Look Beyond What You See

A gentle breeze stirs the leaves of the plants that adorn the roof of the Berkeley mansion as I lie beneath the stars. A crescent moon gleams midway between horizon and apex. The light is perfect, soft, magical. I am at peace here, for now. The only way it could be more perfect is if music could be playing. I played for hours this afternoon, after a much-needed nap that immediately followed training and the most awkward, unpleasant luncheon in the history of my existence. Not even Kyla’s birthday dinner compares to it in awfulness. Dmitri’s demeanor did not improve, despite his nap, and Giacomo was almost equally sullen, though presumably for different reasons. Supper was no better, and I have quite lost patience with both of them. The roof is the only part of the mansion where I can have any respite, and even this I fear will be broken by--

“Aerys?” Dmitri’s voice calls softly from his ladder to the roof. I stifle a groan. I do not feel even remotely prepared to deal with him graciously at present. He sighs heavily when I don’t answer, but instead of going back downstairs, he begins to wander around, no doubt enjoying the peace that pervades this place as much as I was, before he showed up.

This is so strange. Only this morning I would have been thrilled to have time to spend with him, just the two of us in a place like this where we would not be bothered. But seeing his reaction to this new training instructor reawakened fears, which had only just slipped into dormancy, that I will not be happy with him for the rest of my life, that the strange attraction between us will never turn into love.

If this arrangement is going to work, he must learn to curb his jealousy.

Thud. THUMP!

Two perfectly harmonized yelps, one masculine and one mine. Heat. Pain, then pressure. Fiery eyes just above me, dimming the stars by virtue of their brilliance. Something stirs in me, pressing towards the young man who’s inadvertently fallen on top of me.

“Oh!” I exclaim, unable to come up with anything more profound. Why didn’t he see me here before this?

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you were up here. Didn’t you hear me? I was looking for you,” Dmitri blunders. I’ve never heard him say so much so quickly. Instead of getting off me, as a gentleman ought, he simply fidgets a bit, enclosing me in his arms as if I were not well enough trapped by his weight holding me down.

“I heard,” I tell him distractedly. I cannot sort out my thoughts. His proximity twists and warps my thoughts and feelings into things entirely different from those which occupied me only moments ago.

“Then why didn’t you answer?” So much in his eyes. He hopes I’ve forgotten.... My breath is stolen away. He wants me. His eyes drop to my lips. He doesn’t want me to reply. Lips cover mine. The stirring inside me flares up momentarily but then shrivels and freezes into something hard and immobile deep within me.

“Not now,” I declare, pushing him off me with the aid of small jets of water.

“Colder than usual,” he remarks, as much about me as about the water, while he arranges himself beside me with an injured air. “You’re angry with me.”

“Angry is too strong a word. But I would like to discuss something with you.”

“If it’s that dratted combat instructor, please leave it off until tomorrow. He and I spent the whole of the afternoon speaking with Father about training and the possibility of war and the like, and I cannot stand--”

“My concern regards your conduct towards him. Perhaps it is irrelevant, if you are now on friendly terms with him.”

“Nothing of the kind. He is a flattering sycophant, and the way he looked at you when he was first introduced to us was entirely inappropriate. He is not genuine or open or trustworthy, and I do not want him in any form of association with you.”

“I expect you have made mention of this to your father?”

“We discussed it in brief, but Father is more concerned with the knave’s fighting skill than his character and argues that you and the knave will not interact without his or my presence. He would hear nothing of sending the knave away.”

“As well he should not. A flatterer Giacomo may be, but you have naught to fear from him regarding me.”

“Please don’t use his name.”

“And why should I not? What has he done to you that he deserves such rude and unreasonable scorn from you, both to his face and behind his back?”

“No one has a right to look at you the way he was.”

“Your jealousy ill becomes you. I may be promised to you in marriage, but that does not make me an object to be shut away from any who might possibly covet your position pertaining to me. What cause do you have to be jealous of him, really? You hold the upper hand, do you not, being already engaged to me? Don’t you trust me to remain faithful? Do you even trust me at all?”

“Of course I trust you!” he exclaims, punctuating with a frustrated sigh. “It’s him I don’t trust!”

“On what basis can you make that claim? You haven’t even given him a chance to prove whether or not he’s trustworthy.”

“If I give him a chance and he’s not trustworthy, you’ll get hurt.” His jaw is set. He does not want to be discussing this. I don’t care. This is important to me. He can’t hate every man I come into contact with on the basis of that man being potentially untrustworthy. Some will be, no doubt, but certainly not all, and probably only a few.

“And if he is trustworthy, you’re being completely unreasonable and rude to someone whom your father brought here to help us,” I point out. I love it when logic is on my side.

“Your safety is more important than his feelings,” he insists. Oh, how sweet. Maybe I should change tactics.

“What if you made friends with him?” I suggest, biting back the sarcastic retort I would have preferred. “Surely he wouldn’t do anything inappropriate to a friend’s fiancée in that friend’s own home. I cannot imagine your father would entrust our training to someone so stupid.”

“Befriend him?! I don’t even want him here, and we don’t need him. We were doing just fine training on our own. He has nothing of value to offer us as a tutor or as a companion.”

“Whether that’s true or not, he’s here now, and your father obviously thought this was necessary. Shouldn’t we trust his judgment?” I’m genuinely surprised that my repeated appeals to his father’s authority have been ignored up to this point.

“Fine words from you, much as you care for authority.” Ouch.

“Someone whose opinion matters to me once said that I should be more respectful to certain persons who will soon be my very near relations. I am simply trying to take his advice.” There. That ought to settle things.

“Does his opinion not matter to you now?”

“It would, if I understood his reasoning. But that would require him to use logic, and I am not convinced that his logic-endowed organ is working at the moment.” With that, I get up and walk away in search of a more peaceful place with less irritating companionship, but I only manage a few steps before a hot hand on my arm detains me.

“Don’t leave angry,” Dmitri entreats me. “We’re not finished. We shouldn’t let this get between us.”

“I absolutely agree,” I admit, a pang of hurt and shame piercing through me. “I don’t understand why it seemed to be such a big issue to you in the first place. If you trust me, and know that I am promised to you, and know that I will never spend time with this combat tutor without you or your father also present, then what have you to fear?”

“Maybe my fears are unfounded. But he gives me an uneasy feeling, and I do not like the way he looks at you. For your sake, and yours alone, I will try to be at least cordial to him, but more than that I cannot promise.”

“That is all I ask. I’m sorry I was so harsh.”

“You did hurt my feelings,” he pouts, pointing to his lips. I roll my eyes. Childish but adorable. Might as well indulge him.

“I’ll kiss them better, then, before I say good night.” A soft kiss on the upper lip, a softer, more sensual one on the lower. He tries to detain me and make it last but I slip through his hands like water (a new trick I’ve been working on) and escape to my ladder. I’m still rather peeved at him, though this certainly looks like a step in the right direction. “Good night, Dmitri.”

“Good night, Aerys.” His tone makes my irritation temporarily dissolve and I nearly fly back into his arms to tell him I’m sorry and that he can think whatever he wants of this new tutor, so long as we can be together, and kiss him until we’re both senseless and delirious with pleasure. I’m losing my mind. Before that’s even a possibility, he has to prove that he can overcome this jealousy problem. I can’t live the rest of my life with him this way. I can’t. I just hope he’s capable of changing his ways in this one crucial aspect, or else someone--probably multiple someones--will get hurt.