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dragoninmypocket · 7 years

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after the storm

note: This is the epilogue of a (rather disjointed) series of ‘missing’ scenes from the books. While the parts can stand alone, I’ve thrown in some callbacks.

Other parts:

part 1: stay

part 2: follow

part 2.5: promises

part 3: scar

content warnings: death, corpses, mental illness (non-specific)

She finds Lief in the chapel, sitting amongst the shattered marble. The metal bar from the entrance hall is lying at his feet, and he is leaning against the broken husk of the platform. Three days ago Jasmine nearly died here, choking on her own screams. Lief nearly died here too, saving her.

Now the memory of that chaos and horror barely seems real. Even with the evidence of destruction all around them, it is almost peaceful in this room. Jasmine can barely hear the dull chatter of the crowd outside- the loved ones, still in funeral black, who have formed a line which streams down the palace stairs. Marilen is recording the names and stories of those who have died, while Sharn embraces people collapsing under the weight of their grief. The names of Paff’s victims, of their friends and family, will not be forgotten to history- the people believe it because the king has promised them.

Jasmine tries not to think of the look on Lief’s face when he saw the crowd. He had stayed for only a few moments, talking to a trembling woman holding a baby, come to register Paulie, husband of Iris. Then he had fled.

Jasmine knew she would find him here.

“Lief,” He is hunched over a book, gnawing anxiously at his chapped lip. At the sound of her voice, his head darts up. He reminds her, not for the first time, of a startled animal, wide-eyed and vulnerable.

“Jasmine,” He is in desperate need of a razor and a brush. Dark circles have formed around his eyes, as dark as the bruises which mottle his arms. The white powder still floating in the air has settled lightly on his hair and clothes. Kree is standing nearby, watching him carefully, his black feathers coated in the same dust. He calls softly in greeting.

I stayed with him, little one. Like you asked. Not good. Not well.

She knows. As she approaches he reaches out and motions to her side, a question in his eyes. “It feels much better,” Jasmine whispers, smiling.

She is telling the truth, but Lief looks as though he does not believe her. His eyebrows knot, and he glances back at his book. Reeah’s teeth gnash at him, as real and sharp as when they pierced through his body.

Jasmine does not bother asking Lief why he is reading The Deltora Book of Monsters again, staring at each page like it is a test of endurance. When Marilen had seen him reading it yesterday she had tried to take it away. Lief had only gripped it more tightly, his knuckles and face white. His only explanation: “I promised Josef,”

Jasmine lowers herself down to sit beside him, letting her bare arm brush lightly against the material of his shirt. It is as much contact as she dares. Since Josef’s funeral Lief has refused to touch anyone, or let anyone touch him. Jasmine tries not to be hurt by this. He just needs time, she tells herself. A little more time.

(But still, she wants so desperately to hold him. Instead, she holds onto the memory of the last time she felt his skin on her own- squashed together on the bed in which he had woken on his sixteenth birthday. Her arms around him, her lips are soft on his temple, his head nestled into her shoulder as he shook and sobbed, “we are alive, Jasmine… we are alive…”)

“Where is Barda?” Lief asks anxiously. The last he saw Barda the big man had been loading food cleared of contamination into Steven’s caravan. That had been several hours ago.

“He is testing food in the kitchens with Doom and Gla-Thon,” Jasmine reassures him. The first day after their return he had not let Jasmine or Barda out of his sight. Even now, three days later, he is nervous. Maybe they are not really safe. Maybe this is a trap, and they could still be taken from him. Maybe-

“Maybe we should join them?” Jasmine asks. “It is almost dinner time. And surely you are hungry,” She keeps her voice upbeat, trying not to let her worry be known. Lief needs to eat. He has barely touched his food in two days.

“No thank you,” Lief murmurs.

Filli chatters on Jasmine’s shoulder in protest, but she is patient. “Why not, Lief?” she whispers. “I think you should,”

She thinks he should do so many things. Let the doctors put fresh bandages on his wounds. Wash the dirt and blood of the pit from underneath his fingernails. Eat. Sleep. Smile. Forgive himself.

But Lief does not respond. He flicks to another page of the book, and Thaegan’s children grin at him, taunting. It might be Jasmine’s imagination, but one of them seems to be holding an axe. The scar on her shoulder throbs.

“Did they find any more?” Lief asks. It is the final day of the search. For three days guards have been moving carefully through Del inspecting quiet houses and deserted alleys. Finding entire families with eyes still open, dead mothers clutching their sobbing and soiled babies, homeless men curled, cold, behind walls. The bodies of the forgotten now lie in the great hall of the palace, covered with blankets. If no one claims them they will be buried tonight on the palace hill, with the kings and queens of old.

“I… I do not know,” she says, but she does. Two more. A couple, lying together in their bed, just a few houses down from the forge. Barda recognised them. You would have too.

Lief’s mouth twists. “Please do not lie to me,” he says softly, turning another page. “Do you want to spare my feelings? Spare me from the burden of knowing how many have died because of me?”

It is the most Lief has said in days, and Jasmine is unable to respond for a moment. Then, because she is never good with feelings and really has no idea what else to do, she says: “None of this is your fault, Lief. No one blames you,”

Lief shakes his head. “If I had not left Del, if I had come back sooner-”

“No,” Jasmine says firmly. She reaches out instinctively and he flinches away from her touch. “No. The Shadow Lord did this. No one else,”

Lief’s body is shaking, but still he stares at the book, at the Vraal gloating on the page, at the sharp claws which scarred his arm and Doom’s face and tore apart Gla-Thon’s husband.

“I was supposed to save them,” he says, voice cracking. “That is what I am meant to do, what I have always done. But I failed, Jasmine. I cannot be what they need. I am not strong enough. I never have been,”

Jasmine looks at him, this man she loves, as scarred and traumatised as the land he rules. His hands are sunburned and shaking. His hair is straggling and matted, one patch singed off by a dragon’s fire. There is a scabbing graze on his forehead, right beside it is a blotchy scar on his hairline that not even the green moss of Dread Mountain had been able to remove. Another mottled, healing scar burns on his jawline. She wishes she could kiss it.

“You are going to be okay,” she whispers instead, to him, to herself, to all of them. It is one of the promises she repeated over and over on those long nights when the Crystal had taken his mind. And now the Crystal is gone, the Shadow Lord is gone, they are safe, and here she is, still promising.This will never really be over. This will never stop hurting, not until the day they die.

But they are together, and alive. One day they will have more joyful memories than sad. And their children will grow up happy, and safe, and never have to go through the suffering their parents have. That is enough.

Lief closes the book. “I am scared, Jasmine,” he whispers. “All I have ever known is destruction. I do not know how to be the one who rebuilds,”

“Me neither,” she admits. “But we will help each other,”

She reaches out again, and this time he lets her take his hand.

He is enough.

note: the book of monsters sections are inspired by a post on my liveblog, and subsequent chat with @withickmire

#deltora quest #my fanfic #more like my angst #i tell everyone to give my son rest and then look at what i do #as always constructive criticism is appreciated #and pointing out any typos :)#this was originally meant to be a sequel of sorts to stay and follow #but i haven't finished part three of that series yet so you get this instead #obviously my life is in order #i tried to keep this quite open-ended #and a little bittersweet #since i don't think lief or any of them would ever fully recover #but at least they can go on

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chryseis · 7 years

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beauty lies before you

Fandom: Deltora Quest Characters: Jasmine, Marilen, Doom (mentions of others) Summary: Sheltered by gentle Tora, Jasmine and Marilen reflect on life, love, and their futures. Post-Shadowlands. Note: This is the first non-rewrite/non-prompt I’ve written for the fandom in six years! AO3. FFN.

Tora’s beauty was grand enough to draw even Jasmine under its spell. She had felt, after everything that had happened in the Shadowlands, that she deserved some peace. Once thoroughly charmed by the city, it was easy to compare it to Del’s relative drabness: The Toran room that she slept in was spacious, with windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and looked down upon a small wood below; her room in the palace in Del was always dark and too high up to give her much of a view. The fruit that she ate every morning at dawn was sweet and crisp, and stained her lips red; the people of Del ate meat at almost every meal. The long robes that she wore were soft and smelled of flowers; the stink of sweat never seemed to come out of her clothing at home.

After their first week in Tora, she had told Doom of her comparisons, and he had laughed, though not unkindly.

“That is the magic of this place,” he told her with only the smallest trace of bitterness. “Take pleasure in it for now, but do not forget that you would not have such thoughts outside of the city.”

“I know how to tell what is real, and what is not,” she had snapped reflexively.

Doom’s lips parted and his face had appeared uncharacteristically stricken. She had frowned, and was about to ask him what was wrong, when she realized the weight of her own words.

“I do,” she insisted with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

“I know,” he had promised in a low voice. They had not spoken of the incident in the months that had since passed.

Afterwards, however, she began to notice how the light in the room often woke her before she was ready; how the food was too rich; how the flowing robes would slow her if she tried to run. And she missed Lief and Barda. Their presence had become a constant in her life, they were her family, and parting from them felt wrong. They had come for Marilen and Ranesh’s wedding the previous month, but had stayed only briefly. She spent much of her time with Doom, but he was often occupied with formally recording the research he had done on Adin’s line for the Toran archives. He was often eagerly assisted by Ranesh, who found it all fascinating, somehow. But she was not at all lonely, and for that she could thank the one person who shone brighter than any of the shining marble towers.

Everybody adored Marilen. And how could they not? She was clever and kind and the sound of her laughter was infectious. Jasmine had been uncertain if the other woman would like her, but becoming her friend had been as easy as tree-climbing. They amused themselves with playing games and telling stories and taking long walks through Tora’s lush gardens.

One early morning, Marilen had surprised Jasmine at her bedroom door with a basket filled with apples, fresh bread, and the light honey cakes she knew Jasmine loved.

“Come with me,” she said merrily. “We will take our breakfast in the garden.”

An interesting thing about people, Jasmine had discovered, was that they would often do things not because they had to, but simply because they wanted to. So she agreed, and left Filli and Kree to doze.

Marilen had come prepared. She led Jasmine to a garden tangled with bright flowers of all sizes and shapes, and laid out a fine sheet for them to sit on. Jasmine, accustomed though she was to feeling the ground underneath her body, was touched by the gesture. They chatted aimlessly as the day brightened, until Marilen suddenly placed a hand on Jasmine’s knee.

“I’m so happy that you are here,” she said with a sweet smile. “I already know how hard it will be when you leave.”

Jasmine laughed through a mouthful of cake. “Do not fear. We do not intend to return to Del for some time.”

“I must visit when you do. And I know Ranesh misses Josef.”

Jasmine leaned back on her hands and watched the wind rustle through the leaves that canopied above them. “But do you wish to go back to Del so soon? I would have thought you would be pleased to be here, and free from duty.”

“My duty follows me where ever I go,” Marilen said dryly. “I was relieved when Lief returned from the Shadowlands. Of course, because it meant he was safe, but also because ruling Deltora would not fall to me. Being Lief’s heir is my duty, and I will not step away from it, until he has children. But I have no wish to rule.”

Jasmine shook her head. “I think you would make a very great queen.”

Marilen smiled thoughtfully. “As will you, I believe.”

Jasmine’s heart leapt into her throat and she looked at her hands so that her friend would not see the flush of her cheeks. The words Lief had said upon their return from the Shadowlands echoed in her mind. They often did, as they were carved into her heart. But marrying Lief was one thing, becoming Deltora’s queen was quite another.

“Oh, do not be ashamed,” Marilen laughed gently, and took Jasmine’s hand, mistaking her silence for embarrassment. Marilen’s fingers were longer than hers, and her skin was soft against Jasmine’s calloused palms. “Lief is a very lucky man, indeed. Being in love is a beautiful thing; I am glad to know it. I had never felt it before I went to your city.”

Your city. Not long ago, Jasmine would have rejected claiming Del as her own. But now she had welcomed it, as it had welcomed Marilen. Somewhere, sometime, she had begun to think of it as her home.

Jasmine trailed her fingers across the sheet. “If my parents had done as they had planned, Tora would have been my city, too.”

Marilen turned ever so slightly so that she faced the city centre, where the oath stone lay. The breeze stirred her dark hair. “It is strange, is it not? How tied to each other we all are. It seems like fate, to me.”

It was a pleasant thought. So many awful things had transpired among their friends and families, but the thought of them all being connected to each other was comforting. Marilen seemed to nearly read her mind.

“I am pleased to be tied to this family, though,” Marilen continued. “Sharn was worried for me, I think. I do not know that I have met anyone else who cares so deeply about those she loves. She approves, of course, but at first she seemed think Ranesh and I were moving too fast. She came around quickly, but her hesitance seemed odd to me. She and Endon had an arranged marriage, and I hear that they loved each other very much.”

Jasmine thought of the locket Sharn kept, with Endon’s handsome face. She did not believe that Sharn feared Marilen did not know what she wanted; or doubted her strength. What she likely feared was that Marilen did not know what she had to lose. “What do you think?”

Marilen tilted her chin up with self-taught defiance. “I spent nearly seventeen years in a haze. Now that I am free, I will make the most of my life. Damn the consequences.”

From Marilen’s appearance and mannerisms, it was so easy to forget that she was really more than twice Jasmine’s age. She did know what she had to lose, and yet she made gambles anyway. Jasmine grinned in delight at her friend’s ferocity. She recalled, then, a blurry memory of a sunny day in the Forests. Her mother had said something that had made her father laugh, and he had pulled her close and kissed her mouth. She pictured Lief’s eager smile, and the look on his face when ever he watched her speak. Marilen was right: love was beautiful, even when it hurt.

“So, you would say,” Jasmine began awkwardly. “If you love someone, you should act upon it, even if it means taking a risk?”

“Yes,” Marilen said gently. “And I do mean it, Jasmine. You are clever, brave, and just. Deltora will flourish when you are its queen.”

Jasmine met Marilen’s gaze with solemn eyes. “Thank you,” she said heavily. “When we first restored the Belt, I was mistaken for the heir. I felt as if I would rather die than be queen. But that is no longer what I think. You speak of duty, and I understand. It will be mine, when I am ready.”

“I have no doubts,” Marilen’s smile returned. “And nor should you.”

Jasmine looked at her friend’s trusting face, and felt so much lighter. She tossed her hair, embarrassed that she had been so open with her feelings. “Forget all this talk of duty. We have the rest of our lives for that. I am happy for now to enjoy the sun on my face, and your company.”

Marilen moved closer, so that their shoulders bumped against each other. “That sounds wonderful, to me.”

Okay, this is plotless and disjointed, but I really, really just wanted to make them talk. I love all the women in this series so much. Many high fantasy writers tend to shove their female characters into specific, stifling tropes, and they need to take a page from Rodda.

#deltora quest #jasmine #marilen #i want to write something with sharn and other women soon #i love seeing sharn interact with the other women #my writing

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