Look Beyond What You See

No stars tonight to pierce through the darkness of the sky, much less that which lingers in my mind. A solid mass of dark depressing water vapor obscures the azure, diamond-studded blanket that envelopes the earth at night. I sit beneath it on the roof of the Berkeley mansion regardless. My need for solitude and peace is far greater than my desire for perfect weather. Dmitri will probably disturb me at some point, but that’s just as well, I suppose. We need to talk.

For now, though, I am ensconced in a corner of the garden, plucking a petal from a daisy for each unpleasant thought I have of Yekaterina or Dmitri. The petals, with but a murmur from me, turn into all manner of insects that can be found around water, mostly mosquitoes and dragonflies. The mosquitoes wisely do not bite the one who made them but fly away in search of other people to annoy. I hope they find a certain irritating blonde Russian.

At least her behaviour has improved throughout the day, at least to some degree. Luncheon was saved by the presence of Zinaida, in front of whom Yekaterina was something of demure and ladylike, though she kept her place next to Dmitri and occasionally cast lustful glances in his direction. I have no doubt, from the import of those looks, that had Zinaida not been present, her behaviour at luncheon would have been worse than her conduct at breakfast, and then there would have been hell to pay, for in spite of my (much-needed) nap after training, I was still fairly riled up.

The afternoon was spent with Malina, Juniper, the other ladies who sometimes wait on me, and Yekaterina, who brought an unfinished tapestry with her from Russia and was teaching all of us to make tapestry in the Russian style. All ladylike occupations are not areas in which I am gifted, and I struggled mightily with it. That condescending Russian wench was rather rude to me about it, especially at first, and generally conducted herself as a haughty princess among commoners, but I daresay I made Juniper proud. Never once did I snap or raise my voice or even release the slightest bit of sarcasm or dry humour (and every missed opportunity made me die a little inside), though I was sorely tempted. Indeed, I was nothing but kind and courteous to this most unwelcome, loathsome, arrogant creature, and as the hours passed she became increasingly astonished and unsure of how to act towards me.

I swear, were the results of this miraculous self-restraint not so satisfactory, we would have had a showdown. But my plan for handling her is working, and Juniper even praised me most heartily for my achievements in ladylike comport “towards even the most trying of individuals.” Yekaterina even looked guilty by suppertime, and was markedly more reserved and less flirtatious with Dmitri at that meal, shooting bewildered glances in my direction all the while.

Subtlety is always best for dealing with difficult persons. Confuse them first, convince them that they have nothing to fear, and then strike. It’s much the same as sneaking up on people, or martial arts.

Footsteps, from the direction of the ladders that give roof access. Dmitri. Should I send a swarm of mosquitoes his way? Probably not. It wouldn’t be subtle, and therefore will not be as effective as maintaining the strategy I’ve been employing with Yekaterina. Instead I close my eyes and try to compose myself, drawing strength I do not have for the conversation I know is coming.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he remarks as he approaches. He then sits down next to me with familiarity I find surprising, after all that’s transpired today. In his place, I think I would exercise more caution. I do not reply to him; after all, what is there to say? I had hoped that I would escape the fate of the woman I called Mother, that I would be my husband’s one and only whenever I did marry, but now I fear that I will be the unwanted woman, wounded by her husband’s affairs and unable to stop them. “How are you getting on with Yekaterina? You seem to have survived the first day of lady lessons, anyway.”

“We get along as well as can be expected,” I answer smoothly, despite the rattling of the vicious green monster against the bars of its cage in my chest. “Surely she would have told you if anything was amiss. She’s taken quite a liking to you, it seems.” Miraculously, I’ve managed to keep my tone neutral. The years of dealing with Zira and the woman I called Mother seem to be paying off.

Dmitri winces anyway at that last remark. “Yes, I apologise for that. I mentioned to her, during her English lessons, that her actions towards me have been inappropriate at best, and she has seemed to be handling herself with more propriety since then.” Indeed, but I strongly doubt that your conversation with her had anything to do with that.

“I am glad that you spoke to her about it.”

“You’re not angry, are you?” His eyes are hopeful. I thought he was smarter than this.

“Why should I be angry? After all, it’s not as though you gave any impression of enjoying her attentions to you. If anything, I ought to be angry with her, and for now she has the grace period that ought to come with adjusting to a new family, a new language, and a new culture. I have heard that the societal norms regarding interactions between men and women are different in Russia than they are here.” Again I have achieved tone neutrality. Perhaps I would be better served to run away from home and become an actress.

Still, Dmitri looks guilty. Wretch. “I did not want to shame her in front of my father, or I would have corrected her conduct at breakfast.”

“Had you corrected her in Russian, he would have had no idea of what transpired, just as he was oblivious to her gross flirtations as things were.”

“I suppose you have a point. I wasn’t thinking in those terms. I simply wanted to avoid anything that would upset Mother, and if Yekaterina were involved in any sort of contention or conflict--”

“Oh yes, I understand. It would be absolutely devastating if she were sent away, or if her reputation was in any way called into question. Because leaving her conduct uncorrected would not be damaging to her reputation or cause for sending her away.” This time I let a fraction of the snark I would like to employ come through, to let him know what a fool he’s being. I’ve had enough excuses. Nothing but an outright apology will do anything to mollify my temper.

“You’re right. I was thoughtless and foolish,” he admits. A step in the right direction, perhaps. “But you have no reason to fear that I might come to prefer her to you. I assure you that such a thing is impossible.”

“I take you at your word.”

He seems dissatisfied with that answer but doesn’t seem to know how to get a better one and accordingly chooses to move on. “How was training with our combat instructor this morning?”

“Unexceptional.”

“That’s not what he said when I trained with him this afternoon.”

“Well, what did Giacomo say, then?” I ask, slightly teasing in tone (and enjoying the twinge of irritation that rumbles through Dmitri when I pronounce our tutor’s name).

“He mentioned that you invented a new kind of water shield this morning. I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind.”

I get up with out answering him and walk to the emptiest part of the roof garden. I expect he’ll want to test the shield, too, and I may as well humour him.

“Aerys? Don’t ignore me, please--” Dmitri calls, pursuing me.

“Patience,” I admonish him as I form the initial water droplet on my fingertip. Forming the shield is easier this time, now that I know what I’m doing. Once I’m inside my water-bubble and have clarified its surface, I can see that my fiancé is suitably impressed.

“Incredible. I didn’t believe him, when he told me what you did.”

“Perhaps you should not put anything past me.” My voice bounces off the walls of the bubble and echoes around me. Drat. He probably can’t hear me.

“Can I test it?”

I nod, making sure he can see me. He starts throwing fireballs at my shield. I brace myself as I did before. Unlike the water-burst, the fireballs do not bounce off. Instead, they cause a hiss of steam and a small cloud to burst from the surface of the shield, but because my hands pour more water into the shield, no holes are made in it.

“Impressive,” he remarks. A firestorm starts up around my shield, which quickly becomes something of a sauna. How can I deal with this? I push the boundaries of the shield out with great force, pouring more water into it as I do so in an attempt to keep the shield from exploding in a cloud of steam. As things are, such a great hiss and roar erupts when fire and water meet, with such great clouds of steam, that I’m not quite sure where things stand for several seconds. I begin creating a new shield, just in case, so that when the steam clears I am encapsulated in a new bubble.

The old bubble did indeed die, knocking over several plants and leaving large puddles all over the roof garden, and soaking my fiancé (which gives me no small amount of grim pleasure), as it did so.

“I hope that’s a new one,” Dmitri grumbles. I nod with my most cheerful smile. “You’ve gotten better at them already, it seems.”

I draw the water of my shield back into myself. My demonstration has come to a proper end, and someone ought to clean up the horrible mess we’ve made.

“As compared to what?” I ask as I begin setting the plants back up. Dmitri moves closer to me, drying puddles as he goes.

“Our combat instructor indicated that you struggled quite a bit with traditional water shields, and that it took you several minutes to make the first non-traditional one, is all.”

“Why, only moments ago you said you had not believed him when he said that I could make the non-traditional kind at all, and you’ve said before that you find him untrustworthy. Why should his word be trusted in this specific instance, if you cannot trust him in other things?” Checkmate.

“Has he spoken falsely?” Dmitri challenges, seeming remarkably unfazed.

“What you have recounted is true,” I answer with a smug smile.

“Then perhaps I have misjudged him, and he is not as untrustworthy as I originally thought.”

We have come side by side, in our efforts to straighten the roof garden, when he says this, and he catches my hand as I attempt to pass him by. The usual sparks, in spite of everything, and my smug smile quite flees me. My eyes meet his through an impulse beyond my control and for the longest moment we are frozen there, looking into each other’s souls.

“Forgive me, Aerys,” his eyes beg. “You’re the only one--” But I cannot read them further. I am not in a place where I can handle hearing something so intense. My eyes drop from his, but his painting of us in the woods flashes into my mind, conveying the message I would not read. Can he really still own those feelings, after everything?

“What is your opinion of Yekaterina?” I inquire softly. Anything to move past this moment. He sighs heavily, and under his breath he mutters something about my talent for ruining “perfect opportunities.”

“What as that to do with our tutor, or water shields, or anything?” he counters, a hint of laughter colouring his velvet tones. The cold, hard knot that forms when I am frustrated with him tightens sharply in the pit of my stomach. The vicious green monster claws, growling, at the bars of his cage.

“You know well enough what this has to do with Giacomo, do you not? You felt the need to assure me of your fidelity, which I never called into question, much as I felt I had to affirm my fidelity to you when you were consumed by jealousy because of Giacomo. Just answer my question.”

“You are jealous, then.” A statement, not a question, punctuated by a gleam closely resembling triumph in his eyes. Has he been trying for that? How infantile, if so.

“What reason should I have for jealousy? We are promised to each other. I should have no reason to fear that our engagement should end in anything other than marriage, unless you yourself give me such a reason. I simply asked what your opinion of Yekaterina is, out of curiosity. Your reaction to the last new arrival to our happy home was quite adverse, if I may say so, and since this new arrival has not elicited the same reaction, and your thoughts are unclear to me, I thought I might inquire about their nature.”

Dmitri eyes me sceptically. I hold my features in a mask of apathy. You will get no clues from me. You will not know how I feel about her or about the way your actions regarding her look to me, unless something drastically changes and my intervention is required. He sighs heavily, apparently deciding to cooperate with me.

“She is a difficult student. Her intellect cannot hold a candle to yours. But she is not unpleasant company, when she is not overly familiar.”

“Will she at any point be joining us for training? She is gifted as Zinaida is, no?” Mayhap we can interest Giacomo and Yekaterina in each other, and our problems with the vicious green monster will evaporate.

“She is, but I doubt she will ever train with us. When I asked her about her skill with air, she seemed embarrassed. Apparently she has not much practised air manipulation. She says that those skills are no good for attracting noble husbands.”

Malina did tell me that such was the goal of all single Russian women.

I snort derisively in a most unladylike fashion at the idea anyway. Dmitri chuckles, as much at me as at Yekaterina, and his laughter brings out some of my own. And suddenly everything between us clicks into the old, good familiarity. He will never care for someone like her.

“You should tell her that such skills are what delivered me into your household as your future bride,” I snicker.

“Maybe someday. But she does not, as yet, know of your gift, only that you are a human. Would it not be more...entertaining to keep it that way for the time being?”

Devious smiles are exchanged between us. I had not thought of that. He should not give me such ideas. I shall save that information for another time. More entertaining, indeed.

“I suppose that can be arranged.”

***~O~***