Maria Thorpe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
givetheslip) wrote2015-01-31 01:23 pm
givetheslip) wrote2015-01-31 01:23 pm
Entry tags:
Memories for Mask or Menace
1. Nottinghamshire, England, 1179.
She is nearly eighteen and long past the time she should be a wife, but Maria is boisterous and boyish and it doesn't matter that she has a reasonably pretty face when there are other, more pliable girls. She knows she's to be married off one day, but surely, sure that day is far off—
Except her father's face is serious and severe as she steps into the hall to meet him. And she knows instinctively what he's about to say.
"It's time, Maria," he says, in a tone that's all business and no sentiment. "I've finished the arrangements. You're to marry Peter Hallaton on your birthday." For a moment, his mouth twitches in a half-smile. "Consider it a gift."
But this is no gift. She remembers Lord Hallaton vaguely—he's older, pleasant enough in demeanor, and not offensive to the eye. But must she really give up her freedom to give him a wife and children?
Of course she must. It is her duty.
"All right, Father." She inclines her head, not meek but not arguing. "Thank you."
And she knows her days of running around like a boy are done. Maria walks out with her head held high, not looking anyone in the eye until little Henry runs up to her.
"Maria, Maria! The rain’s stopped at last—come fight with me outside? " He looks so hopeful. "I found some great sticks! "
"In a little while, Henry. " She smiles, for both their sakes. "I promise. "
And she will, because it will probably be the last time. But for the moment, she brushes past him and returns to her room, where she sits down on her bed and rests her face in her hands. This will be the only time she lets herself show weakness, and only to herself. This is a long time in coming, but it still seems so fast. But what else can she do? Taking vows and going to a convent would be even worse.
Maybe it will be fine. Peter Hallaton is a decent man, from what she knows of him. Maybe she’ll be happy as his wife. Maybe.
After a while, she pulls herself together and goes to play at swords with Henry once more. Her father will have to live with her being boisterous a little while longer.
2. Jerusalem, 1191.
View this for the full shared memory, from 6:26-9:22. Ends at the exclamation about sorcery.]
"We gather here to mourn the loss of our beloved Majd Addin, taken too soon from this world. I know you feel sorrow and pain at his passing, but you should not."
She knows he's coming—the killer of eight who will likely make nine with her life. But not easily, and not if she has anything to say about it. She will kill him if she can, and take up his time if she can't. It's Robert whose time is more precious now, and if she dies giving it to him, so be it. I trust you, Maria, he'd said as he prepared to leave for Arsuf. I can only trust you.
"For just as we are all brought forth from the womb, so too must we all one day pass from this world. It is only natural, like the rising and the setting of the sun. Take this moment to reflect on his life and give thanks for all the good he did. Know that one day we will stand with him again in paradise!"
There he is, the man in the white hood—not a scholar.It's time to make their move. As the 'eulogy' continues, she whispers to the priest, then gestures to her men.
"As you know, this man was murdered! We have tried to track his killer, but it has proved difficult! These creatures cling to the shadows and run from any who would face them fairly. But not today! For it seems one stands among us! He mocks us with his presence and must be made to pay! Seize him! Bring him forward, that God's justice might be done!"
She is nearly eighteen and long past the time she should be a wife, but Maria is boisterous and boyish and it doesn't matter that she has a reasonably pretty face when there are other, more pliable girls. She knows she's to be married off one day, but surely, sure that day is far off—
Except her father's face is serious and severe as she steps into the hall to meet him. And she knows instinctively what he's about to say.
"It's time, Maria," he says, in a tone that's all business and no sentiment. "I've finished the arrangements. You're to marry Peter Hallaton on your birthday." For a moment, his mouth twitches in a half-smile. "Consider it a gift."
But this is no gift. She remembers Lord Hallaton vaguely—he's older, pleasant enough in demeanor, and not offensive to the eye. But must she really give up her freedom to give him a wife and children?
Of course she must. It is her duty.
"All right, Father." She inclines her head, not meek but not arguing. "Thank you."
And she knows her days of running around like a boy are done. Maria walks out with her head held high, not looking anyone in the eye until little Henry runs up to her.
"Maria, Maria! The rain’s stopped at last—come fight with me outside? " He looks so hopeful. "I found some great sticks! "
"In a little while, Henry. " She smiles, for both their sakes. "I promise. "
And she will, because it will probably be the last time. But for the moment, she brushes past him and returns to her room, where she sits down on her bed and rests her face in her hands. This will be the only time she lets herself show weakness, and only to herself. This is a long time in coming, but it still seems so fast. But what else can she do? Taking vows and going to a convent would be even worse.
Maybe it will be fine. Peter Hallaton is a decent man, from what she knows of him. Maybe she’ll be happy as his wife. Maybe.
After a while, she pulls herself together and goes to play at swords with Henry once more. Her father will have to live with her being boisterous a little while longer.
2. Jerusalem, 1191.
View this for the full shared memory, from 6:26-9:22. Ends at the exclamation about sorcery.]
"We gather here to mourn the loss of our beloved Majd Addin, taken too soon from this world. I know you feel sorrow and pain at his passing, but you should not."
She knows he's coming—the killer of eight who will likely make nine with her life. But not easily, and not if she has anything to say about it. She will kill him if she can, and take up his time if she can't. It's Robert whose time is more precious now, and if she dies giving it to him, so be it. I trust you, Maria, he'd said as he prepared to leave for Arsuf. I can only trust you.
"For just as we are all brought forth from the womb, so too must we all one day pass from this world. It is only natural, like the rising and the setting of the sun. Take this moment to reflect on his life and give thanks for all the good he did. Know that one day we will stand with him again in paradise!"
There he is, the man in the white hood—not a scholar.It's time to make their move. As the 'eulogy' continues, she whispers to the priest, then gestures to her men.
"As you know, this man was murdered! We have tried to track his killer, but it has proved difficult! These creatures cling to the shadows and run from any who would face them fairly. But not today! For it seems one stands among us! He mocks us with his presence and must be made to pay! Seize him! Bring him forward, that God's justice might be done!"