@niamh-the-imposter-blog / niamh-the-imposter-blog.tumblr.com
According to myth, elves only meet death through the clash of swords, the stab of flesh, the spill of blood. (According to myth, even halflings live far beyond the years of normal man.) They watch kingdoms rise and fall. They watch children be born, then grow old and die. They stand vigil over the lives of men, the silent sentries of history.
Immortality is a gift not given to the faint of heart, and fate has a way of weeding out those unworthy of it...
Niamh had missed breakfast, preferring instead to sleep in and avoid the bustle of court. Her belly was now starting to swell, though she hadn’t yet summoned the courage to go to the infirmary to see if it was what she had feared, or rather just stress wreaking havoc on her body.
The halls of the castle were more quiet than usual - eerie in a way that made her hair stand on end. It was almost as if it were abandoned again, and it was only as she neared the epicenter of the castle that she first came upon another person.
“What has happened?” she asked, no longer able to shake the feeling that something had, in fact, occurred. It was now just a question of what.
Khai’s scream suddenly filled the infirmary as the knife was pulled from her leg. Being stabbed was probably the worst pain she’d ever felt. Luckily, once the dagger was gone, the healers gave her milk of the poppy to help her deal with the pain, and after they’d stitched and bandaged the wound she fell into a deep sleep. She awoke a few hours later – the sun was setting, and the infirmary was busy and filled with people. Distracted, Khailee momentarily forgot about her wound and tried to sit up, only to feel it suddenly sting once more. She sucked in a breath and paused in her movements, tears filling her eyes as she looked down at the bandage and remembered everything that had happened that morning.
Niamh had elected to missed breakfast, and therefore didn’t hear of what happened until much later in the day. But as soon as she received word, she made her way to the infirmary, wanting to feel helpful in some way despite feeling such a wreck in her own life. She noticed Lady Khai struggling to sit up, and quickly made her way over to gentle her movements. “Shhh,” she cooed. “You’re fine now. You’re safe....” It was what she had wished someone had said to her after her own attack. It was what Tristan had said, but she no longer believed it.
pvllux: ( flashback )
“ no !! “ he exclaimed, rushing to correct her. “ that is simply apart of your virtue, “ the prince reasons as he steps forward to collect her into his arms. pollux presses a sweet kiss atop her head, as he shoots a dangerous at one of the servants in the garden to HURRY UP PREPARATIONS. “ happy birthday, my sweetest. shall we take a stroll ‘round the gardens, light of my life ? we can take a look at all the freshly bloomed roses. “
despite the easy smile on his lips, pollux was horrifically upset. how d a r e the tea he had organized be unprepared when the guest of honour, theirfuture princess,was in their presence ?? he could not believe the lack of preparation on the part of the castle staff. he asked so little of them – make his meals, clean his chambers, be practice targets for archery games – and they could not ready this small task ?? surely, he would have to take this matter up with his mother as soon as niamh’s visit was over. if his bride to be understood the sin that had been done against her in this moment, she would surely be as upset as he was.
She could feel the discomfort from her travels and her worries over her reception leeching from her bones in the arms of her beloved. “Any day with you is the happiest of my life,” she cooed, understanding in no uncertain terms, why so many songs and poems were written about this feeling. At the mention of the flowers, her smile grew more brilliant still. “Have they planted the yellow ones?” she asked excitedly. They had always been her favorite, and had grown to have much significance for the pair.
She hoped, quite secretly, that there might be some surprise waiting for her in the garden. While there was nothing she needed more than Pollux, the idea of a shiny new necklace or a fine silk gown would be a most welcomed addition indeed.
The last thing he had intended was to embarrass her, but in his own defense, she had done plenty of that to his own family. Who was she, to deny a future king of marriage? He couldn’t understand. And now here she stood, thinking she could slip back into Pollux’s life so easily. Needless to say, it would take much convincing for the king to approve. Without his own approval, there was no marriage. “ Yes, that is certainly his choice, ” he responded, being as formal as possible. Hopefully his brother would decide correctly. “ I am glad you’ve seen the error in your ways, Niamh. However, I would not expect a quick welcoming. ”
“No, I have no illusions of it....” Nothing about life at court had been easy for Astrid thus far, and she had a suspicion that things could only get worse. “Still, I am willing to put in the work, and I can only pray that in time my devotion will prove true....” And she was devoted, though perhaps not in the way people might think. Her life was on the line here, and she would do everything in her power to protect it.
pollux sped through the halls of the bearorian castle– a purpose in his stride. he gave a momentary glance at the lady-in-waiting he had borrowed from hismother’sstaff as she struggled to keep up with the youthful prince. “ now, “ he started loudly– the stress was evident in his tone– as he addressed the noblewoman who was steps behind. “ lady lucrezia, you are SURE everything is set up perfectly ?? there are no chips in the cups ?? not a flower out of place ?? “ she shakes her head fiercely. “ good, “ he says, unrelenting in his stride. everything needed to be perfect for when lady asteria arrived. today marked her sixteenth summer and he wanted make the day memorable. it was the least he could do when she had ventured so far away from her home for him.
as the prince finally neared the doors to the gardens – his father’s PRIDE and JOY – they were opened wide by a pair of guards. pollux did not thank them, but instead, his eyes went wide at the sight of his fiancée. “ NIAMH !! “ he gasped, horrified. “ my love, you’re early !! “
It had been a weary journey, and Niamh would very much like to never make it again. That is to say, she would much prefer to live in the castle always, as was the future promised to her one day. The only thing more weary that her journey was the waiting - waiting for the day when she might call her love her husband.
She had spent the weeks leading up to her birthday laying several hints to her father that the greatest present she could ask for would be for him to move their marriage date forward - her mother often fretted that 16 was too young for a girl to wed, but not every girl was betrothed to their soulmate the way Niamh was. Even as she was bustled up in her carriage, she gave one last wistful sigh to her parents, ever-so-subtly musing that it would be her greatest joy to return next to their manor as a married woman.
She burst through the doors to her future home as though it were already hers, a brilliant smile overtaking her at the sight of her beloved. “My heart!” she exclaimed in kind. “I could not wait a second longer! What is the matter? You hardly seem happy to see me?”
Though he didn’t believe her words, he felt she knew what was best. Nathaniel wouldn’t force her to go to the infirmary, but he would certainly be weary. Her words further surprised him, leading to his brother, someone he hadn’t expected her to be thinking of. How long had it been since she called off their engagement? Perhaps the girl was feeling regretful.
“ Yes, the poisoning… he should be fully recovered soon. ” he responded, a small smile on his face as he held himself in a respectful stance. Maybe it was cruel of him, to expect her to not care about his brother’s potential murder. She was still human, of course, and if she had loved him… then surely, apart of her still did. Unless she never loved him at all. What business was that of his? “ Have you been speaking to him again? Forgive me, my lady, but I believe you were the one who cut off all ties. ”
Niamh looked down at her feet in the appearance of shame at the King’s questioning, for she was not certain she could feign enough remorse when she already felt so out of sorts. “Yes, it was I who broke communications, I am afraid to say, though I now see the error in it. As for your question, I cannot say for sure. I have gone to visit him, and I would very much like to mend our relationship, but of course, that decision is ultimately up to him....”
Self-Portrait Against Red Wallpaper War of the Foxes, Richard Siken (via endlessly-unwinding)
there were no words on pollux’s lips. he was speechless. how could niamh, after months of tortured silence and coldness, confuse him so ? “ what… ? “ he wanted to push down the swelling in his chest. he did not want his hopes to raised. he did not want to fall back into love with her. poisoning aside, his life was going perfectly. he was happy with his sybil. why would he trade his surefire happiness for someone who had so viciously broken his heart ? “ what are you saying ? “
“I’m saying.... I’m sorry,” she said, biting back every bit of pride she had inside her. Those words had always been a weakness in her eyes and she hated saying them now. “I’m saying I made a mistake. I thought I was protecting myself when I allowed our engagement to fall apart, but I see now I was only opening myself up to more hurt.” It was honest. If nothing else, she could say she was being entirely truthful in that moment. It was for that reason she didn’t say the one thing she knew she ought to - the one thing that might help secure her fate. I love you.
There had never been much room for love where Astrid was from...
Astrid had always thought her mother was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Forget Queens, Princesses, Noblewomen... Mary Alice had them all beat. Her clear, olive skin. Her sharp, delicate features. The ample swell of her bosom. The womanly swoop of her hips. Her long chocolate locks that fell off her shoulders like waves... The other women of the house always said she brought in the wealthiest suitors, jealousy dripping off their tongues, and Astrid knew just enough to carry it as a point of pride. Her mother: the belle of the whorehouse.
As time went on, Astrid learned to track the years across the faces of the women who raised her. Agatha’s frown lines deepened, Catherine developed crow’s feet in the corner of her eyes, and Martha’s skin began to sag heavy around her mouth. But still her mother remained the same - untouched, as beautiful as Astrid had ever remembered her.
She was never sure if her mother really loved her, but there were times when the woman would look upon her, that timeless twinkle in her eyes, and said ‘You have many gifts, my sweet.’ In those moments, Astrid always believed it. She knew of her true lineage, the way her veins ran with noble blood. She knew of the sacrifices her mother had made, so that she would be able to read and write. And though she didn’t know it then, she soon came to discover the striking resemblance she bore to her sister, one that would someday lift her from her place of servitude to where she rightfully belonged. She was born with many gifts, it was true...
But what she didn’t know was the gift her mother never dared to speak out loud, for the walls of the brothel were thin and prone to talk. The gift that old age would never reach her. The gift that her beauty would never fade. Like so many gifts, as Astrid would come to find, it was also a curse, and Mary Alice dare not say the word aloud.
At 8, her mother taught her to always style her hair so that her ears might not show. At 14, her mother warned her of the peril of falling in love with a man. At 18, as she was finally traveling away from home, her mother finally said the word out loud:
Elf.
And then sent her on her way.
Six years later, Astrid still doesn’t know what to do with it. All she knows is that there was probably a reason her mother maintained her silence. All she knows is that she will do the same.
“Mhmm, indeed.“ Delilah had never tried to take her own life and thanks to the child she carried within her, she never would. The woman wasn’t of the mind that it was a cowardly way to go. On the contrary, the lady figured if that was the way a person wanted to take their leave of this world then they should do so. But Delilah had a duty to her unborn child, and would not make it an orphan and leave it to the mercy of her husband’s greedy uncles. “My husband. What about you? Are you here to visit someone?”
“I am sorry to hear of it. I’m sure he died valiantly,” she said, feeling, not for the first time, unbearably selfish that she considered her losses so great when others had lost their lives. “I did not lose anyone in particular.... I am only here to pay my respects.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she supposed it almost could be.
With advisors in tow and guards behind them, Nathaniel made his way through the castle, listening to what his men suggested. He always took in other opinions, interested in hearing different strategies from anyone other than himself. His hands behind his back, nodding continuously, he hadn’t even noticed Niamh at first. A woman he hadn’t spoken to in a long time, and for good reason. He used to think so highly of her, and now? All he wanted was for Pollux to get over a girl who clearly didn’t love him.
She was only a couple steps away but he saw her body movements as if she was going to be sick. He waved back his men, moving toward Niamh to check if she was okay. “ Lady Niamh, are you feeling unwell? ” he questioned, though he already knew the answer. “ I can accompany you to the infirmary if you cannot steady yourself. ”
She startled to discover King Nathaniel behind her, and despite the wave of nausea, she made every effort to pull herself together in front of her King. It wouldn’t do her well to have the King think something wrong with her.
“Your Highness,” she spun around, ignoring the way it sent her stomach turning in the other direction. “I am fine, I assure you.” Her words did little to assert that fact, and she decided to use it to her advantage. “Nothing that won’t pass with time. I must confess I’ve been feeling rather unsteady these days, since news of Pollux’s illness. I should be set to rights as soon as he is...”
With a quick motion, Bryn retrieved his arms from her and quickly showed her his palms with his hands in the air in a movement of trust. “I apologize,” he said kindly, though his tone was confused. “I did not mean to upset you further.”
He still kept a good three feet between them, but he lowered his arms slowly and tilted his head a little. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to be wandering about when you might be ill. Are you sure you don’t wish to see a healer? They can be quite discreet, when asked to be, if that is an issue.”
She had not been to see the healer since the attack, and she did not plan to change that any time soon. Whether in violence or with clinical precision, the idea of some unfeeling hands on her body made her stomach churn in a way that had nothing to do with the nausea. “No, that is not the issue,” she said firmly, trying to prepare herself to take some steps but finding the idea intolerable. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed assistance.
It was lucky enough that she found the man kind and unthreatening, and holding her chin up to maintain as much dignity as possible, she asked him: “If you insist on being some assistance to me, would you mind escorting me to my room?”
he felt as if a knife had struck him in the heart. he found himself mourning the loss of her love often. that is, more often than he mourned the loss of her ( his ) family. hagan had only been twelve. perhaps niamh no longer knew how to play his heartstrings, but the asteria family would always be the easiest song to play. “ you… “ pollux took a shaky breath. “ you made it extremely clear on sanda mel that you did not want anything to do with me. “
“I was... confused,” she explained, her hesitance at the words hopefully coming across as embarrassment more than reluctance. Because the truth was, she still was confused - and scared and lost - but the only solution she could see was to secure a union for herself before things got too far along. “My family - I thought that if I didn’t care about anyone anymore, that would mean I could not be hurt again.” How wrong, as every word felt like a knife to her heart and she would feel bad except this was her life she was fighting for. “I was wrong...”
“I rarely ask things just because.” He said simply, it was true however he was getting bored with this, and she should be happy he was in a good mood, being rude to royalty especially one from Ironhaven wasn’t a bright thing to do.
“Fine. I’m Duchess Niamh of Bearoria,” she declared with every ounce of self-importance she could muster. She was once considered high enough to become a princess herself. She would not allow herself to be cowed by him, not while her reputation still remained in tact.
The information she bombarded him with hit so suddenly and hard enough that it winded him. All he could do was stare at her in shock as he tried to process what she had screamed at him and work out what to deal with first.
“You’re right.” It was the only answer he could initially give as he stepped away from her until his back hit the wall, and then he just slid down into a heap on the floor. “I am a coward. I knew I was falling for you, but I ran away from the fact for so many reasons. I was scared of my feelings for you, I was hoping that avoiding the issue meant you wouldn’t fall for me either, and I’m an engaged man and I was trying to do the right thing. That’s what I kept telling myself - that I was doing the right thing. But I realise now I was trying to be something that I’m not.” He looked up at her briefly, his eyes brimming with tears, before he felt compelled to look away again. “I was trying to be a good man. But I’m not a good man, Astrid.”
He barked out a harsh laugh, the sound coming out choked and hollow. “I went through with my engagement because I thought it was the right thing to do for the sake of my kingdom, and then when I started to develop feelings for Cleo, I thought that meant I was getting over my feelings for you. But I was wrong. Now I just have feelings for both you and Cleo, and I hate myself for it.” Tristan was not a man who cried often, but the tears were flowing freely down his cheeks. “I hate myself, Astrid. I try to be a good man, I try to do the right thing for once in my life and I still can’t get it right!” His hands balled into fists and he struck the stone floor again and again, even as his knuckles turned bloody. “I just fuck everything up again and again!” He finally gave up on his tirade against the floor and cradled his bloodied hand against his chest.
“It’s my fault. I made you feel this way and I didn’t protect you when you needed me. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He tried to brush away some of the tears, but only succeeded in smearing a streak of blood across his face. He looked up at Astrid, feeling like a crumpled, pathetic mess, and he was sure the appearance matched. “Why do you love me?” It wasn’t an accusation; it was a quiet, confused question that perhaps could have been phrased better if he’d asked how she could love someone like him, someone completely undeserving of it.
She had said far more than she intended to - like the anger had ripped the words from her throat before she could even fully form them or think of their consequences. But still, she could not regret them, as they were all true and showed more courage than Tristan had perhaps deserved, but she had needed to remind herself she still possessed. She didn’t even regret them as she watched Tristan step away from her and crumple to the ground before her very eyes, though it took every ounce of her strength to hold onto that fire and not go to him and take them all back just to comfort him.
She could see the tears welling up in his eyes, and while she felt ones of her own to match, she still did not go him, forcing herself to stand still and allow him instead to speak his peace they both desperately needed to hear.
It was such a surge of emotions, so different from the anger that had just recently possessed her body, but no less powerful and it was enough to take her breath away. Relief that he still had some feelings for her. Despair that he had ever felt the need to urge those feelings away. Regret that she had not acted on all of this sooner, when she was still intact and his heart could have belonged to her completely. Jealousy that she was no longer alone in his heart.
But most of all, she just felt pain, her own and, more acutely, his, which no one ever told her was a side effect of love. His pain was her pain, and above her fright at his sudden, violent outburst, was a soul-wrenching agony that caused a sob to bubble up in her throat, her own tears falling with abandon to match his.
The sight of his face, broken and bloodied, was what finally cut her resolve, and she made her way to him slowly, crouching down in front of him to rub the blood from his cheek, before taking his bloodied hand and cradling it to her chest, right above her heart.
“I love you because you are a good man,” she started simply, all previous anger forgotten. All she wanted was to rid them both of this sorrow. “A good man is not one who simply does everything right, never makes a false step, never makes mistakes. A good man is one who keeps trying, even when he falters, who picks himself up and keeps striving to be better. I love you because you were the first person to see me, the first person to make me feel as though I saw them. I love you because you made me feel exposed when I wanted to be seen, and safe when I wanted to feel protected....” Her heart pounded heavy in her chest, and she wondered for a moment if she should be saying any of this. He’d just admitted she wasn’t alone in his heart, and these words could very well end up destroying her, but she had to lay it out, just once, just to know that she fought with everything she had. “... I love you because I really don’t think I ever had a chance for anything else. You’ve become home for me...”
He shrugged he had offered help and she refused, he wasn’t going to bend backwards for her.” Call it what you will.” He didn’t recognise her, “Who are you?” He was dressed in noble clothes but didn’t act all that dignified, she vaguely remembered him of Adrian, a commoner in a nobles clothes, he however didn’t care. Maybe she was just on that time of the month, or something.
“Do you honestly care?” she scoffed, knowing full well that duchess or not, she was still beneath him and he was likely to see her that way regardless.
