Episode 171 A Thousand Moments
A Thousand Moments
Arisanna stands in the chilly room wearing nothing but the elven small clothes she borrowed from Elowyn this morning while Fiarese holds up one garment after another to see how it sets off Arisanna’s hair. Arisanna does as she always did back in Nunia during her sessions with the modiste.
She counts. The paintings on the wall. The chairs in the room. The number of pins that fell unnoticed upon the floor at some point.
And she doesn’t dare look at Cerian lest her cheeks flame to match her auburn hair.
Four chairs. Six pins. Two paintings.
It will all be over soon. It always ends eventually. Usually, with her attired in the latest styles while her mother sighs as if all the problems of the world could surely be solved by a perfect, smiling princess in stays so tight she can barely breathe.
Mother meant well.
“Please, give us a moment,” Grandmera suddenly says, and Arisanna looks up in surprise. “You, too, Cerian. I need a moment alone with Arisanna.”
Arisanna finally meets his eyes, and he looks reluctant to leave. Protective. Guarding over her.
Or trying.
“Forgive me, Grandmera,” he whispers. “But I promised not to leave her.”
Stars above. Has he ever refused his grandmother anything in his life?
Fiarese has already made herself scarce, and Grandmera tilts her head in acquiescence to Cerian before turning to Arisanna.
“You are living a thousand moments in this one, my youngling,” Grandmera says softly. “What memories haunt you now?”
Cerian drapes something soft around Arisanna’s shoulders. A silk dressing gown?
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I’ll be fine.”
And she will be. She’s always fine.
“But you are not fine now,” Grandmera says. She brushes Arisanna’s hair off her face with such a gentle touch that something inside Arisanna nearly cracks.
But she holds herself together. She’s never broken down during a dress fitting, and she has no intention of starting now.
“Arisanna is not a doll to be dressed up and put on display,” Cerian says quietly when she doesn’t respond.
Is this her gentle prince, standing up for her? She stares at him in shock.
Then she nervously turns to look at Grandmera. What will Grandmera say?
“Sit with me, Arisanna,” Grandmera says, and Arisanna nods as she tugs the dressing gown closed and takes the chair next to the one Grandmera lowers herself into.
“I truly will be fine,” Arisanna whispers. “I grasp the importance of making a good impression in Celesta. I promise I’m not trying to be difficult.”
Grandmera smiles. “You and I, Arisanna. We are more alike than you know.”
Arisanna glances at Cerian, who stands beside her chair with his arms crossed like some sort of guard in elven leathers.
He meant it, didn’t he? Truly. She’d be safe here with him. It warms her heart as she turns back to Grandmera.
“I was also prepared all my life to bind with a future king,” Grandmera continues. “I still hear my grandmother’s voice telling me to stand straighter. To smile. ‘You are a Resvestian, Miravel. One day, you will be a queen. You must act like it.’”
Arisanna’s eyes widen. “Were you betrothed to King Restoval?”
“I was not. But my family was determined, and when the House Resvestian is determined, it usually gets what it wants. It was up to me to be better than everyone else the prince might consider for a future queen so that when my father offered me, Restoval couldn’t refuse.
Every hair perfectly in place. Every expression serene.
Every sentence elegantly worded. My clothing was chosen for me on every occasion.
I endured countless lessons in decorum and dancing and managing my fire so I would never lose control.
My soil magic, which I inherited from my maternal grandfather in some unexpected twist of fate, was downplayed.
‘A future queen does not play with dirt, Miravel.’ But oh, how I longed to bury my fingers and toes in the soil. “
“That’s awful of them,” Arisanna whispers.
And far too familiar for comfort.
“The irony,” Grandmera continues, “is that Restoval nearly begged off the night before our binding because he feared I would never be anything more than the perfect queen at his side with no passion and no heart when what he longed for was love and companionship. Someone with whom he could share the deepest parts of himself. But he was too good of an elf to humiliate me by walking away, so he went through with it.”
Grandmera looks down at her hands, and Arisanna waits for her to collect herself.
“My Restoval helped me tear down those walls. To find myself. To let go of every expectation and choose love and passion instead of perfection. I see him in you, Cerian. In your unyielding love and loyalty. Watching you love Arisanna takes me back so many years.” She takes an unsteady breath as she regains her composure.
And to Arisanna’s surprise, Cerian wraps his arms around Grandmera’s shoulders from behind, and she grips him tightly.
“Forgive me for rambling like an old woman,” Grandmera says with a light laugh.
“You aren’t old,” Cerian says, and Grandmera doesn’t argue.
She looks at Arisanna again. “I tell you all of that to ask your forgiveness for not considering your own history when I brought you here today. Elowyn loves coming here, but she wasn’t raised to be perfect the way you and I were.
She was raised to be herself. So it didn’t occur to me that you would react more like me and less like her. ”
“You couldn’t have known,” Arisanna says. “I’m not sure even I understood until we were on our way here.”
“Nonetheless, this will not do. Cerian is correct. You are not a doll to be dressed up and put on display.”
“No, it’s all right. I—”
But Grandmera hushes her as she pats Cerian’s arms and lets him go before finding her feet again. “Peruse the shop while I conference with Fiarese. Choose what you wish to try on, and when you’re finished doing so, come find me.”
Arisanna scrambles to her feet. “But I don’t know elven fashions or what will be acceptable for Celesta or—”
“Just be you, my youngling. Shine like the brightest star in the night sky, and all the world will take notice. I’m certain Cerian can offer you guidance if you require it. I will be nearby whenever you’re ready.”
Arisanna stares as Grandmera disappears into the back of the store.
Stars above.
“Are you all right?” Cerian asks softly from behind her.
“I don’t know how to do this.” She turns toward Cerian. “What if I choose wrong? I’ve never chosen my own clothes before. I—”
He cuts off her words with a finger to her lips. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be you. Who you are is enough.”
Then he draws her to his chest as her heart slows its pounding along with his.
“We’ll do it together, all right?” he whispers against her hair. “I know little about fashion, but I think I’ll survive watching you try on clothing if I must. Offering my opinions. They’ll all start and end with, ‘You look stunning, Sanna.’”
A smile sneaks up on her. “I’m not sure how helpful that will be.”
He shrugs. “I can’t lie to you, so it will have to do.”
Then he leans close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips. But he doesn’t kiss her.
“What are you doing?” she whispers as her eyes slide shut.
“Letting you choose.”
It takes a moment for her to grasp what he means, but when understanding dawns, she doesn’t hesitate to close the distance between them and find his lips in a hungry kiss, which he eagerly returns.
He’s all smoke this morning as sparks hit her tongue in the most delightful way imaginable, shooting shivers down her back.
All too soon, he grows warm and pulls away, and she rests her head against him once more. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being my protector. My defender. For making sure I feel safe.”
“You’ll always be safe with me. I just wish I had worked up the courage to say something sooner.”
“It was enough.”
He holds her for a few more moments before letting go and glancing around the store. “I suppose we should peruse the clothing. I doubt you wish to show up to Celesta in little more than a dressing gown.”
His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. Suppressing her own grin, she pokes him before turning to survey the shop herself. Then she lets out a deep breath.
She can do this.
They can do this together.