Dylas really needed to thank the girl for the shirt. It had been a good week since he entered his room and found the present from the young de Sainte-Coquille woman, and he still had yet to thank her. In Dylas’ mind, he needed to thank her. Even though the night wasn’t the best, even though he yelled at her, she was kind...
Okay, now the hard part was even finding her address. He couldn’t just go and ask Porcoline what his niece’s address was, that would leave the man suspicious to how Dylas knew his niece and why he was sending her a letter. And he couldn’t just ask Arthur or Meg directly. He promised (okay, maybe not promised, but still) that no one would learn what exactly happened, how she cried and how he lost his temper for a moment. So, in the dead of night when Arthur was actually asleep for more than four hours, Dylas found himself in the office and rummaging through client address in books before landing on one de Sainte-Coquille family in Alvarna. The name may not have been Rosalind, but it was one he heard that night. Max. That was the man who came for Rosalind by the end of their first meeting. Max. A member of her family, someone who had to live with her or at least know of her. If she didn’t live at that address in Alvarna, he could possibly mail it towards her as long as Dylas wrote her name on the front.
It was another day or so before Dylas even began to write. It had been a good, what, hundreds or so, years since he last sent a letter. A lot in the world had changed since he became a guardian; not limiting to the mail service. It wasn’t like he was also anxious about writing a letter, he was fine with it. Maybe. But, this was to someone so upper class, regal almost (not royalty like Frey and Lest but those two were.... not like her.) Dylas sucked in a deep breathe as he started his letter to the young, blue haired woman.
Rosalind,
This is Dylas, which I guess you already know if you read the mailing address. Do not ask how I got your address, I did not ask your uncle. To my knowledge, Porcoline still does not know about that night. Arthur hasn’t said a word about wine stains, so he is as clueless as well. Your trick worked like a charm magic.
Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for the shirt. I tried it on, and it fit. I don’t understand how you found out my siz- It is a nice shirt. Too nice for work, but nice. I’ll wear it to the
Hope all is fine,
Hope you are we,
Thanks,
Dylas C. A.
Even with his probably nearly illegible handwriting and the scribble, making out the words he wanted to write but didn’t feel confident enough, and Dylas sent the letter off; he didn’t imagine her to respond to such a poor letter, but it was fine.
Drabble: ‘You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me.’
Dylas would never admit his true feelings for anything. He lived his life guarded, hurt from past experiences. He lived his life for him, hiding everything underneath his anger, his frustrations. Hiding away from his anxieties. Hiding his kindness from a world that hurt him hundreds of years ago under a cold, angry demeanor to keep people away.
At least, that was before he met Rosalind.
Something about her just left a spark inside him. Was it his because he felt bad for the first time they met? When he lashed out on her crying in Arthur’s office? From watching her break down in tears one early Spring day after her father announced she would be getting married soon, and to a stranger nonetheless. Was it because months of passing notes back and forth left him feeling- and later realizing- that he had a friend.
His first friend.
His first….
Yeah….
The first person that made him admit all his insecurities in his journal late at night, with only the light from a single candle guiding his poorly written thoughts onto the paper.
Dylas cared for her in ways he couldn’t admit. He would stop the world for her if he could- if he even admitted it to himself. Rosalind’s softness made him soft, turned him away from thinking others were still out to hurt him. To harm him. To force him to commit sacrifice to please them.
Did she care for him? He didn’t know and he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care if she did or not. He should never care. Not anymore.
Will you take me there?
The question came one rainy afternoon. It had just finished pouring, as the rain droplets hit the roof of the restaurant slower than during the storm just an hour earlier. Rosalind had came to Selphia to visit her uncle in tow of her older (and just fucking stupid) brother. The former guardian can’t remember what brought on the question, why he mentioned the Water Ruins, but Rosalind’s question was raw. It stung, it stung in deep. Dylas never told her about his time as a guardian, about his past. Why did she care so much?
(He noticed the blush on her face as she spoke to him time and time again, but honestly, he wasn’t even sure why she would blush at him. Why else would she? What did someone of her status want to do in some awful ruins filled with goblins? Or spend an afternoon fishing for a few different types of fish, laughing as Rosalind tried to cast her reel by herself. Chatting about Rosalind’s newest book or what experiment she tried recently under a tree as the waves crashed by.)
Dylas’ feet step on leaves, dead and brown from the recent cold front. He stares at the ruins in front of him- in front of them. He can’t forget that Rosalind is here with him, standing by him. Holding her guard. Being strong. Maybe even pretending to be strong.
He takes another step and leaves loudly crunching under his black, combat boots.The weather isn’t even below the cold point, yet Rosalind is beside him a large winter shawl over her dress. He would joke with her, with a small smile, that a dress wasn’t the right dressing for a ‘trip’ to the Water Ruins, but he can’t today.
Dylas can’t even smile as he stares at his former prison.
Getting past the monsters isn’t hard- not one bit. He’s become better at fighting in this form than he was when he first woke up. Constant fights with Doug has taught him how to fight with his fists, not hooves. He’s learned better magic- his long ranged attacks have become more powerful thanks to Arthur and Leon’s (despite being a bit useless) pretty decent job at upgrading them.
But the hard part was feeling Rosalind grab him, not in fear from the monsters.
“You can’t tell me someone like you is scared of a little goblin?”
“I am not, Dylas!” She pouted up at him, her arms still holding onto the fur on his light overcoat. It’s c-cute. Kind of. A little bit. “I have not been around many monsters, as you know Father and Max don’t-”
Rosalind continues, but all Dylas can hear is the sounds of rustling from behind the lavender haired duchess. He looks up and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust, to spot a Sky Fish coming out at them. It’s ready to fight, and it’s fucking pissed.
“Move!” Dylas roars. Pushing himself in front of Rosalind, he takes the hit from the Sky Fish in his chest, and then one to his forearm. It hurts for a second, just a split second. He’s had worse injuries. He’s been hit with stronger power. The former guardian rushes to the Sky Fish and digs his dagger to its side. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Three times. The ugly monster goes down without a hard fight. Returning back to where it belongs.
They’re safe, they’re safe. He repeats in his head.
Rosalind is safe.
Dylas catches his breath- was he really out of breath from such a simple fight? He can’t hear anything- He doesn’t look behind him, he doesn’t hear Rosalind’s screams of worry. He doesn’t, or more like couldn’t, hear Rosalind’s pleas to ask him to be careful.
He doesn’t notice the duchess come beside him, checking on him, asking for him.
He doesn’t notice the blood pouring from the side of his arm.
What he does notice is the sting in his arm as something presses against it. His head pops up to look around the ruined surroundings in fear. The pressure wasn’t intense, but it was still painful. He couldn’t see the attacker from where he was looking. COuld it be in the corners? Hiding from them and planning it’s awful attack. How in danger were they? How in danger was Rosalind?
Rosalind.
“You are okay, Dylas. You are okay, Dylas.”
He hears that. He hears cooing. Sweet cooing.
“It looks to be just a flesh wound. I pray there is no damage, but we should get you looked when we arrive back to the kingdom.”
The voice is so sweet; reminds him of the voice of someone from hundreds of years ago. Before any of the pain. Before Dylas was… Dylas.
“I’m glad you are safe, Dylas.”
He feels his hair being petted now- the feeling slowly edging up to his fluffy ears and rubbing them.
Dylas comes down. He comes back. He doesn’t need to fight to survive, just fight to keep her…
Alive.
Keep Rosalind-
Rosalind.
His eyes finally trace back to his side, where he finds a white cloth around his forearm. There’s barely any blood coming out from the white cloth, but it stings. It stings just a bit.
His eyes finally trace back to worried, light green eyes looking back into his amber eyes like they could see everything. His pain, his trauma. What these ruins mean to him.
Why he would go berserk like that suddenly and not come down.
“Dylas…” Rosalind begins. Her voice is so soft, she’s so close to him. Her face is just inches from his now… When did she move that close? Had she been this close the whole time? He’s sure she’s gonna yell at him, call him reckless and stupid. That’s what he would do. That’s what he would do to someone else.
But… she doesn’t. Rosalind whispers something softly, that at first Dylas can’t hear. But it doesn’t take too long for her to repeat it again, louder. Yet still in such a silent whisper.
“I love you,” she whispers ever so gently. Her hand hovers over his like a ghost- not like a ghost of his past though. She was there, she was real.
Rosalind was a real person. There, in front of him, confessing her love to someone who didn’t know how to love back. Didn’t know if he should. And Dylas didn’t know how to respond to that- how does one even respond to a confession? By thanking them? Denying them? Lying? Admitting his own true feelings that he had hidden back for so long. “Don’t.
Rosalind’s face droops, but Dylas continues. “You shouldn’t love me.” Her face droops more, her heart must be broken. But it’s better to save everything now than to make her live a life of pain from being around him.
“You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me. I’m a monster- I’m an awful person. I’m angry, I’ve hurt people. I’m a man who shouldn’t have anything fucking good, Rosalind. And you- look at you. A duchess, engaged to some guy you barely know. How can you love me?”
The words come out so fast, yet it feels like Dylas spends a year mouthing off to the duchess. Even that, can’t break a duchess’ heart who’s lived for others her whole life. “But I do.” Rosalind furrowed her brow. “But I do love you. I do not love William- I cannot love a man I don’t know, Dylas.” Her eyes start to water. “But I know you, and for that, I love you. I am so in love with you, Dylas.”
That’s what pains him to know. That she loves him now. That she’s seen the worst of him, maybe not even the worst, but she loves him.
She’s engaged. She could have a safe life with this William guy- whoever he is. Whatever he does, he’s probably safe. He doesn’t have problems. He probably wasn’t also turned into a monster to protect a town like… Dylas.
Dylas ignores those tears coming out of Rosalind's eyes. He ignores the sounds of her voice breaking. He ignores his own feelings that have been laying dormant for months now. “You shouldn’t.”
Rosalind doesn’t say anything, but the tears don’t let up. She stares at him with that pitiful (in a cute way too) look, heart hurt but also… What point of ‘don’t love me’ does she not get?
Rosalind moves her hand from his hair, his ears, back to his shoulder. “Dylas…” She whispers. Her voice is so hurt, yet she knows. “I love you.”
His heart hurts.
Her heart hurts.
Can he even… can he ever be truthful about how he feels.
About how on nights he can’t sleep well or days where customers (or fucking Doug) piss him off, he goes and reads her letters. How he feels like he’s important when he’s with her. How she tries to learn about his passions and in turn, Dylas is trying to learn more about her. How he’s been reading the book she sent off to him months ago but he won’t tell her yet. He wanted to surprise her.
He paused. Could she- could Rosalind be the one who taught him how to live in the presence, live for someone else who wasn’t him?
To be the one person he could end up telling everything too- instead of pretending to be secretive?
His uninjured arm moves to where Rosalind’s hand is placed on his shoulder as he steadies himself with the arm that’s bandaged. He looks at her in the eyes back, straight faced. His face feels wet, but he doesn’t care right now. There’s only one thing he cares about.
“I may love you too.”
~~~
“Even though the young boy wasn’t sure where he was from, he knew one thing. The flower town was where he belonged. Monster or human- or both- he knew he was home wherever the flowers were.”
It’s a sight Dylas never thought he would see; something he didn’t think, all those hundreds of years ago, that he would see. His wife and child, cuddled up in a bed together, reading the ninth picture book of the night. Their hair, lavender and dark blue, beaming against the child’s night light on the white and pastel green nightstand.
He watches from the doorway, a smile on his face as the boy- his four year old son- looks back up to his mother with a small frown on his pale face. “Can we read another story, mama?” He asks, almost pleading to his mother, with a high pitched voice.
The woman laughs as she closes the book gently and places it on the nightstand beside her. Her hand goes to her stomach where a bump peaks up through her pink nightgown. “We read so many tonight, Victor.” She answers to the boy- Victor- pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “We can read more books tomorrow when you awake if you would like, my little dove.”
“Your mom needs her rest, kiddo.” Dylas speaks out, finally. Two pairs of light green eyes stare
One he never dreamed of, to have a love, to have a son, and to be awaiting the arrival of the second child of theirs.
“May I please sleep with you and dad?” Victor pouted from his bed, his face resembling Rosalind’s side. The little boy was too much like his mother. Sweet, polite, already calling people by their last names and learning how to be a proper young man (unlike the two unruly, royal children that were his perfect son’s age…). Victor looked at him with big eyes; big sweet eyes that Dylas was slowly learning to say no to.
Dylas barely opened his mouth when Rosalind gently responded instead. “No, sweetheart. Not tonight. We need you to sleep in your bed tonight like a big boy.” Her hand patted through their son’s dark blue hair, only for it to rest on his cheek. “We need you to learn how to sleep on your own for your little sister’s sake.”
Victor’s pout stayed on his face. “Okay, mama.” The little boy mumbled before getting up from his spot on the bed. “Good night mama-” he said, ever so sweetly, kissing his mother on the cheek. Victor moved down to his pregnant mother’s stomach, giving it a gentle kiss as well. “Good night baby sister.”
Dylas really can’t help but chuckle at the sweetness of his son . His son- his precious, pretty adorable son if he had to say so- was becoming the young man that would make Rosalind proud. His anger passed over a generation, his anxieties skipped over Victor.
There were days when Victor was a newborn, crying softly in his makeshift crib in their cabin by Selphia lake, where Dylas felt like he couldn’t take it. When Dylas felt like fatherhood was a curse- no wonder his own parents had left him behind so young. He remembered the moment where he realized everything needed to change, when he screamed at a two month old Victor to shut up from the overwhelming frustrations of not being able to get his son to sleep peacefully. The look on Rosalind’s face- absolute horror. Dylas never wanted to see his wife look at him in such horror again, like he was a monster.
Parenting was an adventure. Not one he wanted to sign up for so quickly, but Victor was perfect.
He was normal too- no features from Dylas’ former guardian years. No horse ears. No fluffy tail that became matted in water.
Dylas just hoped every morning that the new baby would be just as perfect as her older brother. He knew she would- but there were still nights where he stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep, what if’s plaguing his mind.
“I think someone needs to tell Victor good night too. Do you not think so, Dylas?”
Dylas looked at his wife, then back to his son. Sauntering over, he gave the boy a kiss on the top of his dark blue hair. “Good night, Victor.” Dylas whispered to his son. He helped the boy into his bed, covering him with blankets as Rosalind handed him his favorite plush- a worned out Blue that Porcoline had given as a present for the boy when he was just a small newborn. Back then, the boy was so small that he could fit in one of Dylas’ hands. Now, he was so big, yet still so tiny that he was still dwarfed by the Blue stuffed plush.
“Good night, mon ange.” Rosalind copies Dylas, pressing yet another kiss onto the same spot that Dylas has. She gets out of the child’s bed by herself (“Dylas, darling, we are fine. I’m not even that far along, my Dylas”) and walks to beside her husband, looking at her son as he slowly closes his eyes. “Dream of something lovely tonight for me, dear.”
“Dream of beating up Doug for me.”
“Dylas.”
Rosalind stifles her laughter as she grabs her husband’s hand into her own hand and walks him out of the child’s bedroom. Victor doesn’t even react to his parents leaving or to Dylas comment about beating up his “uncle” Doug, as the child is slowly drifting off to dreamland. The door gently shuts behind them and Rosalind smiles at her husband.
It’s the same smile she gave him when they admitted they loved each other. The same one she gave him when he proposed, when they were married, when she told him she was pregnant (twice!), and when Victor was born. The smile she gave him when he burst the door of their bedroom, breaking it off the hidge ever so slightly, while she held the small bundle close to her chest. The words he can still recall that gave him a smile every time he thought about it- “he is okay, my love.”
A warm, sweet, smile that made him think of nothing but her. Everything else in the world stopped when Rosalind gave him that smile.
Suddenly, her smile changed into a wince. And that changes everything. The world can stop for another reason.
“Are you doing alright, baby?” Dylas worrisomely asks. Rosalind shakes her own head as a ‘no’, but there’s a part of Dylas that doesn’t believe it. “Baby giving you difficulties again?”
“Are you asking to be my overprotective husband and worry for hours over me and your daughter or are you asking to check?”
Clever girl. Always had one up on him. Always knew how to get over his head.
“Checking, baby.”
Rosalind lets out a sigh as she moves into a hug to her husband. Arms wrapped around his neck as she whispers, “it’s just a difficult day for us, that is all, Dylas. But we are fine. We are fine.”
The confirmation doesn’t help his overprotectiveness, but it makes his heart feel softer.
Dylas curls up into her neck, pressing a kiss onto his wife’s neck. “I thought it was something else. I thought the baby was making you sick or hurting you.”
The pregnancy with Victor had been so easy, but with this one, he worried every time Rosalind mentioned the baby wasn’t kicking as much or that the baby kicked too much. There was no inbetween with the child. Already causing her parents worry.
Dylas fucking loved her so much and he hadn’t even met her.
Rosalind returns the affection to him by brushing his long periwinkle hair out with her fingers. Her fingers move up to his ears, petting them ever so delicately. “This is what I love about you, my love.” She whispers to him. Still just standing outside their young son’s bedroom as he falls asleep. “Your true caring nature is what made me fall in love with you.”
“You weren’t supposed to fall for me,” he says to her, a blush and large smile on his face.
Rosalind laughed, ever so gently, ever so sweetly. He could feel his heart doing backflips in his chest, just from her gentle and kind laugh that he heard every morning when Victor curled up in bed with his parents. That he got to hear when he kissed her one too many times before he left for work at the restaurant before Rosalind pushed him out of the house herself.
“But I did.” She smiled as they walked down the short hallway to their own bedroom. “I fell for you, I fell in love with you.” Dylas opens the door for them once they get to their creaky (but it wasn’t a problem) bedroom door. Rosalind walks in front of him, pulling him by his hands with her. “I was- I was just so lucky to meet you when I did.”
Dylas closed the door behind them, knowing that in just a few hours it would be cracked open when little emerald eyes will peer in with silent pleads to sleep with his parents. “You did.” He repeated with a grin on his face. “You did, and I fell for you as well.” He sat his hand on top of the bump, smiling down at it. “And we have a beautiful family, we’re going to have a really beautiful family.”
“Such as in one of those romance novels I would read when I was younger,” Rosalind jokes as she curls up to Dylas’ chest. She places her hand, perfect and soft, on top of his hand, rough from a past he can’t forget and a current present where he’s content. The child kicks in place softly, to remind their parents that they are there. They are real. “We lived happily ever after, my love.”
Dylas doesn’t need to say anything after. He doesn’t need to confirm her words, because it’s true. His love for Rosalind would never die, never leave, and he would never regret the past. Those hundred years ago were moments that wouldn’t leave his mind. They would be stuck with him forever until the day he passed on.
But all that pain did something good. It brought him to Rosalind. It brought him letters that he’s kept, hidden in a box that maybe one day, he’ll show Victor and their unborn, unnamed, little baby. Maybe that one day, he’d tell his children about the day Rosalind told him she loved him at a place that caused him trauma and anger for hundreds of years.
Her falling for him brought him true love. True, undying, love that he would be ever grateful for.
A box sat a top Dylas’ bed comforter; a box neatly wrapped with a satin bow. Inside there laid a crisp white, button down dress shirt. There was also a card rested on top. The card was small with pretty writing and patterns of floral. There was also a light fragrance of rose. The writing was elegant and written with an ink pen, and the card read simply. “Sorry again about your stained shirt ♥” with no name written.
Everything was over, thank gods. Honestly, Dylas was just exhausted, ready to pass out and sleep for a good few hours before being woken up to start work again. As he entered his room, his bed caught his eye but for a new reason- a box. A neat, perfect, elegant box laid on top of his fresh sheets, ready to be opened. Dylas walked up to it, opening it (because why not, couldn’t be from Doug because Doug would just rather throw a cardboard box at him than give it to him). He honestly forgot about the red wine stained on his previous button up, opting to borrow an old black one that he had been given months ago. Yet this new one was nice, softer even, and smelled off roses like the rest of the box (well, now his whole room smelled like roses so...)
As he read the card, a small smile came onto his face. “Hm~” he hummed, as he moved the card to his desk for safe keeping.
Maybe he should repay Rosalind for her kindness sometime....
[Upon opening the mansion door, the young woman’s eyes widened considerably in surprise.] — Dorothy! [A slight pause, before she let a broad smile appeared on her lips.] What a lovely surprise!
[Steps forward and out of the home to wrap the other girl in a hug.] Tu m’as tellement manqué! [A gentle laugh escapes, releasing to look back at the woman with a gentle grasp still on her shoulders.] I do hope you have been fairing well, yes?
[Motions with one hand for her to follow her back into the home.] You must tell me of all the stories you have collected while you were gone! Surly you had a wonderful time non?
[Smiles when the girl wraps her arms around her, hesitating for a moment before bringing up her arms to hug her back. She presses her face close to Rosalind]
[Continues to smile at Rosalind when she steps back, though he hair remains covering her eyes] Yes Rosie... I had a lot of fun on the trip w-with Father and Cammy. We didn't do much... o-other than visit churches, but... I l-liked spending time with them.
[Follows her inside, looking around as she does so] It feels like I've been gone f-for a really... long time. H-How have you been...?
Raven was walking through Alvarna, on her way to visit the blacksmith. She did not go to the town very often, so it was a nice change in atmosphere.
However, before she could make it to the shop, it started to rain. She ran over to the side of a building, not particularly enjoying the idea of getting soaked. As she waited for the rain to stop, she watched people pass by her. Some were running to get out of the rain, others were smart enough to bring an umbrella with them. She soon noticed one lady dressed in fine clothing approaching. She had purple hair. Could she be...? No, the chances of that were very slim.
As the woman got closer and closer, Raven looked away, reminding herself not to stare at the stranger.
[The girl sighed; how on earth was she to find this person in the midst of so many people? All in masks even! Her nerves grew - causing her to become startled at the tap on the shoulder.]
Ah — [Looks to his hand first, before gaze wandering up to the young man whom was offering.] Oui .. Mousier — [Though she had the urge to flee, she nodded to the brunet, taking his hand with a tentative nod.]
Kevin was it? [Speaks finally with a tilt of her head.] .. It’s a pleasure to meet you ♪.
[Watches as she slowly accepts to take his hand, wondering to himself if social dancing made her nervous. He silently decides to make this as much of a pleasant experience as possible - and widens his smile.]
That's right! I'll be escorting you to your first dance of the evening, m'lady. ♪ [Brings her hand in closer to place a small kiss over her knuckles, then looks her in the eye and brings her closer.] Shall we?
