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Evermore: The Gathering	By : RosaTenebrum Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 9663 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragonlance series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER 29

349 AC - Winter Pines Hall, Palanthas

During the rest of the summer and the following autumn, she returned to the cave temple every now and then, pulled by a longing she could not put into words. She knew the gods were gone, but she didn't dare go near the statues, they were too lifelike and too awe-inspiring, even with their crude wooden faces and their painted eyes. But looking at Paladine from the safe distance of the pillared entrance gave her a sense of calm and comfort she had not experienced anywhere else. The cave was her secret. She had her books, smuggled from his father's library and hidden under her mattress, and now she had the cave.

She was just heading there on a bright late-autumn afternoon, when her parents waylaid her as she was skipping down the stairs. They had an announcement, they said. In short, the announcement went like this: Miss Crysania of the House Tarinius had been betrothed to Master Wilfred of the House Delamere.

So this was it. The moment she had dreaded for so long had come. Crysania sat on the pale blue silk-covered dining room chair utterly stunned and unable to speak. Master Wilfred Delamere? She had no idea who that was, and at that realization regret washed through her slight frame. She always knew this day was coming, so she should have made the choice herself. Somebody, anybody, to keep up at least a semblance of self-determination that would have allowed her to live with herself. If she had been wise and done just that, she wouldn't be sitting here right now trying to work out her fiancé's age and face.

Her confusion must have shown, for her father looked down at her with tender pity, even placing a hand on her shoulder. "He is of the same age as you. You have met him once, when you were just children."

Her mother was all smiles. "He looks forward to marrying you, dear. Very much."

You mean his family looks forward to it, Crysania thought gloomily, and then looked up at her mother, startled, not sure if she had heard right. "Did you say 'next summer'?"

"Yes. So soon! Oh, it's going to be simply wonderful, isn't it? My daughter will be the most beautiful bride Palanthas has ever seen!"

Crysania stared at her mother, and all the time she could feel her life leaking away. Half a year. She had just half a year to brace herself for what was coming. The planning and preparations for the wedding would start right away, said Amelia Tarinius, and, most importantly, Crysania would meet her future husband only two days from now, when the Delameres would pay a visit to Winter Pines Hall.

She got up and walked straight back into her room. She did not go to the cave that day.

The first meeting was just as awkward as Crysania had known it would be, and it didn't help that it went wrong from the very beginning. Instead of offering her hand to kiss, Crysania grabbed Master Wilfred's hand and shook it, which caused the young man to give a visible start. As he turned to hand over his cloak to Oliva, all red in the face, the picture of confusion, Amelia hissed out of the corner of her mouth to her daughter, who was standing straight and correct beside her, "No need to crush his fingers, dear."

They moved on into the salon where tea and refreshments were served. It was the most humiliating moment of Crysania's life, one that she would look back on for years to come and feel just as horrible each time. Master Wilfred's parents - her future in-laws - talked about the weather and sipped tea from porcelain cups, ones that Crysania had never seen before, openly surveying her, making up their minds as to whether she looked fertile or not. They probably weren't convinced. She was her parents' only child, which meant she wasn't of a fertile stock, and her breasts were small. Did her mother really think a cotton-stuffed corset would fool them?

Master Wilfred himself was jus as expected. Plain and colourless; not handsome, not ugly - just about as interesting as a doormat. But what else to expect? She had long ago given up hope of being swooned off her feet, so she might as well marry a doormat. He gave her a hideous brooch as a present, a sweet little bow with embedded pink gems, undoubtedly chosen by his goose of a mother from the family treasury, but you had to hand it to him, he had the good sense to be clearly embarrassed by Lady Delamere's lavish praisal of his many virtues. He wasn't very smart, but contrary to Crysania's usual practice, his lack of brain did not prompt her into a desire to humiliate him with her greater intellect and wide reading. In fact, she was starting to feel a little sorry for the doormat.

The exchange of social amenities dragged on, without anyone saying anything worthwhile or significant or surprising. Crysania gazed at the brooch in the velvet box, hating everything about it. A pink gemmed bow tie. It was so not her. Just like her entire future would be so not her.

"Now would be the time, dear," her mother said, using an exaggeratedly gentle voice, gesturing at the clavichord in the corner of the salon.

With a rehearsed smile Crysania strolled over to the instrument and sat down on the bench. She was to play a silly cheerful tune which would demonstrate her competence in ladylike skills and arts. She herself had suggested a melancholy dirge, just to see her mother gasping for air. Several times Lady Amelia had reminded her daughter to behave; in other words, to not have opinions, to not offend, to not be confident and strong, to not show initiative. Sweet and demure. Soft and simple. That's what was required of her today. But as she placed her fingers on the keys she found she couldn't help herself.

She played the first notes, and they all listened politely. She was too proud to make a total mess of it, but as the tune proceeded she started to miss several keys and strike the wrong ones on purpose. It sounded awful, mostly; a discordant cacophony, yet nothing like the hellish jarring sounds inside her head. She played on with fury, each ringing note sealing her fate. No amount of hair cutting would stop it - not anymore. There was no escape.

There was polite applause when she returned to the table. She glanced at Master Wilfred and saw confusion written all over his befuddled face: is this the girl I'm supposed to marry? This finger-crushing, back-talking, clavichord-abusing harpy out of the Abyss? Too bad he obviously found her most pleasing otherwise, so much so that he had a hard time taking his eyes off her. Every time their eyes met he blushed violently and quickly averted his gaze. Crysania was greatly irritated by his obviousness, although she was also relieved that he seemed like such a wuss. Maybe she would not lose the joys of reading on becoming his lady wife. If he resisted, she could probably intimidate him into giving her the key to his library. She could probably intimidate him into delaying the wedding night as well. She glanced at Master Wilfred again and shuddered at the thought of his hands all over her.

The next day the doormat showed a little more confidence. He even seemed to entertain a certain sense of humour, if not a brilliant wit. They were left on their own at the table, while their mothers sat at another one and their fathers went out to hunt. The mothers were engaged in a lively conversation, about the wedding no doubt, and looking at them Crysania made a comment to the effect that maybe the two women should marry each other instead. Surprised, Master Wilfred glanced at her and then smiled a little, not quite knowing what to say.

They didn't talk much else, but at the end of the visit, as they bid goodbye to each other, Wilfred Delamere mustered up courage and playfully addressed Crysania as wife. Surprising herself, Crysania let out a little laughter and said goodbye, husband. All of a sudden she regretted her behaviour: all through the visit she had been rude, discouraging and difficult. And why? It wasn't poor Wilfred's fault that she wasn't happy with her life. He had no say in the matter any more than she did. Still she wouldn't give her hand to kiss, but she did smile at her betrothed as warmly as she possibly could, and her smile made him so blatantly happy that she pitied him even more. Maybe in the years to come they would grow to be friends, she thought. Perhaps even good friends.

At her mother's behest, Crysania went to wave the Delameres goodbye from her room window. Master Wilfred looked up and gave a little wave back. She continued to look out of the window as the carriage bumped along the rocky path and eventually disappeared into the woods.

The broad smile that had stuck on her face broke down. Her gaze was fixed on the landscape stretching out before her. The temperature was getting colder, and the leaves had fallen off the trees; only skeletal black fingers remained. Nature had assumed the bleak and barren appearance of early winter. Funny, it was like looking in the mirror.

That was it, then. He future was sealed.

She forgot about the secret temple. She died inwardly.

But she was used to inner deaths. One more made no difference.
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Evermore: The Gathering