Post by Deleted on Oct 19, 2014 16:11:59 GMT -5
"No."
One small word, coldly delivered. No, Marcus was not going to permit her the honor of being a lady in waiting to one of the Princesses of Archades. No, she could not leave Vanderhall, or Vasile, to pursue her own life away from what passed for her family. No, no, no. A series of monosyllables that felt like links on a chain fusing around her ankle. For all of Lord Gardiner's advice and her efforts, Elsa felt trapped and despondent. The grand castle at Vanderhall had been a personal hell for most of her life and now, it seemed it would stand as her prison too.
No matter how she reacted to Marcus's words, her family would put it down to a childish sulk or a temper tantrum. Elsa, remembering some of Lord Gardiner's advice, curtsied her acceptance to her eldest brother and quietly asked to be excused. She didn't try to argue with Marcus, or plead with him. Those words, she knew, would fall on deaf ears and lose her what little ground she had tried to gain. Elsa wasn't sure if his no was directed at her, or if he was trying to use this, and her, as some kind of point to the Crown Princess. Either way, she didn't like being the pawn but it couldn't be helped.
Once she was excused, she left the study to wander down the halls to a place that she found comforting, the Duchess's walled garden. In the years since her mother died, Elsa had taken to looking after it, tending the flowers, shrubs and trees there since Claudia didn't show an interest in gardening. She remembered the hours spent with Isolde within the green, green walls, reading or talking, learning to sew, and the many graces her mother possessed. Since Isolde's death, Elsa went there to be alone and to think, knowing that no-one would bother her there.
Waiting until she was alone in the garden, Elsa felt the tears start to come but blinked them away. There was no use in shedding them. They wouldn't bring her mother back, wouldn't resolve this endless conflict and tension between her and the rest of her family, and it wouldn't change much of anything. Too much damage had been done, it seemed, for Marcus to look past his hatred of her, and for her to look past their father's condemnation of him. Words weren't enough, and neither knew what to do with each other.
Sitting on the rope-and-board swing that was a favorite perch of her mother's, Elsa rocked gently back and forth to watch as the sun began to sink towards the mountain peaks and tried to think of what to do, where to go, and how. Something had to give, even if it meant defying Marcus and leaving anyways.
@wilhelmromanov