Saved

by Maelie Arsenault

Some days, Maelie cursed her elven hearing. The awkwardness around Sareena’s father being in the house hung over them all and everyone was waiting for something to happen, for words to be said.

Mae understood though as she tried to imagine herself sitting down with her father and trying to talk about their past. What would she say to him? She knew what she’d say to her mother. She had enough of that unpacked and in plain sight that she could find the anger there. But her father?

The two girls ran ahead. They reached the fencing that separated the visitors from the animals and peered at the enormous cats within. So much like the other cats, but the sisters oo’ed and awed at the size of their teeth and paws, at the fancy manes.

“Look papa! Look! They’re so big!” The eldest called back.

He nods as he joins them, a pace or two back, observing the cats the way he observed everything, in silence.

“They must hunt giant rats to get that big.” The younger sister observes.

“They must hunt whatever they want!”

“I’m told they hunt deer.” Their father comments.

“A whole deer?” The sisters ask in astonishment.

He looked about to respond, but then noticed their retinue giving them awkward looks. Other nobles were present on this visit to the menagerie and the girls watched his gaze drift and then back to them. “Let’s keep moving.”

That was their cue to quiet down.

Father, will you comfort me if I call?
This crazy world has lost its mind
It's our fault
Oh you can try and straighten it
It turns, it turns, it turns
Oh you can try and smother it
But it burns
Oh it burns

Elsinore hops down and then remembers to smooth her dress and look not disheveled. "Are they nice?"

‘Are they nice?’ She thinks through the meaning and remembers. Remembers the looks when she got too excited. She was the same age. Six years old, excited about animals. But she was suffocated with the duty of appearing noble, reserved, all for her mother’s image.

She reassures her daughter. Her daughter takes her hand, and she leads her to the horses so she can smile, and ask questions, and be answered, and encouraged, and told she is allowed to want things for herself.

This is for everything we had
It's the good and it's the bad
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
And this is for us

“Look papa!” She held up her hands, the strings of the cat’s cradle laced between her fingers.

He blinked. “What is it?”

“It’s… a thing one of the servant girls were playing with. You wrap the string around your fingers and…” She twisted and turned and slipped the strings from one little finger to another and inverted the pattern. “See! Isn’t it neat!”

Her father blinked again and leaned closer, a rare sign of interest. “How did you do that?”

She smiled brightly and began to show her father her new trick. “Oh, well, if you wrap it the right way and if you just pull on this string then it…”

“What’s that?”

The room froze.

“It’s just some servant toy.” Her father said, pulling back from his daughter. The movement was slow, but the small girl felt instantly isolated and alone.

Her mother moved across the room. Elegant as an approaching thundercloud. The dark, soft, billowing edges containing within thunder and lightning. “Which servants were showing you this?”

“None, maman, I was just watching them…” She stammered, looking to her father for help.

“So, they were playing when they should have been working?” Her mother pressed, looming over her now, her ice-cold eyes glaring.

“Non, they weren’t. Umm…” She tried to hide the strings, but her mother’s hand snatched them and pulled them from her fingers. The girl yelped as her fingers are twisted when the strings are wrenched free.

“Which servants?”

“I don’t know.” She pleaded, but it wasn’t that she didn’t know. It’s that she also knew what her mother did to servants who showed her things, who played with her. She never saw them again and the rest avoided her afterwards.

“How can you remember useless things like this but can’t remember faces or your studies or anything useful?” Her mother’s voice had this way about it. She never screamed, not really. The intensity of the tone, the silences that spoke volumes, it was all there like distant thunder.

Her father’s cloud, meanwhile, was just along for the ride. Silent. Benign. Uninvolved.

Mother, will you think of me in your prayers?
This nineteenth century is a mess
Oh you can try and fix it
But it breaks
Oh you can try and love it
But it hates
Oh it hates

"I should've rescued you," he says, whisper quiet.

She walked past the music room. She even walked quickly so that her elven ears wouldn’t intrude on the conversation happening. But then she heard those words. She knew what those words meant to her wife, how she’d yearned for her father to sweep into that horrible place and take her away, take her somewhere that might have taught her what safety was. But he never did. Because he was in Hell.

From what she knew, everything James Redgrove and Sareena Lorallen had gone through was so much worse than her own story. Her story was somewhere between being spoiled in luxury yet having no freedom to enjoy it. Being torn away from her sister while finally escaping her mother. Being free to be herself with people who love her, but rarely being able to tell anyone who she is.

She’d wondered why she was so nervous about Sareena’s father and maybe it was just because… he was a father. The woman she loved had deserved and understood that she should have been saved by someone, anyone, but especially her father. But he’d been in Hell and that had remained a fantasy for her whole life until she saved herself. And so, he could be forgiven.

For Maelie though…her father had been right there.

This is for everything we had
It's the good and it's the bad
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
And this is for us

She was a wretched sobbing mess by the time her mother was finished. Not a hand had been laid on her, but her mother had never needed to. She reserved that for when she was too angry for words. She watched the skirts of her mother’s dress whisk away towards the door; her head held high as if making up for the pathetic state she left her daughter in.

The girl knelt on the ground, unmoving, trying to be as small and quiet so as not to draw any more attention in the now silent room.

Her father’s chair creaked. Her ears picked up the soft sound of fabric on fabric as he rose. Through bleary eyes she caught sight of his shoes and for one, brief, split second, she stopped crying.

But the shoes turned and left her. Silent. Benign. Uninvolved.

Oh will you break my fall
Oh when I climb too high?
I always lose my nerve
It happens every time
Oh will you bring me home
Oh when I'm barely alive
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
And this is for us

Mae turns when she gets to the top of the stairs, she had meant to go to her office but instead she walks to Elsinore’s room. Opening the door, quiet as ever, she peeks in on her sleeping daughter.

Wrapped in warm blankets with her orange apri-cat curled up next to her, she was peaceful. As Mae gets closer, she notices the ribbons for Sugar’s hair gripped in the little hand that stuck out from the blankets.

Her shoes gently make their way to stand next to the bed as Mae leans over to tuck the blankets in, slipping the ribbons out and laying them on the dresser so they don’t get lost if she turns in bed. Then she kisses Elsie’s forehead and promises,

“I love you and I will always come to save you.”

This is for everything we had
It's the good and it's the bad
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
And this is for us

Oh will you break my fall
Oh when I climb too high?
I always lose my nerve
It happens every time
Oh will you bring me home
Oh when I'm barely alive?
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
This is for us
And this is for you
And this is for us
This is for you
This is for us
This is for us.

Continue reading...

The Last Rule
November 27th, 1882, - Novandria

The Den

Am I losing?

A Close Call

Plans

New Toys

Mistakes were made

Too close to home

Not like you.

This City is Mine.
February 6th, 1883

Aimless?
March 5, 1883 - Novandria

The Game Begins
February 13th, 1883

Too much like You
March 13, 1883

Safer in Shadows
April 3, 1883

New Beginnings
April 7th, 1883

Ready to Run
April 17th, 1883

Home
April 25, 1883

Can you steal a heart?
May 8th, 1883

Trouble
11th of May, 1883

Heartbreak
14th of May, 1883

Hunter or Prey?
16th of May, 1883

Guilt
19th of May, 1883

Untrustworthy
21st of May, 1883

Why am I like this?
25th of May, 1883

Worthy
8th of June, 1883

The One She Left Behind
13th June, 1883

Annnd it's back...
July 1st, 1883

Learning to Fly
July 4th, 1883

Thrill of the Hunt
July 29th, 1883

From the Embers
21st of August, 1883 // 1867

Mother Knows Best
16th of September, 1883

A Snake, a Star, and a Fox
25th of September, 1883, Novandria

It wasn't him.
28th of September, 1883, Novandria

The New Blade
13th of September, 1883

Something Good
October 31, 1883 - Novandria

The wound that won't close
18th of December, 1883 - Novandria

Promise
25th of December, 1883 - Novandria

Fallen through the cracks
6th of January, 1884 - Novandria

Day to Night
7th of January, 1884

What's Left to the Shadows
22nd of January, 1884, Novandria

The World without Colour
18th of February, 1884, Bellancourt, Montaigne,

Seventeen Roofs
26th of February, Novandria, Eisen

Crossing the Board
4th of March, 1884, Novandria, Eisen

New Freedom
May 4th, 1884

Saved
5th of May, 1884/16th of July, 1858

Saved

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