Work Text:
~*~
It's four in the morning
I'm wondering if I can choose
To hold on to something
Or let go when my heart tells me to
Maybe we know how it's all gonna end
Baby, we crash and we burn
Over and over and over again
~*~
House Royce had returned to Faerie; those news had spread like a wildfire through all of Dol-Makjar. They were the topic of whispered conversations in run-down taverns, commoners waiting for news on their relatives who had served the family, as well as conversations in sitting rooms amongst the nobles who felt deceived and robbed of the opportunity to watch the doors to Faerie open. Wherever Eloise went this day, there was no escaping the words Palazzo Davinos and House Royce. And there was no escaping the feeling that something was terribly wrong in Dol-Makjar. A whole house and 200 souls - servants, vassal knights, guards - all gone. It didn’t sit right with her, it didn’t make sense to her. Not that anyone would include her in such kinds of conversations, politics and the Noble Houses as far removed from her position in this society as humanly possible. People came to her for pleasure, for soft and sensual words, for idle chatter and meaningless conversation.
Walking the streets of the city, she was invisible to most; people only saw her when they needed her anyway. And even then they didn’t see her. What used to bother her when she was younger now felt like an advantage, allowing her to easily overhear conversations she would never be part of, as she just did sitting in The Seven Stars, just a few feet shy of the Orc she knew as Halandil Fang and two very noble newcomers. They were not the first people she had overheard talking about the Royce Gala that was supposed to happen at the Palazzo and its very abrupt ending, but it was the first time she witnessed the information being shared with someone who had a deeper connection to House Royce. And judging by the man’s reaction, he was just as surprised as Eloise had been when the news first had reached here some few hours ago.
There was a sinking feeling in her gut, the quiet reassurance that something indeed was wrong. The surprise she read in Halandil Fang’s face just added more questions to her already existing ones. If the Lady Aranessa had planned the banquet to celebrate the Doors to Faerie reopening and her returning to that place so removed from their world, why wouldn’t she confide in her brother-in-law? Why do this only a day after the death of her husband? Those were questions running through her head, questions she ought not to ask herself, the workings of those families none of her business. Yet, they occupied her thoughts. Removing herself from the conversation, Eloise slid off her chair, putting the money she owed to Lachmir on the table and left the tavern and its patrons behind.
Cold air met her outside, filling her lungs with the fresh air of the Rookery, quite the contrast to the stench of beer and ale that had seeped into every floorboard and every table at The Seven Stars. Walking the streets of the only city she had ever called home, her feet carried her over cobble stone, through the sea of people moving into every possible direction, out of the Rookery and towards Lugzash. That part of the city was calmer, houses lying in darkness at this hour of the day. Eloise passed the Archanade, a place that had always fascinated her but that she had never had the time to pay a visit to. Lugzash was not a place for people like her, she didn’t belong with those who had time to leisurely stroll through collections of history, looking at artefacts that, just 70 years ago, had changed the order of the world. Still, she loved to hear the whispers about it and about the people who had devoted themselves to curating it.
She felt her heart pounding in her chest the closer she came to her destination, making her all too aware that this was a bad idea. Then again, it was more of a whim, her only becoming aware of the way she’d been taking when the Palazzo Davinos became visible in the distance. The Palazzo lay in disturbing darkness and silence, everyone having left what was supposed to be a celebration of sorts. Eloise didn’t dare to get any closer, didn’t dare to step into a place that held no space for her. Something felt off about the place, something she couldn’t name.
She remembered the booming voice of General Raimond Davinos just a day before, waking her from her slumber after the night spent with Julien and Marcus. Nothing about this morning had indicated anything about them wanting to leave not only Dol-Makjar, but this whole plane of existence, behind. Not that Sir Julien Davinos would have owed her any kind of explanation, all he ever owed her was the money she was worth for her service. Still, it was odd to her. He had come to her for over two years whenever he visited Dol-Makjar and she had, in some way, imagined they had formed some kind of connection. Nothing too real, nothing too emotional. Some kind of kinship, maybe. She would never say that she knew him, she wouldn’t even say there was anyone who truly knew him. In the same way there wasn’t anyone who truly saw her. They had that in common, despite all the differences in their lives. She did know him well enough to not believe him to always be a gentleman, but what she did believe him to be was honorable, at least honorable enough to give her the courtesy of a good-bye and telling her it would be their last night together. Yet, he had not spoken a word about it, had not spoken many words as usual.
She had watched him change over the years, just as she had watched the city change right in front of her eyes. She had been nothing but a wee baby in her mother’s arms when the War of Axe and Vine had happened, had been a young child during the Falconer’s Rebellion, the two most defining instances in the history of the city since the Shaper’s War, and something deep inside Eloise told her, she’d be a woman of 28 years of age when history was once again written in Aramán.
The feeling of grief settled into her stomach, her pounding heart quieting down. She couldn’t say what she was grieving for as her eyes watered and obscured her field of vision even more in the darkness of night. Even with House Royce and Davinos gone from Dol-Makjar, there was nothing she had lost. Nobody she had known had worked there or even had stepped a foot inside the Palazzo, her only tie to this place being a man who paid her for her company and the pleasures of her body, as did many others in this city.
Other than many women and men in the Swan’s Embrace, she had never believed a dashing knight, brave adventurer or lonely noble would sweep her away. Those stories were better left to the bards’ songs or the actors’ tales. It was nothing that happened to people like her, raised in unused chambers in the brothel she was conceived in, raised by a single mother whose trade she’d continue to pay off a debt she was too young to even have assembled. All these years of work, all these years of playing the part and still she made the beginner’s mistake of getting attached to people. She knew she should be more like Marcus, who only saw pieces of silver and gold in those around them, who only lay with Julien after a night well paid for because laziness was second nature to him and not because deep inside he craved the presence of another person, the illusion of something more intimate than intimacy. After all, the world she was born into didn’t seem like the world she was built to live in.
Turning her back to the Palazzo and its hollow halls and gardens - places she had never seen but imagined a hundred times in the small moments in between falling asleep and deep slumber - Eloise wiped the unshed tears for people she had never met from her face.
As she entered the Swan’s Embrace, the smell of ale, beer, wine and opulent perfume hit her with full force. An all-encompassing experience so unique to this place. The Swan’s Embrace was not one of Dol Makjar’s most noble brothels, it was built for merchants, mercenaries and soldiers, a place built to forget, for an affordable price that didn’t make one feel cheap.
“You’re late, Eloise,” the Madame said instead of a greeting, sitting at the bar by the door as if waiting for her, but Eloise wasn’t paranoid enough to think she was targeting her, specifically. No, the owner of the establishment, only known as the Madame to everyone, watched the movement of every boy and girl with eagle eyes.
“I’d only be considered late if I was back by first light,” Eloise replied, the smallest form of rebellion she allowed herself under her circumstances, “but the moon’s still up.” She took the stairs up to the rooms, entering her own and shutting the door behind her. Thankfully, in the dim light of the foyer, the red of her eyes had been invisible, and it was nothing some cool water and a few hours of sleep couldn’t fix.
~*~
Work took her mind off the events in the city, occupying her until the late hours of the night. The sun had long since vanished on the horizon, the moon taking its place in the sky, as she sank down on her bed, finally alone. Outside, she still heard the music and chatter of people enjoying each other’s company, but there was nothing she craved more than sleep. Eloise let down her hair and wiped off her makeup, as the door to her room opened. Jophine entered the room, cheeks flushed against her pale skin, long silvery hair falling down her back. Even in this state of unrest, the elven woman looked ethereal. Eloise didn’t know how old Jophine was, but she knew that the woman was one of the few who freely chose this occupation because she found fun and pleasure in it.
“You will not believe what happened.” The door fell shut behind her as she walked deeper into the room.
“House Royce, I know-”
“Who cares about House Royce?” Jophine interrupted her, “They let go of half the Revolutionary Guards just yesterday! Hendrick told me just this night, he is devastated, the poor lad. Apparently one Lord of the Einfasen just waltzed in there and took command in the name of the Chamber of Lord-Advisory.” She let herself fall onto Eloise’s bed, burying her face in her hands. “What are they even thinking?”
“Half the Revolutionary Guard? He must be mistaken…” It did sound insane, the Revolutionary Guard had protected the city since the Shaper’s War, there was no reason to disband them.
“How can he be, when he is one of them? Lord Einfasen gathered them in the courtyard of the Brethren Hall and let them all go, just like that.” She snapped her fingers to accentuate her words. “Some joined mercenaries right away just to make sure they’d have some source of income…” Jophine shook her head, “I fear Hendrick is going to end up doing the same.” The man was one of her favorite patrons, and her friend did have a soft spot for him. The elf stood up again, starting to pace the room.
“And the Penteveral, I’ve heard from Eunice that one of her patrons told her that the Revolutionary Council somehow made the dean step down, but Eunice’s boy believes that it’s the Sundered Houses pulling the strings. It’s been some strange 48 hours for Dol-Makjar and I fear it’s not going to get any better. For any of us.” With that, Eloise had to agree, things were changing rapidly in the city and not for the better. “And with the Creed spreading and the Sundered Houses getting more and more powerful in this city, I don’t know what that means for us especially.”
With her mind occupied by the vanishing of House Royce and Davinos, her doubts about the story told to and by the public, everything else had stepped back in her mind. But now, by Jophine’s words alone, it was dragged back onto the surface. Her concern had only been for people she didn’t even know, concerns she had conjured up herself to overshadow her worry for Julien alone. Maybe now it was time to be concerned for herself. If Jophine spoke the truth, if the Sundered Houses started to insert themselves more and more into the daily life of Dol-Majkarns, it was only a matter of time until the order of the city changed. The Creed already watched the brothels with keen eyes, seeing only impurity in the pleasure of the flesh - especially if someone paid for it. It wouldn’t be long until their livelihood was endangered, and with it, their lives as a result.
Thinking back on Jophine’s words, it was, in a way, almost funny, how they, the unseen, the overlooked, were the ones to easily steal information from people’s lips. How willingly men and women alike traded their innermost thoughts and secrets for a few hours of company of a warm body. She thought back to Julien, of how she thought him willing to bid her farewell, probably letting a secret of House Royce slip, and how, because he didn’t do it, she was so sure of things being foul.
~*~
Once again her feet carried her towards the Palazzo Davinos in the security of dusk, people passing her by but not paying any attention. Things seemed off, the museum closed at an unusual time, the lights were out and a letter was posted at the front door informing passers-by of the indefinite closing of the Archanade due to the moving of some exhibitions. Some people took notice of it, wondering about the sudden change but nobody gave it thought for too long. For Eloise, the inner workings of the museum and the work of its curators was nothing of interest, it was a world even further removed from hers than that of politicians and soldiers.
She had learned from one of her patrons, that just a day after the vanishing of House Royce and Davinos a small group of Arcane Marshalls under the supervision of Lord Einfasen had conducted an investigation of the place. The man, a member of the Revolutionary Guard himself, hadn’t known any details, but those he had shared, all from stories told to him by his comrades, had painted an interesting picture. Of course, nothing was supposed to seep out into the public, and of course Eloise had been sworn to secrecy, most likely in the same way he had been himself by his friends. Yet, she knew how to keep high profile secrets much better than the ordinary man. Apparently, something had gone awfully wrong during the investigation, one of the men had been sent to the infirmary where he was still being kept. There had been no additional information, but it had at least confirmed her own suspicions.
Reaching the Palazzo Davinos a sea of flowers and candles had been laid down in front of the gates and around the walls. There were pictures, paintings and letters in between, a silent requiem for the souls lost. Eloise wondered if some of them were laid down for Julien and General Raimond, wondered if word had already been sent to their family. She wondered if, through some kind of miracle, nobody could explain with the gods gone from this world, they had made it out alive.
Standing there in front of this memorial, she looked at the pictures of servants and soldiers, reading little notes claiming they were loved and not forgotten. A part of Dol-Makjar was deep in mourning, while just a few hundred meters further, life went on unchanged.
“Have you lost someone as well, dear?” An elderly woman approached her, hands folded in front of her, a soft reassuring smile on her face. With her hair tied up and wearing her most modest dress, Eloise almost looked like someone who belonged here, like someone worth mourning here.
“I don’t know yet if he is lost,” she answered, “I still hope he might return.” The woman looked at the flowers, her eyes finding the picture of a young man among them.
“It’s hope that keeps one going, I wish I still had that.” She said, voice low. “My grandson, he was a servant for House Royce, he left that morning but never made it back. All hope I have is that he has a good life in Faerie. It ought to be better than here. Maybe the doors will open again and they come back to us, but I don’t think that will happen in my lifetime.” Eloise listened to the woman, for the first time hoping the people of Dol-Makjar would never learn what really transpired in this place. They didn’t need the knowledge of that, when the thought of their loved ones safe in Faerie was so much more comforting than the truth. “Who was it for you?”
“A friend,” she answered after a brief moment of hesitation, not even knowing if Julien would approve of this word. He wasn’t a friend, he was a customer, but she couldn’t say that. “He was a knight of House Royce, I just hope he was sent to some other place and didn’t have time to tell me.”
“If there still were gods,” the older woman began, voice hushed now, as if sharing something forbidden with her, “I would pray for you, for all of us, that they might return, but I haven’t prayed since the Shapers fell, and I will not start praying to some magical light, or whatever House Halovar claims the Beam is.”
“I didn’t know his favorite flowers,” Eloise heard herself saying, looking at the daffodils surrounding the grandson’s picture, “looking back, I know so little of him.” And in a way, it hurt more than she was willing to admit even to herself. The tears she had thought all cried after her last visit to the Palazzo returned to her eyes, a burning sensation at the brim of her lids as she tried to keep them from escaping. Back then, she had told herself her sorrow was for everyone lost; this time, she had to acknowledge it was for Julien. Either his loss, or the loss of him.
“Here, dear,” the woman said, holding out a handkerchief, “dry those tears. I am sure, even if you don’t bring his favorite flowers, it will mean something to him, because they came from you.”
“Thank you, for your kind words.” She took the handkerchief, dabbed away the tears, then gestured to return it. The woman placed her hand on Eloise’s and softly closed it around the fabric.
“Keep it, looking at this city, we will need a lot of kindness from strangers moving forward.” For a moment Eloise did not know what to say, just stared at the wrinkled hand around hers, felt the calloused fingers on her skin.
“I…” she began, wanting to deny the gift but then thought otherwise, “Thank you, I will cherish it. My name is Eloise, by the way.”
“Agnes. It was lovely meeting you, Eloise, and I wish for you, that you find your friend well. Have a good night, my dear.” As Agnes left, Eloise watched her until she was out of sight, only then her eyes returned to the memorial.
~*~
Upon her return this time, Eloise wasn’t greeted by the Madame who had given up her place by the counter for the sake of conversation with a group of especially wealthy customers. Nothing she was too mad about, as it allowed her to quietly return to her room without invoking the scrutiny of the mistress. Back in the safety of her small quarters, she found Jophine waiting for her once again. This time, the elf was seated on the bed, a bag carrying her belongings laying by her feet.
“You’re leaving.” It was a simple statement, not even a question. Jophine worked in this place because she wanted to, not because she needed to.
“Hendrick’s leaving town with a mercenary troop, I’ll go with him.”
“I didn’t think you cared so much about him… travelling with mercenaries, that’s hardly something I can see you doing.”
“I am 160 years old, I have done a lot of things you could not even imagine seeing me doing.” there was a soft smile on the elf’s face. “And I do care as much about him… I will lay down a flower for your knight on the way out.”
“Julien wasn’t my knight.”
“Oh, but he could have been.” He couldn’t, would’ve never allowed himself to be, but Eloise didn’t say that out loud. Instead, she said her farewells and good wishes to her friend and watched her step out of the place that was nothing like a cage for her. Watching Jophine leave, walk out of the door freely and down the street felt like a knife to her back. For years, the elf had been her friend and companion, it hurt to let her go, and yet Eloise could understand her decision to leave this city behind and start over. If she could she would do the same, but then, where to go? She barely knew anyone outside of this house and she didn’t think herself courageous enough to leave everything behind and start over.
Sleep eluded her for the rest of the night, every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was a sea of flowers and candles and Julien looking at her from the other side. Jophine’s voice haunted her, with all the could-have-beens she had never allowed herself. It was torture she put herself through, a never ending stream of thoughts and memories. Within only a few days, just with his vanishing, Julien seemed to be more present in her thoughts than ever before. The memory of him, the acknowledgement of her own feelings, haunted her and there seemed to be no way of evading him.
~*~
For a few precious days, the whispers about House Royce and Davinos quieted down, the only sign of whatever had transpired was the memorial at the Palazzo. She was laying with a young soldier who had just been transferred to Dol-Makjar, a somewhat soft spoken man, almost misplaced in a location like this, who had told her the news that made her thoughts spin again. Before Dol-Makjar had become his new place of service, he had lived in Riesingürtle, serving House Einfasen in Castle Klippenblicke, and there, on the day of his departure, Lady Aranessa Royce had arrived accompanied by a knight and three more retainers. She had wanted to ask him to describe the knight, but she had kept all her thoughts to herself, a mask of sensual grace and perfectly controlled emotions.
Only days later, more news found its way to Dol-Makjar and to her ears, whispered amongst soldiers in taverns and pubs, no longer in her own bed. Julien was at Castle Torch, the home of the Barrowguard, heading into the Eternal Night. She had heard of all those places before but never did they have any meaning to her. She walked the streets back from the pub to the Swan’s Embrace in a daze, the soldier’s words echoing in her mind, describing the place Julien now finds himself in. A place without sun, without life, a cold and miserable place. She had mourned him at the Palazzo, had laid down some foxglove for him and his family at the memorial, now she feared for him in this place. Wondering, hoping against hope itself, he would return. Not to her of course, she wasn’t delusional enough to think that wherever he was, he even thought of her or remembered her, but at least to a city that so desperately needed people to protect it.
~*~
It's not love but
It's still something
It's enough to keep
Me from running from you
Might know it too
But maybe we're afraid of telling the truth
'Cause it's not love but
It's still something
~*~