The Betrothed
for National Novel Writing Month
Day 18
The countdown continued on, day by day, and Darrick began to feel himself the calm center of a whirlwind of activity. He and Abby spent a great deal of free time in the company of Meredith and her own betrothed, a quiet young man named Brendon, but Darrick also found himself spending more time with his mother, begin drilled in his role in the wedding ceremony as Abby took care of the bride’s affairs. It was during one of these sessions the very day before the wedding that Cynthia let slip her expectations of Darrick and Abby’s future.
“I still have two more years of school, at least,” Darrick protested. “I am not cutting it short to move halfway across the country.”
“You have more important things to worry about than college now,” Cynthia retorted, arms folded across her chest. “Do you really think Abby will be happy leaving everyone and everything she knows so you can complete what is, let’s face it, a rather pointless degree?”
“She’s done it before,” he said. He ignored the comment about his degree; that was one discussion he’d had several times before. “She would have stayed away longer if it weren’t for the bond pulling her back. She’s already told me that she’s willing to move anywhere I need to go.” Cynthia snorted.
“The two of you really are perfect for each other,” she said, “though I’m worried it might be in all the wrong ways. It doesn’t matter what Abby said. You have responsibilities now you can’t walk away from.”
“I didn’t ask for those responsibilities. I don’t want them.”
“You don’t get that choice!” Cynthia’s voice rose in frustration. “How many times must I say this? You are the leader of our people; you were born into it. We are the last remnant of the royal family, not a direct descendant, but the closest left. Our people have gone almost twenty years without the noble family to lead them. It’s time you took back your rightful place.”
Darrick almost laughed in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed. “Mom, half of these people barely tolerate me, when they don’t outright hate me. They see my marriage – hell, my very existence – as a complete affront. And the others may like me or even respect me, but I’m still virtually a stranger to them. How am I supposed to lead them?”
“That is my fault, I admit,” Cynthia said with a sigh. “I should never have given in to your father. If I hadn’t, you could have been raised in this, trained in your role. You would have known your place from the very beginning, and so would they.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Darrick said. “The ones who hate me would still hate me. I would still be a half-breed.”
“Don’t call yourself that!” Cynthia said, taking him by the arms. Darrick wasn’t sure if she was going to embrace or shake him. “You are the legitimate heir to an ancient noble family. You are the rightful-born leader of our people, if you would just accept it. You are not a half-breed!” She looked close to tears, but Darrick didn’t know what to say to comfort her. Instead, he stepped back, breaking her contact.
“Yes, Mom, I am. ‘Half-breed’ is exactly what I am.” Cynthia’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. “I’m caught halfway between your world and my own. If it weren’t for Abby, I would leave your world altogether. I can’t leave her, but I don’t want any part of the rest of it.”
“You . . . you can’t just take her, Darrick,” Cynthia said, her voice rough. “Running away from who you are, from who she is, won’t change anything. I know you don’t want it. Being a leader is frightening, especially when it’s new, but sometimes you don’t get to choose your responsibilities. Sometimes you’re born into them. Accept that, and become the man you were born to be. Become a man Abby can be truly proud of.” Darrick’s bile rose at that last statement.
“That’s pretty low, Mom,” he said coldly. “Abby’s proud of me, she loves me, for who I am. Not who she thinks she can turn me into. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from that.”
Darrick turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Cynthia caught between tears and fury.
An hour later, Darrick sat in the Great Library, still cooling down from the argument. There was a serenity to the Library, especially when it was deserted, that Darrick hoped would help him regain his mental equilibrium. It would have been more helpful had he been able to read any of the contents, to lose himself in some ancient tome, but the last couple of weeks had been busy enough without adding reading lessons to the mix. But even without the added distraction, the Library was soothing, calm, a shelter from the teeming activity of the rest of the house.
And yet, after an hour, he was still angry. He wasn’t just angry at his mother for trying to control his life. He wasn’t just angry at himself for hurting her. He wasn’t just angry at his life in general that would put him into such a no-win situation. He wasn’t just angry with Patrick and his gang for keeping him from ever feeling a moment of true peace. He was angry with an entire society, a society built on duty and obligation and ancient traditions with no relevance in the real, modern-day world. A society obsessed with keeping alive a long-dead civilization to the point where their own children were terrified and ignorant of the world around them. A society that simultaneously both hated and revered him, so that he never knew where he stood, never could find a place to stand. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was angry at Abby, for tying him to this society with an unbreakable cord, even though she had done everything she could to keep that tie as loose as possible. The walls encircling him felt as though they were closing in, caging him, entrapping him in this world he could never completely escape. And all he wanted at the moment, desperately, was to escape. Fly away, he and Abby together, somewhere they could never find them. To live their own life, together, where they were masters of their own fate. But with every passing day, that dream felt farther away, and he feared that after tomorrow, it would be dead forever. He felt certain that, once he and Abby were married, they would never be allowed to live their own lives again. Both futures they had envisioned for themselves before the Presentation would be gone for good. And yet, leaving the marriage behind was not an option. He would give up his own soul before leaving Abby behind; indeed, he felt that his soul was exactly what he would lose if he left her. So the thoughts spun round and round in his mind, unresolved and – he feared – unresolvable.
So caught up was he in his thoughts that he didn’t hear or sense the footfalls behind him until he saw the shadow fall over his shoulder. Startled, he jumped to his feet and turned, to see Patrick standing within arms-length of the chair in which Darrick had been sitting. He was alone.
“This isn’t the time, Patrick,” Darrick growled, his usual nervousness at such a confrontation overridden by his annoyance. “Go away and bother me some other day.”
“I’m afraid I shall have to refuse your gracious request, my lord,” Patrick said, the honorific dripping with sarcasm, as he walked around the chair to face Darrick closer. “I hear you plan to take my poor little sister away with you.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Darrick was startled, and wondered for a moment if Patrick had some secret Atlantean magic that allowed him to read minds, to see what had been going through Darrick’s head.
“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” Patrick responded. “I would suggest you keep that in mind. There is nothing you or my sister can say or do that won’t eventually make its way back to me.” He smiled in a particularly unnerving fashion, and returned to his previous topic. “Normally I wouldn’t mind it if my sister ran off with some unlucky sap she’s managed to dupe. It would serve her right when our parents finally realized what an ungrateful tramp she really is.”
“I will not allow you to speak of her that way,” Darrick said in the most threatening tone he could manage, and took a step forward so that he and Patrick were nose to nose, only inches apart. He pulled himself up as tall as he could, firmly aware of the couple of inches Patrick had on him. “Insult me all you like; I don’t expect anything better from the likes of you. But if you say one more word against my betrothed, I will make you eat it.” Darrick was shaking with fury, but to his mortification, Patrick just seemed to be stifling a laugh.
“Oh, I’m not hear to insult you or my precious sister. I’m just here to deliver a message.” Suddenly, Darrick felt as though a car had hit him in the stomach; massive pain exploded in his belly, and in an instant, he found himself curled up on the floor, fighting with all his might to keep his last meal confined within him. He punched me in the gut! Oh, god, he’s strong. He was only faintly aware of Patrick leaning down on one knee to whisper in his ear.
“Leave. Now. Alone. Or this is only a taste of what you will receive. I cannot allow my sister to be carried off by a mongrel like you, even though she is a pain. We true Atlanteans protect our own.”
His footsteps echoed through the Library as he left, and Darrick’s groans echoed loudly in his own ears.
for National Novel Writing Month
Day 18
The countdown continued on, day by day, and Darrick began to feel himself the calm center of a whirlwind of activity. He and Abby spent a great deal of free time in the company of Meredith and her own betrothed, a quiet young man named Brendon, but Darrick also found himself spending more time with his mother, begin drilled in his role in the wedding ceremony as Abby took care of the bride’s affairs. It was during one of these sessions the very day before the wedding that Cynthia let slip her expectations of Darrick and Abby’s future.
“I still have two more years of school, at least,” Darrick protested. “I am not cutting it short to move halfway across the country.”
“You have more important things to worry about than college now,” Cynthia retorted, arms folded across her chest. “Do you really think Abby will be happy leaving everyone and everything she knows so you can complete what is, let’s face it, a rather pointless degree?”
“She’s done it before,” he said. He ignored the comment about his degree; that was one discussion he’d had several times before. “She would have stayed away longer if it weren’t for the bond pulling her back. She’s already told me that she’s willing to move anywhere I need to go.” Cynthia snorted.
“The two of you really are perfect for each other,” she said, “though I’m worried it might be in all the wrong ways. It doesn’t matter what Abby said. You have responsibilities now you can’t walk away from.”
“I didn’t ask for those responsibilities. I don’t want them.”
“You don’t get that choice!” Cynthia’s voice rose in frustration. “How many times must I say this? You are the leader of our people; you were born into it. We are the last remnant of the royal family, not a direct descendant, but the closest left. Our people have gone almost twenty years without the noble family to lead them. It’s time you took back your rightful place.”
Darrick almost laughed in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed. “Mom, half of these people barely tolerate me, when they don’t outright hate me. They see my marriage – hell, my very existence – as a complete affront. And the others may like me or even respect me, but I’m still virtually a stranger to them. How am I supposed to lead them?”
“That is my fault, I admit,” Cynthia said with a sigh. “I should never have given in to your father. If I hadn’t, you could have been raised in this, trained in your role. You would have known your place from the very beginning, and so would they.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Darrick said. “The ones who hate me would still hate me. I would still be a half-breed.”
“Don’t call yourself that!” Cynthia said, taking him by the arms. Darrick wasn’t sure if she was going to embrace or shake him. “You are the legitimate heir to an ancient noble family. You are the rightful-born leader of our people, if you would just accept it. You are not a half-breed!” She looked close to tears, but Darrick didn’t know what to say to comfort her. Instead, he stepped back, breaking her contact.
“Yes, Mom, I am. ‘Half-breed’ is exactly what I am.” Cynthia’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. “I’m caught halfway between your world and my own. If it weren’t for Abby, I would leave your world altogether. I can’t leave her, but I don’t want any part of the rest of it.”
“You . . . you can’t just take her, Darrick,” Cynthia said, her voice rough. “Running away from who you are, from who she is, won’t change anything. I know you don’t want it. Being a leader is frightening, especially when it’s new, but sometimes you don’t get to choose your responsibilities. Sometimes you’re born into them. Accept that, and become the man you were born to be. Become a man Abby can be truly proud of.” Darrick’s bile rose at that last statement.
“That’s pretty low, Mom,” he said coldly. “Abby’s proud of me, she loves me, for who I am. Not who she thinks she can turn me into. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from that.”
Darrick turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Cynthia caught between tears and fury.
* * * * *
An hour later, Darrick sat in the Great Library, still cooling down from the argument. There was a serenity to the Library, especially when it was deserted, that Darrick hoped would help him regain his mental equilibrium. It would have been more helpful had he been able to read any of the contents, to lose himself in some ancient tome, but the last couple of weeks had been busy enough without adding reading lessons to the mix. But even without the added distraction, the Library was soothing, calm, a shelter from the teeming activity of the rest of the house.
And yet, after an hour, he was still angry. He wasn’t just angry at his mother for trying to control his life. He wasn’t just angry at himself for hurting her. He wasn’t just angry at his life in general that would put him into such a no-win situation. He wasn’t just angry with Patrick and his gang for keeping him from ever feeling a moment of true peace. He was angry with an entire society, a society built on duty and obligation and ancient traditions with no relevance in the real, modern-day world. A society obsessed with keeping alive a long-dead civilization to the point where their own children were terrified and ignorant of the world around them. A society that simultaneously both hated and revered him, so that he never knew where he stood, never could find a place to stand. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was angry at Abby, for tying him to this society with an unbreakable cord, even though she had done everything she could to keep that tie as loose as possible. The walls encircling him felt as though they were closing in, caging him, entrapping him in this world he could never completely escape. And all he wanted at the moment, desperately, was to escape. Fly away, he and Abby together, somewhere they could never find them. To live their own life, together, where they were masters of their own fate. But with every passing day, that dream felt farther away, and he feared that after tomorrow, it would be dead forever. He felt certain that, once he and Abby were married, they would never be allowed to live their own lives again. Both futures they had envisioned for themselves before the Presentation would be gone for good. And yet, leaving the marriage behind was not an option. He would give up his own soul before leaving Abby behind; indeed, he felt that his soul was exactly what he would lose if he left her. So the thoughts spun round and round in his mind, unresolved and – he feared – unresolvable.
So caught up was he in his thoughts that he didn’t hear or sense the footfalls behind him until he saw the shadow fall over his shoulder. Startled, he jumped to his feet and turned, to see Patrick standing within arms-length of the chair in which Darrick had been sitting. He was alone.
“This isn’t the time, Patrick,” Darrick growled, his usual nervousness at such a confrontation overridden by his annoyance. “Go away and bother me some other day.”
“I’m afraid I shall have to refuse your gracious request, my lord,” Patrick said, the honorific dripping with sarcasm, as he walked around the chair to face Darrick closer. “I hear you plan to take my poor little sister away with you.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Darrick was startled, and wondered for a moment if Patrick had some secret Atlantean magic that allowed him to read minds, to see what had been going through Darrick’s head.
“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” Patrick responded. “I would suggest you keep that in mind. There is nothing you or my sister can say or do that won’t eventually make its way back to me.” He smiled in a particularly unnerving fashion, and returned to his previous topic. “Normally I wouldn’t mind it if my sister ran off with some unlucky sap she’s managed to dupe. It would serve her right when our parents finally realized what an ungrateful tramp she really is.”
“I will not allow you to speak of her that way,” Darrick said in the most threatening tone he could manage, and took a step forward so that he and Patrick were nose to nose, only inches apart. He pulled himself up as tall as he could, firmly aware of the couple of inches Patrick had on him. “Insult me all you like; I don’t expect anything better from the likes of you. But if you say one more word against my betrothed, I will make you eat it.” Darrick was shaking with fury, but to his mortification, Patrick just seemed to be stifling a laugh.
“Oh, I’m not hear to insult you or my precious sister. I’m just here to deliver a message.” Suddenly, Darrick felt as though a car had hit him in the stomach; massive pain exploded in his belly, and in an instant, he found himself curled up on the floor, fighting with all his might to keep his last meal confined within him. He punched me in the gut! Oh, god, he’s strong. He was only faintly aware of Patrick leaning down on one knee to whisper in his ear.
“Leave. Now. Alone. Or this is only a taste of what you will receive. I cannot allow my sister to be carried off by a mongrel like you, even though she is a pain. We true Atlanteans protect our own.”
His footsteps echoed through the Library as he left, and Darrick’s groans echoed loudly in his own ears.
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