- - -
'My dearest Cathy,
How have you been? I hope they are not discomforting you, or I shall reduce the Tower to rubble and sweep you away to the castle you deserve. They are keeping me from visiting you, and it irks me terribly, especially since there is nothing I can do. In case you couldn't tell, I miss you, darling.
…
I hope you have kept my proposal in mind and I look forward to your answer, for I am confident it is one that will bring both of us the joy of our lives.
Yours truly,
Damian'
The sign-off bugged Damian, like a persistent little voice in his head. 'All my love' was reserved for his sweet sister, and would simply be untrue towards any other, but he yearned for something more eloquent to properly express his passion. He knew it was not actually that deep, but his words danced on the parchment, their inky forms taunting him.
'Catherine, Catherine, Catherine…' they whispered.
'Valentina, Valentina, Valentina!' they chanted.
"What in the world…? Did you write her a whole manuscript, Damian?"
It took Damian a moment to register his roommate's voice. He shook his head and chuckled. "You wouldn't understand, Kyle. It's the testament of my affections. Girls love it."
"Sure, but at that point, it looks more like a literature assignment," Kyle snorted. "I suppose this is nicer than you bringing them over, but can you at least leave a path for me?"
Damian turned, prepared to rebuke his friend on the importance of an artist's creative freedom, but the sight before him took his voice away. The common room of the spacious flat, provided by the Royal Institute for Magic Research to double as a workshop and shared between him and Kyle, had sheets of paper with his writing littered all over the entire floor. Sunlight streamed through the window, and birds chirped outside.
"I shall clean up when I'm done," he announced shamelessly.
It was not the first time he had gotten carried away without noticing with no recollection afterwards, but it seemed to be happening more often nowadays. Had he really written all that? He picked up a piece and tried to read it, but the letters refused to stay still, and the birds were too loud, the sun too bright.
"What's the time, by the way?"
To Damian's irritation, instead of answering, Kyle waded through the sea of paper to his desk, peering down at him.
"Time for you to get some rest. Gee, did you stay up the whole night again?" the sane mage sighed. "Forget it, I'll make you a cup of tea."
Damian was unceremoniously dragged from his work to the dining table. A wave of drowsiness suddenly swept him, and he laid his head down on the table while his friend made tea.
"I was justified this time, you know?" he whined. "They allowed that priest to visit her, but not me! The insolence! I'm sure she would've much preferred my company, and I bet I could sing prayers just as well."
'Of course I would,' Catherine cooed in his head. 'I can't wait to see you too.'
"Well, let's focus on what you can do," Kyle said, setting down a cup of tea in front of him. "I checked over your spell. I think it'll work, though you'll obviously have to tidy this into a more manageable form."
"Yes, yes," Damian said absent mindedly. Sneaking something into the Tower was challenging but attainable for a prodigal mage such as himself, if only getting something out was nearly as easy! He sipped the tea and it burnt his tongue, but he was too busy thinking to react. Kyle raised an eyebrow.
'Don't worry,' he reassured Catherine. 'We'll be reunited soon, I'm certain of it.'
He had poured over the justice system's plans for her, and found what he wanted. Yes, it was only a matter of time.
'How dare you!' Valentina screamed. 'Undoing all my hard work, for all these years! Do you even care about me?'
'I do!' Damian protested. 'But she won't be a risk to you and your prince if she's mine, right? I can't have you, but can't you at least let me have her?'
"Damian?" Kyle called gently, but he was gone. His frame rose and fell softly with his steady breathing, his pained expression even in sleep tugged at Kyle's heartstrings. Kyle smiled faintly, shook his head, and carried his friend to his bed.
Kyle lingered by Damian's bedside. It was difficult to leave when he was so lovely, with long, silky locks of pale blonde hair splayed over the satin pillow, smooth, milky skin, and a perfect, godly countenance. Kyle wanted to reach out and touch him, afraid that he wasn't real, that he wasn't actually there, that if Kyle blinked he would disappear forever. Yet he didn't, because he knew he wasn't meant to be part of the picture, but if he could only bask in the afterglow of his radiance for a bit longer…
"Valentina," Damian groaned in his sleep.
Kyle sighed and slipped out of the room.
- - -
"Ah!"
Catherine screamed when a storm of paper suddenly fell from the heavens, or more accurately, the roof of her cell. A singular piece fell neatly into her lap, addressing her affectionately.
When she realized the contents of the papers, she glanced around quickly to make sure the guards had not been alerted by her scream. Fortunately, no one came in, and the darkness of the twilight gave her a strange sense of protection.
As Catherine read the first piece of paper, a smile crept onto her face. When she reached the end, it suddenly disintegrated into ashes, which flew out of the open window high, high up in the room. Her smile fell a little when she realized she could not keep them, but treasuring them in her memory would be good enough! Like a starving man presented with a feast, she read every piece, revelling in every word and stroke of ink, her smile widening.
With nothing but herself as company, she had had a lot of time to think over the past months, and while she had dared to reach a conclusion all by herself ready, this incredible surprise solidified it further.
"Lord Damian, you're too good to me!" she whispered to herself, giggling.
Catherine's whole body was light, and she was happy and not suffocating from anxiety for the first time since she'd been imprisoned here. She wanted to take advantage of this joy to craft a response so he would not see the misery she'd dwelled in her head, so she sat down at the little writing desk that the cell provided and began writing immediately.
'Dear Lord Damian,
Thank you for thinking of me and writing to me, it made me immensely happy. I miss you very much as well!
Do not worry, the people here have not treated me unkindly. My room and living are not vastly different from what I was used to in my childhood. In fact, it's quite peaceful that there's nothing I have to do, though it does get lonely, and I think of you when I feel so, and it cheers me. I asked Father to bring me the locket you gave me, and it comforts me when I hold it, and when I see your portrait within it. I dream of seeing you again.'
She wanted to reciprocate his sweet words, but felt the necessity of dealing with the matter that had weighed the most on her mind first.
'Please tell Lady Valentina I'm sorry! I did not poison her, and I don't know who could've wanted to do such a horrible thing, but I'm so sorry it happened at my tea party and that she was hurt. I hope she has recovered. I wish to say these things to her myself, but I am a bit afraid that I won't have the opportunity.
I confess that I'm awfully afraid these days, Damian. My trial is more than a month away, but with every passing night it's as if my heart grows heavier. I wish to have faith in the justice system and the lawyers Father arranged, but I still can't help being scared. It was such a peculiar incident, and I hope with all my heart that they find the truth and ensure Lady Valentina is never harmed again.
To have been accused of such a crime brings me shame that I've disgraced my family. It seems that all I've done since returning to Father's side is bring trouble for him and everyone, and sometimes I wish I could stop existing so I didn't have to bear the weight of my incompetence, or that I never existed at all. At least I'm glad that I was there to meet you.'
Teardrops fell onto the paper, blotting the ink, and Catherine wiped them away quickly. Ah, she had failed in her plan, and sadness spilled out again. Every time Father visited, she put up a smile so he would not worry about her, but with the comfort of Lord Damian's compassion, she could no longer contain the tears, and she wept freely.
'Even if I'm released, what then? My return will drive Lady Bryant and Lady Briana away from Father, and that will sadden him. Will society really believe my innocence? I don't think anyone likes me very much already, except for Lady Valentina, and I'm scared what they will all think of me after this, and that I'll lose her, too. In some sense, this prison feels like a sanctuary, because nobody can expect anything from me anymore, but I'm wrecked by the guilt that I've disappointed Father. Still, I feel lighter here than on the outside.
I don't want to go back to that life. I don't want to hurt anyone else anymore, especially Lady Valentina and His Highness. I'm sure of my feelings now, and I don't want to be dishonest. But I don't want to upset Father either. I don't know what to do. I pray to God every day and every night, and I ask, what will become of me? He does not answer.'
The tears had dried. She grimaced at all the intrusive thoughts that had found their ways onto the paper. Yet for some reason, she felt at home, and that Lord Damian would not mind. Nevertheless, she resolved to fill the rest of the paper she had with sweet nothings. It took a while as she agonized over every word, trying to sound half as elegant as he did, but she had been a connoisseur of cheap romance novels back at the book store. All that was left was to sign.
'At the end of the day, all that I know in certainty for myself is that I want to be yours.
If you cannot guess my answer to your proposal from all I've written, then you're quite silly, and I will tell you the next time we meet.
Yours faithfully,
Catherine'
- - -
Baron Bryant had just returned from visiting Catherine. As Charles helped him take off his light coat, the stack of paper his daughter had entrusted him with fell from his pocket.
"What's that, my lord?" asked Charles.
"A child's fancies," the baron replied.
It was chilly for May, and a small flame burned in the fireplace. Baron Bryant collected the stack and considered reading them, but felt that would be a violation of his daughter's privacy. He tossed them into the fire.
"She's keen on the Avington boy, it seems," the baron sighed.
"Ain't that a good thing? He's strong, ain't he?"
"Magically, yes. Politically, not even close to his sister. I doubt we can turn his magic against his own family, so he's as good as nothing. These would only complicate things unnecessarily."
"Eh? Why'd you bring her the locket then?"
"Same reason I promised to deliver these," the baron answered as he watched the papers burn. "To keep her spirits up."
"We have not been good to her, so it's the least I could do," he turned to Charles with a sad smile. "She has been through plenty already, and who knows how much more we will put her through?"