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  1. In Memory of LAJ_FETT: Please share your remembrances and condolences HERE

Beyond - Legends Saga There Is Nothing Lost (AU, Allana/OC, Chaos Twins, Sky/Solos, Kessel Run Challenge & other stories)

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by ViariSkywalker, Jan 16, 2022.

  1. WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Chosen One star 8

    Registered:
    Aug 31, 2004
    [face_laugh] =D= I loved that, Vi. You captured Veeran's concerns and snark excellently while also conveying the personalities of the horses too. [face_tee_hee]
     
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  2. Nehru_Amidala

    Nehru_Amidala Force Ghost star 7

    Registered:
    Oct 3, 2016
    I liked that scene with the doctor, really captures how primitive Regency/Early Victorian medicine was.
     
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  3. Mira_Jade

    Mira_Jade The (FavoriteTM) Fanfic Mod With the Cape star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Jun 29, 2004
    Well, I'm certainly not going to object if and when you do. [face_mischief]

    Yes, you just have your reputation to protect. ;) [face_mischief]

    Oh, wasn't it? [face_mischief] [face_batting] That's not something you casually drop into a conversation, VI!!

    I LOVED every bit of this, and your writing definitely fits the concept. [face_love] (This is something I can better apply, myself. :p 8-})

    This was a little detail, yes, but it added so much and it completely makes sense and gaaaaah but I thought about this for a while, I'm not gonna lie. [face_hypnotized]

    You and that mostly. :p

    [face_laugh] Why not, indeed! I am glad that you decided to indulge your muse. ;) [face_love]

    ESPECIALLY WITH THIS GEM:

    Just like that, I was instantly head over heels in love. THIS. WAS. PERFECT!!

    Thistle is already my favorite. :p And I love the voice you struck for Veeran throughout this piece. He came through so clearly, even in this AU setting - or especially in this AU setting, should I say? This just fits! The horses' individual personalities were just as clear - which is the whole trick of these monologues to begin with. (Did I mention how much I loved this ficlet? Because I really do. :D [face_love])

    [face_laugh] [face_laugh]

    Just as much as I adore the idea of Veeran working with the horses, Dorian in the gardens fits, too. [face_love]

    This is a more than understandable fear! He doesn't want to see his brother hurt for what must seem like a daydream, especially as it risks the place they've found to belong for themselves. (This mostly happy fix-it AU is just getting to me, again. [face_love])

    Yep, it's all for Thistle. :p Or, so says Thistle, anyway. [face_mischief]

    Veeran, you super secret softie, you! [face_love]

    Briar!!! Because of course Veeran has a "problem" horse he has bonded with. This is just so spot-on perfect, again, and I love everything about it. (How many times can I say that in one review, I know? :p) The it gets tiresome, always fighting everyone line really hit me, in particular.

    The he's all I have cut me to the quick! I will never be over these two and their bond. Never.

    [face_laugh] [face_love] (I was just one constant mega-grin by this point. :p)

    And this was just the cherry on top! [face_laugh] [face_love]


    Every word of this was BRILLIANT, and I can't wait to see what other pit stops may come of this collection in the future. [face_mischief] [face_love]


    =D= [:D]
     
    Last edited: Feb 8, 2022
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  4. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    @earlybird-obi-wan
    Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it! :D




    @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha
    Aw, thank you! I'm happy to hear you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing this one. ;)




    @Nehru_Amidala
    Thanks! There was certainly some shady stuff going on with grave-robbing and such during the Regency era, but the doctor here is on an entirely different level. [face_worried]




    @Mira_Jade
    I laughed at the "and when"... you know me too well. :p

    Just imagine if everything I posted from here on out was all happiness, all the time...

    [​IMG]

    [face_mischief]

    [face_whistling] [face_whistling] [face_whistling]

    I guess I'm going to have some explaining to do in PM, aren't I? :p [face_mischief]

    DON'T YOU CHANGE A THING ABOUT YOUR WRITING!!! [face_shame_on_you]

    Okay, I probably shouldn't say that, because obviously we can all continue to learn and grow and become better writers... but seriously, don't change a thing. Also, you should know that you absolutely do leave those white spaces in your work. It's not an absence of words that I think makes those voids. It's about the content you include or don't include. What it boils down to - for me, at least - is something that goes hand-in-hand with "show, don't tell". We as writers have to tell the strongest story we can while showing instead of telling, and then we have to trust the readers to get what we're laying down. And I think you do an excellent job of that. ;) [:D] For some people that takes more words, and for others it takes less. Neither is better, and that's just one of the things that makes writing so amazing. [face_love]

    I realized afterward that it might have sounded like I was saying it was a good thing that medicine didn't advance faster back then, which wasn't at all what I meant. But yeah, there are always going to be those lines that we know we shouldn't cross in the name of science, but I'm sure the temptation must be there because what if? It's when someone without moral scruples approaches those lines that things start to tip into a full-on horrow show. [face_worried]

    [face_mischief] [face_batting]

    Me too! [face_love]

    Awww. [face_blush] [:D]

    This reaction makes me so happy. [face_love] I can't remember if I told you that your idea of Veeran taking care of horses was what pushed me from "this Regency AU is a fun diversion that I enjoy chatting and thinking about" to "OMG I NEED TO WRITE THIS", but it was. :D Let's just say that I've been very mean to Veeran in most (all?) realities, and the idea of him working through his issues by taking care of animals just hit me dead center in my feels. :_| [face_love]

    Thistle just knocked me upside the head about two seconds after I started writing this, and I love him so much. And I'm glad to hear that Veeran's voice comes through so clearly here. I think that's a great distinction to make, that his voice is even clearer in this AU setting, because really, this is closer to who he would have been without the brutal Sith influence. There's still plenty of trauma, but it's different. I'm also so glad the horses felt distinct to you! I was very much working their personalities out as I was writing this. :p

    (I love it so much, Mira, and I'm so glad you do, too! [face_love])

    I got a kick out of imagining a horse being a quiet snarker like Dorian. :p

    Right? And there really were so many jobs to be done outdoors on these country estates. I imagine the twins start out in the stables together, and then maybe Dorian shows he's got a knack for groundskeeping... or maybe he's just uniquely motivated to excel at a job that puts him closer to the main house and to that garden that Allana loves in particular. [face_whistling] [face_batting]

    He's so unyielding a lot of the time, but it's true, he really does have a point here. (A good combo of angsty and happy, am I right? [face_batting])

    Thistle has a very high opinion of himself. :p [face_laugh]

    He has his moments. Not many of them, but he does have them... ;)

    Like you said before, it's a good thing writers never get tired of hearing "I love this!" [face_laugh]

    I figured it was fitting for Veeran to bond with the horse who reminds him most of himself. =(( And maybe it's a little easier to recognize his own limitations when he sees how the same sorts of behaviors affect Briar and those around him. Here's hoping they can both learn something, right?

    This reaction makes me all the more motivated to finish the Ferrus fic. [face_mischief] [face_whistling]

    (I'm never going to be over their bond either, Mira. :_|)

    Well, I was just one constant mega-grin reading this review. :D [face_blush] [:D]

    :D!!

    Aw, I'm really glad you enjoyed it so much! [face_blush] I've had so much fun with this AU... and to think I nearly didn't write it! 8-}


    And apparently I was inspired, because I finished my week 5 ficlet! That'll be up in a few... [face_dancing]
     
    Last edited: Feb 9, 2022
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  5. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    Notes: For Week 5, my prompt was to write a story between 600 and 1,000 words with my OTP (or any romantic pairing, canon or otherwise) in which the characters do not directly speak to each other. Indirect means of communication, however, are fair game. I also had to include the following sentence: "Why would I want to make this a fair fight?"

    I don't have an exact timeline figured out for this AU, but I imagine this takes place sometime before A Private Conversation, probably within a few weeks of Dorian and Veeran arriving to work at the Solos' country estate, when they were both still working in the stables. You know, in case you were wondering. :p

    Also, this piece came in at exactly 1,000 words by my count. Whew. [face_relieved]

    Also... titles are hard, especially when I don't steal them from something else. Plus, my brain is tired. 8-}




    A Not-So-Private Conversation


    If anyone noticed that Allana’s visits to the stables had increased in the weeks since the arrival of the new stable hands, not a word about it was spoken to her. She insisted, in the privacy of her own mind, that she was simply glad to have played a small part in improving the fortunes of one she had once considered a dear friend. She was not so naïve as to think that their friendship could resume as it had been all those years ago; but neither did she think it unreasonable that she should continue to be interested and even invested in his well-being now that he was here. Still, she tried not to pay him too much attention, lest Mr. Bridger or the other grooms take notice and give him trouble because of it.

    The stable was unusually quiet when she entered it that morning. Briar, the handsome and high-spirited stallion that none of the grooms and stable boys seemed quite able to manage, was gone from his stall, as was the boisterous but friendly Thistle, and a few of the other horses. Raven and Fawn were quietly eating their breakfast; they each looked up as she entered, and whinnied in greeting.

    Allana crossed the stable and gently patted Raven’s muzzle before letting herself into Fawn’s stall. “And how are you this lovely morning?” she inquired, running a hand along the mare’s soft, reddish-brown neck. “Just you and Raven today? You know, I think he rather fancies you.”

    The black-coated Raven, having heard his name, perked up even more and whinnied again. Fawn turned away from him and let out an irritated snort.

    “What’s this? You think he’s slighted you in some way?” Allana laughed under her breath and met Fawn’s eye. “Tell me, what is the matter?”

    Raven neighed and shuffled about in his stall, and Allana startled as a distinctly human and male voice intruded on her conversation.

    “You don’t know?” Dorian appeared opposite her in Raven’s stall, addressing himself to the black horse. He reached out to adjust the blanket on Raven’s back. “You had to have done something, mate.”

    Allana turned away from him, fingers curling in Fawn’s mane, her stomach suddenly and inexplicably aflutter even as she fought to hide her smile. The mare shook her head and pawed softly at the ground.

    “Has he not been paying you enough attention?” Allana asked. She stole a glance over her shoulder and found Dorian’s back turned to her. He was whispering something as he patted Raven’s muzzle. “I’m certain he didn’t mean to upset you.”

    Raven dipped his head and let out a long, low nicker. Dorian chuckled at that. “Of course I know you’re mad for her,” he said, “but I’m not the one you need to convince.”

    Fawn leaned into Allana’s hands and exhaled gently. “He has been busy lately, hasn’t he? You can’t fault him for that, you know. You all have jobs to do.” Fawn sighed, and Allana laid her head against the mare’s neck. “Yes, I know you miss him. But he’s here now.”

    Silence settled over the stable, and when Allana finally released Fawn and turned toward Raven’s stall, she found Dorian watching her, one hand absently stroking the black stallion’s mane. She thought he might say something to her, but he kept quiet, and she realized this was the first time since London that they had been alone together.

    Raven interrupted her thoughts, reminding her that they were not, in fact, alone. Allana tore her gaze from Dorian and smiled at the dark horse. With a final pat and a few whispered words, she slipped from Fawn’s stall and entered Raven’s. She situated herself at his head, careful to keep a respectable distance from Dorian as she took the horse’s muzzle in her hands.

    “Raven, you silly thing,” she murmured. “Tell me you’re not taking that beautiful creature for granted?”

    Raven stamped one hoof indignantly, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dorian stifle a grin.

    “Oh really?” he said. “You don’t think Miss Solo is being fair?” He ran a hand up the back of Raven’s neck and scratched him behind the ears. “That seems a bit harsh.”

    Allana could hardly help smiling at that. “Come now, Raven. Why would I want to make this a fair fight? I may adore you, but we ladies must stick together.”

    Fawn offered an approving whinny from her stall, and this time Dorian did grin. Allana felt that gentle flutter in her stomach again as her own smile broadened. She thought to say something to him, but before she could decide what, she heard footsteps, and another voice, this one bordering on abrupt.

    “Mr. Bridger wants us to clean all the tack.”

    Allana tried to school her expression into something milder as she looked up to see Dorian’s twin brother standing under the eaves of the stable. Veeran’s face betrayed none of the gruffness she had come to associate with him, but she could sense he was not particularly happy to see her there. She returned her attention to the stallion before her and ran her fingers through his sleek ebony mane. “It’s such a beautiful day,” she said airily, pretending not to notice the change in the atmosphere. “I think I’ll take my lunch in the garden. What do you think, Raven?”

    She glanced over at Dorian and thought how surprising it was that those ice blue eyes could fill her with such warmth. Raven nudged her with his muzzle, and she responded by giving the horse a quick kiss.

    “Yes, I thought so, too. Now you be good,” she murmured before exiting the stall. As she passed Veeran, she gave him a polite nod and a smile. “Mr. Starskip.”

    He glanced down at the ground when he answered, though that action seemed to hold more irritation than it did deference. “Ma’am.”

    She looked back at Dorian one more time, and smiled wider. “Goodbye, Raven.”


    ~~
     
    Last edited: May 22, 2022
  6. earlybird-obi-wan

    earlybird-obi-wan Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 21, 2006
    speaking to a beautiful horse, that will guide the messages along. Love to see Dorian and Allana in this AU
     
  7. Gabri_Jade

    Gabri_Jade Fanfic Archive Editor Emeritus star 5 VIP

    Registered:
    Nov 9, 2002
    Behind again :p

    I say almost this exact thing to my cats every single day :p

    Raven and his sass :p

    Honestly, with the social class restrictions of the time, Veeran's right [face_plain]

    Yes, actually, Thistle does think that :p

    Well, that's a bit of a personal reveal now, isn't it?

    lololol

    Self-justification, thy name is Allana :p

    [face_batting]

    This is like a Regency-era romcom, right here :p

    Hoo boy, she's bold as brass, isn't she? :p

    lolll

    The continuing tradition of Dorian and Allana being much, much more obvious than they think :p
     
  8. WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Chosen One star 8

    Registered:
    Aug 31, 2004
    Excellent cross conversations [face_laugh] Somehow I think they received the other's intent. [face_love]
     
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  9. Mira_Jade

    Mira_Jade The (FavoriteTM) Fanfic Mod With the Cape star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Jun 29, 2004
    I don't know what I was expecting under the spoiler tag, but that gif had me almost spitting out my coffee. [face_laugh]

    Aw, thanks. [face_blush] Thank you for this - all of this, truly! That was everything I didn't even realize I needed to hear until I heard it. [face_love] [:D]

    Right?? I DO remember that moment, and it's STILL so beautifully fitting. [face_love]

    I see what you did there. [face_mischief]

    Yaaaaas, Ferrus fic! I'm gonna be chanting in a corner until you finish it, and then when you do I'm probably going to demand more happy!AU Veeran and his horses to make up for it - just calling my shot now. ;) :*

    I love how entirely not subtle Allana is, even when she's trying - kinda, anyway - to be subtle. It's those Solo/Skywalker genes. :p

    Also: EZRA FOUND HIS ANIMALS EVEN HERE. I loved that detail, and I remain all sorts of intrigued for just how everyone fits into this AU - which is half the fun of this 'verse in the first place! :D

    [face_laugh] And just like that, I am overly invested in the lives of these horses. ;)

    It's a small detail, but the mate really drew me into the dialogue for this time period.

    Also: yes, yes you did, Raven. :p

    This was such a clever way to work around - or with your prompt, I should say. You really let it inspire something unique! I mean, they're not talking to each other, are they? Which, in the context of the story, gives them all the more freedom to say what they truly wish to say since they are not, you know, saying it. [face_thinking] 8-}

    I love how much tension you were able to build throughout this scene! Having Dorian and Allana not interact, in a way, only added to that tension. I really can't applaud your creative decisions here enough. =D=

    I love how much personality the horses have. :p Allana, too, coming so much closer to Dorian and speaking all the more boldly really just built in such an enjoyable and entirely organic way.

    And it continued to build. [face_mischief]

    Also, I LOVE that you chose to give that line to Allana! It could have fit from so many characters, which was half the fun of coming up with the prompt in the first place, but it played out perfectly from Allana in this instance. =D=

    Fair. [face_plain] Again, this has to be so scary for Veeran. They've finally found a place to belong and he wants to keep that place just as much as he's always going to want to protect his brother, even from himself. (Needless to say, the Ferrus and Allana dynamic will always interest me, in any 'verse. ;) [face_thinking])

    You sly author, but you really pushed the boundaries of your prompt, didn't you? ;) [face_mischief]

    I also liked the more irritation than deference. Whew, but there's a lot going on here in just a few words, isn't there?

    Raven?? [face_rofl] [face_mischief] Well, she still wasn't talking to him and that was just the perfect note to end the scene on from a stylistic POV. Yep, this was Regency flirting at its finest, and I enjoyed every word. [face_love]


    You did a fantastic job with this week's prompt, again! I remain all sorts of invested in this AU and can't wait to see what comes from the challenge next! =D= [:D]
     
    Last edited: Feb 12, 2022
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  10. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    *we interrupt your regularly scheduled reader replies*


    Hey guys! So my entry for this week's prompt is going to be waaaay longer than the others, and I've decided to break it up into three parts. ( :eek: ) I'm posting the first part tonight, and my hope is that I'll post part two tomorrow and part three on Monday, but it might end up being parts two and three on Monday, I don't know, we'll see. 8-} Anyway, I'm going to hold off on posting reader replies just a bit, because I wanted to get this up tonight. But I will be back with all the replies, I promise! [:D]


    Notes: Oh boy, do I have some notes for you. Mainly because @Mira_Jade gave me the prompt to end all prompts. [face_hypnotized] For Week 6, my prompt was this monstrosity beauty:

    Using however many words you'd like, how many elements can you include from:
    – this trope: The Lady's Favour;
    – these words: twiddle, sublime, parched, peculiar, scamper, pertinent, singular, aubade, adequate, dappled;
    – this line of dialogue: "Everything is temporary, even this."
    And these pictures:
    [​IMG]
    &
    [​IMG]
    &
    [​IMG]

    I wasn't required to use all of the elements, just as many as I could in a week's time... but let's be real, Mira knew I was going to try to use them all, and surprise, I think she may have gotten just what she wanted. 8-} [face_mischief]

    The first scene of this story takes place on the same day as my week 5 fic, A Not-So-Private Conversation.

    Also, I had no word limit for this one, and my muse went completely crazy. So now I present you with a short story in three parts. Probably. I'm still writing it, so we'll see. :p




    Between the Moon and the Stars


    Part One


    Allana was in the garden all of two minutes before she realized how ridiculous she was being. She had thought herself so clever in the stable earlier, speaking in such a circuitous manner with him, assuming that he would understand her meaning and feel at all compelled to meet her here. But why would he, when he was here to work, and when he had more than enough of it to keep him busy from dawn to dusk, and longer. Silly, thoughtless thing that she was – she hadn’t even stopped to consider that he might have neither the time nor the inclination to take her up on her oblique invitation.

    And yet, here she was, and here she would stay, if there was even the slightest chance he would come. It was only right, she told herself, to keep to the appointment she had made, no matter that she had failed to give a precise time or place. A servant’s lunch came at quite a different time than it did for her, and there were, strictly speaking, no less than six gardens at Varykino. Even if he were to come, he might use up all his available time just trying to find the right one.

    Allana heaved a great sigh and looked down at the small spread of food she had brought with her, laid out next to her on one of the garden’s stone benches. She hadn’t packed much, just some cheese and bread and an apple cut into thin slices. In truth, she was not the least bit hungry. She pulled a cloth over the food and looked out at the garden, noticing a cluster of cream-colored roses blooming on a nearby bush. They were her grandmother’s favorite, and she wondered if she might make a bouquet of them for her. Grandma would like that, and perhaps Allana would feel less silly and thoughtless if she used her time here to brighten someone else’s day. She thought she might eat after all, and then ask Mr. Binks for a knife to cut a few of the delicate blooms.

    She was finishing the last of her apple when she heard footsteps along the garden path. Probably Mr. Binks, she reasoned, smiling at the thought of the old gardener. He would likely have an opinion on which roses to select, an opinion which she valued, for though she enjoyed being out in nature, she had never developed any great horticultural knowledge. And he was always so patient and kind with her. He even—

    But it was not – she looked up to discover – Mr. Binks standing under the vine-covered archway, nor any of the other gardeners.

    “Afternoon, Miss Solo.” Dorian held both arms behind his back as he stepped out from under the archway and looked around at the garden. “Fancy meeting you here.”

    She could hardly help the smile that spread across her face just then, and she made no attempt to stifle it. “Quite a coincidence indeed, Mr. Starskip.”

    She was better able to take in his appearance now that there wasn’t a horse stall or an indignant stallion between them. He wore plain dark trousers held up by equally dark suspenders, and a plain gray shirt. It wasn’t all that different from the way her grandfather dressed whenever he worked out of doors, and she decided she liked the way it looked on him. She noticed he was watching her with a faintly amused expression, and she met his gaze with a curious look. “What is it?”

    He smiled ever so slightly. “I brought you something.”

    She felt a nervous twinge in her stomach, like a flutter of tiny wings, and could not for the life of her understand why. “Something for me?”

    He crossed the divide between them, stopping at the opposite end of the stone bench on which she was currently seated. From behind his back he pulled out a book; it was bound in plum-colored cloth, and she swore her heart leapt when she realized what she was looking at.

    “You kept it?” she said incredulously. “All these years?”

    “Of course,” he answered, as if he could not have comprehended doing any different. “Why wouldn’t I?”

    She reached out to touch the worn cloth cover, fingertips tracing over the embossed lettering, aware in a not-so-distant corner of her thoughts of how close her hand was to his. She drew back and smiled. “You will have to read some to me.”

    “I haven’t much time for reading these days, milady.” He seemed to anticipate her counterargument, because he quickly followed with: “And I ought to be getting back soon.”

    Allana shook her head. “It isn’t ‘milady’, Mr. Starskip. And you must make time, especially as I have waited more than ten years to hear your thoughts on this subject.”

    He studied her for a moment, then sat down on the grass next to the bench, leaning back against the stone as he opened the book and began to flip through the pages. “What would you like me to read?”

    She tried not to smile too wide, but it was difficult not to, for all of a sudden she felt as light and free as a bird. “Your favorite part,” she replied.

    His fingers stilled over the pages, and she thought she sensed something secretive in his manner just then. “I don’t think we have time for that.”

    “Very well. You may read a little now, and then more later.”

    He tilted his head back to look at her and offered her a wry grin. “Milady is very optimistic.”

    “You mustn’t call me that, really—” But no sooner had she begun to protest than she realized his address hadn’t been a slip of the tongue at all – the mischievous glint in his eyes was proof enough of that. “Oh, you’re teasing me!” she said.

    He shrugged, still grinning, then ducked his head as he began to turn the pages again. She shifted sideways across the bench, close enough to look down and read over his shoulder. He came to a series of dog-eared pages and stopped, and Allana leaned forward to see what was written there. The first two stanzas on the page described a grievously wounded squire left to die in the woods, and the noble huntress who hunted in those same woods.

    Belphoebe was her name,” Allana read aloud, “as faire as Phoebus sunne.

    Dorian looked up at her, and she knew that she was much too close, for all she could see was how arrestingly blue his eyes were in the sunlight. “You know this story?” he asked.

    She was reluctant to admit that she did not actually recognize the story he had chosen. Perhaps she had known it long ago, but if she had, that memory had faded. She had always been enamored of the tale of the lady knight Britomart, and had more than once in her childhood imagined herself to be that brave hero, defeating cruel villains and aiding other maidens and remaining true as she searched for the man she loved. As the daughter and great-granddaughter of knights, it was the lady knight’s story that Allana had voraciously consumed and reenacted.

    And yet, the very fact that this story was Dorian’s favorite intrigued her greatly, and she thought perhaps she had done Mr. Edmund Spenser a disservice by skimming past the tale of Belphoebe and the wounded squire.

    “I regret that I do not know it,” Allana answered, straightening up to put just a bit more distance between them. “Will you read it?”

    He nodded, and then frowned. “It is a bit… gruesome. I hadn’t thought of it before now—”

    “I don’t mind that,” she said quickly, shaking her head.

    “You’re certain?”

    Allana lifted her chin and affected an air of bravery. “Do your worst, Mr. Starskip. I am most eager to learn what becomes of your poor wounded squire.”

    Dorian grinned only a little at that, and turned his attention to the page. As he read, Allana found herself reacting much as Belphoebe had upon first discovering Timias, the young man viciously wounded in a fight against three opponents – she drew back in horror, for the details were indeed gruesome. Fortunately, Belphoebe took pity on Timias, and as a maiden of the woods, she knew which herbs to gather to treat his injuries. Even so, Allana wondered if it was indeed too late for the poor squire, who had lost so much blood. Then, at last, Timias opened his eyes and beheld his rescuer.

    Angell, or Goddesse do I call thee right?” Dorian spoke the words with such reverence and wonder, she felt as though she were hearing Timias himself. “What service may I do unto thee meete / That hast from darkenesse me returnd to light…

    Allana realized she had begun to twist the fabric of her skirt between her fingers, so anxious was she to hear what would happen next; but Dorian did not continue. She separated her hands and laid them neatly in her lap. “You are not stopping there?” she asked.

    “I must,” he replied as he closed the book. “I’ve been gone too long already.” He stood and brushed at his trousers, then turned to her and bowed. “Milady.”

    She would have corrected him, but she had a question to ask. “Might I… might I borrow it? Only until I see you next?”

    He held the book out to her. “It’s yours. Of course you should have it.”

    “Oh, no!” Allana stood quickly and pushed the book back toward him. “No, it was a gift, and I want you to have it. It belongs to you.”

    He laughed under his breath and gazed down at the book, turning it over in his hands. “Very well,” he said, but she thought he sounded pleased. He extended the book to her once more. “You may borrow it.”

    She accepted the tome as gently as if it were a precious porcelain heirloom. “Thank you. I shan’t keep it long.” She dropped into a curtsy. “Good day, Mr. Starskip.”

    He bowed again and smiled a small, peculiar smile. “Good day, Miss Solo.”


    ~~


    Allana continued to visit the stables in the weeks after her garden rendezvous, though those visits became less frequent as the spring wore on and Dorian’s workload increased. She found herself quite busy as well, for there was always sewing or knitting or mending that needed done, either for herself, or for the tenants and the village, or for the orphanages in London that were under her family’s patronage. When her other chores were done, Allana made time in the afternoons to practice on the pianoforte in the library; and in the evenings, after her grandparents had gone to bed, she would pull out The Faerie Queene and read the tale of Belphoebe and Timias by candlelight.

    After the thrilling and gruesome beginning, Allana had expected that Dorian’s favorite story would feature more of the same, with another villain to fight in an epic battle, or that it might conclude with the noble squire succumbing to his wounds. What she had not expected was a love story.

    It was not a happy tale, but there was something about it, an elusive yet powerful quality that set it apart from the love stories she was familiar with, one that brought her back to it again and again, until she had read it all nearly a dozen times. She admired Belphoebe for her virtue and bravery – she was a fierce huntress, not a helpless girl – as well as for her skill and gentleness in tending to Timias’s wounds. And Allana’s heart ached for Timias as he wrestled with his feelings for his rescuer, believing himself unworthy of her and resigning to keep his love a secret.

    She wondered what in particular had drawn Dorian to this story, and whether it was one he had loved since childhood or if he had only recently discovered it amid the many other tales of knights and maidens and monsters. A few times she thought to ask him, though in the end she kept that question to herself.

    There was much about him that remained a mystery to her. After several weeks, she knew little more about the last ten years of his life than she had when he first came here. She gathered that it had been a harsh life, even a violent one, if the circumstances of their reunion in London were anything to go by. How she wished she could have prevented the misfortunes that had befallen him. She had never forgotten her heartbreak when, after convincing her grandmother to give her friend a new life in the country, they had returned to the orphanage only to discover that he and his brother had been apprenticed to an apothecary and taken away. All attempts to find that particular apothecary failed, and Allana resigned herself to never seeing him again. In the years after, the orphanage became as much her focus as her grandmother’s, due in no small part to her friendship with Dorian and her regret over not having been able to give him a better life.

    But now he was finally here, even if the road that had led him to her was decidedly longer and more winding and dangerous than it ought to have been. Though he was kept busy with his work, Dorian managed to steal away once every week to meet her in the garden, usually only long enough to read a page or two from his book and to engage in a few moments of friendly conversation.

    “My father sent me some nocturnes for the pianoforte which he hopes I’ll enjoy playing,” she told him one day as they sat in their customary places – she on one end of the stone bench, he on the grass at the other end of that same bench. It was a cloudy day, gray and growing darker still.

    “You must miss him,” Dorian said, tilting his head back to rest against the stone as he looked up at her.

    Allana traced a finger along the edge of the bench, following the grooves of a carved stone rose. “I do, but it’s strange. I’ve grown so accustomed to his absence, I sometimes wonder if I would even know how to be a daughter anymore.”

    “I don’t think he’d need you to be anyone but who you are.”

    She glanced down at him and smiled. “I hope you’re right.”

    He turned toward her and propped one elbow on the bench. “So when will I hear you play?”

    She raised an eyebrow at him. “The pianoforte? I am hardly an accomplished player.”

    He fixed his eyes on her expectantly and mimicked her expression.

    “Don’t look at me like that!” she said with a laugh. “I am not being modest. My skills are adequate, and that is all.”

    He sat up straighter and frowned, but there was still a trace of that skeptical smirk around his mouth. “Do you enjoy it?”

    She thought on his question for a moment, imagining the feel of the keys beneath her fingers, and the way each note seemed to reverberate through her entire body as she played, and how fascinating it was that a limited range of notes could be rearranged in infinite new ways to create sounds and songs so sublime that they transcended the limits of speech and reason.

    “Yes,” she replied. “I do.”

    His smirk was replaced by a satisfied smile. “That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Nocturnes… those are played at night?”

    Allana smiled back at him. She never grew tired of answering his questions, especially ones that pertained to music and literature. “Close. They are meant to evoke the night, but they can be played at any time.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “I believe serenades are meant to be performed in the evening, though I have never followed that rule. I’m not sure it is a rule.”

    Dorian tilted his head to one side and grinned. “Can you serenade someone in the morning?”

    “Yes, but that would be an aubade, and those are typically sung—” She paused and felt her face warm, and wondered how badly she was blushing. She finished her explanation quickly. “—when two lovers part at daybreak.”

    His cheerful countenance faded as he looked away from her and replied with a quiet, “Oh.” She tried not to look, but she thought she saw a bit of color in his face that hadn’t been there before.

    The darkening clouds overhead rumbled and groaned, full to bursting, and Allana eyed them warily. “You should get back, or you’ll be caught in the rain.”

    He stood and glanced up at the fat, dark clouds. “I don’t mind it.”

    She was searching for something clever to say when the heavens opened up right on top of the Varykino gardens. Allana snatched up her belongings and held her bonnet over her head to shield herself from the rain. Dorian, for his part, merely laughed as he closed his eyes and tipped his head toward the sky. Lightning streaked through the clouds, and thunder rumbled in response. When Dorian opened his eyes again, there was an almost wicked delight in them.

    “Is there a name for a song sung when parting during a rainstorm in the middle of the afternoon?” he asked with a grin.

    She stared back at him in disbelief. “Yes, it’s called ‘hurry up and run before you catch your death’!”

    He grinned wider and nodded to her before quickly taking his leave. Allana watched him go, clutching her belongings to her chest, and she realized she was still holding The Faerie Queene. “Oh! Your book!”

    He passed under the archway and spun around to face her, still grinning. “Next time!” he called out as another wave of thunder crashed around them. Lightning flashed again, and he was gone.


    to be continued…

    ~~
     
    Last edited: May 22, 2022
  11. Gabri_Jade

    Gabri_Jade Fanfic Archive Editor Emeritus star 5 VIP

    Registered:
    Nov 9, 2002
    I have all the adulting this week, so real feedback will have to wait, but I just have to say that you and Mira are both mad :p
     
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  12. Mira_Jade

    Mira_Jade The (FavoriteTM) Fanfic Mod With the Cape star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Jun 29, 2004
    But in the best possible way, right? [face_batting] [face_mischief]


    Gaaaah, but this is so good already and I can't wait for even more goodness today and tomorrow. (Was I being self-serving in sending you all those prompts? Maybe, just slightly. [face_whistling] [face_mischief] [face_love]) Either way, you're a mad, genius author, and I still can't believe that you decided to tackle so many of the prompts! Good luck pulling the rest of this together! We believe in you! [face_dancing] [face_love] [:D]

    (I'm going to be back with better feedback, of course, but I had to say that first. ;))

    [:D]
     
    Last edited: Feb 20, 2022
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  13. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    8-} [face_mischief]


    Well, I don't think I'm going to get them all posted before 11:59pm tonight, but technically I have used all but one of the prompts throughout my draft, and my plan is to sneak that last one into part three, somewhere. And I think part three only has like three of the prompts, so with this update, I've managed to tackle most of them! [face_hypnotized] 8-} And despite my complaining this week about all the writing I've done, I've really loved it. I did not expect inspiration to strike so hard, and I'm really grateful for this mad, mad prompt leading the way. [face_love] [:D]





    Notes: This is Part Two of my Week 6 story. Check out Part One for the details of my prompt and for the first part of the story. My goal was to get all three parts posted before midnight tonight, but with less than three hours to go, I'm not sure that'll happen. Even so, I've managed to crank out a little over 10k words for this week's entry, and I'm really pleased with that. Luckily for me, I didn't actually have to use all the individual elements of my prompt, so I guess technically I met the requirements? Maybe?

    Also, I neglected to mention in my last post that the title for this piece comes from a comment @Mira_Jade made back on page 1 that I just loved. [face_love] Thanks, Mira! [:D]

    Enjoy! [face_batting]




    Between the Moon and the Stars


    Part Two


    It rained for four days straight, and when the sun finally came out again, the entire countryside was in full bloom. Allana ventured out to the farthest reaches of her family’s estate, where the ambling brook that formed the eastern border of the property had become a rushing stream nearly twice its usual width. She strolled along its banks, picking wildflowers to bring back to the house and enjoying the fresh air after being cooped up so long inside. There was one spot where the brook made a sharp turn around a tall old elm tree, and where the land around the tree sloped up, shielding both it and the bending brook from view. It was a lovely, secluded spot which she had discovered as a child, and which she still visited occasionally, when she had time.

    After she had gathered enough flowers to make at least two bouquets, she made her way back to the house, passing the horses’ fields as she did so. She spotted Fawn grazing in the distance and Raven cantering in circles around her, trying to get her attention. The chestnut mare continued to ignore her admirer, and Allana couldn’t help but laugh at the black stallion’s adoring but futile display.

    When she reached the main path, she went right instead of left, heading for the stables. The grooms were busy harnessing Thistle and Briar to a carriage, while the two young stable boys mucked out stalls. Thistle whinnied a loud, happy greeting when he saw her, but Briar stamped at the ground and pulled away from the groom holding his reins.

    “Steady on!” the groom shouted as he wrestled with the horse.

    “Right, lad, I’ll take him,” she heard a voice behind her call out. Allana turned to see Mr. Bridger, the head groom, striding toward the carriage, his expression calm. He swept past her and took hold of Briar’s reins. “There, there, Briar, no one’s going to hurt you. There’s a good horse.”

    The high-spirited bay stopped stamping his hooves, but his nostrils flared with each breath, as though warning that he was ready to flee at any second. Mr. Bridger continued to soothe the anxious horse, but after another minute, he turned to the displaced groom and said, “Go find Starskip.”

    The groom ran off, and moments later he returned with Dorian’s brother Veeran, who wasted no time approaching Briar. Mr. Bridger stepped aside and watched with a faint smile as Veeran stroked the horse’s neck and whispered reassurances. Within seconds, Briar’s breathing slowed, and he even leaned his muzzle against Veeran’s chest and heaved a contented sigh of relief.

    “I know,” Veeran said, reaching up to gently rub Briar’s forehead. “You’re a right big baby, aren’t you? Be good now, you hear?” He handed the reins to Mr. Bridger with little more than a nod and turned back toward the stables, catching Allana’s eye for an instant before walking away.

    She waited for the grooms to finish readying the carriage, then she waved at Mr. Bridger. “Is someone going out?” she asked.

    The head groom smiled and tipped his hat to her. “Good day, Miss Allana. Your grandmother is taking the carriage to see Lady Winter.”

    “I had not heard. Is it to be a long visit?”

    “That I couldn’t say, miss.”

    She nodded, and her eyes drifted to the carriage and to the horses waiting quietly. “I’ve never seen anyone tame a creature that you could not, Mr. Bridger.” She looked around, but Veeran was nowhere to be seen. “Mr. Starskip must have a singular gift.”

    “He does have a natural way with the horses, that’s true.” The older man smiled to himself, and she thought it a strange, sad smile. “Though I think with Briar they’re more kindred spirits than anything else.”

    “In what way?”

    Mr. Bridger’s gaze was fixed on Briar, and his sad smile turned grim as he let out a sigh. “It isn’t hard to tell when creatures have been mistreated, least not for me it isn’t. What’s hardest is convincing them they’re safe, that they don’t have to fight or hide anymore.”

    Allana observed the handsome bay horse and felt suddenly very small. “I see,” she said softly.

    She stood in silence with the head groom for another minute before a familiar whinny echoed behind her. Allana glanced over her shoulder at the stables and the fields beyond, and she spotted the eager black stallion galloping in their direction. “I saw Fawn ignoring poor Raven again,” she said with a grin. “I thought they had patched things up.”

    Mr. Bridger chuckled. “Oh, they did indeed, miss. If she’s ignoring him now, I suspect it’s because she’s with foal.”

    Allana smiled wide at that. “Truly?”

    “Aye. That’s how it is with mares. She won’t give him or any other stallion the time of day now that she’s carrying his foal.”

    “So it is Raven’s? How wonderful!”

    “Indeed, miss. It’ll be a beautiful foal with those two as sire and dam, there’s no doubt.” He held out a hand toward the carriage. “May I offer you a ride up to the house?”

    “No, thank you, I am rather enjoying the chance to walk.” She took a step back and curtsied. “Good day, Mr. Bridger. And safe journey!”

    The head groom tipped his hat once more. “Thank you, Miss Allana. Good day to you as well.”

    Allana left the stables and walked at a leisurely pace up the path toward the house, her thoughts presently focused on Fawn and her foal. She wondered whether it would be a boy or a girl, and which of its parents it would take after. Then she wondered if Dorian knew, and if so, why he hadn’t told her. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him in the stable yard at all, which was unusual for this time of day. Where had he gone?

    An excited tremor shot through her. Was he…? No, it hadn’t yet been a week since their last meeting. There was no reason to expect he would be there. And yet she found herself heading to the garden regardless. She slowed as she approached the vine-covered archway, and told herself that she was being absolutely silly and that he would not be there.

    Allana stepped through the archway, taking in the sight of a garden fully in bloom. The rain and sun had left every bush and vine and tree teeming with life and color, and she closed her eyes for a moment to breathe it all in. Her hands were still full of wildflowers, but she determined that she might have to make room for some of these lovely blooms as well.

    A rustling from behind one of the trees startled her, and she looked over to see one of the senior gardeners, Mr. Wolffe, standing there. He glanced up at her and nodded politely. “Hello, miss.”

    “Good afternoon, Mr. Wolffe. I didn’t realize you were working here today. I can go, if you wish?”

    The gardener smiled. “It’s no trouble, miss, you stay where you are. We’ll be moving on shortly. I was just showing young Starskip here the lay of the land. That’s it, lad, hand me the rest of those bulbs.”

    Only then did Allana notice someone kneeling in the dirt behind Mr. Wolffe. Dorian caught her eye for only a second before passing a handful of bulbs to the older man.

    Mr. Wolffe put the bulbs in his pocket and handed Dorian a satchel. “Run these back to Treadwell; he ought to be working in the kitchen gardens today. Then I’ll show you the rest of the grounds.”

    Dorian took the satchel and nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.” He left without acknowledging her in any way.

    When he had gone, Allana turned to Mr. Wolffe and said as casually as she could, “I thought Mr. Starskip worked in the stables?”

    The gardener glanced over his shoulder at the empty archway. “Aye, that he did, but we’ve been short on groundskeepers for the last year, and he mentioned he had experience digging around in the dirt.” Mr. Wolffe dipped his head in a conspiratorial manner. “And truth be told, Miss Allana… Binks and I aren’t getting any younger, and even with all the help we have, we could always use another strong lad to lighten the load. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

    She felt rather proud of herself that she managed not to smile too wide. “Oh, I shan’t breathe a word of it, Mr. Wolffe. Your secret is safe with me.”


    ~~


    Allana saw Dorian more frequently after he took up his new position, though he was usually in the company of at least one of the other gardeners or groundskeepers, and she didn’t dare do anything that might give the appearance of impropriety. Even when he was alone, he was working; she had to respect that. Still, there were times when it was to her advantage to have a friend among the groundskeeping staff. Today was one such day.

    “Mr. Starskip?” she called over to him as she stood before one of the larger rose bushes. “I wonder if you might assist me with these roses?”

    He had been cutting dead branches off a tree, but he stopped immediately and joined her by the bush. “How might I be of assistance, milady?”

    She exhaled with force, feigning an air of exasperation that only made him grin. “I need ten of these roses,” she said.

    He kneeled down and set to work with his knife, avoiding the thorns as he cut through the stems. “Who are these for?” he asked, handing her the flowers one by one.

    “My grandmother.” Allana took the roses from him, mindful of the thorns as she gathered them into a loose bouquet. “These are her favorite flowers.” She raised the roses to her chin and inhaled deeply. “They do smell heavenly.”

    Dorian cut one last bloom and handed it to her, but when she went to take it, he didn’t let go. “Which is your favorite?” he asked, holding her gaze.

    “I don’t know,” she said softly, averting her eyes. He let go of the rose, and she tucked it into the bouquet with the others. “Anything in a shade of purple, I suppose. I’m afraid I’m not terribly discerning when it comes to flowers.”

    “More discerning than I am, I’d wager.” He stood up and fiddled with the knife a moment before putting it away with his other tools. “But I’m learning.”

    She eyed him quizzically. “Is that why you offered to take this job? To become a more experienced horticulturist?”

    He looked at her sideways and grinned. “Among other things.”

    “Don’t they miss you in the stables?”

    Dorian shrugged. “They never really needed me and Veeran, and he’s better with the horses than I am.”

    She thought to argue, but having seen Veeran calm Briar, she couldn’t quite disagree. “Well,” she said after a pause. “I think you do splendidly with them.” She remembered suddenly that she had a grievance with him on this particular subject, and she did her best to look stern and disapproving. “But when were you going to mention that Fawn is expecting?”

    He reached up and removed his cap to run a hand through his hair. “It must’ve slipped my mind,” he said. “I’m glad she gave him a chance.”

    Allana smiled up at him. “I had rather hoped she would.”

    He set the cap back on his head, tucking a few strands of dark hair behind his ears. It was not terribly long, but it was longer than his brother’s, and she decided it was one more thing that she liked about him.

    “Did you know,” he said slowly, “that I have a whole day off this Friday?”

    “Heavens,” Allana replied, “an entire day? Whatever will you do with your time, Mr. Starskip?”

    He clasped his hands behind his back and dipped his head toward her in a manner she could only describe as playful. “I had thought you might have some ideas for me.”

    There it was again, that all-too-familiar fluttering feeling in her stomach, only this time it seemed to reach into her chest as well. Don’t, a small voice whispered inside her, warning her against what she already knew she was going to say. She brushed that voice and those doubts aside.

    “Well, if you have the whole day, and the weather is good, I can think of no better way to spend it than to take a picnic somewhere out in the country.” She thought of the brook and the wildflowers and her favorite elm tree, and she smiled. “I happen to know the perfect spot.”


    ~~


    Friday morning arrived with an abundance of sunshine and a chorus of birdsong, and Allana knew before she had even risen that it was going to be a lovely day. She had made sure to ask permission to be excused from her normal responsibilities for the whole day, a request which her grandmother was happy to oblige. Down in the kitchen, she discovered the cook had already packed a basket for her; fortunately, Mrs. Meewalh’s tendency to indulge Allana meant that there was enough food in the basket to easily divide between two.

    She left the house at mid-morning, walking at a brisk pace through the fields and past two of the tenants’ farms, until one end of her lazy brook came into view. She could see the top of the old elm tree peeking above the flower-covered hill, and her heart began to race a little the closer she came to it.

    She spotted him as soon as she reached the crest of the hill. He was standing about halfway down the hill, on the other side of the old stone wall that marked the eastern border of her grandparents’ lands, leaning over it very casually, arms propped on top and hands loosely clasped. He didn’t move when he saw her, other than to straighten up a little and smile at her; but as she came closer he pushed away from the wall and went over to open the gate for her. She nodded politely as she walked through.

    “Mr. Starskip.”

    “Miss Solo.” Dorian closed the gate behind her and made a wide gesture with his right hand. “Where to?”

    She nodded toward the bend in the brook. “Over there, by the elm. It’s the best spot here.”

    He followed her to the tree, where she laid out a small blanket on the grass and set the basket down on top of it. That was when she noticed Dorian was carrying something, the satchel she’d seen him use to tote his gardening tools around.

    “You don’t have to trim any hedges here, Mr. Starskip,” she teased.

    He laughed a little under his breath and opened the bag to reveal the plum-colored book inside. “I thought you might want to read it.”

    She couldn’t help but grin as she reached into her picnic basket and pulled out a slim book. “I had much the same idea. Although the poems in this are a bit more recent that Spenser.”

    Allana sat down beside the basket and began to pull out their lunch. There were three loaves of bread and a wedge of cheese and several slices of bacon, and there was a plum and an apple and two flaky, cream-filled pastries left over from breakfast. She had eaten her fill that morning so that her “picnic for one” might stretch enough for two, but she found it was hardly necessary. There was more than enough for them both.

    At one point a curious red squirrel approached them, its nose quivering as it eyed their small feast. Dorian huffed a laugh and tossed a piece of bread to the squirrel, who snatched it up quickly and turned it over and over in its paws before finally determining it was safe to nibble on. Allana actually giggled as she watched the squirrel scamper away with its prize, and when she looked back at Dorian, he was studying her closely.

    “What?” she asked, feeling her cheeks warm at the attention.

    He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.”

    She raised a hand to cover her mouth, suddenly conscious of how she must sound or appear to him. “You’ve heard me laugh before.”

    “Not like that.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead he ducked his head and ran a hand through his hair, and he was quiet for a while after.

    Allana carefully wrapped up the remains of their lunch and placed it back in the basket, and then, realizing she was quite parched, she walked down to the brook to take a drink from its waters. Dorian followed after her, but when she turned to head back to the tree, he stayed behind, crouched at the edge of the brook, dragging his fingers across its surface. Despite the unexpected silence, Allana found that she was very satisfied with how the day was going, and she smiled to herself as she sat down on the blanket and breathed the air in deep.

    Sunlight dappled the ground around her, filtering through the gently swaying branches of the towering elm. There was something supremely inviting – even hypnotic – in the way the light and shadows continually shifted and danced about. Had she been alone, she would have laid on her back under the shade of that tree and closed her eyes and enjoyed the warm breeze, and she would have done it all without giving any of it a second thought. In truth, she was sorely tempted to do it regardless, even knowing what her grandparents would think.

    She wondered what her father would say if he could see her now, if he would disapprove of her behavior or if he would understand in his own way. It seemed like ages since she had seen him last, and the more time that went by, the harder it was to remember just what he would have thought of anything, including her.

    Allana released a deeply held breath, then laid down beneath the tree, long stems of grass tickling her face as she gazed up at the branches above. What did it matter, what anyone else thought? She was with her friend – her dearest friend, she could finally admit – and there was nothing wrong with enjoying his company on such a lovely day.

    A shuffling sound drew her eyes away from the leaves and the branches, and she saw Dorian take a seat at the base of the tree, one arm propped up on his knee as he plucked at blades of grass with the opposite hand. She watched him quietly, and for a moment he seemed very far away. In a way, he was always like that, as if some part of him remained hidden and locked beyond reach.

    She closed her eyes. “You are very quiet over there.”

    “I was thinking,” he replied.

    “What about?”

    A pause as he shifted against the tree. “London. Here. How it is I can be here after being there.”

    Allana opened her eyes and rolled onto her side to face him. “Do you miss it?”

    “No,” he said without hesitation, and she was taken aback for a moment by the fierce look in his eyes. That look passed quickly, though, and he offered a small but genuine smile. “There’s nowhere I would rather be than here.”

    “I feel the same.” As she looked up at him, she became conscious of how she must appear to him, lying there in such a casual way. She sat up again – not too quickly – and fixed her gaze on the wildflowers that adorned the hillside. “Do you know where I would like to visit? The glade where Belphoebe and her damsels took Timias to mend. Just imagine, to be surrounded by mountains.” She turned back to Dorian suddenly. “Will you read it again?”

    He looked surprised, though she saw his hand drift for a second toward the book lying next to him. “You must be tired of this story by now. What about Britomart, or Arthur?”

    She smiled her sweetest smile. “Please?”

    He shook his head, and his smile was wry in return. “How can I refuse such a request?” He picked up the book and flipped it open, quickly finding his place. “The whole canto?”

    Allana nodded, and watched him as he began to read. She was reminded of that day, many weeks ago now, when they had first sat together in the garden and he had read to her. How expressive he was, now just as much as then, never once stumbling despite the difficulty of the language. Even reading on her own, there were still passages she could not quite grasp the scope of, but hearing him read them, it seemed almost not to matter. In a way, it was like music – the sound of it was every bit as important as the words themselves, and sometimes those sounds struck a chord deep down that plain words failed to reach.

    She listened as he recounted Timias’s battle with the foresters and the injuries he suffered at their hands, and Belphoebe’s discovery of him, how she tended to him day after day that he might live. How Timias fell hopelessly in love with his rescuer but could not speak his feelings aloud, and how distressed Belphoebe was when, after seeming to be healed, Timias began to waste away before her eyes, the true cause of his malady a mystery to her.

    “Litle she weend, that love he close concealed;
    Yet still he wasted, as the snow congealed,
    When the bright sunne his beams thereon doth beat;
    Yet never his hart to her revealed,
    But rather chose to dye for sorrow great,
    Then with dishonorable termes her to entreat.”


    Dorian stopped there and set the book down in his lap, and for a handful of seconds, neither of them could quite look at the other. The tale had never seemed to her so heartbreaking as it did in that moment.

    “I wish,” she said in a quiet voice, “he would have told her the truth.”

    Dorian picked up a twig and rolled it between his fingers, his gaze fixed on it. “How could he, when he was only a lowly squire, and she so high above him in both rank and virtue?”

    That sparked something deep within – a stubborn, indignant flame that wanted to burn for every cruel twist of fate. “But she was as mortal as he! Did she ever treat him as beneath her? Did she tend to his wounds with any less urgency or care because of his rank?”

    “No,” he said, softer. “She did not.” He kept his eyes on the twig in his hand. “But she guarded her virtue above all else, and he knew that.”

    Allana could feel herself growing flushed as she sat up straighter. “Why must it be one or the other? Desire itself isn’t a wicked thing, when it is born from a true and deep love.” She heard the words she was saying, and thought in a distant way that everyone who ever knew her would be appalled to hear her speak in such a shocking manner; but she could hardly stop. “If he had only told her of his feelings, she might have returned them. They might have been happy.”

    “They were happy.”

    That revelation, spoken so simply and directly, drew her up short. “What?”

    “It was in one of the later stories. They admitted their love for one another, and they were happy, for a time. But then they were separated by circumstances, and the poem doesn’t say what happened to them in the end.”

    “It doesn’t say at all?”

    “No.”

    Despite his somber tone, she felt a glimmer of hope. “But then they might have found each other again, and lived happily thereafter.”

    Dorian sighed and dropped the twig on the ground, and he finally looked up at her, his expression grim. “Or he might have been imprisoned, or wounded in battle, or killed. Very few of the stories in this book end happily. That’s the truth I’ve lived – nothing lasts forever.” He took a deep breath and tilted his head to one side, and he smiled a sad, knowing smile. “Everything is temporary, even this.”

    His words twisted at something inside her. “Do you mean to say that nothing matters?”

    He frowned at that. “No, I— I only meant… life is fleeting, isn’t it? It can all end in an instant. So maybe… maybe all of this matters more, because we’ll never have it again.”

    She stared down at her lap. “I don’t think I can accept such a bleak outlook, Mr. Starskip.”

    “No,” he said gently, his tone resigned, “you can’t, can you? I’m not sure I would want you to.”

    She heard the soft rustle of dirt and twigs shifting and looked up to see Dorian climbing to his feet. He put his book in his satchel and tied it closed.

    “Enough of Spenser,” he said, closing the gap between them. “What did you bring to read?”

    The strange, twisting feeling wasn’t wholly gone, but it bothered her a little less as she looked up into his blue eyes. “William Wordsworth,” she replied. “I thought you might enjoy his work.”

    A small spark of mischief lit in his eyes. “I believe it is your turn to read.”

    Heaven help her, but she could hardly be upset when he looked at her that way. She withdrew the book of poetry from the basket and leafed through its pages, picking one at random. She grinned when she saw the first line: “Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books; Or surely you’ll grow double…”

    Dorian stepped closer and leaned down, trying to read over her shoulder. “It doesn’t say that.”

    Allana held the book close to her chest and grinned a little wider. “I promise you, it does.” He didn’t move away, and she continued reading, glancing up every other line to see the half-amused, half-skeptical smirk on his lips. “Books! ‘tis a dull and endless strife—”

    “You know,” Dorian interrupted as he kneeled down not quite next to her, but not so very far away either, “I think it a little strange that Mr. Wordsworth would publish a book of poetry and then tell others not to read it.”

    She looked at him sidelong and told herself there was nothing at all endearing in the way he looked just then, like an eager and mischievous pup delighting in a new toy. Nothing whatsoever. Before he could comment further, she shoved the poetry book into his hands.

    Here,” she said with a smirk of her own. “Thank you for volunteering to finish the reading, Mr. Starskip.”

    He accepted the book with a grin that was nearly all teeth and surprised her by lying down on the grass next to her, within easy reach. He picked up the poem where she had left off, and conceded after a few lines that Mr. Wordsworth did indeed make a fair point on the value of learning from nature. By the time he reached the last few stanzas, Dorian’s jocularity had all but faded, replaced by something softer – more like the man who had breathed such life into Timias’s anguish and yearning. She found herself holding quite still to listen.

    Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
    Our meddling intellect
    Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—
    We—


    Allana looked over to see what had prompted him to stop reading; he was staring at the page with a blank expression she had never before seen on his face, and she felt her heart clench in her chest at the sight of it.

    “What is it?” she forced herself to ask.

    He exhaled slowly and lowered the book, still staring at the space where it had been. At last he looked up at her, and the knot in her chest tightened further at the flash of pain she saw in his eyes.

    “I’m sorry,” he said a bit breathlessly as he closed the book and stood abruptly. “I— I forgot… I had promised Veeran I would help with his work, since the others are away.”

    A lie, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. It was possible he had forgotten he had work to do, but she didn’t think it very likely. “Of course,” she said softly, watching him pass the book of poetry from one hand to the other. She reached up to take it back from him. “I shouldn’t have kept you.”

    He studied her outstretched hand for a moment before relinquishing the book. “I’m sorry.”

    She nodded, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in her stomach. “You said.”

    He bent down and picked his cap up off the ground and stood there over her, twisting it between his hands. “Miss Solo, please don’t think—”

    “Never mind what I think,” she said quietly. “You gave your word; that is the important thing.” She looked around at the blanket and the basket without truly seeing either. “I ought to return home as it is.”

    Dorian didn’t move. “I had a lovely day,” he murmured.

    Allana met his gaze and experienced a surge of regret so intense, she was certain it couldn’t possibly be his. “So did I.”

    He bowed his head, then turned to climb the hill. She watched him go; he glanced over his shoulder once, when he reached the top of the hill, and though she could barely make out his features, she could not bring herself to look away. He stood there for a long moment before he continued on his way, vanishing over the hill.

    The sun was still high in the sky; if she left now, it would be late afternoon before she arrived home. She stood and folded the blanket and tucked it inside the picnic basket with the remains of their lunch. When that was done, she retrieved the slender poetry book she had brought with her and opened it to the poem they had been reading. She found the line Dorian had left unfinished.

    Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
    Our meddling intellect
    Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—
    We murder to dissect.


    She looked up at the hill once more, at the place where he had finally disappeared from view, and she remembered that day in London, when he had nearly been stabbed, when she had watched him incapacitate his attacker as easily as if he had done it a hundred times; and she thought how foolish she was to believe that she knew him at all, that she had the slightest notion of what went on in his head, that they could have ever…

    She sighed and pushed that last thought as far from her mind as she could, and she gathered up her things for the long walk home.


    ~~


    The trek back to the stables took well over an hour, but for Dorian the time that passed was practically meaningless. Despite what he had told Allana, he had no other obligations today, and he spent the entire walk poring over every minute, no, every second of his time with her. He couldn’t stop thinking of how many times he had wanted to take her hand, or kiss her, or tell her everything he felt. And he couldn’t stop thinking of how she’d looked at him before he turned to leave: confused and forlorn and almost certainly believing she had done something wrong. How could he have ever done anything to hurt her? How could he ever explain to her why he had left?

    How could he ever ask her to tie herself to one so pitiful as he? Oh, he understood poor Timias better than ever, didn’t he?

    “Unthankfull wretch,” he muttered to himself as the stables came into view, “is this the meed with which her soveraigne mercy thou doest quight?” He couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh at that. How poetic it was. How beautifully and awfully poetic.

    Veeran was forking out fresh hay when Dorian entered the stable. There was no one else about; Mr. Bridger and one of the other grooms were still at Aldera with Lady Leia, and the others had been given the day off as well. He wasn’t sure where the two younger stable boys were; he suspected Veeran had probably yelled at them and run them off, insisting he could do the work all on his own. Dorian clasped his hands together and leaned over the door of an empty stall, waiting for his brother to turn around.

    After a minute, Veeran stabbed the pitchfork into the hay and turned toward him, a deep frown etched in his features. “What happened?”

    Dorian shook his head at his brother. “Nothing,” he lied, knowing full well that Veeran wouldn’t be fooled for an instant.

    His twin glowered at him. “I told you you were mad to keep this up.”

    “It isn’t what you think.”

    “It’s exactly what I think. It’s exactly what you think, too. Stop pretending you don’t know what you’re doing.”

    Dorian stared off at nothing and rubbed a hand across his mouth. “What am I supposed to do?”

    “Your job,” Veeran answered. “You do your job, and you stay away from her, and you let everyone get on with their lives, before you ruin everything.”

    Dorian breathed in deep, and he imagined doing exactly what his brother said. “I don’t know if I can.”

    Veeran glared at him, but there was pain behind it, too. He raised a hand toward his mouth and started to look away, but then he turned back abruptly, his voice shaking. “You’re so damned selfish, you know that? This is my life you’re gambling with, too. And I can’t do anything to stop you, because anything I do will get us both in trouble, and you don’t care.”

    He felt that accusation like a gut punch. “Of course I care.”

    “Then stop this. Right now. Today.” Veeran’s jaw clenched, and he forced a disgusted laugh between his teeth. “But you won’t, will you? I already know you won’t.”

    Dorian stared back at his twin, and was silent.

    “You’re not the only one here who wants something he can’t have,” Veeran continued, yanking the pitchfork out of the hay. “But unlike you, I don’t live in a fairy land. I know my place.”

    Veeran turned away and resumed his work, and Dorian watched him stab at the hay for a while. Eventually, his brother’s anger ebbed, and his shoulders slumped as he stopped to rest.

    “I don’t ever want to go back,” Veeran said quietly, almost too quiet to hear. “And you don’t either.”

    No, Dorian thought as he recalled Allana’s smile, and the way she laughed, and how she always hoped for the best in everything and everyone.

    I can’t ever go back.



    to be concluded…

    ~~
     
    Last edited: May 16, 2022
  14. Mira_Jade

    Mira_Jade The (FavoriteTM) Fanfic Mod With the Cape star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Jun 29, 2004
    Well, this review is going to come in two parts due to its length - but know that everything is fantastic so far and I absolutely love it all! [face_hypnotized] [face_love] [:D]

    I may have had an inkling. [face_mischief] Still, you went above and beyond from there. ;)

    Oh, this title!! (And I'm honored, by the way - but the foundation was all set up by your own brilliance. ;) [face_love] [face_blush]

    Besides just grinning myself silly for all of the Regency flirting, I love everything that Allana's introspection said about her character. She's just so adorable, worrying about doing things right and how her actions impact others and second-guessing herself while still being so bold and fearless - what a precious dear.

    Also, I almost thought oblique was a prompt word, but it wasn't. A+ word choice. =D=

    And also, also - as if Dorian would never not have the inclination. [face_mischief]

    I love how this detail reflected IDWD! :D The comparison to Han made my heart twist then, and here we actually have potential for Han and Dorian interaction. (Yay mostly-happy AU [face_dancing]) Allana wouldn't be the first Solo/Skywalker to make an unconventional choice, is all I'm saying. [face_mischief] [face_whistling][face_love]

    Ooh, gorgeous wording! [face_love]

    All the feelings!!!

    But, as if he could not have comprehend doing any different really sums up Dorian and Allana, doesn't it? [face_love]

    All of their banter had me smiling and smiling, but this line in particular just really stood out to me. I don't know, it was just so clever, and all the more adorable for being so! [face_love]

    Their consant awareness of each other was just so delightful throughout this scene, too - which is very much a them thing as much as it adds to the Regency setting. This felt as light and freeing to read as it was for the characters. It's just been so many years and they're finally here. [face_love]

    The sass! All the sass. [face_laugh] [face_love]

    And, but I forgot to grab the quote, but you know that I love Dorian's insistence on formality. That just makes it all the better for when we know it will finally breaks. [face_mischief] [face_batting]

    I LOVED which parts of the story they each connected with, and why. [face_love]

    When only the written words can say what you can't . . . [face_mischief] [face_love] (Marianne would applaud Dorian here and then sniff to tell Edward that's how it's done. :p)

    Anyway, you could feel that reverence and wonder and joy all but leap off the screen. [face_love]

    I could SEE this. Great use of the prompt word! [face_mischief]

    Welp, that just hurt. You just had to twist the knife, didn't you? =(( =(( =((

    [face_love] [face_love] This was such a beautiful response, and too true for being so! I remain all sorts of curious about what Jacen has been up to in this AU, too. [face_mischief] [face_thinking]

    Yaaaaas, THIS!!!

    First of all, excellent use of the prompt word(s)! I love how the idea of adequacy sparked this entire exchange. Then, is there anything more sublime than music and mankind's ability to both create it and interact with it in our turn? Dorian's spot-on right, and I love how his words promoted Allana to reflect and draw her own conclusion in return. Just beautiful! [face_love]

    Yes, I know that I'm quoting all of it, but I had to. :p

    I don't know how you did it, but you somehow made one of the trickiest prompts in aubade seem the most natural! This just flowed, and I love Dorian's blushing little oh by the end. These absolute dears. [face_love]

    [face_love] [face_love] [face_love]!!!

    I love everything about this scene and needed to pull a giant quote again because it was just that good.

    I thought this when the storm first started, but I love how the lightning imagery played out here in contrast to its use in your main 'verse. There was something so visceral about the change in weather to complement the scene, just as much as lovers running through the rain is a trope for a reason all by itself. [face_love]


    Anyway, I'm running out of ways to say I love this, yet again. So: I just loved this. [face_love] [face_love] [face_love]


    I'll be back with part two of my review soon this weekend! [:D]
     
    Last edited: Feb 24, 2022
    Gabri_Jade and ViariSkywalker like this.
  15. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    Yay, I'm so glad you love it!!! [face_dancing] [:D] *hugs you forever*

    I will be back with the rest of my replies, (and all the other replies, and maybe even some more replies, I've lost track at this point 8-}), but for now... I'm done with the last part! [face_batting]




    Notes: This is Part Three of my Week 6 story. Here are links to Part One (and the details of my prompt) and Part Two. This entire short story ended up being 14,700 words [face_hypnotized], and I managed to fulfill all the prompts Mira gave me. Whew! :p

    Enjoy! [face_batting]




    Between the Moon and the Stars


    Part Three


    Allana spent the rest of that Friday and all of Saturday indoors, even though the sun shone as bright as ever, and the weather was more than agreeable. She passed much of the time practicing the nocturnes her father had sent her, and she would have been quite content to continue her self-imposed confinement on Sunday as well, had she not been forced to break it that morning for church. The sermon offered a temporary respite from her troubles, though she found her thoughts drifting more than once to what had occurred under the elm tree. Afterward, as she and her grandparents walked back to Varykino and she was confronted once more with the sight of the countryside in all its late springtime splendor, she found herself parsing through the events of Friday afternoon over and over, trying to determine what she had done wrong.

    Had it truly been because of the poem, as it had first seemed? The more she thought on it, the less sure she was. He had seemed happy for the most part, though she could recognize now that there had been a distant quality to that happiness. Everything is temporary, he’d said. Was that how he saw their friendship? Fleeting, impermanent, doomed? That last curled around her heart and squeezed. She wanted so badly to understand him, but the last ten years – in truth, the whole of their lives – suddenly seemed an impossibly wide chasm between them. How could she ever hope to cross it?

    “You are very quiet this morning, sweetheart.” Her grandmother turned to look over her shoulder at her. “Is everything all right?”

    Allana made no attempt to hide her mood – such a thing would have been futile where her grandmother was concerned – but she did resolve to keep the true source of her troubles locked within the privacy of her own mind. “I’ve been feeling a bit dispirited the last few days,” she replied. “It’s nothing to worry about; I’m certain I will come out of it soon on my own.” Two parts truth, one part lie.

    Her grandmother smiled knowingly. “I can well understand the desire to fight your own battles, my darling girl; but you know that your grandfather and I are happy to share any burden you might carry. You need only ask.”

    For the first time in many weeks, Allana felt shame for the secrets she had been keeping. She hadn’t meant to be deceitful, not truly. Yet she had no other choice but to keep her secrets, for there was no one who would believe her friendship with Dorian to be innocent, no matter how fervently she might swear it was. And how precious that friendship had become to her in the meantime. Just as she couldn’t bear the thought of giving it up, neither could she bear the thought of it being perceived as something base or wicked.

    She smiled as best she could manage. “I know, Grandma. Thank you.” She cast about for a new topic, and realized she hadn’t yet asked how the visit to Aldera had gone. “How were Lady Winter and Colonel Celchu? I meant to ask when you returned.”

    Her grandmother exchanged an amused look with her grandfather. “They are both in remarkable health, and they have promised to host a ball at Aldera before the month is out. Lady Winter says she knows of several fine young gentlemen who would be delighted to make your acquaintance.”

    Not,” her grandfather interjected, “that you have to consider any of them if you don’t want to. Or talk to them. Or even look at them, for that matter.”

    Allana stifled a laugh and strode forward to take her grandfather’s free arm. “Nonsense, Grandpa. If Lady Winter has selected these gentlemen, I am certain I will enjoy looking at them a great deal.”

    “Shocking!” her grandfather replied with a deep chuckle. “Who taught you to talk like that?”

    Her grandmother leaned in from the other side, one eyebrow raised. “You did, Han.”

    Her grandfather shook his head and grinned down at her grandmother. “You know, I recall a certain young lady who once tried to commandeer my ship, and she said things to my crew that made even the most hardened of them blush—”

    “I hardly see how that is pertinent…”

    Allana listened as her grandparents quipped back and forth about their various misadventures; they had had plenty, if even half of the stories were true. She was happy to be a silent spectator for the rest of the walk home, enjoying their banter and the warmth of their affection.

    Soon they were returned home, and Allana left her grandparents to retrieve the embroidery sampler she had started working on that morning. As she passed the door to the library, her eyes caught on the arrangement of cream-colored roses she had picked for her grandmother a few days prior. It was sitting on the bench next to the pianoforte, which was an odd place to leave a vase of flowers, and she wondered if one of the housemaids had been distracted in the middle of cleaning and forgot to return it to its original home.

    Allana set her bonnet down on a side table and went to pick up the vase, and as she did, she realized there was a single sprig of lavender tucked in among the roses.

    Oh,” she whispered as she beheld the vibrant purple flowers. She removed the lavender from the vase and returned the roses to their rightful place on her grandmother’s desk; then she breathed in the scent of the tiny flowers, closing her eyes to imagine him standing here, holding this same sprig in his hands.

    Maybe, she dared to hope, the distance between them was not so very wide after all.


    ~~


    She found him in the garden – their garden, a little voice whispered despite her attempts to quell it – trimming back some of the dying blooms to make way for new growth. He stood up quickly when he saw her and removed his cap, but was silent.

    “I received your message, Mr. Starskip,” she said with a small smile, holding up the lavender between them.

    His shoulders sagged ever so slightly as he released a breath. “I am relieved it found its way, Miss Solo.”


    ~~


    Spring gave way to the long days of summer, and Allana fell back into easy companionship with Dorian, though their secret appointments were not as frequent as they had been before. His work continued to take up most of his days, and Allana found herself swept up in an ever-rising tide of social engagements. It seemed every daughterless lady in the county had taken it upon themselves to find her a husband, and she had been invited to no less than six private balls, including Lady Winter’s at Aldera, before month’s end.

    “It’s all rather exhausting,” she lamented as she lounged upon her garden bench, leaning sideways on one elbow. Dorian was kneeling alongside one of the flower beds, digging weeds out of the dirt. He dropped a few of the errant plants on the ground beside him and leaned back on his heels to fix her with a wry grin.

    “All of that free food and merrymaking is such a burden, it’s true.”

    She arched an eyebrow at him and had to bite her lip to stop from smiling. “Make fun all you like, but even the most enjoyable parties can quickly become tiresome. At least I won’t have to attend every event to which I am invited, thank goodness. I think I might go mad otherwise.” Her fingers found the grooves of one of the roses carved into the stone, and she glanced down at it, tracing it absently. “My great-uncle and great-aunt are hosting a ball next month at their home in London. One last hurrah before the season ends. I will have to attend that one, but I dearly love my uncle and his family and have longed to visit them again.”

    She looked up to find Dorian watching her. She had grown accustomed to his silence, how it would descend suddenly and without warning, and there were even times when she found it comfortable in a way. But there were other times when he seemed to be searching for something in her, and she felt a powerful compulsion to answer his gaze with… well, she hardly knew with what.

    He shook himself from whatever daze he’d found himself in and resumed his digging. “It sounds like you have a busy summer ahead of you. So many fine hearts to break.”

    “Oh, don’t put it like that,” Allana said with a very unladylike groan. “I know they mean well, but I do wish I could attend these balls without feeling as though I am on display and expected to endure the advances of gentlemen in whom I have not the slightest interest.”

    He glanced up as another weed was ripped free of the soil. “How do you know you won’t be interested?”

    “Mr. Starskip!” she said, feigning shock. “I don’t believe I should answer that question.”

    He shrugged and tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “You don’t know what’ll happen. You might meet some charming viscount or duke’s son or wealthy landowner and that’s that.”

    Allana found herself dangerously at risk of losing the battle not to smile. “This fictional gentleman would have to be exceptionally charming, to tempt me away from my family and my home and this lovely garden.”

    He paused for a good long moment, eyes meeting hers. “It is indeed lovely.”

    She knew she had begun to blush, and she looked away from him quickly, her gaze traveling aimlessly to one of the climbing vines along the garden wall as a new and more serious thought occurred to her. “Besides, I… I would want my father to meet any man I might consider marrying, and he is not due to return for some time.”

    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dorian nod and look down at his hands, rubbing at the dirt that stained his fingers. “How long has he been away?”

    “Nearly a year. The last letter I received from him was when he sent me Field’s nocturnes.”

    “You play those beautifully, you know.”

    She snapped her head around to face him. “You’ve been listening? When?”

    He climbed to his feet and wiped his hands on his trousers. “Whenever I work in the south garden in the afternoon. The window is usually open.” He walked over to join her at the bench, taking his usual place on the grass. “Was it difficult to learn?”

    She was taken aback for a moment by his question, for in truth she hardly remembered when she had first learned to play the pianoforte. Though she possessed no great skill with the instrument, she had been playing it since she was young, and had trouble recalling a time when she didn’t at least know the most basic skills.

    “I’m sure it is easier for some and more difficult for others,” she mused. “I believe it was probably a challenge, but it’s been so long now.”

    Dorian nodded thoughtfully. “There was an old harpsichord at the orphanage, but no one ever played it.” He propped his elbows up on his knees and continued scrubbing at the dirt on his hands. “I thought about trying it a few times, just to see how it would sound.”

    She turned to consider him more fully. “Would you want to learn?”

    He met her look with a skeptical smile. “I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

    “I could teach you,” she offered.

    He shook his head and turned away to stare at his clasped hands. “I couldn’t. Even if I had the time…”

    The answer struck her like lightning, and she sat up straight and turned to him. “I’ve just had an idea! Lady Winter’s ball is next Thursday… that evening I could say I am feeling unwell and wish to stay home. My grandparents won’t return until the next morning, so the servants will likely go to bed early, and we would have the house practically to ourselves.”

    He met her excitement with a deeply wary expression. “How do you know your grandparents won’t just stay home if you say you’re sick?”

    “As long as I don’t appear too ill, I’m certain they will still go. Lady Winter is one of my grandmother’s oldest and dearest friends, and I doubt she would miss a chance to see her.”

    Beneath his continued wariness, she sensed a flicker of hope, one that he seemed determined to smother. “Aren’t you worried someone will hear us if we’re playing music so late?”

    She was too excited to be dissuaded by his doubts. “The servants’ quarters are on the opposite side of the house from the library, and as this will be your first lesson, I hardly expect us to be playing loudly or continuously enough to wake anyone.”

    He glanced away again, and there was a nervous energy to his uncertainty. “I don’t know…”

    “Please,” she said. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then consider it a favor to me – sparing me a night of being paraded about like a… a…” She gestured vaguely in the air. “The point is, I would much rather spend the evening with you than with any gentleman Lady Winter can conjure up.”

    Dorian favored her with a warm, unguarded smile in response, and she thought then that she didn’t care to look upon any other man, no matter how handsome or charming. None of their smiles would ever compare to his.


    ~~


    The evening of the Aldera ball finally arrived, and it was with surprisingly little argument that Allana saw her grandparents off without her. She was fairly certain they suspected her illness to be largely contrived – she had never been a very good liar – but they played along, perhaps because she had already received multiple visitors and attended two separate balls in the last week and was genuinely exhausted from it all. In truth, she wasn’t quite sure how her grandparents were going to manage staying up all night at their age, but she would never admit as much to them.

    Mr. Goldenrod turned to her after the carriage had departed. “Is there anything I might do to make your evening more comfortable, Miss Allana? Shall I have Mrs. Meewalh send something up?”

    The quizzical concern on the butler’s prim face was enough to force a smile from her, despite her attempts to look appropriately miserable. “No, thank you, Mr. Goldenrod; I think I’ll retire early and get some rest.”

    The butler bowed his head. “Very good, miss. I hope for your swift recovery. Do not hesitate to ring if you require anything.”

    Allana spent the next few hours in her room, alternating between working on her embroidery and reading the best parts from one of her favorite novels. She could sense the staff moving about the house, their activity becoming more sedate as the evening wore on. Finally, when it had grown so dark outside that she was forced to light a candle, the movements of the servants stilled, and the house was quiet.

    She crept out of her room and down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. After a quick investigation, she confirmed that everyone else had indeed retired to their quarters, even Mr. Goldenrod. Satisfied that no one was around, she went to the side door nearest the library and opened it.

    He slipped inside quickly – like a thief in the night, she mused absently – nearly bumping into her as he stepped into the small circle of light afforded by her single candle. He started to apologize, but she held a finger to her lips and led him toward the library. Once inside, she closed and locked the door behind her and went about lighting more candles to place near the pianoforte.

    In the back of her mind, she knew precisely how terrible this whole scenario would appear if they were found out, but she pushed that thought as far away from her as possible. Was it right that she should have so much and not be able to share it with him? Why should he be deprived of the beautiful things that made life worth living, just because he had been born into lesser circumstances, without any of the advantages she had received? If she could give him even a small piece of that… well, how could that truly be wrong?

    Dorian strolled around the perimeter of the library, his attention temporarily diverted by the shelves lining the walls. “How many books are in here?” he asked.

    “I’m not sure.” She set the last candle down and turned to look at him. He was wearing his usual dark trousers and a white shirt much like the gray ones he usually wore, and he had his hands in his pockets as he walked alongside the bookshelves. His attire was not at all like the fitted fashions she was used to seeing on the men in her social circles; it was loose and plain and even a little rumpled… but for the life of her, she could not imagine anything that would improve his appearance. He was…

    She realized, after staring at him far longer than necessary, that she had quite forgotten the question she’d been answering.

    “It’s very impressive,” he said, turning away from the shelves. “I’d be lucky to read even a fraction of these in my lifetime.”

    “You’re welcome to borrow any that you’d like,” she found herself saying. “My grandmother won’t mind at all.”

    He grinned just a little at that. “She might mind if she found out about this piano lesson.”

    The reminder of her deceit chastened her, and Allana knew a moment of doubt as she looked over her shoulder at the pianoforte. She continued to insist, within her own mind, that it was entirely innocent, that she only wanted to give him something he had been denied due to the cruelties of fate. And yet… that didn’t explain the care with which she had chosen her dress that evening, or the time she had spent studying herself in the mirror, wondering what he would think.

    “Speaking of the lesson,” she said, forcing those other thoughts into the smallest corner of her awareness and focusing instead on her purpose for being here. She gestured toward the wooden bench in front of the pianoforte. “Shall we commence, Mr. Starskip?”

    She sat down on the left side of the bench, and he sat all the way to the right, leaving a gap between them. Allana started by explaining the basics of the keys and the scales, and after a quick demonstration, she showed him how to position his hands. He stopped for a second to adjust his sleeves; she thought maybe he meant to unbutton them and roll them up – and found herself oddly pleased by the idea – but he merely tugged them further down around his wrists and rested his fingers on the keys.

    He responded hesitantly and almost bashfully when she instructed him to play a few notes, but that faded once he pressed down on the keys and heard those notes answer back. Despite his reserved exterior, she sensed in him an almost giddy joy that manifested in a disbelieving head shake and a smile that grew wider with each note. When he had memorized the keys and successfully played a complete scale, she gave him a series of notes to repeat. While he played those same four notes over and over, she took up an accompanying part, weaving a simple melody around his steady rhythm.

    “I shouldn’t be so pleased,” he said after they had repeated their parts several times. “I’m hardly doing anything.”

    “Nonsense,” she corrected gently. “This is all part of playing a song.”

    They continued in this way for a long while, with her calling out notes for him to play and watching him respond. Eventually the candles grew low in their holders, and Allana lowered her hands from the keys and smiled up at him.

    “Congratulations, Mr. Starskip,” she said. “You are now a pianist.”

    He laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Hardly, Miss Solo. But—” he added before she could protest, “—I am grateful for the lesson.” He pivoted slightly toward her. “And now I can better appreciate the difficulty of your nocturnes.”

    “I’m sure a more accomplished pianist wouldn’t find them difficult, but I will admit that I have enjoyed playing them.”

    “Do you have a favorite?”

    She considered his question. “There is one in E minor; that’s my favorite so far.” She leafed through the sheets of music on the stand and found the piece she was looking for. “Here.”

    He nodded toward the pages. “Will you play it for me?”

    She quirked her mouth in a faint, teasing grin. “This was supposed to be your lesson.”

    “Please.” There was a quiet earnestness in his voice just then. “For me.”

    There it was again, that nervous flutter in her stomach. She was suddenly reminded of their afternoon under the elm tree, when she had asked him to read to her.

    “How can I refuse such a request?” she said, echoing his own words to her that day. She placed the pages on the stand and fixed her eyes on the notes, and she took a breath as she positioned her fingers over the keys.

    Of all of Field’s nocturnes that she had played, this was the one that felt most like the night to her. It was somber and gentle, melancholy and sweet… it was the lonely moon shining down on the gardens, or the brook, or through her bedroom window whenever she yearned to see her father and the mother she’d never known. It was the orphan boy she had held so dear to her heart, in a way that no one else was, or ever would be.

    She played for the people she’d lost and the ones who had come back, and she played for the moon and the stars and everything between them. Most of all, she played for him.

    When the song was finished, she inhaled deep and released that breath slowly, and she felt a tremor through the wooden bench as Dorian shifted next to her. She only meant to glance up at him, but as her eyes met his pale blue ones, she felt a flush of heat spread across her neck and her face, and found herself unable to look away.

    “I suppose that’s enough for one night,” she said quietly.

    He said nothing in return, and for a moment her sense of him was anxious and barely restrained, a bow being drawn roughly across a violin’s strings. Look away, she told herself, look away, look away…

    It was he who looked away first – she noticed the way his jaw clenched then – and with great effort, she turned her gaze once more to the pianoforte, where her hands were still poised as if to play. Neither of them moved from the bench, and a strange, reckless courage began to fill her, as it had done before in the stables and in the garden and by the elm tree; and she thought perhaps she was finally ready to admit the truth she had hidden from for so long.

    “Can you keep a secret?” she asked, hardly more than a whisper.

    “Yes,” he answered softly.

    She paused, her fingertips still resting on the very edges of the keys, her heart beating with a wildness she had never known. “You promise you’ll never tell?”

    He reached across the space between them and slowly traced his knuckles along the side of her hand. “Never,” he murmured.

    That lightest of touches stole her breath, and she felt warm all over, as if taken with fever. He hesitated near her wrist, then pulled away, and she wanted nothing so badly as to snatch his hand back and twine her fingers with his. Instead, she watched him curl that hand into a fist against his thigh, rumpling the dark fabric of his trousers. She pulled her own hands into her lap and twisted them together.

    “I don’t want this to end,” she closed her eyes to whisper. “I want you to stay here, with me.”

    His voice was very close when he answered. “I am with you.”

    Not enough, her heart seemed to beat out, and though she kept her eyes shut tight, all she could see and hear and feel was him.

    “I want more,” she whispered.

    He let out a quiet breath, one that fluttered across her skin. “I— I know I’m not right for… I’m not allowed to want…”

    He stopped himself saying more, and she ached to hear what he had left unspoken. She exhaled slowly. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Starskip?”

    Allana.”

    The use of her given name drew her gaze before she could think better of it, and she turned to find him watching her intently, his expression filled with a yearning that terrified her nearly as much as it thrilled her. For the first time, his thoughts were open to her, and she felt them as intimately as a touch. All that he wanted and all that she wanted seemed to pass between them in the space of a heartbeat, and she was so caught in the dreamlike spell of everything that could be that she nearly forgot that all he had done so far was to briefly touch her hand.

    He glanced down at the space between them, and she followed his gaze to the wooden bench, where one end of the sash from her dress lay draped across it. He reached out and took hold of the ribbon, and she watched him twiddle it between his fingers as he leaned closer.

    “Angell,” he murmured, “or Goddesse, do I call thee right?”

    After reading them so many times, the words sprang instantly to her lips. “Nor Goddesse I, nor Angell.”

    He shook his head and continued to wind the ribbon around his fingers. “You are to me,” he said, in a voice so low as to rumble through her. “Angel, goddess… the stars, the sun itself… you are all of those and more.” He bent his head toward her, eyes never leaving hers. “You are everything to me, Allana.”

    “I—” She couldn’t do more than gasp out that single syllable in response. Like her sash twisting between his fingers, that which she sensed to be him was entwined with what she knew to be her… and in that moment, Allana realized three things with startling clarity. The first was that if she made no move to prevent it, Dorian was almost certainly going to kiss her. The second was that she very, very much desired to kiss him in return. And the final realization – accompanied by a ghostly sensation dragging up her spine – was that someone else was approaching the library.

    His eyes went wide, and she knew he’d sensed it, too. “The door!” she whispered urgently. He was up before she’d finished speaking, moving quickly and silently to stand next to the door. She followed after as the door knob jiggled from someone trying to open it.

    “Miss Allana? Is that you?”

    She fought to keep her voice steady. “Yes, Mr. Goldenrod, just a moment!” She motioned for Dorian to stay still. As long as the butler didn’t venture too far into the room, Dorian would be hidden from view behind the open door. Taking one last deep breath, Allana unlocked the door and opened it.

    Mr. Goldenrod stood there with a single candle and peered into the room with great concern. “Is everything all right, miss? I thought you had gone to bed, but if there is anything you require—”

    “Oh no, I am sorry to have disturbed you!” Breathe, she ordered herself. “I was feeling much better and quite restless and wanted to play a bit. I didn’t think anyone would hear.”

    The butler studied her for a moment, such a worried expression on his thin face. “Are you certain you are feeling all right, Miss Allana? Forgive me for saying so, but you look quite pale. Allow me to escort you to your room? Or I could retrieve one of the female staff if you prefer?”

    “No, thank you. Please do not stay up on my account, Mr. Goldenrod. I assure you I am feeling much better, and once I am finished putting away my music I will head directly to bed. You needn’t worry.”

    He didn’t look entirely convinced, but Mr. Goldenrod was nothing if not devoted and obedient. “If that is what you wish, Miss Allana. Good night.”

    “Good night,” she replied, waiting until he had retreated to the far end of the corridor before she closed the door.

    She sank back against the door, and only then did she realize how furiously her heart was beating and that her hands had begun to shake. She looked over at Dorian; he was as pale as she’d ever seen him, and he stared at her like he was looking through her.

    “I should go,” he whispered.

    She nodded numbly. “Yes, of course.”

    He took a halting step toward the door, toward her, before drawing up short. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I— I shouldn’t have— this was a…”

    A new fear gripped her suddenly as she looked up at him. “A what? A mistake?”

    “I don’t know,” he said in a quiet voice. “Maybe.”

    Fear gave way to a cool, liquid anger that pooled in her stomach. “So you shouldn’t have come here at all? You shouldn’t have said… all those things you said to me? You shouldn’t have—” Damn him, but even the memory of what had nearly happened between them was enough to make her weak. “—shouldn’t have touched me as you did?”

    He took another step toward her, but she could feel his restraint, as though an unseen barrier had been erected between them. “I’m not trying to upset you,” he whispered.

    “Then what are you doing?” She flung one hand in the direction of the pianoforte. “Why say those things to me if you didn’t mean them?”

    “I did mean them. I meant every word of them. I—” He took in a sharp, shuddering breath, his expression pained. “I meant every word. But this—” He gestured between them. “—will only ruin you. I see that clearly now. I was being selfish before, thinking I could keep you, and that this wouldn’t hurt anyone. That it wouldn’t hurt you.”

    Her anger drained away, leaving her hollow and brittle. “If this is your idea of sparing me pain…” She laughed a bitter laugh and looked away from him. “I suppose it’s true, what you said before. Everything is temporary. Even this.”

    “Allana—”

    “Just go,” she said, and her voice sounded empty and foreign to her own ears. “Go back to your own life, Mr. Starskip. You needn’t worry about my happiness or my reputation any longer.”

    She turned and opened the door, then stepped back to allow him through it. He stood still for a moment, head tilted to one side, as if he wanted to say more. Then the moment passed, and he stepped into the corridor, pausing just long enough to look back at her and whisper one last, “I’m sorry.”

    She nodded silently and watched him leave through the side door, and then she blew out all but one of the candles and retreated up the stairs to the cold dark of her bedroom. Only there did she finally allow herself to grieve.


    ~~


    It was nearly midnight when Dorian returned.

    Veeran had waited up despite his brother’s insistence that he not do so, and now he sat on the edge of his narrow bed, watching as Dorian quietly opened the door and stepped into the small room they shared. He could already tell something was wrong. It had been like that ever since he could remember, his twin’s presence burning within his own like a steady flame, bound as closely as any two people could be. At least, that was how Veeran had always imagined it to be.

    Dorian sat down opposite him on his own bed, face in his hands, one pale shaft of moonlight cutting a diagonal across his shoulders. Veeran wasn’t good at this. He had never been good at this. “You were with her?” he asked in an even tone.

    Dorian’s head bobbed once. “It’s over,” he said from behind his hands. “You got what you wanted.”

    “This isn’t—” What he’d wanted? Wasn’t it, though? Veeran rubbed a hand across his mouth. “I didn’t do this, Dorian, you did. You reached for something you had no right to.”

    His twin lifted his face toward him and stared. “Thou a meane Squire, of meeke and lowly place.” Dorian’s voice was quiet, and a dark smirk twisted his features as he gripped his knees with his hands. “She heavenly borne, and of celestiall hew.” He lowered his head again and shook it, laughing under his breath. “What can I lesse do, then her love therefore?”

    Veeran stared back at his brother, recognizing the words despite himself. “Dye meekly for her sake,” he murmured in response.

    Dorian looked up at him and nodded slowly. “Dye rather, dye, then ever so faire love forsake.” He took a deep breath, glancing up at the window above their beds, and the moon visible through it. “I never thought I’d understand Timias so completely. It was just a story.”

    “It still is,” Veeran replied. “They’re all just stories. This is reality, and you would have hurt her more if you’d kept it up.”

    “I’m not arguing with you,” Dorian said in a hollow voice. “You were right.” He laid down on the bed and turned to face the wall, and though he didn’t make a sound, Veeran felt his brother turn in on himself.

    “I wish I wasn’t,” Veeran whispered in the dark before he, too, turned away.


    ~~


    Dawn broke over Varykino the next morning in all its soft, rosy glory. It broke over the stables, greeting the horses and the men who cared for them. It broke over the grounds and the gardens, empty of visitors but full to the brim with life and splendor. It broke over the grand old house itself as the master and mistress of the estate returned home, exhausted from a night of gaiety, ready to slip into their bed and let the pleasant sounds of a quiet country morning carry them off to sleep.

    Those first pale rays of sunlight crept in through the windows and alighted on a side table, where a single sprig of dried lavender stood in a slender white vase; and next to that table, curled up in her bed, a young woman woke slowly, wiping at the dried remnants of her tears, still clinging to the last wisps of a fading dream.


    Fin

    ~~


    The piece that Allana plays for Dorian is John Field's Nocturne in E Minor, which is numbered differently (either 8, 9, or 10) depending on the source.

    The epic poem quoted throughout all three parts of the story is Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene, and the quotations all come from Book III, Canto V.

    The William Wordsworth poem featured in Part Two is "The Tables Turned".
     
    Last edited: May 16, 2022
  16. earlybird-obi-wan

    earlybird-obi-wan Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 21, 2006
    A great story about upper and lower class not being allowed to love. Allana should get Dorian
     
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  17. Mira_Jade

    Mira_Jade The (FavoriteTM) Fanfic Mod With the Cape star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Jun 29, 2004
    Now, for Part Two! :D

    You had so many gorgeous descriptions of the English countryside throughout your story, but this one in particular really grabbed me and pulled me in. [face_love]

    [face_laugh] [face_laugh]

    I am still ridiculously invested in the lives of these horses. :p

    Well, now I need more Ezra and Veeran content, obviously. (I wonder if Veeran would have a similar gift in your main 'verse, even? [face_thinking]) This was so sweet and gentle and sad, all at once - which is a combination of emotions you do particularly well with portraying. [face_love]

    [face_love] [face_love]!! I will never be over Veeran and Briar. Never.

    LADY WINTER!! I don't know why, but it delights me to no end to see how many characters you can work into this AU. :p [face_love]

    You know what I said about needing more of Ezra and Veeran content? You can double that now. ;) [face_mischief] [face_batting]

    Because this was such a poignant insight on Ezra's part, and too true. That they don't have to fight or hide anymore really got to me. =(( =((

    Yep: ridiculously invested in the lives of these horses! That's me. [face_love] [face_love]!!

    Wolffe as a senior gardener is just absolutely perfect. :D (I'd even go so far as to accept Wolffe having a green thumb in canon - this super-secret softie. [face_love])

    I noticed Binks in there, too - and imagining that dynamic just brings me all sorts of joy. :p

    Oh? Does he now? There's a story there. [face_plain]

    [face_tee_hee] [face_tee_hee]

    The adherence to polite manners as teasing/flirting remains the best. [face_mischief] [face_love]

    [​IMG]

    Allana and her love of purple continues for be the best, too! Everything is just the best! [face_love]

    Don't we'll all hope she does? [face_mischief] [face_whistling] [face_batting]

    This was a great moment! There's so much stacked against them that says don't, that she shouldn't, yet she's almost gravity-bound the other way. As always, you manage to convey such a fantastic sense of push and pull between these characters that's really just mesmerizing. =D=

    Meewalh! [face_love] Because the Noghri would dote on Allana. :p

    And the award for most adorable use of a prompt word goes to . . .

    [face_love] [face_love] [face_love]!!

    Komorebi! This was such a beautiful use of the word dapple; a most inviting and immersive scene! [face_love]

    =(( The beauty of the scenery only drives home just how painful this is. I can only imagine how the beauty of the countryside - and the beauty of that countryside when shared with Allana, especially - would seem surreal to Dorian after all the horrors he has endured. It has to feel like a dream that he's here and not there, at times.

    This was such a beautiful description! Gorgeous and powerful, both. (And again, you know that Marianne would be cheering Dorian on. :p)

    Oh. =(( I see what he's talking about. This entire exchange packed such a punch - because there is a distance that Dorian can't help but feel in both rank and virtue, even if Allana doesn't look at him the same way. I can't believe how well these stories matched up with your characters and the stories you have to tell! It's really just incredible. [face_love]

    I could feel the quiet power in his voice - that insistence.

    And this was a fantastic use of the prompt quote! This really went a long way to show Dorian's worldview against Allana's. They're both coming from vastly different places, but they want the same thing at the heart of it all - even if Dorian is convinced, by experience, that good things are not his for the keeping.

    WORDSWORTH!!! :D :D :D

    I laughed out loud at this, I really did. The playfulness here was so sweet, and made the coming severance of the scene all the more jarring and impactful.

    [face_love]! They really mirror each other, don't they? He's just doing what she wanted to do. And I love that detail of Dorian smiling with his teeth!

    Oh. =(( I think my breath left with Allana's. Even without knowing how the poem ends, she knows that something is terribly wrong.

    And there's that Force bond that just intensifies everything.

    Knowing what Dorian had to be think was thing - to have it confirmed was just all the more heartbreaking!

    The entire exchange between brothers was incredibly intense - I could have quoted it all. Because they have finally found a home and of course Veeran is scared for his brother's heart as much as he is their more immediate, physical needs - but how can Dorian ever go back? He can't ever go back.

    This was a perfectly grim - or bittersweet, more accurately - moment to end this section on. Whew, talk about an emotional gut punch! I'm not doing this story justice with my feedback at all, I feel like. So I have to say again that it was fantastic and I loved it all. [face_love] =D=


    Alrighty! Now, onto Part Three . . . [face_mischief] [face_love]


    =D= [:D]
     
    Last edited: Feb 28, 2022
    Gabri_Jade and ViariSkywalker like this.
  18. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    Catching up on some replies before I post my Week 7 fic!


    @earlybird-obi-wan
    Thank you! I'm having a lot of fun writing Allana and Dorian in this world. :D

    I guess it's not surprising that I found a way to add that "forbidden romance" element to their relationship in this story, since I didn't have the whole Jedi/Sith angle to approach it from. :p But could it ever work out for them here? [face_thinking]




    @Gabri_Jade
    :* [:D]

    Lol, I love this. :p

    Raven is horse!Dorian confirmed. [face_mischief]

    He really is. [face_worried] (And how often do we say that about Veeran?)

    Let's be real, though, Thistle probably does make Allana smile a lot, too. [face_love] :p

    My poor brute is so very bad at feelings. =((

    :D

    Allana has mastered the fine art of denial in every AU methinks. [face_mischief] :p

    I was happy you caught that. :D And in addition to the animal empathy, his name just fits so well in this world.

    Yaaaaaasss. :D

    Lolol, a very bold move indeed. [face_tee_hee] [face_mischief]

    They're so adorable, Gabri, I can't even. [face_love]

    They've really turned it into an art form, haven't they? :p o_O




    @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha
    Thank you so much! Ha, yeah I'd say they definitely understood each other's meaning. ;) :p




    @Mira_Jade
    [face_mischief] [face_batting] :*

    You are very, very welcome! [:D]

    It is. [face_love]

    [face_whistling] :D

    Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're going to need a ton of happy!AU Veeran by the time I'm done with the Ferrus fic... [face_whistling]

    (Let's face it, I'm probably going to need it, too. :p)

    Lolol, definitely those Solo/Skywalker genes! :p She tries so hard, poor girl, but she is not great with deception, unless it's self-deception, and even then... [face_whistling]

    Hee, I'm glad you caught that! And this is actually the first time I've posted anything with a new canon character, even if it is basically a cameo. [face_thinking]

    Ngl, I am too. :p [face_tee_hee]

    I'm glad that detail worked so well for you! That's what I was aiming for, while also looking for ways to make Dorian’s dynamic with the horses feel different from Veeran’s.

    Also, lol poor Raven. :p

    I can't even remember now what made me choose this method of indirect communication, other than it being right on the heels of writing Veeran's monologue with the horses, and me reflecting on how Fawn and Raven were basically horse!Allana and horse!Dorian, and I was like, "ooooh, I could do something interesting there." [face_mischief] (And also the fact that I just loved the horses and wanted to write more with them. :p [face_love]) I really did love using that indirect speech as a way for them to say things that wouldn't be at all appropriate for them to say otherwise. [face_tee_hee]

    I do love building tension, mmhmm. [face_batting] Sometimes less really is more, isn't it? [face_mischief]

    I don't know how the horses' personalities came through so clearly for me, but they did, and I love them. [face_love] And I enjoyed giving Fawn and Raven a bit more spotlight after the focus on Thistle and Briar. (Okay, mostly Thistle :p)

    I'm really glad the tension came through, again, the way I wanted it to. And that was such a great line that could have worked for so many characters, you're right! It was fun to give it to Allana, who, for all of her gentleness and kindness, is pretty sassy at times. ;) :p

    Poor Veeran, he's just completely at the mercy of whatever this thing is between his brother and Allana. It's been interesting thinking this situation through to all its possible outcomes, and how those would affect everyone involved. [face_thinking] (And you already know I'm all kinds of interested in exploring the Ferrus and Allana dynamic in any 'verse as well. ;))

    Look, Veeran might not be good at processing his feelings, but he has a lot of them, and he's not very good at hiding them either. o_O :p

    I won't lie, I enjoyed pushing the boundaries of the indirect communication prompt to the max here. :D [face_mischief] [face_love]

    [face_blush] I'm so glad you think so! ;)

    Well shucks, thanks. [face_blush] Again, though, your comment helped solidify it in my mind as a thing that needed to be brought back. [face_love] [:D]

    So adorable, Mira, I love her so much. [face_love] And even though my Regency flirting has been of the "completely ruin your reputation if anyone witnessed it" variety, it's still been all kinds of delightful to write. (A nice change of pace from the "are we flirting or trying to kill each other?" vibe that characterizes their interactions in most other realities... even if I do still love that, too. :p)

    We can thank Gabri for that one; she's used it enough times in our conversations that I've started to use it more often. ;)


    Right?
    [face_love]

    I did enjoy throwing in this little reference to IDWD, so I'm glad you caught it. :D Now it just remains to be seen whether my angsty tendencies will allow for any Han and Dorian interaction of the happy variety. [face_whistling] (There is definitely a trend in this family, though, isn't there? [face_mischief] [face_batting])

    *curtsies* [face_blush]

    Wow, it really does! [face_thinking] [face_love]

    I was smiling quite a bit myself writing all of this. [face_batting] As much as the angst has to be free to angst, sometimes the fluff has to be free to fluff. :p I'm glad that sense of awareness and lightness and freedom came through for you here. [face_love]

    Dorian is snarky in every reality and I love it. [face_mischief] [face_love]

    [face_mischief] [face_batting] [face_whistling]

    It honestly started out as me just reading through quotes from The Faerie Queene a few weeks ago, trying to find a variety of things I could sprinkle in throughout the entire AU, and somehow I came across the part with Timias and Belphoebe, and as I read it I was like "whoa, there are definitely some Allana/Dorian parallels here", and so I backed up a bit and read more... and after reading some outside commentary as well, I was like "yep, this has to be included somehow." In this whole epic tale of knights and maidens and monsters, it felt right that it's the lowly but brave and loyal squire (who is also kind of a badass) who Dorian connects with. And even though I felt like Allana would obviously gravitate toward Britomart because of the lady knight thing, Belphoebe really did strike me as closer to who Allana is, for a number of reasons. All of this to say that your recommendation of The Faerie Queene has really paid some unexpected dividends for this story and this whole AU, and I've loved weaving it into the narrative. [face_love]

    You know, in a way this whole story has been an exercise in indirect communication between these two. [face_thinking] [face_batting] (Poor Edward! [face_laugh] Dorian would probably point out that he's been reading this same book for the last ten years and has had plenty of practice. :p And Veeran would roll his eyes at all of them. o_O)

    This boy has a lot of feelings he's trying to express. [face_batting]

    My little weirdo and his peculiar smile. [face_love]

    I couldn't help myself. :( And honestly, it made even more sense to me that Leia would take a chance on these two unknown young men if she'd already tried to help them before as kids but had been too late. (Not that any of them realize the truth about that "apothecary" [face_plain])

    Aw, I'm glad you liked that response! It was a bit of a riff on one of the things Jacen said to Dorian in TLotD, as well as just being something I genuinely think Dorian would say in this situation.

    As for Jacen, right now in my head he's been engaged in some military conflict somewhere *waves vaguely*. I sort of have the idea that wherever he is, he's trying to mitigate the damage done. Honestly, the more I think about it, the more he strikes me as sort of a Colonel Brandon type in this world. [face_thinking]

    Yay, I'm so glad you liked this part! :D This is actually sort of a version of a similar exchange I had in mind for them in the happy AU; it wasn't about playing an instrument, but the sentiment was similar. Not everyone is going to be a master of every art form, but everyone needs art in their lives in some capacity, and just because you're not the best doesn't mean you can't love what you're doing while also striving to improve. [face_love]

    Looking back, I'm a little amazed that this exchange came together the way it did. [face_hypnotized] But once I read more about how aubades developed, I knew I had to include the "lovers parting at daybreak" aspect and not just the morning/dawn elements. (It helped that the wiki article on aubades directly contrasted them with serenades, and as I was already going to include the piano nocturne stuff, it ended up meshing really well. [face_love])

    (And they're so awkwardly adorable while dancing on the edge of everything they feel, I love it. [face_love])

    This scene was one that came to me on a bit of a whim, but it ended up being perfect, and I was even sort of calling back to the drabble where the twins escaped from the doctor. I like the idea that after that, a little thunder and lightning isn't going to faze Dorian - in fact, he almost welcomes the storm. [face_mischief]

    I will never get tired of all the storm and rain and water imagery, for so many reasons; and I love taking things from the main 'verse and giving them meaning in this one, too. :D

    I'm sure I've been very repetitive throughout these replies, but I am so glad you've enjoyed this story, as it has ended up being dear to me... and I can't wait to hear what you think of the rest! :D Thank you for the lovely and thoughtful feedback, my friend! [face_love] [:D]

    (And then I was literally writing the last sentence as you posted your Part 2 replies, so I'll be back to respond to those soon! But for now I'm gonna sneak in my week 7 story before the deadline... 8-})
     
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  19. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    Notes: For Week 7, my prompt was to write a story between 100 and 1,000 words that is an action piece. I could include as much introspection and dialogue as I wanted, but the main focus had to be action.




    Le Premier Meurtre


    It was snowing the night he pushed Neige into the river. He didn’t know then what the other boy’s name meant, and he wasn’t sure if he would have cared enough to appreciate the irony even if he had known. All he knew was that it was cold and he was hungry, and Neige’s gang had beaten Dorian and stolen his wages that morning, and there was no one who would do a thing about it. No one but him.

    He knew one other thing. He knew that Neige couldn’t swim.


    ~~


    Veeran slammed headfirst into the railing, two pairs of hands holding him in place as the frigid iron bit into his skin. For a few seconds he couldn’t see anything but stars bursting white-hot across his vision, couldn’t hear anything but the sharp snapping of the wind that funneled around the bridge. When the stars did clear, they were replaced by the murky dark of the water below, just visible through a curtain of fine snowflakes.

    “You thought you could take us all on your own?” Neige hissed in his ear. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?”

    Veeran twisted in their grasp, trying to free his arms. “Not as stupid as you are,” he growled, “if you think I came alone.”

    Neige’s lackey let out a startled shout and released him, and Veeran reared back, smashing his head into Neige’s chin. He rolled over and kicked the older boy’s legs out from under him, throwing him flat on his back. A few feet away, Dorian stood over the other gang member, a rock gripped tight in one bloodstained hand. The boy on the ground clutched at his head and groaned.

    His back to the rails, Veeran staggered to his feet, head still ringing from the beating he’d taken. He turned in time to see Neige hurtle toward him, a knife clutched in one hand.

    “You’re dead!” the older boy spat as he lunged, catching Veeran in the arm. He barely felt it amid the bitter cold, but the sight of his own blood on Neige’s blade stoked something deep in his belly. He sidestepped the next attack at the last second and pivoted to grab Neige by the back of his neck; it only took another slight shift in his stance to send his enemy halfway over the railing.

    Neige flailed in the air as his feet left the ground, his hips teetering precariously on top of the narrow iron rail. All Veeran had to do was push, or just let go, let the bastard fall…

    Dorian had returned home that morning bloodied and bruised, trying to hide how badly he was limping, grinning darkly to say he’d managed to break one of their arms before they ran off. But Veeran had watched his brother after and saw how he rubbed at his wrists over and over, and stared blankly at the wall, and curled up on the inside, so small as to be invisible. And in that moment, Veeran hated Neige as much as he’d ever hated anyone. As much as he’d hated one man in particular, such a fragile constitution for one so strong, at least you can haul them away when I’m done—

    “—Veeran.” Dorian’s voice cut through the air, sharp and precise as a blade.

    Veeran released a breath, and Neige fell.


    ~~


    He didn’t learn until years later that neige was the French word for snow. He thought it was a strange thing to name someone, and eerily prophetic. Even if, in actuality, it was the river that killed him.


    ~~


    “What did you do?” Dorian whispered next to him as they both leaned over the railing, staring down at the dark, agitated waters.

    All Veeran could manage was a numb, muttered “I don’t know” before shouts began to fill the air. Dorian grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along, off the bridge, away. That was how it always was, though. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to be the strong one, it was always his brother who had to step in and fix his mess.

    “You didn’t have to,” Dorian said between breaths as they ran.

    No, he didn’t have to. He could have stood there and done nothing. He’d done it before, hadn’t he?

    More bark than bite aren’t you, what astonishing fragility, I sometimes wonder how easily you would break…

    He didn’t answer, and stumbled blindly after his brother through the snow.


    ~~
     
    Last edited: May 16, 2022
  20. Gabri_Jade

    Gabri_Jade Fanfic Archive Editor Emeritus star 5 VIP

    Registered:
    Nov 9, 2002
    [face_batting] :*
     
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  21. earlybird-obi-wan

    earlybird-obi-wan Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 21, 2006
    brothers sticking together in this action against a strong opponent
     
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  22. Nehru_Amidala

    Nehru_Amidala Force Ghost star 7

    Registered:
    Oct 3, 2016
    Loved this!
     
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  23. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    Catching up, and then Week 8! [face_dancing]


    @Mira_Jade
    [face_blush] Aw, this is such high praise, especially coming from someone who excels at writing such sweepingly beautiful scenery! [face_love] I'm not quite sure how it happened, but this spot was very vivid in my head despite not having any visual reference for it, and that probably helped when writing these scenes. (Though afterward I did look up some pictures of streams running through the English countryside, just to make sure I had the appropriate mindset. :p)

    This makes me so happy, you have no idea. [face_laugh] :p

    You know, now that I see Veeran this way, I can't very well unsee it, so I think we have to assume he might have a similar affinity for creatures in the main 'verse... though unfortunately it's probably not a gift that the Sith ever encouraged, and is likely - given the hunting missions mentioned in HTBM - something that would have been actively drummed out of him if it wasn't being used in a malevolent way. [face_plain] :(

    And I really didn't plan to write Ezra into this AU - not because I dislike him, but because I've tended to stick solidly to the pre-TCW Legends with my Enter!verse - but when I thought of who would be best as head groom, he was the one I kept coming back to, and I really like how it worked out! And I'm glad you enjoyed the way this scene played out, even if there was some sad to go with the sweet!

    I'm telling you, Veeran and Briar are half the reason I started actually writing this AU as opposed to just daydreaming and chatting idly about it. :p [face_love]

    That's half the fun of these types of AUs, deciding which characters are going to pop up where! :p [face_tee_hee]

    I may have gotten a teeny tiny bit emotional writing this part. =(( Veeran lashes out and Dorian withdraws, right? Even in this world, I think Ezra has seen his share of broken animals and people, and though he doesn't know anything about their past, he instinctively understands more about these two than probably anyone else there.

    I'm pretty sure I'll have to include some more Ezra and Veeran content... though you might not end up thanking me for it. [face_worried] *is cryptic*

    I had a feeling you would enjoy this particular development. [face_tee_hee] [face_love] (Also, I definitely did not spend a ridiculous amount of time researching horse breeding and what Fawn and Raven's foal would potentially look like, nope, I did not... [face_whistling])

    I told you I kept thinking this senior gardener was one of the clones, and I'd even briefly considered Wolffe before being like "no, Vi, that's ridiculous, no one would buy that"... so I laughed out loud when you mentioned him for it. And now I love it. [face_love] [face_tee_hee]

    I just love imagining Jar Jar as this sweet, ancient gardener that everyone just leaves alone to do what he wants, and he's always kind to Allana and tells her stories about her great-grandparents, and her father and grandmother when they were kids... [face_love]

    And then, of course, imagining him playing off of Wolffe and everyone else who works on the estate. :p

    I wondered if you would catch that reference. [face_whistling] I might not get into the details any time soon, but yeah... I'm pretty sure it's exactly what you're thinking. [face_plain]

    All the Regency flirting, baby. [face_mischief] [face_batting]

    Allana and purple is a thing now. I have spoken. ;)

    We doooo. [face_batting]

    [face_blush] Why thank you. :D This really is just such a big compliment that you feel this way! [face_love]

    I was wracking my brains trying to think of who else to include who would have worked for or been close to Leia in canon, and then all of a sudden I was like, "Noghri!" :D And Mrs. Meewalh has a certain ring to it... :p ;)

    Once I saw scamper I knew I had to have some woodland creature running around and welp, guess it's gonna be a secluded picnic in the countryside, oh yes this is perfect...

    Seriously, these prompts, Mira. I know you couldn't have anticipated my muse would go wild, but it kinda feels like you knew my muse would go wild. [face_hypnotized] [face_batting] :p

    He's so smitten, it's ridiculous. [face_love]

    [face_love] (I love that you immediately thought of that!) This paragraph was one of the first ones I wrote for this entire story. As soon as I saw the picture prompt with the tree and saw the word dappled, it just clicked. And things just fell into place from there. ;)

    You've really said it all here, and I can't do much more than to say yes, this. That's precisely what I was going for.

    (This may or may not touch on a theme that I hope to explore in more depth in a certain other story... [face_shhh] )

    I was really happy with how this part turned out. There's a difference between reading poetry silently and reading it aloud, maybe even more so than prose, and I was trying to capture that here. And you know, sometimes we don't understand every poem we read, but that doesn't mean it can't still hold meaning for us, or even just sound beautiful.

    (Lol Marianne. :p Dorian would be privately pleased with himself while insisting publicly that he's read this book like a million times, it's really not a big deal. [face_blush])

    It's almost eerie how well the stories matched up. I can't get over how well it bled into the narrative and informed what was already there and created new opportunities to explore the existing dynamics.

    And then in a way this is a continuation of that indirect communication from before, isn't it? Because there are certain things they can't, or shouldn't, say to one another. =((

    Right? The thing is... he's not oblivious to how she feels. He knows this could be more... but then what? :(

    Such a great line! ;) This was one of those exchanges that I could see pretty clearly early on, and I wasn't quite sure how I was going to get the characters to this point when I started, but once I leaned into the connection with the poem, things just flowed. And I love how you phrased that, good things are not his for the keeping... that's the core of it right there. =((

    ;)

    :D Look, he likes poetry and all that, but he can't help the snark. [face_mischief] But by the time I finished writing this part of the scene, I'd already written the end and yeah... I kind of hated ruining this moment with what came after. =((

    Yes! And, I literally just thought of this as I was typing, but in a way this scene is also sort of a weird mirror version of FoG, when he was dueling Allana... like, apparently this is what happens when he turns the flirting up to eleven, he gets kinda reckless and uninhibited? [face_thinking] Because come on now... this is Regency England, what does he think he's doing lying down on the ground right next to her? o_O That's about as ill-advised as fighting a lightsaber duel with one hand behind your back. [face_whistling]

    =((

    :( (I'm really glad I kept the Force in this. [face_love])

    At first I wasn't sure if it would be jarring to switch to his POV so late in the story, but I felt like it was needed, so I'm glad to know it worked. =((

    This scene was originally supposed to be very short, just enough to show Dorian's headspace and have a brief exchange with Veeran... but Veeran had some thoughts, and I couldn't cut their conversation off until it ran its course. Honestly, their arguments are some of my favorite things to write, but they hurt, too. And Veeran really isn't wrong either. Dorian and Allana are being incredibly reckless for this time period. Veeran sees how tenuous their positions are, and what recourse does he have? Anything that would put a stop to the relationship would probably result in his and Dorian's dismissal. He knows Dorian isn't going to listen to him, and I'm sure there's that guilt there from what they went through as kids, keeping him from pushing the issue as hard as he could, because what right does he have to take this small piece of happiness from the person who sacrificed so much for him? It's such a mess, Mira. =((

    Aw, your feedback is amazing, as always! [face_blush] [:D] I'm just so glad you've enjoyed this story, and I can't wait to see what you thought of the final part. ;) [face_love] (And all the other stuff after, too! :p)




    @Gabri_Jade
    :* ;)




    @earlybird-obi-wan
    They always do better together than apart, that's true!




    @Nehru_Amidala
    Aw, thanks! :D



    Week 8 coming up shortly!
     
    Last edited: Mar 3, 2022
  24. ViariSkywalker

    ViariSkywalker Kessel Run Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 9, 2002
    Notes: Wow, so it’s Week 8 already! :p This week my prompt was: write a story of at least 400 words describing a battle of wills between two characters. Whether it be a simple personality clash, a genuine misunderstanding, or an outright disagreement, tell us why they are not getting along. Whether or not the matter is resolved, of course, is up to you. Minimum 400 words, no maximum limit.

    After largely focusing on Allana and the Chaos Twins for most of these stories, I’m going to switch gears quite a bit with this one…




    Her Father’s Daughter


    The first Earl of Vader was not a man easily intimidated. Before he had earned his knighthood – and long before he was granted the earldom – he had fought on battlefields across the Continent, trudging through the muck alongside the lowliest soldiers, smelling of blood and smoke, tasting it in the air. Even those higher born couldn’t escape the grime and violence of it all; but for a common-born soldier like he had been, that grime and violence was a fact of life. He had seen too much to ever again startle or scare or wither under any man’s gaze.

    So why was it, he wondered, that he winced ever so slightly as he looked down at his daughter and met her fiercely defiant gaze? She was certainly no man; but then, she had never needed to be, nor had he ever once wished that she was, not for a single instant. The Lady Leia Skywalker was a force of nature, especially when she wanted something, and heaven help any man who tried to stand in her way.

    As it turned out, the Earl of Vader was, at present, the man standing in his beloved daughter’s way.

    “I told him he would be welcomed here,” she said, her small frame all but shaking as she glared up at him. She had always been so full of life and passion, his Leia, especially when confronted with a perceived injustice. “I gave my word, Father.”

    It was with that practiced military discipline that he kept his voice even in response, no matter that his natural inclination would have been to either meet her fire with some of his own or beseech her not to be angry with him. He had always been a man of extremes, but that could be controlled.

    “This is still my home,” he said, “and I may refuse a visit from any man I have not invited. Especially one who has taken it upon himself to court my daughter without so much as a word to me or your mother.”

    Leia actually rolled her eyes at that. “He is not courting me, Father.”

    He raised one eyebrow at her. “Not yet.”

    She seemed to lose just a bit of her momentum, but he knew better than to think her defeated. “And if he did? What would be so wrong with that?”

    The earl could practically see his daughter’s mind working furiously, preparing a counterpoint for any argument he might make. She was certainly her mother’s child in that regard.

    “He’s a smuggler,” the earl replied, thinking to strike at the most egregious offense first.

    The counterargument was not quite what he’d expected. “You would be a smuggler, too, were you in his position.” Leia appeared completely unfazed as she tilted her chin up at him. “And besides, he isn’t a smuggler anymore. He is a legitimate merchant with a small fleet of ships and more money than he knows what to do with.”

    Probably earned through the smuggling, the earl thought to himself. “Do you think this man’s wealth is of any consequence to me? Your happiness and safety are my sole concern.”

    “I only meant that you needn’t worry that he might put a mark upon my reputation or that of this family. Those above you in rank won’t begrudge you marrying your daughter off to a wealthy trader, not when so many of them are deeply in debt and doing the same thing to shore up their estates.”

    “So it’s marriage now?” The earl’s voice was quiet, uncharacteristically so, and he knew he had Leia’s attention. “First you say he is not coming to court you, and now you talk as though marriage is a foregone conclusion. Which is it, daughter?”

    The defiance in her eyes gave way to something softer, and he felt his heart clench to see it.

    “May I speak plainly, Father?”

    The earl pressed his mouth in a thin line. “You have never needed my permission to do so before now,” he returned. When she did not say anything, he sighed and waved vaguely in the air. “Proceed.”

    “I love him.”

    Once again, those years of discipline were all that kept him from doing anything more than wincing – though he tried not to do that either, for her sake.

    “Indeed,” he answered with a calm more performed than felt. “And he feels the same?”

    For the first time, Leia glanced away from him. “I cannot say with complete certainty yet, but I believe so.” She narrowed her eyes at the floor, then looked up at him and straightened her spine. “Yes. Yes, I know he does.”

    The earl heaved an even greater sigh than before, and he closed his eyes and brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. “I will speak with your mother.”

    He didn’t have to see her to know the triumphant grin that lit her face. His sense of her sparked and glowed, reminding him of a display of fireworks he’d witnessed long ago, when he and Padmé first met. Not, he assured himself, that this is anywhere near the same thing. But even he had trouble believing that thought entirely.

    As he opened his eyes and watched his daughter go, Anakin Skywalker, first Earl of Vader, shook his head at how quickly he had been defeated; and if he felt a small measure of pride for the ease and skill with which his daughter had handled him, well… he supposed she was her father’s child, after all, and more than capable of handling any man.


    ~~
     
    Last edited: May 16, 2022
  25. earlybird-obi-wan

    earlybird-obi-wan Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 21, 2006
    Earl of Vader, Great to see him being outwitted by Leia