The Betrothed
for National Novel Writing Month
Day 16
Unfortunately, avoiding Patrick and his minions was easier said than done. Though they avoided any overt confrontations, over the next few days, Darrick never could quite escape the sensation of being watched by hostile eyes. Whenever Abby was busy elsewhere – which was more often than either of them would have liked, as the wedding preparations demanded a great deal of her attentions – he would almost inevitably catch a glimpse of one of Patrick’s friends hovering at the edge of sight, never interfering but never completely going away. The experience was unnerving, and he had no doubt that they intended it that way. Even more frustrating was that there was nothing he could do about it – direct defiance would no doubt bring the entire gang down on his head, and if he told anyone else about it, he would have just sounded paranoid. There were times he wondered if he was in fact being just that, but he already knew that they were out to get him, so a little bit of paranoia seemed a justifiable reaction. He considered telling Abby, but he didn’t want to worry her. So he kept it to himself as the tension slowly ate away at his nerves.
Darrick and Abby spent every minute together that they could, but alone time proved very difficult to gain without staying up all night every night, an untenable schedule to maintain. During the day, as per tradition, they were chaperoned. Abby explained that, normally, the duty of chaperone fell to one of the parents, but in this case, the responsibility was passed around between all of the married couples in the house; apparently, this was the best opportunity for the adults of every House to size him up, and they took full advantage. Most stayed out of their way for the most part, trailing behind the two of them to give them their privacy while still being able to maintain watch; some, however, obviously wanted a more active roll, chatting them up in an overly-friendly fashion. Darrick found most of these to be tedious, though there were a few pleasant exceptions (Tristan and Brianna Morgan in particular proved to be a very engaging couple, and Darrick could tell Abby was quite fond of them, her earlier sarcasm notwithstanding).
Then there were the others, who made it quite obvious that they were there solely to keep the half-breed from defiling the pure Atlantean daughter that was Abigail Martin. These often kept speech to a minimum, preferring disapproving stares with tight lips and furrowed brows to get their point across. These were the ones that made Darrick almost yearn for the moments when censure only watched quietly from the shadows. The ones that did speak usually spoke only to Abby, their words to Darrick only just enough to maintain the façade of respect for his rank. Unsurprisingly, the worst of these were Owen and Jennifer Connor.
“Yes, our Elizabeth and Patrick are coming along quite nicely,” Jennifer once mentioned to Abby as they were walking through the grounds surrounding the house. “No doubt their bond will mature any time now, though if it does not, it will undoubtedly be because they have so much potential to fulfill. That is the usual result of quality Atlantean breeding; often, when a couple’s bond matures too early, it is an unfortunate sign that there is simply not much there to work with.”
“No doubt that is the case,” Abby replied after sneaking a covert glance at Darrick, making a face as she did so. “My own high marks were certainly just a sign that my instructors had given up on my learning anything more, and decided to grade me purely on effort.”
“There are exceptions to every rule, Abigail,” Jennifer said smoothly. “Everyone knows that you were an exceptional child. Accelerated, one might almost say. Certainly, children in the outside world have to grow up so fast these days, and you had to keep up.” She looked over at Darrick in mock sympathy.
“Absolutely,” he said, meeting Abby’s look and matching her face with one of his own. “I was practically living on the streets by the time I was nine, while my parents shot up drugs in a crack den.” Abby grinned.
“Show your mother respect,” Owen snapped, obviously going for a more direct approach instead of his wife’s little barbs. “Her life’s been hard enough these past twenty-five years, living in the world with an outsider husband away from any truly civilized people. I’m certain that she did the best she could in her situation.”
“So you think she did a good job with me?” Darrick asked as innocently as he could. Owen all but rolled his eyes.
“Under the circumstances, probably so,” he said. “As I said, they were no doubt very trying circumstances. I can’t think anything but the most dire of reasons would keep Cynthia from giving her bonded son a true Atlantean upbringing.”
“She was always too swayed by others,” Jennifer remarked. “She was a follower, never a leader. A brutish outsider husband might have been more than she could handle.” At that, Darrick stopped in his tracks. The sly barbs he could weather, but this was going too far.
“Now listen here,” he said to both of the Connors, as Abby stood at his side. “My father is not a brute, and if you people are the sterling example of Atlantean propriety, then I’m glad I was brought up as an ‘outsider’. My father would never insult anyone the way you just did, run them down behind their backs, when you don’t know a single thing about him, just that he’s not one of your little club. He’s more civilized than you and your bigotry could ever hope of being.” Turning away, he and Abby stalked off at a rapid pace, leaving the Connors standing in a huff behind them.
“I’m sorry about that,” he told Abby as soon as they had put enough space between them and their former chaperones that he could not be overheard. “You know I wasn’t trying to insult Atlanteans in general.” Abby patted his arm reassuringly.
“I understand completely,” she said. “It’s people like that who are the main reason I went out on my own for two years. I’m not ashamed of who I am or who my people are, but there’s no question that some ugly ideas have gotten in. At least you can see that not all of my people share them, though.”
“Or don’t come right out and say them, anyway.” Darrick regretted his response as soon as he saw Abby’s stricken look. “I didn’t mean that as bad as it sounded. I’m just repeating what you told me.”
“I’ll have to learn to be a little less cynical,” she said, half to herself, “before I completely ruin you for any Atlantean society.” She sighed heavily and pulled Darrick to a stop, looking up into his eyes. “Darrick, my love, fear runs very deep in our people; we take it in with our mother’s milk. The best of us fight it, try to see people as they really are and not as our fear would make them. But it’s hard to break the prejudices you were born into. My bond with you helped me, and I’d like to think that two years on my own completely cured me. Most of us don’t have that chance. Those who don’t have to struggle along on their own; most get some of the way, but very few make it all the way. And then there are those who don’t try at all, who just embrace the hatred. In this, I think it is best to judge people by their intentions, because not everyone has the strength to fully make those intentions a reality.” She pulled herself into his chest, and he held her close. “Can you see my people, your people, through my eyes? For my sake?” She sounded close to tears. She sounds more hurt than I am. Darrick was angry, but not all that surprised, and so not that wounded. Still, he was very angry, and was getting tired of putting up with all the crap people were dumping on his head, no matter what their intentions. But, no matter what, I’ve got Abby. I have to remember that.
“I’ll try to,” he said, honestly. “Intentions only go so far, and I don’t know how much I can take, but I’ll try. And I refuse to believe any society that could produce you is wholly rotten.” The loving look Abby gave him made him feel that he could weather a million insults to make her that happy.
“I’m not asking you to lie down and let yourself be kicked,” she said. “If someone comes after you, give as good as you get. We’ll do it together; it’ll be fun.” Darrick snorted, though he had to admit that teaming up with Abby to take the Connors down a peg had been an enjoyable experience in its own way. Not that I would seek it out again. Still, it is nice to do things together. Then again . . .
“I can think of other fun things we can do together,” he said. Making a show of looking around, he continued. “It looks like we’ve shaken off our watchdogs for the moment.” He leaned in for a kiss, which Abby returned with glee, punctuated with gasps and other delighted exclamations. He knew enough now not to press for more. After a few minutes, Abby plucked at his sleeve and pointed back along the path. A pair of figures were rapidly approaching.
“Looks like they’ve gotten over their wounded dignity,” she said, “enough to remember their solemn duty to protect my virtue.”
“Like you don’t protect it well enough on your own.” Darrick tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his disappointment at that particular aspect of his beloved. Abby wagged her finger in his face in mock disapproval.
“Can’t you wait just one more week?” she said. “Come on, show them you can be as disciplined as any properly-brought-up Atlantean boy.” She made a show of thinking for a moment, then winked at him. “Though, from what I’ve heard, that’s exactly how disciplined you are.”
The Connors caught sight of them then, kicking up their speed. Darrick felt himself tense up. Abby squeezed his hand comfortingly.
“Okay, trial by fire. Things will get better. My oldest friend is supposed to arrive with her House today; they couldn’t make it to the Presentation. I’ll introduce you as soon as they arrive. You’ll like her; everybody does.”
“Will she like me?” Darrick asked, genuinely concerned, though he felt foolish for being so. Abby wouldn’t be best friends with the kind of person who wouldn’t.
“Darrick, dear, if it weren’t for the bond, I’d be afraid of her stealing you.”
for National Novel Writing Month
Day 16
Unfortunately, avoiding Patrick and his minions was easier said than done. Though they avoided any overt confrontations, over the next few days, Darrick never could quite escape the sensation of being watched by hostile eyes. Whenever Abby was busy elsewhere – which was more often than either of them would have liked, as the wedding preparations demanded a great deal of her attentions – he would almost inevitably catch a glimpse of one of Patrick’s friends hovering at the edge of sight, never interfering but never completely going away. The experience was unnerving, and he had no doubt that they intended it that way. Even more frustrating was that there was nothing he could do about it – direct defiance would no doubt bring the entire gang down on his head, and if he told anyone else about it, he would have just sounded paranoid. There were times he wondered if he was in fact being just that, but he already knew that they were out to get him, so a little bit of paranoia seemed a justifiable reaction. He considered telling Abby, but he didn’t want to worry her. So he kept it to himself as the tension slowly ate away at his nerves.
Darrick and Abby spent every minute together that they could, but alone time proved very difficult to gain without staying up all night every night, an untenable schedule to maintain. During the day, as per tradition, they were chaperoned. Abby explained that, normally, the duty of chaperone fell to one of the parents, but in this case, the responsibility was passed around between all of the married couples in the house; apparently, this was the best opportunity for the adults of every House to size him up, and they took full advantage. Most stayed out of their way for the most part, trailing behind the two of them to give them their privacy while still being able to maintain watch; some, however, obviously wanted a more active roll, chatting them up in an overly-friendly fashion. Darrick found most of these to be tedious, though there were a few pleasant exceptions (Tristan and Brianna Morgan in particular proved to be a very engaging couple, and Darrick could tell Abby was quite fond of them, her earlier sarcasm notwithstanding).
Then there were the others, who made it quite obvious that they were there solely to keep the half-breed from defiling the pure Atlantean daughter that was Abigail Martin. These often kept speech to a minimum, preferring disapproving stares with tight lips and furrowed brows to get their point across. These were the ones that made Darrick almost yearn for the moments when censure only watched quietly from the shadows. The ones that did speak usually spoke only to Abby, their words to Darrick only just enough to maintain the façade of respect for his rank. Unsurprisingly, the worst of these were Owen and Jennifer Connor.
“Yes, our Elizabeth and Patrick are coming along quite nicely,” Jennifer once mentioned to Abby as they were walking through the grounds surrounding the house. “No doubt their bond will mature any time now, though if it does not, it will undoubtedly be because they have so much potential to fulfill. That is the usual result of quality Atlantean breeding; often, when a couple’s bond matures too early, it is an unfortunate sign that there is simply not much there to work with.”
“No doubt that is the case,” Abby replied after sneaking a covert glance at Darrick, making a face as she did so. “My own high marks were certainly just a sign that my instructors had given up on my learning anything more, and decided to grade me purely on effort.”
“There are exceptions to every rule, Abigail,” Jennifer said smoothly. “Everyone knows that you were an exceptional child. Accelerated, one might almost say. Certainly, children in the outside world have to grow up so fast these days, and you had to keep up.” She looked over at Darrick in mock sympathy.
“Absolutely,” he said, meeting Abby’s look and matching her face with one of his own. “I was practically living on the streets by the time I was nine, while my parents shot up drugs in a crack den.” Abby grinned.
“Show your mother respect,” Owen snapped, obviously going for a more direct approach instead of his wife’s little barbs. “Her life’s been hard enough these past twenty-five years, living in the world with an outsider husband away from any truly civilized people. I’m certain that she did the best she could in her situation.”
“So you think she did a good job with me?” Darrick asked as innocently as he could. Owen all but rolled his eyes.
“Under the circumstances, probably so,” he said. “As I said, they were no doubt very trying circumstances. I can’t think anything but the most dire of reasons would keep Cynthia from giving her bonded son a true Atlantean upbringing.”
“She was always too swayed by others,” Jennifer remarked. “She was a follower, never a leader. A brutish outsider husband might have been more than she could handle.” At that, Darrick stopped in his tracks. The sly barbs he could weather, but this was going too far.
“Now listen here,” he said to both of the Connors, as Abby stood at his side. “My father is not a brute, and if you people are the sterling example of Atlantean propriety, then I’m glad I was brought up as an ‘outsider’. My father would never insult anyone the way you just did, run them down behind their backs, when you don’t know a single thing about him, just that he’s not one of your little club. He’s more civilized than you and your bigotry could ever hope of being.” Turning away, he and Abby stalked off at a rapid pace, leaving the Connors standing in a huff behind them.
“I’m sorry about that,” he told Abby as soon as they had put enough space between them and their former chaperones that he could not be overheard. “You know I wasn’t trying to insult Atlanteans in general.” Abby patted his arm reassuringly.
“I understand completely,” she said. “It’s people like that who are the main reason I went out on my own for two years. I’m not ashamed of who I am or who my people are, but there’s no question that some ugly ideas have gotten in. At least you can see that not all of my people share them, though.”
“Or don’t come right out and say them, anyway.” Darrick regretted his response as soon as he saw Abby’s stricken look. “I didn’t mean that as bad as it sounded. I’m just repeating what you told me.”
“I’ll have to learn to be a little less cynical,” she said, half to herself, “before I completely ruin you for any Atlantean society.” She sighed heavily and pulled Darrick to a stop, looking up into his eyes. “Darrick, my love, fear runs very deep in our people; we take it in with our mother’s milk. The best of us fight it, try to see people as they really are and not as our fear would make them. But it’s hard to break the prejudices you were born into. My bond with you helped me, and I’d like to think that two years on my own completely cured me. Most of us don’t have that chance. Those who don’t have to struggle along on their own; most get some of the way, but very few make it all the way. And then there are those who don’t try at all, who just embrace the hatred. In this, I think it is best to judge people by their intentions, because not everyone has the strength to fully make those intentions a reality.” She pulled herself into his chest, and he held her close. “Can you see my people, your people, through my eyes? For my sake?” She sounded close to tears. She sounds more hurt than I am. Darrick was angry, but not all that surprised, and so not that wounded. Still, he was very angry, and was getting tired of putting up with all the crap people were dumping on his head, no matter what their intentions. But, no matter what, I’ve got Abby. I have to remember that.
“I’ll try to,” he said, honestly. “Intentions only go so far, and I don’t know how much I can take, but I’ll try. And I refuse to believe any society that could produce you is wholly rotten.” The loving look Abby gave him made him feel that he could weather a million insults to make her that happy.
“I’m not asking you to lie down and let yourself be kicked,” she said. “If someone comes after you, give as good as you get. We’ll do it together; it’ll be fun.” Darrick snorted, though he had to admit that teaming up with Abby to take the Connors down a peg had been an enjoyable experience in its own way. Not that I would seek it out again. Still, it is nice to do things together. Then again . . .
“I can think of other fun things we can do together,” he said. Making a show of looking around, he continued. “It looks like we’ve shaken off our watchdogs for the moment.” He leaned in for a kiss, which Abby returned with glee, punctuated with gasps and other delighted exclamations. He knew enough now not to press for more. After a few minutes, Abby plucked at his sleeve and pointed back along the path. A pair of figures were rapidly approaching.
“Looks like they’ve gotten over their wounded dignity,” she said, “enough to remember their solemn duty to protect my virtue.”
“Like you don’t protect it well enough on your own.” Darrick tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his disappointment at that particular aspect of his beloved. Abby wagged her finger in his face in mock disapproval.
“Can’t you wait just one more week?” she said. “Come on, show them you can be as disciplined as any properly-brought-up Atlantean boy.” She made a show of thinking for a moment, then winked at him. “Though, from what I’ve heard, that’s exactly how disciplined you are.”
The Connors caught sight of them then, kicking up their speed. Darrick felt himself tense up. Abby squeezed his hand comfortingly.
“Okay, trial by fire. Things will get better. My oldest friend is supposed to arrive with her House today; they couldn’t make it to the Presentation. I’ll introduce you as soon as they arrive. You’ll like her; everybody does.”
“Will she like me?” Darrick asked, genuinely concerned, though he felt foolish for being so. Abby wouldn’t be best friends with the kind of person who wouldn’t.
“Darrick, dear, if it weren’t for the bond, I’d be afraid of her stealing you.”
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