go with grace {marcellus}

[Ayianna Belle Sivané]

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Marcellus Yong

336 words

Music

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I can go anywhere I want [break]

Anywhere I want, just not home

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Ayianna breathed in, once. Breathed out. All this time of waiting and wishing to get home, and now what? Ambrose was finished. He was done. This imposter– this usurper– had won. She had ascended the throne. She was going to hold court from here on out, and Ayianna was entirely at her mercy. From what she knew of Queen’s mercy, she had no confidence in it at all.



She shuddered and took yet another deep breath, leaning against the wall. It did nothing. She had barely kept her composure during the meeting with Ambrose and his mother. The younger Enigma wasn’t there, but she had seen the look in his eyes this morning. He had known, somehow, already. The nobles declared for a mortal. And Ambrose was strategizing. His mother had called her in. Told her what was happening. Maeryn was standing before the throne. Not Ambrose. They had turned to her like she might have some answer, but she had nothing to say. So she left. So she was here. Alone, cold, scared, silent. She wasn’t immortal, but she didn’t want to live like this at all. There might be an end, but it wasn’t coming fast enough. [break][break]




What was her move? Declare for this queen at the last moment? Ask her for mercy? [break][break]




She had been stolen from her homeland by a Queen eighteen years ago. And she had still been here, not trying to escape, but just to make a window in her prison. She didn’t have enough faith in herself or in justice to think she might truly escape. And now what? She would be demanded to forfeit her life for a fiance she didn’t want? Would she be expected to marry someone else? She was exhausted with always being a pawn, always being played. She didn’t want more power. She wanted to leave the system altogether. How was this moment any different? She was always trapped. Always a bird beating her wings against her cage, no matter how glassy or gilded.





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[Marcellus Yong]

Ayianna Belle Sivané

After everything, it was over. Guinevere Marcel was declared to be High Queen. Marcellus had considered her the better option out of the two of them, but even so. He supposed it was not his place to meddle in the affairs of the surface. He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. A new bearer of the crown would send ripples of change through the waters of the Faewild. He had yet to see how it would affect him and his family. He didn't know if he should return home, back to his family. To his mother. The thought sickened him. He loved them all, in his way, but he couldn't bear to see his mother's displeasure turned on him. Or perhaps she'd be smug. This apprenticeship is a mistake, she had said when he told her of his plans. But she had let him go anyway. After all, who would miss a prince? Deep down, he knew the most likely scenario if he were to return home was her ignoring him. As she often did.

So he decided to stay. It hadn't been too long, barely a day, since Marcel was declared as the winner of the challenge for the throne. He would watch it unfold, waiting. He tried to promise himself that at the first sign of danger, he would turn back to the Undersea. That he wanted to go home. The stubborn words would not leave his lips. Faerie couldn't lie. Not even to themselves, if they deep down believed otherwise. He was no exception.

He would often walk to better sort out his thoughts. The halls of the palace were vast in space and beauty. So he walked.

He could not stop his mind from drifting to the girl with the blossom dress. Ayianna. She was one of the more affected individuals in this entire conflict, seeing as she was betrothed to the man who lost. He worried for her. He knew of a queen's wrath and displeasure. He hated the thought of the sweet blossom girl suffering from that wrath. As if his thoughts guided his steps to her, there she was. She looked troubled. He didn't blame her for it.

He stepped up to her. "Ayianna?"

[Ayianna Belle Sivané]

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Marcellus Yong

443 words

Music

Outfit

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I can go anywhere I want [break]

Anywhere I want, just not home

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Ayianna could not, for once, pull herself into the image she had been beaten into. She thought of the statues carved into the walls outside her room. She thought about how trees grew around the wind patterns of their home. She thought about how she had drawn herself up and drawn herself into the image of the dutiful wife. All her thoughts stopped. She shattered. [break][break]

She didn't know how to be anywhere when she felt like she had just taken a death blow. The idea of never getting home was bad. Suddenly, the idea of beings sent back home was worse. She would forever be a prisoner, forever be trapped. There was no good outcome for her. She was Maeryn's ward. If Ambrose was killed she would die alongside him. If he was exiled-- what then? She was the sacrifice. She was the first blood. She was a tragic hero. She could wrap it in pretty words and pictures, but she was doomed either way.  [break][break]

She held up a hand. She heard her name like she was listening through water. She thought of that prince from the Undersea, the only prince who had ever been really kind to her. She assumed he was gone now. She assumed whoever was speaking to her was some courtier or servant. She assumed she would have to answer them. She closed her eyes regardless. [break][break]

What could she say? She couldn't say she was fine. She couldn't lie. She couldn't say she'd taken sick. She couldn't say she wanted to be alone. She didn't want anything. She wanted to fade away into nothingness before everything was taken from her. She wanted to know if she really had anything left to lose. [break][break]

Just memories now. Her mother's smile. The whisper of her willow. The rush of a stream. The flowers in her garden. She tilted her head back, sliding down to the ground. Her head rested against marble. She thought of it as a headstone. She pulled her knees into her chest. Her dress fell over her legs. [break][break]

The floor was cold. The light was bright. She hadn't even registered where she was-- some tiny room beside the greenhouse for no clear purpose. She couldn't bring herself to get up and go to the gardens. She didn't want to move. She still had to answer her visitor. She opened her eyes. She was not ready for what she saw.
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"What are you doing here?" she asked, suddenly aware of how much taller he was, of that fact that she was siting on the ground, of the fact that they were alone. Her face flushed. "Shouldn't you be home?" The word caught in her throat.
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[Marcellus Yong]

Ayianna Belle Sivané

His thoughts were plagued with home. Was that even the right word? He had never, truly, felt at home in the Undersea Palace. It was a masterful, beautiful work of art, and yet... he couldn't find it in his heart to call it home. 

In the back of his mind, he wondered if she felt the same way about the palace of the High Court.

Marcellus couldn't help but want to reach out to her. To comfort her in whatever way he could. But he wasn't sure if it would help her. Even so, he worried for her. For her well-being. It struck him that Queen Guinevere had ample reason to do something dreadful to Ayianna. In the bloody nature of the courts, just being betrothed to the fallen heir was reason enough to hurt her. It made his blood run cold. He didn't want this beautiful blossom girl to get swept up in the glimmering cruelty of the courts.

Her hiding away in this tiny room beside the palace greenhouses was not a good sign for her mental state. He couldn't blame her.

Home. That word again. His eyes darted away, unable to look at her. He was overcome with a sickening swirling dance of emotions. "I... I still have my apprenticeship here. I did not want to leave it so quickly. The new Queen should not bring me harm, due to my mother." It was not a lie. He was sure Guinevere Marcel would be hesitant to harm him, due to his royal blood. She didn't know that his mother didn't care about him. Perhaps she'd even applaud Guinevere if she killed him.

He motioned to the spot beside her. "May I sit?" Asking permission would allow her to refuse him if she wasn't comfortable. He knew, if he were in her place, all he would want was comfort. He wasn't sure if she would want the same.

[Ayianna Belle Sivané]

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Marcellus Yong

523 words

Music

Outfit

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I can go anywhere I want [break]

Anywhere I want, just not home

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Ayianna sighed, a deep breath that would not in any way ward of the demons she was facing. Facing, not fighting. She wanted them to win if it meant all this would be over.  [break][break]

She was used to being trapped, used to feeling like a pinned butterfly or caged curiosity. There was no real word for what she was-- a nymph who was taken from her home, who never had one. She was made to be the very breath of the land and now her lungs had been torn out, and her captors had cleaned the blood off her hands. She hadn't. She had been bleeding all these years. Was that why it was so hard to breathe?
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This room was no comfort. Even him standing over her just made her feel more alien and unlovable than before. Cold white walls with no windows, ivy growing through the cracks that ignored her. At one time the meadows themselves had called her sister. Now she was no one's family.
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The floor was smooth, and hard, and unyielding. She wished the earth would rise up and swallow her. She wished she could return to the dirt that had given life to her. But the earth had rejected her as its child, or she had been stolen from it long enough that it forgot her name. 
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Ayianna had no true name, as a nymph. She was only what others called her, what they dictated that she should be. She had no idea what she wanted. It had never mattered. And now he was saying that he was safe because of who his mother was, and asking if he could sit, and she wanted him to go. She did not need another reminder that she was wanted nowhere, that she belonged nowhere, that she had been told her fate was a death sentence and expected to face it like a queen. The crown had been nailed to her head. She would topple under its weight.
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"Nymphs have no mothers. We are born nameless. Our spirits are given a name by the earth itself, but before I was called anything, it called me sister, daughter, beloved. Who will speak for me now?" Her voice was shaking. Her hands clenched in on themselves like she was trying to grab the ground, but there was nothing there but air. She did not want him close. She hated that empty space. 
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She was nothing's sister, no one's beloved. Ambrose had never loved her and the fae had never wanted her. "If you care to sit, do." Even now, she feared what would happen if she denied him, if she denied anyone. She had largely hoped to be unnoticed, because if she was unnoticed, nothing could be demanded of her, and she could not fail at anything. Now she was noticed, and it made her want to crawl out of her skin. She could only see this ending poorly.
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She was not speaking logically. She was not thinking logically. She was just a like bird beating her wings at the walls of prison, trying not to forget how it felt to fly.
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[Marcellus Yong]

Ayianna Belle Sivané

Marcellus was so unsure. He wanted so badly to comfort her. To know exactly what to say and do. But he didn't. And that pained him. He was so used to being unable to navigate the feelings and actions of others, but it rarely bothered him this much. 

It felt like drowning. Or, at least, what he imagined drowning felt like. Like he was going to suffocate under the weight of his lack of assurance. Fumbling in the inky depths, searching for salvation. His lungs ached for air; to simply know what to say. He hated this feeling. This horrible lack of knowing. There was no book that could tell him what to do here. No piece of architecture that could give him hold to pull himself out of this dreadful feeling. All his prior knowledge was useless here. He had never felt more useless himself.

His heart ached for her. She was so... hurt. She didn't deserve this. He hesitated, unsure of his next words. He did not know how to navigate these waters. "I will speak for you." He said the words softly, quietly, in a single breath. Fae could not lie. He meant them with every fibre of his being. This beautiful, blossom girl did not deserve the pain the Court was putting on her. She deserved so much better. He did not have much power, but he would help her, all bargains aside.

He sat next to her, his back against the cold wall. He gave her space. His sister always wanted space when she was upset. He supposed that Aiyanna might want space too. He pulled his knees close to his chest, resting his skin on the tops of his knees. He was no comfort. He did not know what to do.

[Ayianna Belle Sivané]

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Marcellus Yong

438 words

Music

Outfit

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I can go anywhere I want [break]

Anywhere I want, just not home

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Ayianna knew a million peculiar cruelties. She knew them well. She knew them vividly. She could close her eyes and they would play in her mind, in full color. But she didn’t know what being lied to felt like. She knew being deceived, but that was because there was always a catch. She knew being unwanted, because it always ended with a closed door. She had no context for this. 

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Her whole life had been cold comfort. Her whole life had been prewritten. Her whole life had been giving her everything but the things she wanted. And now it was about to be over. The mortal queen had won the throne. She would kill Ambrose. She would kill Ayianna. She would destroy them all. Ayianna had been locked out of the council, and that didn’t even bother her. The only comfort here was that it would all be over soon.


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He offered to speak for her. Would his words matter? She knew hers never did. She was envious of him in a way that made her almost hate him. He had a mother and a name. He had a home to go back to and words that carried weight. And he was still kind to her. She didn’t deserve it. “I don’t want your pity,” she said, and all her anger came spilling out at him. Maybe it wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.






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She was sick of being fair. She was sick of being fair, and being good, and being peaceful, and being righteous, and being ignored and betrayed and unwanted and insulted. What good had being kind done her? What good had any of this done her? She was not angry at him at all, and yet, had there been a window here, she might just have pushed him out of it. She wanted to stop feeling helpless. She wanted this to stop feeling hopeless.




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“Speak if you care to,” she said bitterly. “It is all for nothing. I was always going to die like this.” She stood, suddenly, and took a shuddering breath. “I wish I had never been born. I wish–”






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She froze. She looked at him again, and realized who she was talking to, and set a hand against her chest, and gasped. She took a step back and then another. “Oh,” she breathed quietly, terrified all over again. What was wrong with her? Why was she snapping at him? “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m–” She broke off and started crying again. She wished she wouldn’t. She wished she wouldn’t be so useless. She wasn’t even angry anymore. She was just scared.



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[Marcellus Yong]

Ayianna Belle Sivané

His gaze softened. He had no experience with this sort of pain. It was seen as weakness among his family. It was seen as something to be hid. Never had he seen someone allow themselves to shatter in the presence of another. But he saw no weakness within her. He saw pain, a depth of it, yes, but not a pain that made her weak. 

If this a sword shatters in trials and battles, it is a weak blade. The same is for fae of all sorts.

He remembered his mother telling him that, so vividly. With that cold, indifferent look on her sharp features. He'd learned it long ago. But was it truth?

He wasn't sure anymore.

Did he pity her? Was that what this was? Pity had always sounded so... demeaning. He had no intention of demeaning her. He was worried for her, yes. But did that equate to a sort of weakness? Was she weak for enduring? He'd have to consider that. "I do not mean to... demean you. I do not-..." He did not know what he meant. He let himself trail off. 

How was he meant to help? Could he help at all? Or was it useless to even try? Was this just another thing that he was bound to ruin? His eyes widened slightly, listening to the words spilling from her lips. Dangerous words. Harmful words. Horrible words. But not unfamiliar ones. "Do not speak of that. That sort of talk does not do us good. Do not apologize, either. You need not apologize for being true to your own feelings." The words spilled from his lips, wiser than he thought he could be. "I believe you to be incredibly strong. I may not have much power, but I will aid you where I can. You need only ask it of me."

He watched the tears drip down her cheeks, feeling more helpless than ever.