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anghraine · 2 months

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It's kind of fascinating to me that towards the end of P&P, Elizabeth has become protective of Darcy and either a) actively tries to insulate him from Situations or b) wishes that she could and gets stressed that she can't.

Darcy deeply loves her and is very ready to do whatever he can to secure her happiness, but narratively, I think the emphasis at the end is very much more on Elizabeth's protectiveness towards him.

It's like:

When Bingley and Darcy first come back to Hertfordshire, Darcy is very quiet and Elizabeth can barely bring herself to say anything—until Mrs Bennet insults Darcy. Then Elizabeth speaks up.

Mrs Bennet enlists Elizabeth to separate Darcy from Bingley with another insult to Darcy. Elizabeth finds this both convenient and enraging.

That day, Elizabeth decides to privately tell Mrs Bennet about her engagement to Darcy, specifically so that Darcy will be spared Mrs Bennet's first unfiltered response.

Elizabeth fiercely defends Darcy's character and love for her, as well as hers for him, to Mr Bennet. She not only says she loves Darcy but that it upsets her to hear Mr Bennet's criticisms of him.

Elizabeth is both relieved by Mrs Bennet's ecstatic reception of the engagement and a bit disappointed by how completely shallow she's being about it, and 100% sure she made the right call in keeping Darcy away.

Elizabeth defends Darcy against Darcy himself, repeatedly.

There's a period where Elizabeth seems to unwind and laugh, but this passes, especially after Charlotte and Mr Collins show up. Darcy manages to stay calm around Mr Collins (I think this is framed as a significant and admirable achievement for him), but Elizabeth does not like him being in a situation where he has to deal with Mr Collins in the first place.

Elizabeth tries to shield Darcy from being noticed by Mrs Phillips and Mrs Bennet, who do seem to make him pretty excruciatingly uncomfortable.

Ultimately, Elizabeth ends up trying to keep Darcy to herself or to shepherd him around to relatives he can handle more easily, and is so stressed at this point that she just wants to get married and escape to Pemberley.

After their marriage, things are actually great at Pemberley and in their married life, despite the occasional complication.

Lydia writes a congratulatory letter to Elizabeth, asking for Darcy to get Wickham a promotion unless Elizabeth would rather not bring it up with him. Elizabeth really does not want Darcy to have to deal with this and handles it by privately setting aside a Lydia fund out of her personal expenses. (IIRC, it's not clear if Darcy even knows about this.)

Elizabeth also is the driving force behind Darcy's reconciliation with Lady Catherine.

This could read as an unsettling, unbalanced dynamic and a very odd ending point for the arc of a woman like Elizabeth, but in the context of the overall novel, it doesn't feel that way. Or maybe I'd see it more that way if I interpreted Darcy (and for that matter, Elizabeth) + their arcs differently? But as it is, I do think that by this point in the story they are genuinely doing the best they can, independently and for each other, and they've both come a long way. They shine in different contexts and support each other as much as they can in the circumstances that do arise.

It seems very them, in terms of their temperament and abilities, that Elizabeth would put all this effort into shielding Darcy, while at the same time, Darcy completely cuts off Lady Catherine for insulting Elizabeth and only ever speaks to her again because Elizabeth wants him to.

#one of the things that really works about darcy/elizabeth for me is how much they're kind of the apotheosis of each other's types #like the people elizabeth is closest to—jane charlotte and mr bennet #are very different people but they're quiet and private and strong-willed and stubborn and intelligent #and darcy is totally the full throttle version of that type #and darcy is obviously drawn to cheerful outgoing lively charisma bombs with minds of their own #(even in his youth this was kind of true w/ pre-villainy wickham)#(then there's fitzwilliam and bingley and elizabeth herself)#and nobody is more peak that type than elizabeth bennet #they're totally each other's types and like. darcy is blatantly ride or die for elizabeth #while end of the book elizabeth is so far from being intimidated or awed by him that she's sweeping in to save him #in a way that i suspect nobody has really attempted for a long time #anghraine babbles #long post #anghraine's meta #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #otp of otps #(obviously this is particularly endearing w/ the autistic!darcy headcanon)#(neither of them could ever know why he's like that and in their society it's probably for the best that they don't know tbh #but they make it work anyway)

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abysskeeper · 5 months

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Shoving my nonsense in my tag. If by chance someone does read it, please disregard the pretentiousness and like...7 stylistic changes. I'm working on something.

***

"I am not loved as something treasured."

He looked at her, both startled and confused by her statement and how readily, how easily she made it. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"I mean exactly as I said." She stared back at him and gave a weak shrug. "I am not loved as something treasured, I am loved as a giver. A protector. A beacon of Light and hope. And I...I am not ungrateful for that. I am not unhappy, it is exactly what I wanted, to be able to stand for something more. To be able to stand and shield those who need it most, who can't do it for themselves..."

She smiled as she stared down at her hands in her lap, watching as she flexed her fingers a few times. She let out a soft chuckle, "It is, perhaps, more literal now than I anticipated, but it is everything I wanted when I wished to become a Jedi." The amusement in her smile fell, slipping into something sadder, more nostalgic and beautifully melancholic. "It is more than I could have ever hoped for while growing up, and I hope it ensures several like me now have more than I ever did while growing up."

She fell silent after that statement though, her smile slipping away entirely. He watched her quietly as she folded in on herself a little, her shoulders slumping while she wrung her hands. A shadow of doubt flickered across her eyes, and she glanced away with a sigh. "It is enough," she whispered.

"And yet you do not seem content," he noted softly. He slowly walked over and eased himself down until he was sitting next to her, silently awaiting her response.

"I am content," she insisted, quickly whipping back to face him. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, the longer he watched her, the more her earnestness wilted under his gentle scrutiny. She was not lying, but there was much she was not admitting to that rested in the sad stillness of her eyes, until the guilt finally took over and she turned away from him again.

"And yet...I am a greedy creature. A selfish creature, desiring more than I ever deserved." She sighed and leaned back on her arms, tilting her head up to gaze at the clear night sky. "Sometimes I yearn for more...to be loved as something treasured..." she paused and motioned towards the sky, "To be loved as the darkness of night loves the light of stars. It's been a pleasant dream of mine for a long time, but a far-off one. One I knew was unachievable, but I enjoyed indulging regardless. Only now has it begun to leave me aching, and I hate that it has."

There was much he could reply to, much he could say in response to this asinine notion she wasn't lovable, but he found himself drawn to the last part of her statement. "Only now?" he echoed in question, unabashedly curious over what had changed.

He had his suspicions, but what made a dream such as that change from being a comfort to being a pain?

She didn't answer. Instead, he saw the corners of her lips twitch up in the ghost of a smile and the faintest hint of brown dusting over her cheeks. "Only now," she agreed faintly, her eyes drawn to roving over the very stars she spoke of.

When it was apparent she was not going to further elucidate what she meant, he chose to switch tactics, focusing instead on everything else she said. She often accused him of hiding behind pretty words and vague meanings--an accusation he hardly denied--but she also always understood him regardless of how well he tried to veil his intentions. In large part, he had come to accept that was due to her having an understanding of him that few others in the galaxy could claim--she had earned that right with the time she spent insisting on learning about him. But it was also, in part, due to her propensity towards the exact same disposition.

"Alright, then how is it, do you suppose, that the night loves the stars?" he asked.

She shifted her weight on her arms as she contemplated for a moment. Finally, her attention returned to him, her head tilting his way as her gaze languidly traveled over him, cataloging every detail she could see in the dark. "As the stars love the night, of course," she answered, her eyes snapping up to meet his, "Wholly, and without request."

A beat passed, and then another as she held his gaze. The seconds were stretching, spreading into uncharted territory, he was distinctly aware of it with every heartbeat in his chest, but he refused to be the one to break the budding moment. Finally, her green eyes dipped from his and looked at the ground. After another moment, she fell back, sprawling out on the grass and settling to stare up at the vast, dark sky and all its stars.

"As you know, stars are always present, but only shine at night," she continued. He sat back, watching her as she pointedly kept her stare fixated on the heavens above them. "A show just for the darkness, the one and only light the night needs from its one, constant companion--for even the moons go through phases. But the stars...the stars always accompany their beloved night."

Her hand rose, finger pointed towards the sky and tracing invisible lines connecting the pinpoints of light. "As for the night, well..." she trailed off with a chuckle. "We always see the starlight at night. We are the ones who give it meaning, both practical and metaphorical, and yet we can only ever glimpse the front of a star. The night sees all of the star, every aspect of it. It cradles and caresses the light in its inky dark hand and asks for nothing in return."

She sighed, her hand dropping back down over her chest. "The night gives them a space to shine, and asks nothing but for the stars to just be."

She fell silent, and he turned his attention from looking up at the sky over towards her face. A wry smile hung on her lips, and some of the nostalgic sadness still twinkled in her eyes as she gazed ever upwards. He was at a loss for words, uncertain of where her thoughts were or what he could say to ease the bittersweetness that seemed to loom over her. He was uncertain if he should even say anything at all.

"It's a foolish notion, I know," she said after a moment. A quiet, self-depreciating chuckle escaped past her lips. "It's the sentimentality of a girl staring up in wonder at the night sky with her mother. But then..."

Her voice trailed off to nothing, the wry smile pulling into a frown. Her hand rose again, though instead of connecting the stars, it twisted and turned as she examined it against the backdrop of the night. "But then...her mother was gone...and then the stars themselves were gone when the girl went to Nar Shaddaa...and the only way she could think to ease the sadness around her was to retell the story of love between the night sky and the stars, perhaps the oldest love story there is, and the only one repeated over and over."

"I hardly believe that to be a foolish notion," he refuted. She had spoken enough of her history for him to understand what she meant between the spaces of what she said. "If anything, it is one full of hope as much as it is one full of love."

Her hand stilled in the air, fingers outstretched as she stared at them. Or, more likely, as she stared silently between them. He was more than content to wait for her to gather her thoughts. "As I said, the story has been with me for a long time," she said at last, "It is a sentiment full of hope, as much as it is full of love."

Slowly, her fingers relaxed and her hand descended back down until it rested flat against her chest, over her heart. Her eyes fell shut as well and she grimaced in something that was almost like pain. Almost. "I never intended it to be a sentiment full of longing," she admitted on a near silent breath.

She drew a breath through her nose and she turned her head to face him again. Her eyes opened, and her small, wry smile returned. "I suppose that's the tragedy of growing older, I began to understand the complexity of finding such a complimentary love. I began to understand just how special a love like that could be." Her eyes flickered back towards the sky, and she let out a heavy breath. "And I had to accept just how out of reach both the stars and the night truly were."

He blinked, and his attention flickered back to the sky. "Just how out of reach do you believe them to be?"

She let out a soft sigh, as if frustrated. "I'm no fool, I know there's light-years between what we see and where they actually are."

Silence fell between them, and it left him feeling unsettled. He shifted his weight and glanced back over to where she laid, her eyes glittering up at the stars. It was only when she blinked several times and the effect disappeared that he understood he was seeing the reflection of a few, unshed tears. That only left him more unsettled.

"Trick?" The sound of her name coming from his lips was the only thing to cut through the silence churning between them.

"Hm?" she mumbled, obviously distracted.

"May I ask you something?"

She stilled, so much so that even the quiet sounds of her breathing ceased. Her wariness was palpable, and he could not find fault with that. There were a number of things he could ask, there were a number of things he wished to ask that would cross the carefully constructed boundary they danced around. It was a boundary he yearned to break, if only because he knew it was already bending dangerously far with the increasing weight of all the words, all the glances and touches...all the moments they shared with one another.

Now more than ever it would be so simple to let it snap, to tell her those stars were in reach and incredibly close at that, and he knew it because of her. She was the one who made him believe in the closeness of those stars, and he would pluck them all and press them into the palms of her hands if she so desired. He would grant her every last one and then hold her as the night sky cradled its own stars.

"Sure?"

Her voice was breathy and a note too high, though he was surprised her stutter did not make an appearance. Still, he granted her a reprieve and chose the easier option. Other chances would come for him. "Is this why you enjoy stargazing as much as you do?" he asked.

There was a short pause before her surprised laughter rang out around them. Despite the lingering ache he felt in letting that opportunity slip through his fingers, he could not regret the decision. Instead, he smiled at her, fully aware her laughter was its own reward. For tonight, that was more than enough.

"Sure. We'll go with that," she agreed.

Another couple of giggles bubbled up past her lips before she settled and the silence returned between them. It was far more companionable this time, and he was content to let it linger between them when he saw her earlier tears were replaced now by the small smile she wore. If that was the only thing he was capable of changing tonight, then it was worth it, and he settled into the silence with ease, intent to remain for as long as she needed out here.

It was a while before another, small sigh escaped her. "Tavon?"

"Hm?"

He looked over to find her sitting up and then getting to her feet. Once she brushed some dirt off the skirt of her robe, she proffered a hand towards him. He gladly slipped his hand into hers and let her assist him--albeit unnecessarily--up on his own two feet. Yet, once standing, he did not release his grip on her hand.

"Thank you for indulging me tonight." The smile she flashed him was one of the sweetest things he had ever received. "I needed this, I think," she added, "W-with...with you, especially."

A blush swept across her cheeks, darker than before, and her gaze pulled towards the side. "Talking with you always clears my head," she admitted quietly, "And...m-most nights it makes those st-stars feel a little closer."

A warm sensation flared in his chest, and he didn't bother to even attempt to smother the smile it caused. His hand itched to move, to thread his fingers through hers and tug until he pulled her into himself and held her as close as she desired. Instead, he simply gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"The pleasure is mine, Trick." His voice was soft, but he hoped it conveyed just how fully he meant it. "Anytime."

#don't mind me #my writing #otp(op)#sometimes things just appear on my dash #tav #<- the cursed tag now #tbh I don't know what this is or where it came from #I just have to obsess over stars motif every couple of months or I die I think

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