Two Crows Watch from the Gallows Tree (part 15)

Sera walked through the Keep toward the infirmary as she always did--held high and eyes straight ahead, unflappable and full of confidence. This was what all the servants saw, this was what Gaius and Sara and Tomhas all saw. It was what they were supposed to see. But as she entered her small room beside the infirmary, Sera's shoulders slumped, and she grew smaller as she sank down against the door. She clasped her hands tightly together; they were trembling but if she squeezed hard enough she could convince herself that was the cause. Her face, usually so tense and attentive, softened into stress lines and grew wet with conservatively shed tears as Sera buried her head in her arms, taking shaky breaths as she tried to get her self back together.

(Aww)

She didn’t see any cooks around, at least not any that paid her any mind, so she slipped into the wine cellar and grabbed a bottle of mead and two glasses, then tucked them under her arm and headed to the barracks, being sure she went slow enough that she wouldn’t run into Tomhas on his way back.

She tensed as she got to the entrance, having to take several moments to steel her resolve before she could find the nerve to go inside. But then she took a deep breath and rushed inside, then stopped and glanced around. Where would Jerica be?

She usually only went down there with Gaius, if ever. Loren usually only jeered at Gaius. She was, as with nearly everything, an afterthought. And she was fine with that--she was happy being in the background. But Loren had set his attention on her, and that pulled Michael right to the front of her mind like a jostled sore.
Her stomach hurt just thinking about him; she curled tighter in on herself, shoulders wracked with silent sobs. She wasn't used to losing control like this--she hadn't done it in years.

Ky worked up the guts to ask a soldier for directions, then hesitantly knocked on the dormitory door. A soldier answered.

“Um… hi,” Ky said anxiously. “Is, um, Jerica here?”

Jerica heard her name immediately and popped up to her feet, brow furrowed in confusion. The girl came to find her? Why? What was going on? She strode towards the door. “I’m here… can I help you?”

“Oh, um… hi… um… do you… want to… talk?”

Jerica raised an eyebrow. “Sure?”

“O-okay.” Ky nodded anxiously, glancing over her shoulder. “How about a parlor?”

“I… don’t think I’m supposed to leave,” Jerica said.

“Oh…” Ky took a deep breath. “Well… I don’t want to stay here… couldnt… you just come for a few minutes? Please?”

Jerica glanced at her babysitter.

(Would they let Jerica go with Ky without a fight?)

(They don't have orders from Derik but they'd probably follow them to the parlor and wait outside the door)

Sera's thoughts inevitably turned to Tristan, eventually. She ached for him every day; he was her little one always, even as he prepared to marry and grew further apart from her as he aged. She remembered holding him after labor, terrified and confused and horrified, but so full of love. He looked so perfect and naive, and for a moment that day she understood why Gwynna kept Tomhas, and why both the Ashes kept Michael despite his utter monstrosity. Who could give up their own child? True, they hadn't been good parents to either, but they hadn't been able to let them go. Michael at some point in his life, must have been a baby with a curious stare and a hand wrapped around his mother's thumb. Gwynna must have loved him at some point--hell, Sera had seen the charm before he set his sights on her. He was so polite, so unassuming. Which was how he laid traps in the first place. Gaius had warned her of this when she cane as an apprentice, and by the second day she knew it to be true when he and Tomhas, fourteen and seven years old, came in with bruises they told her had come from a game.

(Fair ^^ lemme know if you want an edit)

The soldier shrugged. “I’ll need to accompany you.”

Jerica sighed and rolled her eyes. “Isn’t the noble girl a good enough babysitter?”

Ky tensed at the implication but glanced towards the soldier and nodded. Best not have anyone tell Gaius what she was doing.

The soldier hesitated. “…very well. I will escort you to the Keep but stay in the hall.”

Ky hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you.” She stepped into the hall.

Jerica followed her.

Ky looked at her hesitantly, eyes going to her sword. “Would… would you mind leaving your sword here?” Ky asked anxiously, voice very small. “I-I’m sure you won’t — they just — I’m very anxious.”

Jerica hesitated. “…It’s pretty expensive. I don’t want to leave it unattended… what if you wear it instead of me?”

“Ma’am?” Ky looked at her in alarm.

Jerica unbuckled her sword belt and offered it to Ky hilt-first. “You wear it. It’ll be in my sight, so I’m happy; and it’ll be out of my reach, so you’ll be happy… would that make you happy?”

“Um…” Ky hesitated, then nodded. That was worrying. But an acceptable compromise. She hesitantly reached for the sword, and was relieved when Jerica didn’t move. Ky bent down to set the mead and glasses down then awkwardly buckled the sword around her own hips.

Jerica smiled a little and nodded. “…A little big for you but I think it looks like a good fit.”

“Oh.” Ky shifted awkwardly, glancing down at it uncomfortably. Had this sword killed people? That thought made her a little ill. She glanced back at Jerica and forced a little smile, then bent down and grabbed the glasses and mead and quickly started down the hall.

(Nope all good)

Michael had been unreasonably kind to her in the early years--he was like a different person around her, never angry or deceptive. But there was an intensity in his eyes when he looked at her that had made Sera feel absolutely sick; she locked her door every night and set a chair up against it whenever he was in one of his rages, fearful that he might act on that intensity one day.
She saw him more often than she cared to; the apothecary at that time was blackout drunk more often than not and so when Michael angered Septimus it was her who had to patch him up.
The injuries Septimus dealt out were different from the ones Michael did--they were clean, impersonal chastisements rather than passionate, gleeful aggressions. He punished his children in the same way he loved them--out of duty, without personal bias or interest in anybody's feelings. Michael talked about it often, mostly to her. Sera responded as best she could, but his anger was unstable and she feared Septimus's reaction if she offered too much of her own opinion.

They made it to the parlor quickly, not really talking. Ky quickly strode over to the coffee table and set down the glasses and brandished the bottle of mead. “Mead?”

Jerica nodded. “I’d love some, thanks.”

Ky nodded and poured two glasses, pushing one across the table then sitting back on the sofa on this side. The sword jabbed her in the side. She furrowed her brow, shifting it uncomfortably.

Jerica smirked a little, amused. “You can take it off, if you’d rather. Hell you can put it across the room. I just want it near me.”

Ky hesitated, then nodded and stood up and unbuckled the sword then laid it on the sofa beside her. “Thanks, for, uh… being willing to…” she gestured at the sword.

“No worries.” Jerica shrugged, leaning back on her sofa and taking a long drink of the mead. “I want you to be comfortable; I’m not going to hurt you.”

Ky nodded awkwardly. “…that’s what your uncle said.”

Jerica raised an eyebrow. “You’ve met him?”

“Just now.” She nodded. She was nodding too much. “Yes.”

“He looks just like you,” Jerica said.

“He does.” Ky nodded, already falling into the old habit again.

“What’d he say about that?”

After Septimus drowned in his own blood and Gaius and Tomhas were banished, Michael resumed his efforts to woo Sera, without subtlety this time. Sera refused, adamantly. She knew what he was and what he could do to her, and she had no desire to bind herself to him in any way, shape or form. She'd entertained the idea of courting Gaius, for a short time--she'd been smitten with the bony curiosity of a boy from the time they'd met, but as she grew older she found herself more and more inclined to be his friend than she did his lover. He seemed untouchable, as if he'd blow away if she laid more than a hand on him. And so serious.
Michael had never been attractive in any way, not for a moment. He had handsome features, to be sure, but there was a tension, a coiled spring waiting to release, in every aspect of him. He was danger; his scent, his posture, his smile. To invite him in was to offer a wolverine your hand.

“He didn’t,” Ky said with a little sigh. “I was hoping you would know.”

Jerica shook her head. “No… he just looked panicked when I said I met you and told me he’d tell me when it was time to tell me.”

Well… at least they were both equally being lied to, then. Not just her. Ky sighed.

“They’re keeping something from us,” Jerica mused.

Oh good, she thought so too. Ky nodded. “What, though?”

Jerica drummed her fingers on her knee, taking another sip of mead. “…I don’t know.”

“Me either.” Ky finally took a sip of her own mead, feeling a little guilty. Gaius told her she couldn’t have more mead. But. Well. If he was going to keep secrets then she could, too.

“I’ll try to figure it out,” Jerica promised. “I’m good at finding secrets.”

Ky looked at her with a little nod. “I… used to be. But they…” she shouldn’t complain about Gaius to a guest. “…I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to figure out on my end.”

“That’s okay,” Jerica said. “…if you do figure it out, would you tell me? Please?”

Ky nodded. “…and the same from you?”

Jerica nodded as well. “That sounds good. We’ll figure out more together than separate. I’ll work on Derik; you work on Ash and your father… you’ll have to come to me, though.”

Ky nodded.

“They’re just short of watching me piss, much less come find a noble girl uninvited,” Jerica continued.

Ky shifted uncomfortably, taking a sip of her mead. She didn’t like being thought of like that. “I’m not… a real… noble. Not really.”

“You’re a Loquitur, aren’t you?” Jerica finished off her glass and poured herself another.

“I mean… yeah.” Ky nodded.

“Then you’re a noble.” Jerica leaned back again with a contented sigh.

“I mean… legally, yes. But… not…” she sighed, shaking her head. “It’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not… I’ve got peasant blood, not noble blood.”

“So?” Jerica looked at her. “Blood doesn’t make someone a good noble.”

“It— yes it does. That’s the whole point of nobility.”

“Meh.” Jerica waved a hand lazily. “Nobles bleed same as anyone else. There’s nothing special about noble blood.”

She didn’t understand. But Ky didn’t have the courage to argue anymore. She sighed softly and shook her head.

“Mm.” She clearly didn’t believe Jerica. “Are you saying your Aunt — what, Sara? — is a worse noble than Michael was?”

“What?!” Ky looked at her alarmed, eyes wide and shaking her head quickly. “I never said that. I would never, never say that.”

“Well… Michael had noble blood. Sara doesn’t,” Jerica pointed out, swirling the mead in her glass and taking another drink. “So that’s the logical conclusion your argument leads to. Might wanna rethink your position if that’s not what you mean.”

Ky hesitated for a long, long moment. That… actually kind of… made sense… perhaps she was wrong… maybe. Meh.

It was less than a month after the banishment that Michael finally lost patience with her and stole her in the infirmary, and again many times after that. Each time, Sera fought, and each time was worse than the last. The only thing that stopped her from throwing herself off the wall was the sickness that overcame her one day as she was tending to a soldier, a sickness so overwhelming she had to flee and vomit into her chamber pot.
Tristan was born nine months later; Sera tried to hide her pregnancy as long as possible and succeeded with Myna's help, and she had Tristan in silent agony in a wine cellar. She sent a servant to Gaius with him bundled up tightly in a towel, and Gaius helped her find the foster mother, who became one of her closest friends.

(Omg so Michael doesn’t even know about Tristan?!)

“Well… just because Sara is a good noble doesn’t mean I am,” Ky said at last.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not, either.” Jerica finished off another glass and poured herself more mead; Ky was still nursing hers. “Besides. No one learns how to be a noble in under six months. It’s stupid to think you’re gonna be perfect at it right away. Hell, I still fuck up and I’ve been at it fifteen years.”

“You’re only fifteen?” Ky blinked.

“I’m not ‘only’ fifteen.” Jerica lifted her chin. “I am a grow adult… who happens to be fifteen.”

“Sorry,” Ky said quickly. “I-I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m fifteen, too. I thought you were older.”

“…oh.” Jerica hesitated, then nodded. She’d thought Ky was younger, too. Though. Well. She guessed that wasn’t properly true. They seemed about the same age. But Jerica usually felt older than her peers. She’d been through more. It wasn’t the age of the horse, it was the miles on it. And she had a lot of miles. “When’s your birthday?”

“Varmendir eleventh.”

“Huh… that’s really weird.” Jerica scratched her chin. “Mine is in Varmendir, too.”

“Twinsies,” Ky said. Then felt stupid and blushed. “Sorry… what day?”

“Heh.” Jerica smirked, deciding she liked this girl after all. It was easier to be at ease around her than most people. And now that she had Jerica’s sword instead of Jerica, it was like she forgot to be scared of her. Which was nice. “The eighth.”

“Weird.”

“Super.” Jerica finished off her third glass. Her head was buzzing pleasantly now and she — finally — felt warm clear through. She glanced at the half-empty bottle, wanting more, then decided better of it. Best not be too intoxicated to be able to hide it from Derik in case he—

Derik.

Jerica straightened a little, glancing at the door warily. “I should… maybe go back… soon. I don’t think I’m technically supposed to be here.”

Ky blushed, glancing away. “Sorry.”

“Why?” Jerica shrugged and stood up, smiling a little as she felt her equilibrium was off. Not enough to stumble. But enough to reassure her that she’d drank enough to do the job of taking the edge off. “You just shared delicious mead and even better company with me.”

Ky blushed and gave a shy smile, ducking her head. “I’m glad you enjoyed… I did, too.”

(I think I mentioned this before but they were lead to believe that their birthdays were the girls they were replacing. So they don’t know it’s the same day)

(Nope he does not)

(Ah okay wow!!)

Even so, Sera missed Tristan with everything she had. And when Michael died she thought perhaps he could come home, but Gaius, returning married and skinnier than ever with a light tan, said that it would be unwise to thrust the child into a Lordship he was too young to accept--besides, he'd said, the political climate towards Michael was less than favorable. His offspring might bear the brunt of that.
Sera saw in Gaius's eyes that this was personal, though. He was afraid of Tristan, though he'd never admit it. And she understood, and worried that she'd be afraid of her son too. So she let Gaius take the Lordship, and she loved his wife like a sister and their children like her own, and she visited Tristan as often as she could.

(Ohoho juicy)

Jerica smiled a little, but it got a little sad. Too bad this wouldn’t last. Ky would figure her out. And probably soon, too. She seemed bright. And once she saw Jerica for what she was — and got the information out of her that she needed to — she wasn’t going to want anything to do with Jerica anymore. She was sure of it. And she couldn’t blame her, either. Why would you deal with a surly assassin when you could have your pick of friends?

Oh well.

She’d enjoy it while it lasted.

“…I’ll come find you again if I learn anything,” Ky promised, stepping after her towards the door.

“Sounds good.” Jerica nodded, glancing back at her and noticing her sword. Whoops. She was supposed to have that. “My, uh…?” She gestured vaguely.

“Oh.” Ky downed the rest of her mead and set the glass down, then picked up the sword and held it out to Jerica. She was pretty sure they had an… understanding now. And Jerica didn’t seem the type to just stab people for funsies. And Ky hadn’t seemed to piss her off. Plus Jerica was drunk. She had to be. Ky didn’t think anyone could down three glasses of mead that fast and not be feeling it, even though she didn’t visibly see any indication of intoxication.

Jerica nodded to her and took it. “Thanks.” Her hands were slightly clumsy putting it back on, but it wasn’t noticeable. Her muscle memory could do her armor up in her sleep she was pretty sure. She stepped towards the door. “You don’t gotta walk me back if you don’t wanna. You didn’t seem comfy in the barracks. And I’m sure my babysitter is still—“ Jerica opened the door, glancing at the soldier. “Yep. Right outside.”

(I am really, really enjoying getting the background with Sera ^^ I’ve been curious for a long time so this is great :’) do you have an estimate of how much you have left? I am 100% down to keep going your content is fantastic I just need to know how much to drag out my next few posts lol I’m basically done but can keep going)

(I'm so glad you're enjoying I was gonna do a quick bit on her reaction when she saw Michael's body but I've got a class right now so that'll be after. After that bit I will be done.)