissed, eyes darting around the crowd of people they might know.
“I saw you two talking a few minutes ago. Looked pretty involved.”
“Well we were just talking. We’re friends, Chilchuck. Even if I did feel some way or another, that’s likely all we’ll ever be.”
If it wouldn’t be the height of rudeness, Marcille would’ve cut through the thinning crowd and left the halfling to his own devices. It was neither a pleasant topic for her nor one she much wanted to consider. Instead, Marcille remained, standing awkwardly by Chilchuck as the sun started its slow descent over the horizon, illuminating the terrace in a warm yellow.
“You know.” Chilchuck mulled it over, bitting his lower lip. “If you did feel that way, I think she feels that way too. It just exudes off the both of you. While I’m not exactly the leading expert on relationships, I know what comes from hesitating and concealing feelings, and it’s never worth it.”
It wasn’t the exciting quiet of a moment shared between her and Falin, but it felt like the world had aired itself out, and suddenly the gap was filled with chatter and bits of music floating from inside.
“I just don’t know. If I did feel that way, I’d still be worried, and part of me—“
Part of her was underneath all the joy and booze and excitement, gaping and raw and embarrassed and never ending. Honesty had been key down in the dungeon, but being honest now was so hard.
“What if I don’t deserve her, after everything.”
Chilchuck’s eyes looked her over, somewhere between taking her apart piece by piece and scolding her.
“Well that’s laughable. In the end you made it right and she seems happy with it. I’m still with you, we’re all still with you.”
“Chilchuck the things I did were terrible. Unforgiv—“
“I forgave you, we forgave you. Don’t even say that Marcille.” He cast his eyes about. ‘Look. We shouldn’t be having a conversation like this in the middle of everyone. But I want you to know that I, at least, understand what you did. And I’m not one for sappy declarations, but I think Falin would consider you worthy.
Things were good, right now, and Marcille knew it wasn’t worth it to continue this conversation, to drag him off to some niche of the channel and drag it all out.
If she thought too hard, everything she had done in the dungeon was still there, festering and unaddressed. Some part of her felt she needed to be castigated, to suffer, to be confronted. And it seemed as if that would never come and thus it would forever weigh on her.
And she was happy! She felt it so deep within her. So, this weight of all of the things she couldn’t and wouldn’t acknowledge, was something she could handle..
So, all there was to do was to say:
“If you say so, Chilchuck. So, how are your daughters?”
Deeper into summer, Court Magician Marcille was deep in research. Her desk was stacked high with tomes, and sheets of parchment were scattered around her desk.
As her head swirled with invocations and equations, she pushed out her chair, took a step back, and shook out her tired limbs, taking a look around her room. The novelty of having chambers (not just one, but several) that were far larger than her childhood room, the dorm at the academy, and the room she rented at the inn had worn off.
While her quarters were fitting for a court mage, she couldn’t help but wonder if she herself suited them. Some mixture of guilt and shame, though, pushing up and out, filled her with doubt whether she merited such a position. With what she had done to her friends, to Falin, how could she ever be worthy of any of this?
With a sigh she stepped over to the window. Light poured from the horizon as night crept in, and she could just barely see the stars starting to poke out from the light blue firmament. Soon enough, summer would be gone. When she had first taken residence in the castle, days slipped by in a delightful whirl. Time was going fast, but it was because every day was so filled and full of potential.
Now, though, time slipped by and Marcille couldn’t help but feel that it was due to her own failings. An inability to relish it, or maybe some quirk of her distracted nature.
That rotting feeling, grown out of shame and guilt, was still within her. And she had no right to feel that way. Everything was going right and not being able to let go was solely on her. Dwelling on these emotions would only make them more real, would only give them weight and power.
So, instead, like today at the council, she put on her robe and donned her persona and didn’t think about these things.
In quiet moments like these couldn’t help but wonder. It was simple to shrug off being the Dungeon Lord and convenient to have a sudden realization that altering people’s life spans was wrong. Yet isn’t there a deeper cost in making deals with demons and sinking into delusion? And an even greater toll when you come back and realize all you did?
No amount of shrugging or ignoring or kind words could wash that away.
As for aging, she knew that letting nature take its course was the right way. Giving up on the dream she had followed for nearly all her life, though, was hard. How could it not hurt? It didn’t just hurt—it broke something deep inside and sent her spinning off into the abyss. For when she had a moment of silence she would often return to one question: “now what?”
And the answer that came oh so easily was to just keep going. To starve these thoughts, to get them out and to not give them the time of day, or, gods forbid, tell others and cause more trouble and worry than she already had deep down in the dungeon.
Marcille went about her days, researching and attending councils and doing spells and spending time with Falin. She even tried to purge the weight within her. The notebook on the corner of her desk, tucked into one of the compartments of her desk, had paragraphs about it: what she felt and why she was foolish to feel that way and how she would address it. Written in neat script alongside notes on spells to shore up infrastructure and diagrams of spell circles used for sanitizing water.
The more she worked these thoughts, the harder she tried to expel them, the harder it was to ignore: the world was losing its luster.
Going over her complicated and difficult feelings often led to negative evaluations of herself. Naive, deluded, selfish. Those were some of the favored adjectives she used when she criticized herself. This strange, newer, feeling was different, though. It had no rhyme or reason: it simply was.
Which honestly made it all the more frustrating. Suddenly there was a slight damper on the world. Everything came to the half-elf through thick cloth. This would be bad enough already, but there was no clear reason to it, no obvious source. No spell to unwind or behavior to study and figure out.
Which in some ways made this feeling, draped across her back, feel fake. An invalid concern. How could she talk about this with others when there was no way to define it and no cause for it? It was just a shadow in the dark, and Marcille feared what others would say if they knew how much it made her jump.
These thoughts deserved no time, no air, but something inside Marcille compelled her. There was no helping it. And so she looked at them, only briefly, in the privacy of her room, as the sun set and the natural light of the day left her.
Several days later, Marcille found herself with some free time and so did what she usually did when there was a free hour in the day.
The responsibilities of a court mage are not all-consuming, and so, much like any other day, Marcille crossed the hallway to Falin’s quarters. The proximity had been a purposeful choice that both women had agreed to. One of the empty spires of the castle had room enough for two sets of chambers and there couldn't be a happier coincidence.
On a near daily basis, when her duties were done, she’d seek out Falin and the two would eat together or just spend time together, sometimes chatting the night away and other times in thoughtful silence.
Recently, though, Marcille was struggling. Her attention was elsewhere, turned inwards, worrying about these dragging thoughts. And so, these last few weeks she felt that she was not entirely present when with Falin. Distant and not quite there.
Each time she would find herself vowing to simply be better and more attentive. And, as she pushed open Falin’s door, she thought to herself that today would surely be the day she succeeded.
But all the mental anticipation and vows in the world couldn’t prepare her for what she saw when she entered. Falin’s belongings were strewn about the chamber, and a case half-full of clothes sat upon her bed. Her traveling bag was already packed and tucked into a corner, with a coat folded on top.
The half-elf’s mind came to a sudden realization. Her trip. Was it—was it tomorrow?
Of course Marcille knew Falin was leaving. She wouldn’t forget, and Falin took pains to remind her. She hadn’t forgotten, and she cared (she cared so much). But. But but but. Was it supposed to be so soon? How had it just snuck up on her? Maybe this was something else. Marcille absolutely did not lose track of everything. Falin was definitely not going to leave so soon.
And so the fear that was boiling underneath everything tumbled out instead.
“Wait. Your trip is this close?”
The words echoed throughout the room. At that Falin popped out of one of the doorways, idly folding a tunic.
“Of course it is, Marcille. I told you three weeks ago, and every week since.”
Marcille couldn’t help but flush. Had she? She must have. The half-elf knew she cared about Falin, a lot, and she wanted to take pains to plan around her departure. Recently, though, things had started to feel like such a blur.
“Oh… right.” Her thoughts felt scattered and difficult to grasp. “I’ve just been so preoccupied, I’m sorry.”
What else could she say? Things had gotten away from Marcille, and the way Falin looked at her now, head cocked, as if she was reading her, made the mage feel like Falin could see through her skin and so easily observe the emptiness slowly making a home within her.
So, she could deflect and do what a friend should do. “Can I help you with anything? For the packing. For the trip.”
Falin’s mouth opened and then slowly closed. Marcille could see her thinking, considering, and almost shied away from what was sure to come.
“Are you alright? You’ve seemed… not all here.”
Her brain worked overtime to figure out what to say. If she listened deep down and allowed herself the thought, the weakness, then no. No, she was not alright at all. But the lack of a ‘why’ made her fret. How could she just explain that it felt like she was slowly losing herself? That somehow a seam of hers had been ripped and everything that made Marcille “Marcille” had come spilling out.
“Oh, it’s just been hard keeping up with the new workload.”
And now she was lying to Falin. But saying it outright felt impossible. Whatever this was felt intangible, and without something to point to, some reason to proffer, she couldn’t justify it. Marcille knew Falin wouldn’t pass judgment on her for being impacted by something like that but still…
Falin surveyed her luggage, looked out the window, and then, with a resolve, turned to face Marcille.
“You know, if you wanted me to, I could stay. Even if it’s just as moral support for work. You’re important to me, Marcille. If you need me, I’ll stay.”
Of course Marcille needed her. She needs out. She needs help. She needs so so much. Yet, she couldn’t do this to Falin, keeping her caged and held back. But hadn’t that been what she had tried to do earlier, tracking her down to bring her back to the academy?
Falin was meant for so much more, but Marcille knew she would only have to ask and Falin would scupper any plans even if it hurt her. That was the last thing the mage wanted, so even if she wanted Falin to stay, she couldn’t need her. She would, and could, do this on her own.
“That’s very sweet of you Falin, but I believe I’ve got it all under control. Magic’s what I know best, right? I’m sure everything will be fine.”
It was easier this way, better, to keep this for herself. Everything would be fine.
Still, Marcille saw Falin’s eyes open, subtly taking the half-elf in, surveying every inch. As if the truth of her words was held in her posture. For a second, Marcille believed Falin could see it—the false smile, the weariness in her bones, and the way it felt her soul was constantly leaking from some open wound.
In the end, the blonde let it slide, giving her a once over and then a half smile as she returned to packing. More an act of mercy between close friends than a statement of actual belief.
“Alright. If you say so.”
Somehow, the half-elf had gotten what she wanted, but she couldn’t suppress the feeling as if the weight had increased even more.
For now, though, she had to play the part, she could be Marcille as she was. The Marcille that Falin liked.
“Do you think that the case is impractical? We’ll be traveling across the continent. There might be an animal that can carry it or a place to leave it at one of the capitals, but I’m unsure.”
And just like that the two of them spent the afternoon, pretending for the other, as Falin’s departure drew closer and the emptiness within Marcille only grew more profound.
Marcille,
Thanks for seeing me off. I was bowled over that so many people came out to see me! Even Chilchuck was there, and he hates leaving home. I felt so loved, surrounded by all the people who support me and care for me.
You’re loved too, okay? I know you know, but I don’t want you to forget it while I’m gone.
We just got into town and just like I said, the first thing I did was ask for some parchment and ink. Well, I ate some interesting looking food on skewers from a street vendor and stopped to take a breath and get used to being on land again. Right after that, though, I found a store that sold writing materials. It wasn’t an easy task. There are so many buildings here and it’s far more busy than either Melini or the academy. But the buildings have such interesting details on them, many have images made from tile that cross from one building to another. I’m already glad I made this decision.
I realized that I was happy to set off even while I was on the ship. The ocean was so blue and so vast. Sure I’ve been on ships before; when I went to the academy and then when I went to join up with Laios. But those were means to an end. This was just for the sake of it. Sailing to see.
And I saw fish that were so many brilliant colors, and gulls, and even dolphins! They made such endearing noises and I tried to imitate them. I’m sure I would’ve embarrassed you.
But most of all, even on the first leg of the journey, I’ve come to realize that the world has so many amazing and beautiful things in it, and I can’t wait to see more.
I’ll try and share as many of these sights and wonderful things as I can with you. Expect lots of letters. As for the rest of them, I’ll tell you about those over a nice ale next to a fire when I get back, okay?
And if anything arises, or if you have anything on your mind, let me know. I care about you and even if my body is far away, I’m always here for you.
Yours,
Falin