-
It had been three and half moons after Edda stole away from the manor that one night. Edda arrived to the front gates empty handed at just past noon, her head held high. The guards stationed at the gates were confused at first, as she bore no items to prove her identity, but the knowledge that the eldest Eglantine child was out and about on her own and quite safe was enough for the guards to let her inside.
Though she bore herself with the rigid grace she had been trained to, each step she took was mired with hesitation. This is where she belonged, but not where she wanted to be. Why had she even come here? A pit of ice sat heavy in her core; a sense of dread of meeting her father overwhelmed her. Why was she here? An expression full of hate and frustration snapped to the forefront of her mind. There was no greater sadness than the feeling of being so utterly unwanted, but Edda had already caused him enough suffering, and there was little else she could do than oblige him in his wishes that she return home. It was the right thing to do, she knew, but such knowledge did nothing to allay the sharp reality of her rejection.
Faucillien stood ready by the front door, no doubt having been alerted of her presence over linkshell. “Lord Eamon will see you in his study,†he said, and gave her a deep bow.
Edda did not respond and entered the house. Her father’s study was on the second floor, in the wing opposite hers. It was not a grand room, nor particularly comfortable, but Eamon spent most of his time there, reviewing business and finances, and reading and writing missives of all sorts. Though no sensitive information was kept in his study, everyone save Eamon and Faucillien were barred entry unless they were personally invited. Edda had only been inside a handful of times, and each occurrence had been for matters most grave. The room itself was enough to cause Edda anxiety inasmuch as seeing her father did.
Eamon was seated at his desk when Edda entered, rubbing his temples as he poured over a letter. “Edda,†he said rather calmly. He rose from his chair and walked over to embrace her, clasping her upper arms lightly, before cupping her neck with one hand. “You look well.â€
“Father,†was all Edda could manage to choke out. It was futile to try and suppress the inherent fear she held for this man.
He inspected her face very closely for a long moment, smiling to himself as he did. “I have been told you’ve been through much,†he said, patting her neck affectionately. “Yet I see no signs of wear, no scars… You did well.â€
Edda gave him a weak smile in response. Her father did not want his daughters to bear any scars, and all the training she had received in conjury had been for the sake of making sure she could heal herself of them. Though she had managed to erase the would-be scars on her lips, she dare not mention the small, circular wound on her back where an arrow had pierced her.
“Tell me,†Eamon continued. He removed his hands from her and took a step back. “How was it to live without any assistance for as long as you did?â€
“It was a refreshing experience,†Edda responded. She kept her voice as nonchalant as she could.
“Refreshing,†he repeated. “No one to cook for you, to clean for you, make your bed, draw your bath, dress you – and you say it was refreshing?â€
“I do not think you give me enough credit, father. I am able to look after myself.â€
Eamon chuckled to himself, and leaned back on his desk with folded arms. “And when did my daughter become so capable?â€
It was a clear taunt. Edda clasped her hands in front of her and focused her gaze on her father’s chin. “Perhaps I always have been.â€
“Ah,†Eamon said. “Then forgive me, I had scarcely realized how very independent you were. Mayhap we ought to send your retainers away then – no doubt they are only a nuisance to you.â€
This was a test – and a very obvious one at that. And yet it was clear that there was no wrong or right answer in this case. Edda had already passed, because she was here, yet she had already failed, by speaking up for herself. There was no greater pleasure than mind games for a family that spent most of its time locked away in a solitary manor. It had grown wearisome.
“Only if you truly believe that’s best, father,†Edda answered coolly. Even now she still found it hard to look him in the eye.
“Your confidence is inspiring. Were that I only more confident in your ability to make sound decisions.†She did not respond to this, and merely waited for him to continue. “Stealing away with a stranger, and guest of this house, only to end up in danger once more? You do your family a great disservice.â€
“What matters is that I am here now, does it not?â€
“It would.†Eamon licked his lips and Edda could feel his gaze going right through her. “If I could trust that you would not be so foolhardy again.â€
“I only acted as such because I was so certain you intended to lock me away again! I believed I had a way out, so surely you understand why I took it.†Edda glared at her father, though her voice was pleading. It was always a futile thing, to argue with him. The fear of doing so had not faded, but she was no longer a child.
“We do not trust Ishgardians in this house,†Eamon said with a slow smile.
“I didn’t-“
“You did, and saw what came of it.†Eamon spoke quickly and harshly, and pushed off the desk. He walked back over to Edda and cupped her face in his palm, his thumb tracing over the skin beneath her lower lip. “Such pain that must have been. Losing sleep, rarely going out, always looking over your shoulder…â€
“Have you been watching me, father?â€
Eamon tilted Edda’s chin up towards him, forcing her to look at him. “Of course I have been. It would be foolish of me not to, and it is only natural that I watch over my eldest daughter’s wellbeing.†He withdrew his hand and stayed close to Edda. “I was always ready to have you whisked away at a moment’s notice. I must say, it was disheartening, with each morsel of information I received on you, how much you placed yourself in the hands of those plebeians.â€
Edda blinked, and glanced down once more towards the floor. “You do not know them,†she said quietly. Perhaps it was true that she was naïve, but there was no part of Edda that felt the stock she put in others was misplaced, or ever a ruinous thing.
“I do not have to know them to know that they should not be trusted.†He paused, and Edda could feel her father’s gaze on her, his sharp eyes darting over her expression and posture as if she were a tome to be deciphered. “You were kind to them, and I could not fault you for that,†he continued. “Charity is the duty of the rich – but you showed them too much of you. It is enough that you smile at them, and please them with gifts, but they need not see you, Edda. When you show them your fear, your pain, what it is that makes you happy – you show them only weakness. And it is through that weakness that they will take advantage of you, wittingly, unwittingly, and steal from you what it is that makes you.â€
There was little Edda could do to refute him. Even if in her heart of hearts she knew he was wrong, it was difficult to try otherwise. Each facet of her that was so carefully constructed, so perfectly built by herself and her father, each one formed a purpose, and the pain of dismantling them and breaking past them was too much to bear. It was a trial, being so forthright, and each tear she shed, each word spoken in anger – all of it she felt only towards herself, her inability to be honest. She knew it was improper to take out her failings on others, yet the pain of removing her glass exterior was overwhelming, and each time she had tried, what was it she had to offer? There was an ugliness inside of her, her mutilated self, shredded and marred in order to fashion something much more delicate in its place. She wanted to be seen, she did not want to be seen. So often her true self was goaded out of her, but what was there to come of it? No sooner than she had begun to be able to bear the ache of stepping out of her cell, that self had been forgotten and so easily discarded. She did not have the strength to hold on to it. There was no worth in the ego of a person so easily consigned to oblivion.
“Do you not trust me, father?†Edda asked softly. There was a tightening in her throat. Eamon was silent for a long moment, and so Edda rephrased: “Who is it you do trust, father?â€
“I trust my family,†Eamon said evenly. There was a coldness to his voice. “I trust myself, your mother. I trusted your brother, and I still trust you. Only my family, Edda – as you must, and will.â€
He did not mention Ennis directly, and this came as no surprise to Edda. Finding her voice, Edda squeezed her hands still clasped in front of her. “If you truly meant what you said, you would have enough faith in allowing me my own choices.â€
“You know that is not true,†Eamon said. “I know you are not daft, Edda – but you are different, and you must understand this.â€
“I am not so different as you would have me believe.â€
“But you are. And all the conviction I could place on your shoulders would not be enough to shield you from those who would harm you.â€
“You are being paranoid, father,†Edda pleaded. “I will be perfectly safe. I can take of myself. You know this, you have seen it.â€
“Have I? You have already come to harm before, Edda.†He was not wrong, and Edda pursed her lips in response, the memory of a needle moving through her a constant background in her mind, and always at the forefront of her dreams. “What am I to do if anything were to happen to you? Do you think Ennis could so easily take your place?â€
Edda did not have a rebuttal, for her father was right. Though Ennis was sharp and diligent, her health was a constant concern, and it was unlikely she would ever bear children. Even if she could, Edda would not wish the strain on her sister, no matter the poison that lay between them. “I…†She hung her head. There was no logic in her desire for freedom, and so she could not topple him.
“There is no other place for you but here,†Eamon said softly, and it sounded like kindness.
Edda’s throat constricted into a tight knot, and every ounce of her felt like crying. It would be an honest display, for her father could see her; and yet ever since her brother died all the affection and love he had shown for that side of her had all but vanished, her tears meaning little to him. “All I ever sought outside was happiness,†Edda said slowly, choking out each word as her throat allowed her. “Have you so little love for me that you would deprive me of something so simple? Or was only Esmond worthy of your confidence and affection?â€
Eamon reached forward and took Edda’s hands into his own and squeezed them gently. Such warmth was a rare comfort from him, and Edda felt weaker still. “I do love you, Edda. It is my greatest wish that you grow into the happy, healthy woman you were meant to be. You will be an excellent Head, and a wonderful wife and mother. I only want what is best for you.â€
Edda looked up at her father now, her eyes red and glossy with unshed tears. “And how is it that you and everyone else knows what is best for my happiness?â€
“Give your father a bit more credit,†Eamon said, and he smiled down at her. “I understand your frustrations – I was much the same when I was your age. But give it time, my dear. That is all I ask.†He raised her hands up to hold between them, and squeezed them once more. And again. And Edda watched his face change quickly, from a gentle warmth to a caustic concern, and felt her heart grow cold.
Eamon laid Edda’s hands out flat in front of him, and inspected them carefully. “Where is your ring, Edda?â€
It was such an item that it could not be missed. It was a thick, platinum ring, the family crest and logo carved in the sides, with her middle initial engraved on the inside. Adorned at the top were tiny diamonds encircling a rather large and pure emerald. Each future head of the family received theirs on their 16th nameday, as her brother did before her. A year after his death Edda received her own, and had not removed it since.
“I lost it,†Edda lied. In truth she had given it to the Garlean, in hopes that should she never be free again, that she would not be so easily forgotten, and hoped that at least her spirit and memory would be able to be preserved outside of the ancient walls of the manor. She was not foolish enough to cling to the hope that he would remember, or even keep the ring: its worth more than enough to see him safely back to his home country. There had been a freedom and happiness that she did not expect in giving it away, as the ring was as much herself as her own mind and body were. It was done on impulse, but there was no part of her that regretted it.
“You lost it,†Eamon repeated. He looked at Edda, his eyes searching her face, his expression a stone mask.
“I lost it,†Edda said once more. The fear of his reaction had grown enough that it had numbed her to it.
Eamon released her hands and turned from her. He walked back to the desk where he began removing his own rings – his signet ring, his wedding band, and two other trophies of business – and set them on the desk. The study became perfectly still and silent as he did this. His anger was palpable, so much so that words did not need to be said. Edda knew perfectly well how grave the situation was. Only five rings had ever been made, the emeralds cut from the same gem, the purest and largest found in the outer reaches of Vylbrand generations ago. On occasion they would be melted down and repurposed for the next head of the family, and receiving them was as much of an honor as it was a ritual. They could not be replaced, the sentimental value, the display of wealth, the rich history in them: they were a priceless family heirloom.
Eamon sighed as he set the last ring down on the desk, before he turned back to Edda and strode over to her in two quick steps. Unflinchingly, he rose his right hand and struck her – hard- with the back of his hand. Edda’s head snapped to the side before he struck her again with his left hand. It was forceful, and Edda could feel the corner of her lip split against her teeth.
They stood like that for a long moment. Edda listened to her father breathe from the exertion of hitting her, her head turned to one side, the taste of iron leaking from her mouth to her chin. She dare not look at him. After a while he turned away, wiping the tops of his hands off with a handkerchief, and slipping his rings back on his fingers.
“Go clean yourself up.†His voice was sharp and frigid.
Edda did not waste any time in leaving. She ducked her head as she left and made her way through the halls back to her room. It was shameful, to be so cowed by her father. She walked briskly, eyes set on the floor, the patterns in the wood quickly becoming blurred. To make it back to her room, and not run into Ennis, so she could be alone. Noirterel stood by her door, ever faithful, and opened it for her, his face painted with a mix of pity and concern. She did not look him in the eye, nor speak, and slammed the door shut behind her.
It had been three and half moons after Edda stole away from the manor that one night. Edda arrived to the front gates empty handed at just past noon, her head held high. The guards stationed at the gates were confused at first, as she bore no items to prove her identity, but the knowledge that the eldest Eglantine child was out and about on her own and quite safe was enough for the guards to let her inside.
Though she bore herself with the rigid grace she had been trained to, each step she took was mired with hesitation. This is where she belonged, but not where she wanted to be. Why had she even come here? A pit of ice sat heavy in her core; a sense of dread of meeting her father overwhelmed her. Why was she here? An expression full of hate and frustration snapped to the forefront of her mind. There was no greater sadness than the feeling of being so utterly unwanted, but Edda had already caused him enough suffering, and there was little else she could do than oblige him in his wishes that she return home. It was the right thing to do, she knew, but such knowledge did nothing to allay the sharp reality of her rejection.
Faucillien stood ready by the front door, no doubt having been alerted of her presence over linkshell. “Lord Eamon will see you in his study,†he said, and gave her a deep bow.
Edda did not respond and entered the house. Her father’s study was on the second floor, in the wing opposite hers. It was not a grand room, nor particularly comfortable, but Eamon spent most of his time there, reviewing business and finances, and reading and writing missives of all sorts. Though no sensitive information was kept in his study, everyone save Eamon and Faucillien were barred entry unless they were personally invited. Edda had only been inside a handful of times, and each occurrence had been for matters most grave. The room itself was enough to cause Edda anxiety inasmuch as seeing her father did.
Eamon was seated at his desk when Edda entered, rubbing his temples as he poured over a letter. “Edda,†he said rather calmly. He rose from his chair and walked over to embrace her, clasping her upper arms lightly, before cupping her neck with one hand. “You look well.â€
“Father,†was all Edda could manage to choke out. It was futile to try and suppress the inherent fear she held for this man.
He inspected her face very closely for a long moment, smiling to himself as he did. “I have been told you’ve been through much,†he said, patting her neck affectionately. “Yet I see no signs of wear, no scars… You did well.â€
Edda gave him a weak smile in response. Her father did not want his daughters to bear any scars, and all the training she had received in conjury had been for the sake of making sure she could heal herself of them. Though she had managed to erase the would-be scars on her lips, she dare not mention the small, circular wound on her back where an arrow had pierced her.
“Tell me,†Eamon continued. He removed his hands from her and took a step back. “How was it to live without any assistance for as long as you did?â€
“It was a refreshing experience,†Edda responded. She kept her voice as nonchalant as she could.
“Refreshing,†he repeated. “No one to cook for you, to clean for you, make your bed, draw your bath, dress you – and you say it was refreshing?â€
“I do not think you give me enough credit, father. I am able to look after myself.â€
Eamon chuckled to himself, and leaned back on his desk with folded arms. “And when did my daughter become so capable?â€
It was a clear taunt. Edda clasped her hands in front of her and focused her gaze on her father’s chin. “Perhaps I always have been.â€
“Ah,†Eamon said. “Then forgive me, I had scarcely realized how very independent you were. Mayhap we ought to send your retainers away then – no doubt they are only a nuisance to you.â€
This was a test – and a very obvious one at that. And yet it was clear that there was no wrong or right answer in this case. Edda had already passed, because she was here, yet she had already failed, by speaking up for herself. There was no greater pleasure than mind games for a family that spent most of its time locked away in a solitary manor. It had grown wearisome.
“Only if you truly believe that’s best, father,†Edda answered coolly. Even now she still found it hard to look him in the eye.
“Your confidence is inspiring. Were that I only more confident in your ability to make sound decisions.†She did not respond to this, and merely waited for him to continue. “Stealing away with a stranger, and guest of this house, only to end up in danger once more? You do your family a great disservice.â€
“What matters is that I am here now, does it not?â€
“It would.†Eamon licked his lips and Edda could feel his gaze going right through her. “If I could trust that you would not be so foolhardy again.â€
“I only acted as such because I was so certain you intended to lock me away again! I believed I had a way out, so surely you understand why I took it.†Edda glared at her father, though her voice was pleading. It was always a futile thing, to argue with him. The fear of doing so had not faded, but she was no longer a child.
“We do not trust Ishgardians in this house,†Eamon said with a slow smile.
“I didn’t-“
“You did, and saw what came of it.†Eamon spoke quickly and harshly, and pushed off the desk. He walked back over to Edda and cupped her face in his palm, his thumb tracing over the skin beneath her lower lip. “Such pain that must have been. Losing sleep, rarely going out, always looking over your shoulder…â€
“Have you been watching me, father?â€
Eamon tilted Edda’s chin up towards him, forcing her to look at him. “Of course I have been. It would be foolish of me not to, and it is only natural that I watch over my eldest daughter’s wellbeing.†He withdrew his hand and stayed close to Edda. “I was always ready to have you whisked away at a moment’s notice. I must say, it was disheartening, with each morsel of information I received on you, how much you placed yourself in the hands of those plebeians.â€
Edda blinked, and glanced down once more towards the floor. “You do not know them,†she said quietly. Perhaps it was true that she was naïve, but there was no part of Edda that felt the stock she put in others was misplaced, or ever a ruinous thing.
“I do not have to know them to know that they should not be trusted.†He paused, and Edda could feel her father’s gaze on her, his sharp eyes darting over her expression and posture as if she were a tome to be deciphered. “You were kind to them, and I could not fault you for that,†he continued. “Charity is the duty of the rich – but you showed them too much of you. It is enough that you smile at them, and please them with gifts, but they need not see you, Edda. When you show them your fear, your pain, what it is that makes you happy – you show them only weakness. And it is through that weakness that they will take advantage of you, wittingly, unwittingly, and steal from you what it is that makes you.â€
There was little Edda could do to refute him. Even if in her heart of hearts she knew he was wrong, it was difficult to try otherwise. Each facet of her that was so carefully constructed, so perfectly built by herself and her father, each one formed a purpose, and the pain of dismantling them and breaking past them was too much to bear. It was a trial, being so forthright, and each tear she shed, each word spoken in anger – all of it she felt only towards herself, her inability to be honest. She knew it was improper to take out her failings on others, yet the pain of removing her glass exterior was overwhelming, and each time she had tried, what was it she had to offer? There was an ugliness inside of her, her mutilated self, shredded and marred in order to fashion something much more delicate in its place. She wanted to be seen, she did not want to be seen. So often her true self was goaded out of her, but what was there to come of it? No sooner than she had begun to be able to bear the ache of stepping out of her cell, that self had been forgotten and so easily discarded. She did not have the strength to hold on to it. There was no worth in the ego of a person so easily consigned to oblivion.
“Do you not trust me, father?†Edda asked softly. There was a tightening in her throat. Eamon was silent for a long moment, and so Edda rephrased: “Who is it you do trust, father?â€
“I trust my family,†Eamon said evenly. There was a coldness to his voice. “I trust myself, your mother. I trusted your brother, and I still trust you. Only my family, Edda – as you must, and will.â€
He did not mention Ennis directly, and this came as no surprise to Edda. Finding her voice, Edda squeezed her hands still clasped in front of her. “If you truly meant what you said, you would have enough faith in allowing me my own choices.â€
“You know that is not true,†Eamon said. “I know you are not daft, Edda – but you are different, and you must understand this.â€
“I am not so different as you would have me believe.â€
“But you are. And all the conviction I could place on your shoulders would not be enough to shield you from those who would harm you.â€
“You are being paranoid, father,†Edda pleaded. “I will be perfectly safe. I can take of myself. You know this, you have seen it.â€
“Have I? You have already come to harm before, Edda.†He was not wrong, and Edda pursed her lips in response, the memory of a needle moving through her a constant background in her mind, and always at the forefront of her dreams. “What am I to do if anything were to happen to you? Do you think Ennis could so easily take your place?â€
Edda did not have a rebuttal, for her father was right. Though Ennis was sharp and diligent, her health was a constant concern, and it was unlikely she would ever bear children. Even if she could, Edda would not wish the strain on her sister, no matter the poison that lay between them. “I…†She hung her head. There was no logic in her desire for freedom, and so she could not topple him.
“There is no other place for you but here,†Eamon said softly, and it sounded like kindness.
Edda’s throat constricted into a tight knot, and every ounce of her felt like crying. It would be an honest display, for her father could see her; and yet ever since her brother died all the affection and love he had shown for that side of her had all but vanished, her tears meaning little to him. “All I ever sought outside was happiness,†Edda said slowly, choking out each word as her throat allowed her. “Have you so little love for me that you would deprive me of something so simple? Or was only Esmond worthy of your confidence and affection?â€
Eamon reached forward and took Edda’s hands into his own and squeezed them gently. Such warmth was a rare comfort from him, and Edda felt weaker still. “I do love you, Edda. It is my greatest wish that you grow into the happy, healthy woman you were meant to be. You will be an excellent Head, and a wonderful wife and mother. I only want what is best for you.â€
Edda looked up at her father now, her eyes red and glossy with unshed tears. “And how is it that you and everyone else knows what is best for my happiness?â€
“Give your father a bit more credit,†Eamon said, and he smiled down at her. “I understand your frustrations – I was much the same when I was your age. But give it time, my dear. That is all I ask.†He raised her hands up to hold between them, and squeezed them once more. And again. And Edda watched his face change quickly, from a gentle warmth to a caustic concern, and felt her heart grow cold.
Eamon laid Edda’s hands out flat in front of him, and inspected them carefully. “Where is your ring, Edda?â€
It was such an item that it could not be missed. It was a thick, platinum ring, the family crest and logo carved in the sides, with her middle initial engraved on the inside. Adorned at the top were tiny diamonds encircling a rather large and pure emerald. Each future head of the family received theirs on their 16th nameday, as her brother did before her. A year after his death Edda received her own, and had not removed it since.
“I lost it,†Edda lied. In truth she had given it to the Garlean, in hopes that should she never be free again, that she would not be so easily forgotten, and hoped that at least her spirit and memory would be able to be preserved outside of the ancient walls of the manor. She was not foolish enough to cling to the hope that he would remember, or even keep the ring: its worth more than enough to see him safely back to his home country. There had been a freedom and happiness that she did not expect in giving it away, as the ring was as much herself as her own mind and body were. It was done on impulse, but there was no part of her that regretted it.
“You lost it,†Eamon repeated. He looked at Edda, his eyes searching her face, his expression a stone mask.
“I lost it,†Edda said once more. The fear of his reaction had grown enough that it had numbed her to it.
Eamon released her hands and turned from her. He walked back to the desk where he began removing his own rings – his signet ring, his wedding band, and two other trophies of business – and set them on the desk. The study became perfectly still and silent as he did this. His anger was palpable, so much so that words did not need to be said. Edda knew perfectly well how grave the situation was. Only five rings had ever been made, the emeralds cut from the same gem, the purest and largest found in the outer reaches of Vylbrand generations ago. On occasion they would be melted down and repurposed for the next head of the family, and receiving them was as much of an honor as it was a ritual. They could not be replaced, the sentimental value, the display of wealth, the rich history in them: they were a priceless family heirloom.
Eamon sighed as he set the last ring down on the desk, before he turned back to Edda and strode over to her in two quick steps. Unflinchingly, he rose his right hand and struck her – hard- with the back of his hand. Edda’s head snapped to the side before he struck her again with his left hand. It was forceful, and Edda could feel the corner of her lip split against her teeth.
They stood like that for a long moment. Edda listened to her father breathe from the exertion of hitting her, her head turned to one side, the taste of iron leaking from her mouth to her chin. She dare not look at him. After a while he turned away, wiping the tops of his hands off with a handkerchief, and slipping his rings back on his fingers.
“Go clean yourself up.†His voice was sharp and frigid.
Edda did not waste any time in leaving. She ducked her head as she left and made her way through the halls back to her room. It was shameful, to be so cowed by her father. She walked briskly, eyes set on the floor, the patterns in the wood quickly becoming blurred. To make it back to her room, and not run into Ennis, so she could be alone. Noirterel stood by her door, ever faithful, and opened it for her, his face painted with a mix of pity and concern. She did not look him in the eye, nor speak, and slammed the door shut behind her.