[IRP] Everyday Life

[Dahlia]

Sleep eluded her. Which in itself was uncommon, given the fact that Dahlia typically slept just as hard as her husband - who continued to sleep soundly in the bed behind her while she was out on the balcony attached to their bedchambers. So she took the opportunity to slip out of bed and fill the time with written word.

Glancing over her shoulder, a soft smile touched her lips as her gaze swept over Casimir's prone form. True to habit, he sprawled on his belly. Bathed in moonlight, his normally golden hair and skin shone in hues of silver and blue instead, save the black tattoos over his outstretched arm, bare shoulders and back. Even in his sleep he reached for her. Dahlia knew the moment she climbed back into bed, he would enclose her in his arms and pull her body into his, as if needing the reassurance of her soft warmth against him.

Given the events of their lives, even within the comparatively short time they'd known each other, the action came as no surprise. And was one she would never complain about it.

With that image firmly locked into her mind's eye, Dahlia turned her attention back onto the leather bound journal resting on the small table she sat at. Also upon the table, an ink pot and lit candle, not far from her elbow. The quiet scratches of a quill joined and was lost in the normal nighttime sounds.

June 10, 1655

Mages, thank you for bringing Casimir into my life. Despite all his faults and mine, he loves me truly and without question.

He's given me such joy and happiness, the likes of which I would have never known otherwise. He stands beside me, not in front of nor behind me, and I will repay him in kind until my last breath.

He gave me my beautiful daughter and the second love of my life, Eva. I see him in her every time I gaze upon her and no matter how angry we may be with each other at the time, all it takes is one look at her to know no matter what happens, everything was worth it. For without him, I would not have her.

Dahlia felt herself smiling again. Thinking about the cherub-cheeked infant whom seemed to charm everyone she met did that. Regardless of her mood, the thought of her daughter always softened Dahlia's disposition considerably. Four months later and still sometimes she could still hardly believe she was a mother.

I meant what I told Rannek today when he asked if pregnancy had changed my mind about having any more children. I can't imagine my life without her. Seeing a little person, someone we created together, who is a mixture of us both, is amazing.

Watching her grow and develop fills me with an enormous sense of awe. I can't wait to watch the rest of her life, for her to become a woman in her own right, to find the man of her heart and eventually have children of her own. We will both be there for her, to catch her when she falls and soothe skinned knees, teach and guide her as best we can. Her and any other children we have.

I truly couldn’t have asked for a better father than Casimir. The love I see in his eyes when he looks at her, the tenderness and care he shows her... It touches my very soul.

She paused and looked at the aforementioned man again as he sighed in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. Much longer and he would wake, missing her. Then he would slip from between the sheets and come to her, beckoning her to bed with softly spoken words, imploring lips and gentle caresses. That thought alone caused a wave of heat to flow through her body, making the residual summer warmth seem cool by comparison.

Quietly Dahlia dusted sand onto the fresh ink to dry it, waited several moments, then blew it off. She returned the quill to the ink pot and closed the journal. Tucking it under her left arm, she picked the ink pot up in one hand and the candle in the other. With silent movements, the journal and ink pot found their proper places. After that, and not wanting to wake Casimir by continually moving the light around, she snuffed the candle and left it on the writing desk. Then Dahlia padded her way across the stone floor, guided by the diffused light of the moon alone, attempting to disturb her husband as little as possible when climbing back into their bed.

The slow, steady slide of a hand calloused by hard work and handling a sword up her bare side shortly after she settled herself with her back to him betrayed the fact that he no longer slept. She rolled her shoulder back and turned her head to look at him.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Dahlia murmured softly.

Casimir propped himself up onto an elbow and gazed down at her, his hand moving from her side to her face, where he traced his fingertips along the curves of her brow and cheek, eyes following his fingers until they came to rest on her lips.

"Never apologize..." Then he captured her lips and there were no more words.

[Dahlia]

June 12, 1655

I have spent the day in the company of both Aida and Nikola with Eva in close attendance as well. We made ourselves comfortable outside the tavern and enjoyed the lovely summer weather. There was much laughter, mainly at the expense of our men-folk, but it was all in good humor, of course. They are good women and dear friends, even though we’ve not known the Vicerine all that long, but I don’t feel wrong in calling her such.

During our conversation, I also offered them both a room of their own at the Grimstad Estates. They seemed delighted at the prospect and I know Casimir won’t mind. That place is larger than I ever imagined and, as I told them, it would be silly to let all that empty space to go waste. The more, the merrier.

He has always been somewhat reticent to speak of his past and family history, understandably so, given what happened to his parents, but I think we need to speak about it soon.

Dahlia paused and idly brushed the tip of the feather back and forth along the underside of her chin. This time she had settled herself in a quiet corner of Alistair’s gardens. It brought her solace there whenever she needed to release the stresses of the day and find her ground again, just as the gardens of her brother’s castle had.

A gentle breeze stirred the loose locks of her curls cascading down her back and helped relieve the heat of the day. Being situated under the shady boughs of a large tree meant being far cooler than she would have been otherwise. Of course, subjecting herself to direct sun for too long caused her to wilt like the delicate flower she was named for. Overexposure resulted in her skin burning to the color of a beet and then peeling terribly.

It was not an experience she cared to repeat… Casimir, on the other hand, simply turned a darker shade of golden after spending a shirtless day in the sun. Dahlia resented her husband mildly for that, though she certainly didn’t mind the sight. At all.

Catching her thoughts drifting, she surreptitiously cleared her throat and cast a glance around, despite being very much alone. As soon as she realized what she’d done, she had to laugh at herself.

Dahlia, you silly woman. No one is going to begrudge you thinking about him. He is, after all, your husband and you have every right to have him on your mind.

After some consideration, Dahlia placed the quill into the ink pot and laid the journal down onto the grass next to her. She arranged the pillow between her back and the tree to recline more comfortably, then clasped her hands together and placed them across her belly, leaning into the soft cushion. A sigh of absolute contentment passed through her lips as relaxed and allowed her thoughts to drift once more.

[Dahlia]

"I wish to make him my husband," she said in a matter of fact tone, lifting her chin in a small display of defiance.

"He is beneath you. A nobody! You're to marry whom I choose and when I choose. He'll not have your hand and that's final," snapped her stepfather angrily. One thick index finger jabbed out toward her, punctuation his words.

"I don't give a damn what you say! He asked and I accepted. We will marry." Her stepfather's face turned an interesting shade of purple and she delivered the next line with malicious pleasure, hoping it might send him into an apoplectic fit and be rid of him forever. "I am of no use to you for marriage to anyone other than my beloved because we have already lain together and-"

The force of the blow whipped her head around and made spots dance in her vision, sending her stumbling back into the wall behind her. A rough hand caught under her jaw and jerked her upright before she had a chance to recover. He slammed her into the wall hard enough to rattle her teeth and see spots for the second time. She tasted blood and struggled to breathe as she stared fearfully into the face of her stepfather, contorted into an unrecognizable mask of rage. "You ungrateful little... Like mother, like daughter. If you so much as step a toe outside this house in my absence, that mark on your face will be the least of what I'll do," he hissed.

When he released her and stalked away, she slid down the wall bonelessly and slumped over into a heap, arms wrapped around her belly, and wept bitter tears. Distantly she heard the sounds of steel shod hooves against the cobblestones which indicated his departure but couldn't bring herself to care.

It was hard to say how long she remained there until the sound of her beloved's dismayed voice as he dropped down in front of her roused her from that catatonic state.

"Oh, my Mariella... What's he done to you?"

Mariella blinked owlishly at him and then sprang, causing him to rise to his feet and back pedal a step or two to keep from toppling over backward. "Shh... Shh... Easy now. I'm here. I've got you," he murmured into her ear soothingly as his arms held her to him. "Come on. We don't have much time..."

"What? What do you mean?" She pulled away just enough to gaze at him in confusion. When his eyes fell upon the bruise blooming on her cheek, his jaw hardened. "I'd kill him myself if... I'm taking you away from here. Far away. We'll start a new life together where he will never be able to lay another finger on you. But we need to go. Now."

"But... but what about-" his finger pressed gently against her lips, forestalling any more protests.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course, but-"

"No buts. No more. The carriage is already outside waiting for you. I must go back and fetch a few important things and will meet you soon after. The driver knows where. Please, Mariella, you must trust me..."

She furrowed her brows, staring at his outstretched hand... And then clasped it within her own. The smile he gave her was dazzling and warmed her to her toes. Moments later they were rushing out of the house and he was helping her into the awaiting carriage.

But before he closed the door, he climbed in behind her, dropping to his knees and cupping her small face in his large hands tenderly.

"I love you, my Mariella, in this life and the next." A promise. A vow.

"And I, you. I will wait for you, Caden. I swear it." A tear rolled down her cheek. It was quickly brushed away by his thumb, mindful of the battered flesh beneath it.

"I'm counting on it." And then they kissed. It felt far too much like goodbye for her comfort.

All too soon, he left her and shut the carriage door. A softly spoken word to the driver and a snap of the reins had the carriage beginning its journey to their unknown destination.

•••

Mariella struggled to drag herself painfully on her side away from the wreckage behind her. She didn't make it far. The piece of broken wood through her middle prevented it.

All had gone well... Until one of the horses spooked. She knew not how or why. It all happened so quickly. One moment they were moving along steadily and then... A terrified neigh. A frightened shout of the driver. Galloping. The carriage smashing into something. Rolling. A sharp pain in her abdomen. Finally, being flung free of the splintered wood.

They were supposed to run away together. Share a life. Raise a family. Instead those dreams were going to die right here, on the road in a location unfamiliar to her, all alone.

The last thing Mariella thought was... I'm glad I never got to tell him that he was to be a father.

Dahlia jerked awake, sweat soaked, heart pounding. Instantly both hands went to her belly to see that everything was whole. Blue eyes darted to the side, frantically searching for her husband - And found him, exactly where he was supposed to be - Laying next to her. Also having found her body to be in tact, she heaved a shaky breath and stared toward the ceiling.

A dream... It was only a dream. Mages, but it felt so real.

Unable to shake the deeply unsettling feeling, and needing the reassurance, she slipped out of bed and sought out their slumbering daughter. Still not quite satisfied at simply seeing her, Dahlia reached down and tenderly caressed Eva's warm, soft, very much alive cheek. A hard knot inside her eased at that touch. Even still, she couldn't bring herself to leave. So she curled up in one of the large, comfortable chairs closest to where her greatest treasure slept and stood watch until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

Some time later, she was dimly aware of being lifted by a pair of strong arms, which carried and settled her back where she belonged. Dahlia snuggled into that familiar embrace and felt it tighten around her, and, knowing they were all truly safe, soon slept again. Mercifully dreamless this time.

[Dahlia]

Dahlia cringed as hinges screeched their protest of long neglect when she opened the… How many was it now? She honestly couldn’t recall how many doors in the huge, sprawling expanse of Casimir’s family home she had opened since arriving a few days ago.

The need to make the home suitable for them at least to move their family into drove her to pack several days’ worth of supplies for herself and Eva, and take the opportunity while Casimir was away to do just that; but not before both he and Alistair extracted an agreement from her that after the first week or so, the old Lord, along with a host of laborers, craftsmen and a handful of household staff would join her.

“It is too large of a task for you to undertake on your own,” he’d said when her brows furrowed at the suggestion. “You shouldn’t be there alone for that long either. Who would know if something happened to you?”

She’d opened her mouth to protest but the open, earnest look in his blue eyes and beseeching hand on her cheek stayed those words. “I’m not going to win this discussion, am I?” The smile curling the corners of her lips and the tone of her voice indicated she had already surrendered.

The next day Alistair and Casimir both saw her and Eva off.

Dust motes swirled in the pale, milky light pouring in through one of the uncovered windows, furthest from the door, the coverings having long since rotted away, tickling at Dahlia’s nose. She resisted the urge to sneeze by sheer will alone. The rest of the windows, by some miracle, remained covered. From what she could see, absolutely everything in the room except that one window was.

Mages… We are never going to air all this out properly. It is dust on top of dust! At least the furniture that hasn’t been destroyed by mice or leaks has all been covered so we can easily use it again. Casimir’s mother and father must have employed an enormous staff to keep it up properly. Either that or they closed some of it off to have less to deal with. Even still, it would have to be opened on occasion.

But, I am getting ahead of myself. First things first!

Dahlia marched up to window closest to the door, directly across from where she stood, and tossed the fabric back. From there she moved to the window at the other end of the room and repeated.

She blinked against the sudden brightness, allowing her eyes several moments to adjust, then she took stock of the room; large… Far larger than most of the rest, covered floor to ceiling by sheets. Several, what looked to be chairs, stood scattered about the floor. There were more draped shapes which suggested additional furniture. A huge fireplace dominated the wall nearest to her.

A small seed of recognition formed in her mind but… Surely not.

Curiously, Dahlia moved toward one of the sheet covered walls. Before she got there, however, an attack of sneezes ambushed her. Not one, not two, but six, all in rapid succession. Groaning in misery, she removed the kerchief from her bodice and daubed at her nose.

Pausing a moment to be absolutely certain she was done, she scrunched her nose, nodded to herself, and set the kerchief onto the top of what had to be a chair. Since she stood only an arm’s length away from the wall, Dahlia simply reached out and gave the sheet a tug, and stared at what she found. Unable to believe her eyes, she systematically went around the entire boundary of the room, yanking the coverings down one by one.

When all of them except one on either side of the fireplace were down, she took a step back and gazed at the book lined walls in awe. She rubbed one hand across her face.

A library. His family has a library in their own house. The only places I’ve seen such a thing have been in Fenia’s and Bravia’s castles, and their respective universities. This is incredible.

Who is your family, Casimir? You claimed to be nothing more than a lowly knight but this far surpasses that. The land… The house… How can you come from a place like this and continuously insist that you were so far beneath me?

A thought crossed her mind which chilled her.

How well do I truly know the man I married? Frowning, Dahlia squashed that before it even had time to take root. No, I knew there was much about his past he didn’t tell me. Just as there is plenty of mine I’ve not told him.

After what he told me his brother Warrick did to their parents and how seeing much pain it caused him to speak of it, of them, I refused to pry. He left everything behind because of that pain and became the person he was when I met him. That is the man I fell in love with. I love him for who he is now, not his past, nor where he came from. Now he is facing what happened here and trying to make new, better memories… And we will do it together.

Just hearing herself think those honest statements made Dahlia feel much more steady. It was frightfully easy to allow oneself to be swept away with doubts and insecurities. Casimir didn’t deserve that, so she would not succumb.

Pushing the last lingering bit of darkness away, she strode to the last pair of coverings. The first came fluttering down and then the next. What they revealed nearly physically rocked the former Fenian princess back onto her heels. Staring down at her were aged but still beautiful oil renditions of Casimir’s mother and father, Linnea and Warrick Grimstad. Despite never having seen nor met them, knowing them only by her husband's descriptions alone, she recognized them; felt that jarring knowledge right down into her bones.

[Evan]

Another sleepless night plagued him, his castle didn't seem to possess that cozy feeling it once did ages ago. Maybe it was the lack of blood curdling screaming? or maybe it was because his beloved had been working so much lately? he didn't know. As he lay over his silken wine sheets that illuminated in the warm glow of the lantern that hung over the side of the bed, his bare form enjoyed the bath in silk and light and he felt as if he could finally fall asleep until the wail of his only son made his eyes snap open.
Pulling the sheets and tying them loosely around his hips, he loomed over to the low crib by the window which over looks the garden of Eden that filled the estate. Idly he lowered his hand into the crib and caressed the squirming demon's face to sooth him back into sleep, his eyes staring off into the distance past the garden. How could he have gotten so wrapped up into his own game? He asked his reflection in the window and leaned down to rub his cheek against Xaphan's.

Leaning back up he touched his own nose that was still healing from the crack that Dahlia had given him, he was trying to figure out how that happened exactly...she of all people should understand why he was being the way he was, right?...To do some good, you have to be the bad guy. Obviously.
If all the mortals only saw what was brewing beneath their feet, they'd come running to him for protection instead of making him feel bad for being the realist in this situation. Evan was a fighter and he walked through many battlegrounds of nameless dead and not once did he feel empathy for the people he stepped upon.

The demon didn't want to walk over the bodies of his friends, he knew them, he loved them and he wanted them to die when the time was right and so when he stole those artifacts from heaven and planned to hand them over to the big man on the throne, and learned that these trinkets he stole were in fact the keys to the next war? that was the push he needed to devise a plan and have the artifacts sent back to heaven with great haste so the war would be delayed for the next couple of years, the mortals would live on and Evan's children would play in the rose gardens, but you cannot stop a roaring fire with a single act of kindness.
Sure having demons run the world would be great but, there was something about mortals. The way they created and lived in ignorance but blissfully and the way they love...unconditional...They live with souls.
In some parts of the world during his travels, he would look around and see humans but no humanity for miles. They deserved to be wiped out...but not now. Evan was sure to not tell the mortals how close they had come to not being there in the morning, he didn't even want to tell them that he gave his immortality to Xaphan so he'd live a long life instead of one less than 10 minutes.

Evan stalked back over to his bed and lazed upon it, did he have a regret in his life time of sin? not one. But he did however know that something was still going to happen, hell was coming together and demons were preparing...not for war no, that would make no sense. Evan was trained to know about this stuff and he knew that they weren't prepared to take on the mortals or the angels, if anything they'd only get population control. This is why he was into his mortal's business, trying to keep from out of the demonic files and deep into hiding. To the demon world they don't even exist and neither does any of his family.

Except, Evan was tired of lying...he just wished he could move into his mortal estate and live there for the rest of his families life and forget hell...but he knows he loves murder too much to do that. He'll go blood crazy should he not kill anything, it's his nature and he can't deny that fully of he'll lose control and burn down an orphanage.

The mortals did teach him something he never understood before and he never truly voiced it to anyone, he learned to be grateful.