“They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” –Andy Warhol
When the doorbell rang for the fifth time that night, Madam Morrist got to her feet with an agility that no ordinary old woman ought to have. Each of the previous four times, Melody had seemed to find some flaw in her suitors that left her unwilling to accept their advances, and by now Maraude was beginning to get desperate. She had no misconceptions about whether Melody shared this desperation, but the girl was young enough to still believe in love, and true love at that. It would be the undoing of them both. What sensible girl wouldn’t look at a well-to-do merchant and swoon for his wealth? What sensible girl wouldn’t look at a lesser prince of the realm and swoon for his palace? That one in particular burned Maraude; the bribe she had paid his governess was not small! The girl had learned nothing from her schooling and the guidance of her peers, it seemed.
This time, Maraude swore to herself, Melody would not get the first move. It would be this man, or none at all! She could, of course, have made this all much more simple with a few well-placed magical wards, but she had underestimated Melody’s stubbornness versus the amount of effort it would have taken her to do so. Melody should have been willing to jump on the first male that entered the House of Morrist, but as usual, the girl always found some way to nettle her in the end. How simple a task it should have been, indeed!
Melody failed to reach the door before her grandmother, as planned. A cackle found its way to Maraude’s lips as the petulant scowl on Melody’s face deepened. “Ye’d better git faster, sweet. Men like their dinners hot.” Ignoring whatever proud retort came in response, she unlocked the door, smoothed back her own ratty hair (for all the good that it did) and flung open the door with a flourish. “Welcome to th’ House o’ Morrist, good lad. Are ye here to court my granddear, then?”
Only after she had spoken did she get a glimpse of the new suitor that had come to make ease of her life. He stood before her in a simple yet well-tailored suit, its colors muted but strong. The style was good, but not the latest in fashion; the boy couldn’t be a noble, not with that as the finest he had to recommend him! His hands were clean, at least, which improved her opinion just a touch. He was a fighting man, judging from his broad chest and powerful muscles; Melody would just love that, she knew without even having to ask! The fighting part, less so. Maraude’s heart leapt into her throat; despite his lack of overachievement, the boy had the earmarks of success written all over him…
Then she looked into his face, and realized just how much trouble she was in.
Melody was quicker to recognize the visitor. “Armer! It’s been so long, I thought… Oh, never mind what I thought, come in, come in! Let me look at you. You’ve grown so much, haven’t you?” Confirming Maraude’s worst fears with each breathless word, she swept the young man inside, fussing over every stitch of his person.
Maraude retreated to the fireplace and fought to regain her composure. Of all the people in the world to hear her call for a suitor, why in Heaven’s name did it have to be Armer D’Auguste? The boy had been a close friend of Melody’s, years ago, back when her father was still little more than a boy himself. The three had spent inordinate amounts of time together, and it had seemed like Armer wanted little more to do with his life than to emulate the great Ronald Morrist. Though Maraude had never heard of anything untoward passing between Melody and Armer in the past, it was practically expected — or in Ronald’s case, accepted — that Armer would be the one to claim Melody as his own. He had been too young to understand, of course, and so had she; but the look in Melody’s eyes suggested that for her, at least, she had learned to add.
Armer, on the other hand, was just as slow as he had ever been. “Quit that, Mel, you’re messin’ up my coat, I just got this washed to come out here, y’know.” He brushed off her questing hands with an impatient gesture, then shoved his own hands into his pockets. “I’m not dead, not with your dad’s teaching under my belt.” His tone suggested that the very thought of his own demise by a woman was an affront to his manhood. “I enlisted, you know. I can take care of myself now. I don’t need a second ma.”
Maraude watched Melody’s face shift between complete and utter adoration at the first sight of Armer’s face, to the irritation that had been more common when they were children together — at least, as far as Ronald had ever mentioned it to her. The heat in Melody’s cheeks was rising, and Maraude knew her pretty little temper well enough to know that meant trouble. It was nice to see her venom aimed at someone else, for a change.
Melody was all too eager to please her grandmother, for once. “You do need a second ma, at least if you’re still as clumsy as you used to be. Dad always thought you’d stab yourself with a sword before you ever killed…”
Then she froze, realization marring her delicate features into a mask of fear. “Armer… did you say you enlisted?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, attempting to maintain his pride while being blissfully unaware of the more important aspect of Melody’s reaction. “I heard Ronald died, I couldn’t believe it. Those were dark times for me, being just a kid. He was my hero, and to have him butchered by some filthy Goblin… I made a few ranks in the army just by being mad. Then I thought of avenging him and made a few more.”
Maraude studied his build while he boasted. His muscles were well enough, she had admitted as much before she’d known who he was. Had Ronald really built the scrawny lad that he’d spoken of so often into this passing display of a soldier? He was still stupid, of that there was no question, but his years in the army had given him more poise, more pride, than she would have expected from someone with his… questionable background. Whatever the truth was, most of his pride seemed to be challenged in the face of someone who had grown up by his side and knew the child behind the newfound mask of heroism. It was good for him.
Unsure what to do with Melody’s silence, Armer decided to try to fill it. “I wasn’t sure what happened to you, of course. I hear a lot of girls who lose their fathers end up drunk, or we find ‘em after they off themselves. I wasn’t sure…”
Melody made a sound that Maraude could only describe as being similar to a plucked chicken, and she forced the remainder of her composure into an attempt to contain the hysterical laughter that began to build in her belly. Perhaps her initial panic had been too sudden; if Armer blundered into too many more walls, his paramour might just kill him, and the crisis would be over before it ever began!
The tones in Melody’s voice seemed to be at war between a high-pitched squawk and a low growl when she managed to speak again. “Drunk? Off myself? You spend years with me and Dad, and you think I’d just crawl off to some corner and end it all? How dare you, Armer D’Auguste! And what makes you think you know anything about what girls do? If you’ve been in the army like you claim, you shouldn’t have had time for girls… right?” She was fighting tears, like any good noblewoman should, Maraude noted, but her voice quavered just a little bit too long at that last; with any boy other than Armer, she would have just become a liability in the desperation department!
“Um… sorry, Mel.” At last realizing that he’d made a mistake, Armer studied the floor with intense interest. Maraude watched his hands try to dig deeper into his pockets and fail. “That’s not good enough, but sorry. When I saw the notice that you were to be wed, I came as fast as I could. The army’s looking for me right now actually. Something about absence of duty, I dunno. They can’t win a fight without me, you know, just like Ronald.” Maraude couldn’t help a snicker; it wasn’t like anyone would notice in the midst of such chaos. The boy was treading on thinner ice than he knew, and yet he was still trying to recover his ego. It was priceless!
Melody’s glare didn’t waver, but her arms had folded across her chest and her body language suggested the rigidity of a wild cat about to pounce on its prey. Balked by his failure to diffuse the situation, Armer again attempted to fill the awkward silence. “I didn’t want to join, you know. I wanted to be like Ronald, and it was the only thing I knew how to do.” A sweaty hand finally emerged from his pocket long enough to sweep through his shaggy hair before returning. “I’ve always been stupid, Mel, you know it. He didn’t need me to be smart, he had faith in me the way I was. When he died, the only thing I knew how to do was hold a sword, so I did it, and I did the best job of it I could. I couldn’t set his soul at rest, or take care of you, so…”
“You could have taken care of me! Anything would have been better than this! I’ve been dying for the last five years, you stupid ass!” Maraude couldn’t help but feel resentment building. She knew Melody’s feelings well enough, but to hear her shout them as if she weren’t even in the room, in the middle of company, was beginning to cross the thin line where her patience intersected with insanity. Melody was far too irate to stop herself, however. “Instead you went off and tried to get yourself killed, like he did. You abandoned me just like he did!”
No longer able to control herself, Melody burst into tears. If Armer could have dissolved into the floor by means of some magic spell, he would have done it. Maraude held her breath, waiting to see the final stroke that would end it all, the one that would send Armer packing into the distance and free her of a general feeling of doom that had arrived when she first recognized Armer. It had not dissipated, even after the realization that the reunion of Melody and Armer might not spell her worst nightmare, and that made her more nervous than anything else had that evening. If Melody got away with someone that made her beautiful smile appear more than once every three months or so, Maraude would consider the evening a failure on many levels.
Armer’s next move, however, took Maraude by surprise. He took his hands out of his pockets, straightened his posture as well as he was able, and crossed the painful distance that had developed between himself and Melody with several strong strides. After only a moment of hesitation, he tried to put his arms around his childhood sweetheart. The gesture was too much for the already overwrought girl, who shouted unintelligible things at him, beating her delicate fists against his chest. Where any other man would have turned and run, however, Armer did not. Maraude thought that he was simply too stupid to understand that he had made a fatal error, but soon began to realize that something unexpected was happening. Melody’s assaults were growing weaker, and unable to escape from his rigid grasp, she was instead falling into his arms. Her sense of doom could no longer be ignored.
Melody was babbling a string of half-formed thoughts all at once. “You’re so stupid, Armer… Why didn’t you come back? I thought I’d lost you too, I didn’t know what to do… Everyone disappeared, my friends, everything… And this hag came and ruined it all!” Sudden strength and anger surged in her voice. “She’s horrible, she hated Dad, I don’t know how a mother could say such things to her own son… Make her stop, Armer, take me away from here, there’s nobody I’d rather…”
Melody couldn’t finish the thought, which was just as well for Maraude, whose teeth were now ground into a permanent snarl. Before she had time to bark, however, Armer rested his head against Melody’s, still trying to calm her shattered soul. “I didn’t come back because I was scared, Mel. You always loved your dad best, I could never compete with that. The best I could hope was to try to be at least equal, so that maybe you’d look at me like you used to look at him… that I could give you hope like he did. I couldn’t tell you…”
His voice skipped a beat, and Maraude couldn’t shove her fingers into her ears fast enough to avoid the words she knew were coming.
“I couldn’t tell you I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.”
Melody’s sobs changed force, from tears of rage to quieter tears of joy. The damage was done; there was no way that Armer wouldn’t leave the House of Morrist with Melody on his arm now. Looking at the two of them together made Maraude’s stomach twist in ways that it never had before; all the anger and frustration she had felt since arriving at the House of Morrist to meet with her hellion of a grandchild boiled to life. For just one moment, she forgot that most of the goading had been hers, and that her own rage at Ronald was perhaps more than Melody’s could ever hope to be. That moment was enough to change the tide that threatened to overwhelm all of them in its force.
Maraude would be damned if Melody got everything she ever dreamed of.
“Know what I think?” Maraude’s voice was louder than she meant it to be when she spoke at last. “I think there’s too much honesty in this room fer me.” She reached into her pocket and removed a handful of garish-looking herbs and mushroom stems. Armer turned at the sound of her voice; a trained soldier he was, and didn’t miss a beat despite his lack of mental agility. Melody was slower, too blinded by her own emotions to recover so soon. “Fer once I’d like t’ hear some sweet talkin’ my way, and not just the tripe y’ give me, child.”
Armer was not quick enough to remove his arms from Melody and make it to the fireplace in time to stop Maraude from flinging the mixture into the roaring flames. “Let’s see how honest ye are now, D’Auguste, and how much th’ girl fancies ye when ye are.”
Armer froze as the flames roared even louder than they had before, and the blinding light that followed burned spots into the vision of everyone present. He began to clutch at his throat, gasping as if the fires were choking off his ability to breathe. Melody stood by in terror, torn between throwing herself at her grandmother in vengeance and a desire to aid Armer in any way she could. Though she had seen her grandmother’s witchy magic a few times over the years, she had never gotten close to it, never understood it. Maraude thought it was fitting that her ignorance should be paid for with joy.
After several moments, the flames resumed their normal heat and height. Armer opened his mouth, fury written across his face, ready to speak his mind to what would be his new grandmother.
“That was some pretty swift magic, Granny, even for a beautiful girl like yourself.”
His eyes widened in horror, and Melody’s horror only mirrored his own. Maraude’s grin could have sunk a million ships, if only she’d wanted it to.
“What the hell… what the hell did you do to me?” Armer’s voice had returned to normal again. “What was that… mixture?”
“Still slow, aren’t ye, lad? Ye can ask questions all ye want, but careful what ye say, especially to yer lady friend. She’s fragile, y’know.”
Armer turned to Melody, who had begun to tremble behind him. “We’ll never find a way out of this. This is all your fault, you know. Find your own way out.”
Melody fell to her knees, breathless, and Armer growled in fury at the witch who had somehow managed to twist his words into untruths — the opposites of what he intended to say. It seemed that any question would pass unchallenged, but anything that he intended to say with any meaning at all would be warped. It was perhaps the worst punishment possible for a simple farmer’s boy with nothing but honesty and a small amount of combat experience to his name. Maraude congratulated herself with a mental pat on the back.
She watched with growing amusement as Armer attempted to compose himself. She could see the wheels in his mind turning, grinding in an effort to find a way out of the predicament he was in. She knew that the first thing he would do would be to try to retreat, taking Melody away with him until he could find a way to explain to her what was going on. However, she was laying odds that he would try to use questions to his advantage, now that he “knew” they were safe. Such a brave boy, thinking he understood the rules of the game before he’d even begun to play! She didn’t have long to wait before her guess was confirmed.
“Melody, will you never follow me again, please?”
It took only a second for Armer to realize his mistake in assuming that questions were safe. It took Melody less time to look at him as if he were some sort of monster, and then flee in the direction of the door. Maraude never moved to stop her as she fumbled for the door latch and threw it open, running into the pitch black night as if her life depended on it. No longer would she wait for anyone to save her; Maraude had bewitched Armer, her only hope, and now he was not to be trusted any more than that witch was. Her only salvation was to run, far, far away from the House of Morrist, away from her father’s memory. Maraude was certain that Melody would never return, unless by some stroke of luck, they managed to undo the spell. The act was possible, but it would be difficult for two headstrong young fools such as Melody and Armer. They still had time to figure out their new limitations!
Armer threw one last disgusted look at Maraude. “I will never be back here, kind lady. I will wait for you to tell me someday what enchantment you have bestowed upon me. And when I find out, I will love you even more for it.”
He took off after Melody, slamming the door of the great House of Morrist behind him, letting it echo as much as it could.
The silence that fell was all the reward Maraude Morrist needed.