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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

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Lady Gloucester Chapter Two: The Berries

Fandom: Shakespeare’s tragedy King Lear

Pairing: Edgar Gloucester and Fem! Reader

Word Count: 7K

Summary: Your parents have arranged a match for you. You are brought to the high court of England to marry the king’s godson, shy, naive Edgar of Gloucester. Though you have caught the eye of his haf-brother, Edmund as well. As you come to know each other, you learn more of the truth of each brother and the reality of the families of the nobility of England. But disaster is soon on it’s way...

Warnings: mentions of sex, brief mention of rape (no actual attack, just a character being a butt), mean fathers, unrequited love, some fighting, arranged marriages, and so much self-indulgence you could put whip cream on it. Some friends to lovers.

Chapter One is here

“Where in god’s name is the fire, is this the way to treat your king?!” Lear vented as he waddled into the main room. All of you were poised. Dressed well and garbed for his entrance. Hours were spent waiting for the night or finding and preparing your best clothes as servants scrambled to prepare food and clean. You were ready to meet your lord and sovereign. Ready to make a good impression, to be seen as worthy for his godson. The man who walked in could have any fussy old grandfather just in grander clothes and rings with a thin crown on his white head. You thought a king would have a presence that would be more…kingly. He would greet people, gesture his hands to move them like game pieces. But he looked around, only concerned about the fire and his own comfort. He tossed his soaked cloak to a servant, jumping back from its weight. Any head who turned to him bowed lightly and he only snarled in return. “Your majesty….” Lord Gloucester began, he bowed and then walked with open arms close to the king as if to embrace him. Lear’s beard matched the whiteness of his hair, and his eyes were sharp as a hawk. His ears stuck out like a child’s and though he was of average height and slouched in his posture, he carried himself with pride as if he were seven feet tall. Edgar glanced over at you for a moment, he leaned over to whisper in your ear quickly. “Make him feel good, he likes that. Say nice things to him.”

Nodding, trying to understand something simple and yet complex at the moment, you bit down hard and watched the king. “Well-hello! Welcome! Welcome my dear lord!” he greeted; he took out his hand as Gloucestor plied to take. “I am honored by the first step you took in my humble home!” he praised to him. Edgar stood behind his father, his hands planted behind him. Every now and then he glanced at you, over in the corner to watch. “Well, thank you!” Lear relaxed and smiled more at Gloucestor’s words. Lord Gloucester gestured to Edgar and he patted the back of the young man with strength. “Your majesty…” he said dutifully. “How fares my godson?” “Well, your most royal highness” Edgar replied politely. “He’s especially happy since we…since we now have the young lady who is his wife here-remember?” Gloucester reminded him. His eyes went to you and you sucked in a breath. You felt your own parents tense up with nervousness and excitement. Even though the king was a fussy old man, he was the king. “Oh, yes! The lady…where is she?” “Y/N, Y/N, sweetling, come here…” Breathing in deep, you stepped forward, Edgar gave you his arm and catching it, you went before the king. “Your highness, I present to you, the future Lady Gloucester!” he announced. With every bit of grace, you could muster, you dipped into a clean curtsy. Keeping your eyes down, you only took note of the dark blue ends of Lear’s robes. “Isn’t she a pretty thing, your grace?” “There are hundreds of pretty girls, pretty is common. What we need are decent ones, ones with good heads on their shoulders.” “Y/N is a true gentlewoman, I assure you. I wouldn’t give my son away to any run-of-the-mill girl!” “Yes, yes, Lady Y/N….what do you have to say for yourself? Your king asks you to speak!” Edgar turned to you and nodded, he placed a hand on your arm and made it tight as if for safety. His advice resurfaced. “I was just…struck by the presence of your majesty. I am not worthy even to dine with you, but yet as good and just as you are, I feel honored to be here in this room, much less to marry your godson.” You praised, eyes still down. “Ha! Well, a nice girl! A decent girl, Gloucestor, indeed!” You saw his long hand gesture up and you looked at him in his sharp eyes, the color of a sapphire. His bejeweled hand touched your cheek, tapping it lightly. You remind me of my daughters-where are they? Where the devil did they go?” “It was raining, father, the carriage got stuck!” a low, smooth voice echoed from the door. The three young women glided in like birds with their fine silk dresses. One had red hair and a high nose in a bun, the next one blonde hair in a similar bun with a simpler dress and dark, sharp eyes like her father. The third was small with dark hair and wore a genuine smile, unlike the serious faces of the other two. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Fie that cook, where is our bread?!” the king yelled, slamming his fist on the table. Jumping at the sound, you sipped your water quietly. Feet shuffled as servants ran up to serve bread before the meat could be brought in. You were placed next to the middle sister, the blonde one. She was tearing off bits of bread methodically. What was her name again? That was right… “How are you, Princess Reagan? I heard of your marriage upcoming next week-are you excited?” you asked. She turned to examine you. “Yes, very. Do you plan on attending,” she replied. “I do,” you responded politely. As you turned to drink again, she added on more. “Then you better wear something better than that,” she insulted. Confused and shocked, you glance down at your dress. You hear Goneril, the red-haired oldest, cracking back a suppressed laugh. Looking down, you eat dinner quietly until you hear Edgar across from you. “But I think… no one should outshine the bride on her wedding day, princess”, Edgar reasoned, gesturing at you. Lear pointed his knife in his daughter's direction, oblivious to the food being finally poured onto his plate. “Reagan! Don’t be so horrid! Why are you always like this? If only you could hold your tongue, stupid girl!” Lear cursed. He dug into the chicken a servant was handing him, heaping on a generous amount. Blinking fast, you saw her lips purse as she replied quietly “y-yes, father.” The small, dark-haired princess looked around, eyes wide. She then noticed the king. “Father, have you eaten today?” “Why, I’m eating now!” “All day, you weren’t here at breakfast. Did you have breakfast?” “Why no I…I didn’t.” “Oh, father! Go ahead and enjoy the food…” “For you, darling, I will!” Nodding, you continued to eat. Though you noticed there was an empty chair. No one acknowledged it or commented on it. You turned to Gloucester on your other side, cutting his potatoes into large chunks. “My lord, where is Edmund?” you asked. “He’s in his chambers. Now is not appropriate to introduce him to the king. He has to prove himself worthy first.” He commented plainly. It made you think of the moment when he took off your glove and kissed your hand. You decided to tell no one about it. Perhaps he was just playfully flirting since that was just what he did with all women. He hardly spoke to you since. Only bobbed his head when you passed by him. You saw him chatting with a few maids and how they giggled a fury after he left. But you noticed how often he would keep to himself. Hardly speak. Even servants seemed to eye him carefully, or the male ones, anyway. Besides, there was a sadness in his speech that struck your heart once you thought it over. And being a bastard in a house where that was flaunted in his face could not have been easy. You eyed one servant passing by. “Excuse me, has Edmund dined yet?” you asked the boy. “No, he has not.” “Are there any other plates?” you questioned. “Plenty, my lady.” “Could you please bring up some food to him?” “He refuses to eat!” “Tell him it’s a gift from me. Give him some decent cuts of the food, Sirrah.” You ordered. Later, they sat sewing. Skipping past your own mother at her needle, you went to Goneril. She sewed with a straight back and her eyes right onto her work. In the corner, the fire roared away to keep off the misty chill of the night. “Your highness…” you greeted. “Lady Y/N, what brings you here?” she asked. There was not a friendliness in her voice and it made your smile frozen on your face. “I just wanted to ask…ask…how fares your lord? ” “Another cold. Again. He cannot travel and has to lay in bed.” She reported. She settled it down over her dark grey dress and glared at you in the face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” You replied, inching away. “Y/N, do you always speak of husbands and marriages?” she criticized sharply. “No-no I do not! I only wanted-” “Pfft, if you have nothing more interesting than that to say, I am not interested,” she snapped. Her hands went back to her needlework as if nothing happened. Crushed, you went over to the corner. You wondered where your own sewing went to, and without anything to do with your hands, you folded them on your lap with your head down. The dark-haired daughter turned to you. Glancing over to see they were distracted, talking about things such as the weather or any gossip, she leaned to you to speak. “I am so sorry…they should not have said that.” She said kindly. “And of course they were guests, you couldn’t have fought back.” “Thank you…thank you for your apology, your highness. You’re very kind.” “You just don’t know anyone!” “I…I don’t! Your name, your highness? I forgot…” “My name’s Cordelia! And you don’t have to call me your highness…it just feels good to meet a woman who isn’t a lady in waiting!” Feeling yourself smile back, you relaxed as you looked into her brown eyes. “But enough about me- What about you, how do you fare, Y/N? This isn’t your home! How do you feel about your betrothal?” “I’m…nervous, that’s all. So much is changing. I’m far from home, from most people I know…” you answered. “I can’t imagine how hard it can be, but...Edgar and the Earl are lovely people. You will be fine.” Cordelia assured. A page came by to rekindle the fire. You heard your mother try and make polite conversation with the other two princesses with hushed, restrained voices. “May I ask, if I may be bold, your heigh-Cordelia…I’ve been wondering something. Your father loves Gloucester so much. Why aren’t you married to Edgar by now? Or your sisters? As the king’s daughters, shouldn’t it make sense that you’d be Gloucester’s first choice?” you asked “Our parents pushed us together for a while. My sisters both laughed at the idea. They’d rather marry with a Dukedom at least rather than some earl. So, they decided to see if I would go with Edgar. They made us court for a little bit.” She recalled. “Oh.” Lurching away, you examined her face for nay envy or bitterness. There was none. “But anyway, we tried but…nothing happened. I saw him no more as a friend. I was scared to tell him and his father, but he thought the same! He just didn’t think he’d make me happy as a husband and I don’t think I’d be a good wife for him! So he brought it up easily and they consented. And so it did not happen besides… there are these other men I like more…and they're visiting! Weekly!” she squealed. I’m now finally having suitors!” “Suitors!? How romantic!” “Yes, I…I can’t believe I only get to marry but…it’s thrilling! The king of France is lovely, though the duke of Burgandy is the most handsome man I've ever seen! He even wanted to duel some other fellow for writing some verses for me-“ “Does it scare you?” “I confess I enjoy it a lot! I have all sorts of outings with them-chaperoned, of course- isn't that silly!” “It’s not, it’s exciting!” You both laugh lightly. “We don’t get to choose a lot but…we have this one choice where it matters…and I’m glad it is one of the crucial ones.” She said. The rain pattered and there was thunder in the distance. You heard feet scuttle as if the servants were giant mice. A maid as big as your pinky scurried up to the room to announce to the princesses that it was getting time to retire. The storm was going to force the king and his daughters to stay overnight. But somehow, the thought didn’t make you nervous. Cordelia was gracious, hardly leaving your side. Eating together and sewing, telling stories. You found she loved history and was able to explain things to where you understood them plainly like a good teacher. She made you smile. She cheered up even the gloomiest hall and she even had a knack for playing all sorts of games, mature and childish. Once the mud had cleared and the rain was light, you felt sad to see her go. “Here, there are some books from the library, you might enjoy them…” you offered, as a small parting gift before she boarded her carriage two mornings later. “Wait, may I invite you, y/n?” she asked, her fur gloves holding onto the books. Her father was being helped into the carriage. “Me? No, I couldn’t!” “I think you need to have another woman around who isn’t your mother! And you need to come over and see me!” “Well…yes, I guess so.” “I promise, no one will bother you! You may visit our palace, or I’ll visit yours! Do you not mind? I’m not being a bother, am I?” “No, Cordelia, you aren’t!” “Time to get in the carriage, dear, Burgandy wants to dine with us tonight!” Lear reminded, sticking his white head out. “Burgandy-then I must go!” she cheered before hopping into her seat. As the door closed, you saw Lear lean over and kiss her cheek before it took off. Even he seemed to melt around her. Sighing, you watched the carriage vanish over the horizon. “If only I could be like Cordelia-a princess, adored and worshipped with beautiful men fighting over me. My choice of the litter, and not chosen for me…” you sighed. It must be nice to be as lovely and as desired as Cordelia.

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It was nerve-wracking at first to be on a horse. It was a strong, moving animal that could knock you out or kick you if you gave it a reason. But as long as Edgar was there to help you, lesson by lesson, it made you braver about riding. “Come on, come on!” Edgar said, leading the horse on its reigns. You held it gingerly. He picked up the pace, walking in a wide circle in the back courtyard. Gloucester walked by with another earl, Kent, discussing something passionately when he turned and saw you. His dark red robes flapped with the breeze and his bright eyes glittered when he saw you two. “Well! A young man leads a sweet betrothed on a steed-if it wasn’t a horse I would have mistaken you for the Nazarite couple that brought our Lord!” he commented. “Father, we have no grand, divine matters as a holy child- I am just teaching Y/N how to ride…” he explained. The wind made his cheeks pink and his hair tossed. From your high advantage, you couldn’t help but admire him. “With Joseph! He’s the gentlest one-he already likes her!” Edgar continued, patting the horse's muzzle gently. There was a small laugh from Gloucester. From the back, your mother smiled as she read her book. She usually sat in the corner as you and Edgar did things together. Just to make sure everything was kept appropriate. “Is that why we have no apple tarts for dessert this month?” he asked. Edgar shook his head but grinning, you bobbed your head up and down. He turned around, saw you, and then added. “Yes…my lord father, it is!” Gloucester went to the horse and then looked up at you. See, he’s a gentle soul…all you have to do is give him apples and he’ll be like your dog…” “He’s a lovely horse,” you cooed, gently patting his speckled face. “And he’s every bit as arrogant as his namesake without some colorful coat!” The horse had the sweetest brown eyes too. Beautiful and fierce, but he carried himself with lightness. And that lightness came across in his speed and the strength you felt.

”Let me help you down, Y/N...”

Edgar placed his hands right over your body. With an odd, warm feeling all over you, you accepted the touch as he helped you off. Lingering in the light hold for a bit, you stepped off and wiped your hands on your skirt. “Thank you, thank you for teaching me…” you said. “It was a joy to, my lady. I’m glad you’re able to ride a little.” Edgar added. From the window, there was a pair of eyes watching you both, Looking up, you glimpsed them before they flashed away. But you decided to ignore it. Maybe it was your father. Walking inside the castle through the stables, Edgar squeezed your hand to wish goodbye before he left off to the library. Behind you, you heard slow footsteps. “Did you heed my warning?” Edmund asked. “About what?” you asked, hands folded before you. “I told you, he left a maid pregnant and she died bearing a babe…any woman he has is bound to die, do you want that to happen to you?” he asked, looking you over. “Who are you speaking of?” you questioned, stepping forward. The stable had sunlight pouring through from the door. It was musty and smelly with animal dung. “Your ‘lord’, Edgar of course!” he said. Crossing your hands, you walked up to him, you glared daggers into Edmund. “The first time we spoke, you told me you were a half-brother. And yes, you mentioned a maid becoming pregnant, but you never specified who the father was. Then that means you’re speaking of Gloucester. Everyone knows what you are-you can’t fool me with that. That maid wasn’t Edgar’s maid, wasn’t it?” He paused, his head bowing down and then huffing deeply. “Yes. That maid was my mother.” A horse brushed his lips before he bit onto some hay. You heard another clopping by as it was led to its stable. “Y…did you enjoy the food?” you asked, trying to lighten the subject. “Yes, yes I did. I can’t fool you, Y/N, but I can make you hate him.” “My lord, what do you want of me now?” “I want your safety, isn't that obvious?” “How kind,” you sarcastically remarked. “Observe Edgar, observe him, and soon you’ll see he is…a horrid, spoiled man. He never earned anything-it was all handed to him. He’s a baby. How could you have a baby with a father who is a baby himself?” he dared, pointing his finger at the door his brother left through. Standing your ground, your eyes never left his. “I will observe him, and give a few months’ time, give you my answer. I’ll break off the betrothal myself if I don’t think it’s fit.” You reasoned. He blinked in surprise. He smiled “really?” “Really.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Later, you found where Edgar would be. He spent long hours of his free time in the library. Creeping over, you knocked on the door. “Oh-Y/N! What a surprise!” he greeted. His brown head popped from a table piled with books. “Why are you here?” If you were going to figure out if these warnings were true, you had to be proactive. Which means you had to be unaccompanied in one room with Edgar to see who or what he really was. “I just wanted to…to see you…to see what you were up to…” you said. Swallowing the other reason, doubt began to creep in. What if Edmund was right? Maybe he was reading something nefarious. “I just found this collection of plays and it’s fascinating!” “Plays?” “Yes! See!?” Looking inside, you saw it was a large book filled with all sorts of thin lines and names. Stage directions in brackets. “I’ve been lost in it all day!” he confessed. “What plays have you read?” you asked. “Histories, tragedies, pastorals, comedies, comic-pastoral, tragic-historic, historic-pastoral, comic-tragical…every kind!” he said. The smell of the old pages lured you in. And besides, you needed to stay with him per Edmund’s dare. “Could I…could I look at it too?” “I have an even better idea…let’s read one! Aloud! It’s how it should be!” he encouraged, his eyes wide. “But you have to read it with emotion, not monotone-alright?” “Alright!” He sat you down on a chair next to him. You selected a light comedy to read. Soon you were switching characters. Edgar was extremely talented. He altered his voice and moved his hands to make each of his own characters different. You found you were watching him read to the point you forgot your own place and had to catch yourself. In one scene you played a beggar encountering a shepherd. You had to read the beggar. “Oh, please sir! Sweet swain! But for a penny…” you attempted a decent tone. He shook his head a little, but with a smile. “Y/N, try and make your voice raspy and jumpy-“he advised. “That’s how the beggars on the streets talk if you notice them…” “Alright…” You tried the line again with a raspy quality and he laughed and applauded. “I just have trouble with the beggar’s lines, I promise! And the farmer-he just speaks oddly!” “Just do that one, and for the farmer…have you heard the way they talk? Their accent?” he asked. Turning the page over, you recalled the odd farmer visiting the palace to discuss something with Gloucester. “Yes, with the lilt and their r’s? Let me try that…” you said, trying to get the flavor of the sound. As you found a line of the farmers, you realized it wasn’t as hard as you initially thought. And he was smiling in encouragement. The door creaked as it opened. “Quite comfortable, are you two?” Gloucester asked, poking his head in boldly. Standing up, you blubbered out “m-my lord, we were reading, was all! I promise you nothing-” “I see, I see! Edgar’s a clever lad-well read lad, he is! I’m glad you both could enjoy it! But lady, your father has been calling you and would like to speak with you.” He announced. Checking around, you didn’t see your father nearby. Perhaps he was with your mother in their chambers. “I’ll leave at once…” you said. But you felt Edgar take a step near you, you turned around. “Y/N, could you come again, you think? Read another one?” he asked, his eyes bright. “I…I will. Thank you!” As you left, Gloucester closed the door and turned to his son. “Nothing happened?” Edgar shook his head, walking forward and gesturing in a slight panic. “I swear on my right arm, nothing inappropriate happened. She didn’t say anything too forward and I was chaste as ice with her…we’ve only touched hands and that’s all! We didn’t even touch hands as we were reading!” His father let out a sigh. “I was worried…I was hoping for a kiss!” “Father?!” He relaxed and smiled, letting out a half-laugh in disbelief. “I want to know my son will be happy! At least, have a wife he likes kissing!” “I have to confess…you’ve told me ladies love it but…at the thought of kissing her I…I shake! Besides, how will I know she wants it? Then she really will hate me!” “Have you considered asking her?” he asked with a grin. Edgar shoved his hands in his pockets and exhaled deeply. “Well, it’s too early for any kissing anyways…” Gloucester walked closer, his voice a little sharper. “You’ve always been shy around women. Polite. Formal. But now you’re being too formal. But it seems like this lady will be your wife at this rate. And you understand the laws about annulment-how easily your marriage could be denied like it never happened. And leave all your lands and title heirless, too!? You will make sure the marriage is consummated…” “Father!” he gasped, his ears turning pink. “You’re a young man and she’s a lovely woman! It shouldn’t be a challenge! I have to make sure the marriage is solid and …besides, I want to see my own grandchildren!” “I can’t think of…of that without a heart attack…it’s not that I don’t like touching her or I don’t want to kiss her I just…I get nervous when I’m with her! Why are we even talking about this now!? but…Father, I just want to…I want to make sure she’s…she’s happy…” he said. Gloucester patted his shoulder lovingly. “You don’t have to touch her now! Not at all! We’ll think of something” ------------------------------------------------ The physician felt your head. “Humph, she’ll be fine. It won’t be pleasant, but she’ll be fine…” Head spinning, you laid down further and coughed into your fist. Your parents looked at you worriedly. Sitting down, your father reached over to hold your hand. The illness arrived right at Goneril’s wedding, rendering you unable to go. For a few days, you laid burning of sickness in your bed. “It will be alright, it’s just a little fever…” he assured. He felt warm. Everything was freezing. Freezing cold. You remained in bed with blankets piled over you. At a knock at the door, you hear a familiar voice, his voice. “How is she?” Edgar asked. “Nearing the end, she’ll be better in a bit after some rest. And she’s taking medicine.” “Thank God.” Edgar walked forward, holding a large bowl with a spoon in his hands. “My lord? What are you doing here?” you asked worriedly. He was seeing you as you were sick, your face lost of its color, your hair horrid, and your voice hoarse, far far from “loveliness itself.” Part of you wanted to just bury yourself in the blankets before he could see you. But he looked at you kindly. “I have this. I heard Y/N was sick and I…I wanted to bring it here.” He brought a bowl of brother and a spoon. “Eat all of this broth, there’s a special tea I’ll give you later. My mother insisted on these when I was sick, it will make you strong, Y/N.” Nodding, you sipped the broth, delicious to you. The tea was bitter and full of herbs. But your taste buds were weak. You didn’t mind. It felt good on your stomach. “I’m sorry I… I look like this…” “But Y/N, you’re sick!” “You don’t think-“ “You don’t have to feel like you have to be pretty all the time for me, or my father or anyone…just rest!” Soon enough, you were sleeping soundly. Edgar even came by to talk, telling you stories about his childhood, things he heard of some old king named Arthur, and his companions, and adventures. Reading from books his mother would read him. You hardly noticed the hours passing and your sickbed became pleasant with his company. You were lying asleep. Edgar sat by on the chair, watching you rest soundly. A smile pressed on his face. The color on your face was returning and you had a small smile on your face as you dreamed. “So…a little peck on the head?” Gloucester asked. Excitedly. “No! She’s asleep-and she was just sick too!” “I’ll never understand a man who wishes to be so formal with his bride-to-be!” he muttered, shaking his head. “Alright, I won’t kiss her yet. I’ll give her something…what do women like? What does she like?” “I know she likes books, like me. She seems to like animals well enough. And she likes these foods because she smiles when we serve these at dinner…” Gloucestor recalled, listing various treats off of his fingers. ------------------------------- “Checkmate, I win.” “Again, Cordelia? I can’t believe you.” You gasped, blinking at how her white pieces in one turn overtook your own black ones. “See for yourself, plainly I’ve won!” she reasoned, though there was a mischievous light in her eye. “We should switch to cards-You always win the strategy games!” you teased, taking in a deep sigh. “You just need help with coming up with better strategies!” she laughed merrily. “I can help you with that!” As you began to pick up the pieces to stand again, the floor creaked with the weight of a new pair of shoes on it. Looking up, you saw it was Edgar. Dressed in a nice jacket, his shoes shined, and his hair combed. He held his hands behind his back. “I’d like to speak with Y/N, for just a minute, princess.” “Speak away,” she consented, eyes wide in curiosity. “I have this, a gift….” In his hand was a small bowl of your favorite berries. “What?! You found them in season?” you cried. “A sweet thing, for my sweet mistress. To make sure she is fed and has something to taste she loves…” “Edgar, I…thank you!” You sat this time with Edgar’s added presence as you played cards. He joined sometimes, other times he contented himself to read. But the berries did taste wonderful as you popped them in your mouth. As the week passed on and became the next month, he went over with his father behind him. You sat in the hall with your mother finishing your breakfast. “Here, open this box.” He said, nudging a wooden box in his hands. “I had to ask my father, but he gave his blessing…” Inside was a beautiful necklace. The gems sparkled with the yellow morning light. “Could I…could I put it on you?” he asked. “Yes.” Taking the necklace from his box, you turned around, moving your hair out of the way. His arms reached over you and you could feel his breath, Aware of his closeness, of his hands around you. The cold metal gave the sensitive skin on your neck and shoulders goosebumps. When he clasped it, you felt the contract with his hands. Suddenly vulnerable for no reason other than you were very physically close. Heart fluttering a little more, you turned around slowly. “My lor-Edgar, I…thank you…” you replied. It felt light and cold on you, but you loved the color and how it looked against your skin. “That was my mother’s necklace. My father gave it to her, and now it will be always yours,” he informed. “I will take good care of it,” ------------------------------------------------- Every month you stayed, there was another gift. The next month brought you a special new skirt to wear which you did for him. The next month it was a rich springtime, so you had arrangements of flowers. The next month you had your own little collection of books like his. With each gift, he became less quiet. You talked more. Of your memories. What you dreamt of last night. Your childhood friends. Your own fathers and mothers. The more you thought of it, late at night. You wondered what you would tell Edmund. Awaking in the middle of the night it struck you- the six months were running up already. He was pitiful. He was charismatic. He was charming. He was clever. And he looked at you with a slight smile and sometimes a wink that made your stomach drop. Perhaps this was to get you to fall for him… Tossing in your bed, you wondered about what being married to Edmund would be like… He tried to trick you with his words and outright lie to you. He tried to persuade you that a generous, gentle young man was a bad person. If you could throw away Edgar and marry his brother, what kind of marriage would that be? Even if Edmund inherited anything at all, he was making a fuss of nothing. Was it because of…jealousy? The thought made you wish you could shrink away and hide. Getting up, you paced your chambers in the dark of night, turning it over. Technically, you could refuse the older and leave unscathed. Marry the younger even. But you didn’t want to do that. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Edmund, I have observed him closely enough. I see no real fault in your brother.” “You aren’t looking closely enough,” he quipped. He leaned against the wall, eyes peeled for anyone listening or watching. “Closely?! The other day I saw him as he was sitting peacefully at the window, observing how the rain fell down. A fly came by and landed on his leg. I have seen many people attempt to swat at the creature and kill it, but he…he let it be. When it stirred, he would only glace at it, moving his clothes so it would go somewhere else, but was content to live with it in peace. Why should I be repulsed by a man who would not hurt a fly?” you asked. “He barely even has his sword with him!” He huffed, then crossed his arms again. “You haven’t known him long, you’ve only known him for a few months, I for years…” he reasoned. “Edmund, do you think I am foolish?” you asked angrily. “I…what, no. Not at all, my lady.” He walked over to you and looked you back into your eyes. Taking in a deep breath, you squeezed your fists and spoke as calmly as you could. “Edmund, I don’t want to marry you.” He paused. His frown was stubborn. He put his hand to his mouth, thinking before he continued. “It’s my status. I was born of lechery and you mistake me for lecherous.” “No, I don’t…” “If I had a claim to that title. If I was called a real son, if I could have a few acres of that land, just a few more rooms of the castle, be called ‘earl’ or ‘lord’ or what have you and spoil you with all of those trinkets…would you take me?” Giving it careful thought, you shook your head firmly. “No, Edmund. I don’t love you like a wife. I will love you like a sister, a friend. When I become countess, I will make sure you are every bit as equal. You’ll have some land, plenty of money-Edgar will be earl then. I’m sure I can persuade him. We’ll take you to court. I’ll make you dine with the king and his daughters too! But…I cannot force my heart to love what it cannot…” “Do you love my brother then?” Freezing, you gave it a bit of thought. “I…I don’t know. I’m not sure. But I…I like him. And we are already engaged, he will be a good husband to me, I know it.” “Oh, because of all of those silly things he spoils you with! If I had his money, I’d give you a hundred of those necklaces and ten horses!” he boasted, gesturing away. Taking in another breath, you dared not lose your ground now. “Why do you even like me? You’ve known me less than you know my brother and you don’t like him yet you’re fond of me?” He swallowed. You saw him tear up a little. “I still remember the night you sent me food, I thought I…I had hope that maybe, maybe you could see me…” he cursed. He then went to the wall and punched it with his fists in frustration. Taking a step forward, you softened your voice. “I do see you, but not as a lover… There will be a maid for you, someday. A wonderful, sweet, beautiful maid who will make you happy. But I cannot make you happy and you cannot make me happy either. That is all, I must leave.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was solacing to walk about the gardens. The late spring was arriving and with it the blooms. There was heat and you could smell the hotness on the dirt and feel it on your sweat as you walked continuously on the ground. Often your father stayed in, dozing away the afternoons but your mother joined you. You discussed everything and nothing. Often on those walks, she was more candid about marriage. What to do with quarrels and conflicts. She told you everything about what happened with lovers and spouses in a bed together and what to expect on your wedding night and on nights after. Where men wanted to place it on you and what you could do, how it could be painful or enjoyable. Your ears burned and you were glad that only some flock of sheep could hear these words. But you returned, discussing everyone at home. How badly you missed them, funny stories, and how odd it was that this was now your reality. How this strange, large castle was now even called “home.” “Do you have any questions?” “No, not anymore…” you answered. As you both returned to the castle, you heard a clanging noise and the sound of harsh grunts. “What…what on earth is it?” your mother asked. You thought you recognized Edgar’s voice. Following her, she curiously turned the corner, going to the stable where horses were kept. There was Edgar with a sword fighting away with a tall, thin man with curly black hair and a thin mustache. “Good, my lord! Now parry-there!” he spoke with a thick accent you could not place. He parried but lost his footing, only to get a tap on the leg. “Oh-there!” “I can’t believe I missed that!” Edgar cursed. Turning, he saw both of you, his eyes widening. “Oh! Lady Y/L/N! And Y/N!” A few chickens scurried out of the way, past your petticoats. “Are we stopping some needless fight?” your mother asked. Edgar shook his head, face flushed from the movement. ‘No, this is my swordsmanship instructor-I’m sorry, I’m not that good.” “My lord only needs some practice, is all! Head too much in books and no real action!” the instructor joked. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his younger brother watching from the shadows. He looked at you, but he did not wink. “Any good gentleman should know how to fight properly! Like my brother-Edmund! Oh, he’s good!” he bragged, gesturing to him. The instructor applauded. “Will Sir Edmund like to try?” Edmund was quiet. “Unless you fear upsetting the ladies, brother.” “We can stomach a fight for practice-your respect means well, but we can handle it!” your mother shrugs. “Gladly,” Edmund said. Though there was a slight twinkle in his eye that made your stomach drop. He unleashed his false sword, swinging it high in the air before he landed it. Eyes wide in panic, Edgar threw his sword up to stop it. It hit with a loud, wooden clang. Edmund was aggressive, furiously attacking him. Backing him into corners, Edgar ducked, the sword barely missing him. Your mother pursed her lips though the instructor practically glowed with excitement. But you had a feeling that it had nothing to do with just practicing. Watching worriedly, you decided enough was enough. “Stop! Stop! Both of you-stop!” you walked forward, hands-on hips. Edgar turned, glancing his head up at you, Edmund swung, knocking the side of his body. With an “oof” he fell on his bum to the ground, Edmund’s sword at his face. “Well played, gentlemen! My lord Edmund- practically born with a sword!” the instructor praised, clapping. “That’s your problem, you’re not a born fighter, brother. If only you could thrust properly” he added with something in his tone that made you feel cold. Marching up, you took his hand and pulled Edgar to his feet. He was surprised, first at the feel of your hand on his own hands, eyes wide with embarrassment. “Are you alright?” you asked, brushing off some hay from his shirt. “Perfectly fine!” he assured his face blank. Turning around your skirts, you suggested that your mother and you go inside and sew. The less you saw of Edmund today after that, the better. ---------------------------------------------------------- “Today we celebrate, for now, am I a year older, with two lovely sons, a daughter-in-law to be, a wedding in two months, lands, a king for a friend, and all the luck of the world!” Gloucester announced, drinking deep his goblet. Drinks followed in his honor. You were getting used to standing by Edgar more. Both of you held your goblet in both hands and drank deeply. You caught a slight cough, holding in the beverage and he laughed at that. Wiping up your lips with your sleeves, you smiled. “Everyone, go! Dance!” Gloucester wished. “Musicians, play! Dancers, dance! Fools, go fooling! Just be merry tonight!” “Dance with me!” you insisted. You took his hand and pulled him down. “What! I’m not that good…” he denied. “Doesn’t matter! Just dance with me Edgar, once!” you pleaded. “Well, alright! You wound up dancing four whole dances together. He laughed and you realized he was good. He caught on quickly. Even when he messed up steps you both burst into laughter. As the music faded, you both went to a corner, catching your breaths and drinking water after all that excitement. Edgar tapped at a small crack on the brick wall. “Here, this spot near the walls…do you hear the wind?” “I do!” “It’s the best spot…makes you cool down at once!” “Ah! I feel it!” you say, waving your hand over it. It was further away from the crowd. The music and chatter were dimmer and you could hear each other clearly. Both of you put a hand to feel the blast of cool wind. Refreshing despite the sweaty heat of movement. “You are a good person, er dancer!” you corrected, looking down in embarrassment. “What?!” “You’re a good dancer!” “So I am not a good person, then?” Eyes up, you set your drink down. Inside your dress, your legs shook a little. “Edgar I…months ago, I didn’t even know who you were. Only that you were to be my husband. I was so worried that…that you would be a monster. But you’re not that…you’re…you’re kind and intelligent, and you make me smile and I…I’m just…I’m glad you’re, well, you!” He beamed, his hands taking yours. You felt his own pulse race as he asked. “Can I kiss you, Y/N!?” Nodding, you leaned forward, tilting your head forward. Edgar kissed you. He tasted like the wine they served and it was quiet. But it was far from bad. Away in the middle of the crowd, Gloucestor noticed. He lifted his cup, drinking it deeply with merry mischief in his eyes. His second son, noting the intimate moment as well among a feast bit down on his teeth. You held it for a while and then leaned away. Both of you sucked in a bit of air through your nose. Almost giddy, you sputtered out a comment. “That was…that was nice…” He nodded. His face was bright pink and his grin was the biggest you had seen it. “I don’t think it will be a bad thing at all to be married to you,” he said. “I don’t think so either.” There was a pause, he then took your hand. “Would you like to eat with me? They served some pastries-you have to try the gooseberry one.” ---------------------------------------- Those memories stung in your head now. Happy moments. Ones made miserable in an hour. You thought Cordelia would be enough, you thought it would stop there. But that night, Edmund’s cries of “torches! Torches! Yield! Father!” rang through the halls. You and Gloucester rushed to the stables, his hands pulling up his robes. Walking outside, he looked around the stables only to see Edmund. It was night, and thunder lolled with a warning of a coming storm. “What is it?” “Look-I bleed!” He opened his hand to show a cut on his palm. “What, why were you fighting!” “Where is Y/N? Where is she?” he asked, his head swishing as he found you behind the Earl. “Oh, Y/N, my poor y/n! Thank heavens you’re safe! I fought, I fought him, for your honor.” “My honor?!?” you cried. Gloucester glanced at you with fear. “Father, didn’t I tell you! I should have warned her too, I never thought….you must know, Tonight, Edgar was plotting to kill you to have his inheritance, he turned me over to boast to me-he’d have Y/N too, he…he was planning…” He pulled up the key to your room. “He planned to creep into the girl’s chambers as that poor maid slept and ravish her there in her bed-she’d be forced to marry him after! And no one left to protect her, poor soul!” “What-oh! You poor thing!” Gloucester went over and held you tight. “I would never let that girl within a mile of that demon had I known, I swear on it!” “As if his plot for you wasn’t enough! I couldn’t stand him to speak so crudely-to commit something unthinkable to that innocent maid, so I drew my sword to stop him. He only cut me, then ran away.” “Villain! Where are my men-get them! Search everywhere for him! If Edgar is found here, he is dead!” Head shaking, you could hardly believe it. You broke from Gloucestor’s arms. “See! Even she is in such shock that such a sin could even be thought of!” Edmund accused. You escaped back to the castle. Up, up, up you ran, skirts flying. Not caring that guests were over. Not caring for anything, your head spinning and your throat dry. You opened a window out to the open. It was dark and rain pelted on your face and hands. Lightning crashed, with brief light all over. You could hardly make out the wilderness in the night. But what you could make out were the sounds of hoofbeats and the dim flame of torches. You scoured everyone for one figure, one body, one hint that he was out there, somewhere. “Edgar!!!” you cried, your voice barely echoing out. Thunder rolled again. “Edgar! EDGAR!” you screamed. Hoping, praying, somehow, he would hear you. That you would make out one small figure in that dark. That you would see him turn back. But the men with torches advanced. Their swords were drawn, and they were drawn for your betrothed. They rode off into the night with a whinny of their stallions. You had sunk down on your knees. Thinking of that first kiss briefly, on the night you danced together, of your gifts, of your sickness thinking of everything that just happened, how it all seemed like a nightmare and yet it was all real, you finally sobbed. Sobbed and heaved until you had no voice, and your face was soaked with tears. You lost your friend. And now you lost him too. To think it all began with a letter. That stupid, stupid letter. To think you never saw any of this coming. All because of a letter that arrived that first morning. You wished you could have burned it away instead of letting it sit burned in your pocket, mocking you with its innocent words.

“His highness, King Lear, will be dividing his lands between his daughters. We would like for you to be present.”

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