fearlessly | batb part two: electric boogaloo

batb part two: electric boogaloo

[ alisaie is not afraid of the woods.

truthfully, alisaie is not afraid of much at all - not the things that most are afraid of, at least. she does not fear the dark, or wolves, or bandits. she does not fear loud storms or knives in the dark of faerie tale monsters stalking haunted forests. what she fears is being along. grieving. losing those she loves.

and that is why she is here. alisaie has ridden tirelessly through the night, driving baptiste hard over the hard, wintry earth, her breath frozen in her lungs, the frigid wind stinging her cheeks and ears and eyes. alphinaud is her entire world. he is all that she has, all of her family that remains, and the thought of living her life without him, moving forward alone..

she would rather not move forward at all.

and so she will find him, regardless of he consequence, heedless of the potential danger, for without him, she has no life at all.

baptiste remembers the way, and though she can feel the tension and fear in the body of the horse beneath her, still they press on, hooves slamming hard into the earth, empty branches pulling at her hair, whipping over their heads. the forest seems to go on and on, deeper and deeper into darkness and mist, until at long, long last the space opens up, and a dark castle looms ahead, its twisted spires climbing into the gray sky, its gloomy edifice frowning down as she approaches the wrought iron gates choked with decayed vines.

alisaie is not afraid of much, yet still the sight of it sends a chill down her spine.

what is this place? she's heard of no such estate as this - a castle, so close to the village? how have there been no stories? no history? she has ridden less than a day to find her brother, not far from home at all, and yet.. there is nothing in their books about this great castle, no tall tales, nothing at all. it is a phantom. still, somehow it feels familiar to her.. like a memory of a dream's dream.

exhaling a shudder, alisaie slides from baptiste's back, leading him to an icy, overgrown brook for a drink, looping the reins over a strong, bare branch before at last she approaches the castle. it's silent, sinister, but she.. she has no choice. if this is where alphinaud is, then she must press forward. the rusted gates groan, splitting the silence, and alisaie approaches the great doors, the old rotten oak swinging beneath her weight as she slips carefully into the great, dark foyer. ]

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[ He huffs a soft laugh, head dipping down in relief at hearing a bit of her usual self in her words. Perhaps they don't know each other all that well, but Prompto has become accustomed to her, he has grown used to her presence, learned her mannerisms, her personality. Were she too deeply pained, she probably wouldn't be joking like that.

Even so, when she mentions the cold, he tugs the blankets up over her thoughtlessly, pulling over yet another one to drape over her. ]

I know. Hold on, I-I...

[ He turns back towards the fire where a pot of soup has been boiling (don't worry, he had help from the servants in making it) as well as a kettle of hot tea. Pouring both out in a bowl and cup to serve her, he turns back to her at last, a tray set over his knees. ]

When you're ready...

[ it's almost.. funny, to watch him fuss like this, pulling blankets over her and fussing toward the hearth for food, then fussing it right back to her. he's so large and intimidating and sinister in appearance, but she has seen his softer sides, seen how he can be frightened, and almost meek, and right now he looks.. almost silly, with that tray in his lap, the teacup almost minuscule in his enormous rusted hands.

she might laugh, if she had the energy.

but it takes what strength she has just to sit up a little, and beckon with her hands for the tray. her limbs and joints feel terribly sore and stiff, but the more she moves them the more the life floods back into them, the seized muscles and tendons beginning to loosen, the blood flowing. ]

I'll take it.

[ It's not easy to watch her move, knowing keenly that she continues to suffer because of him, but he will just have to learn to live with his guilt, his regrets. No matter how small he might feel after everything that's happened, he cannot allow for her to go uncared for, and even if the servants would watch over her, it's not the same. He...wants to do this for her. He needs to do it.

Scooting closer, he lifts the tray into her waiting hands, watching her carefully. ]

Don't worry, I had help with the food.

[ And then, once he has the tray securely in her grip and he can sit back, his large hands knit anxiously in his lap, his gaze turning down. ]

Alisaie, I...I'm sorry.

[ That only begins to cover it, but he can't go on any longer without apologizing for what happened. ]

[ she has to be careful with the tray, as her fingers feel thick and stiff, but she manages the tray nonetheless, setting it into her lap, and lifting the teacup into her hands. it feels wonderfully warm.. at first she does not sip it, only cradles it between her palms to soak up the warmth for several seconds before she drinks at last. the tea glides down her dry throat, hot and soothing and perfect.

and then he is apologizing.

alisaie can hardly believe her ears. when she looks up from the teacup again there is clear surprise writ across her featured, but she knows she was not mistaken - the words aside, she can see the apology in the shape of his shoulders and the way his hands knit, how he holds his body, how he looks down, and away from her.

carefully, alisaie lowers the teacup into its saucer again. ]

I.. overreacted.

[ he might have spurred her with his ferocity, but she chose to run away, out into the winter snow, into a storm she had no hope of surviving. it was reckless, and stubborn, and foolish. ]

[ It's hard for him to find fault with her reaction when he was the one who caused it. He has never...lost his temper in that magnitude before, and he has rarely been so afraid. Someday, maybe Prompto would have become comfortable enough with her to tell her the truth, to bring her into the west wing and explain why he'd asked her to never go in, but for better or for worse, she's been there now, and regardless of whether or not she broken his one rule, his reaction was inexcusable.

Slowly, he shakes his head, looking back up at her with lonely, baleful eyes. ]

No...I did. I...was afraid, and worried, about what you might do if you found what was in there. But that doesn't excuse how I acted, and...I'm sorry. For putting you in danger.

[ For making her fear him.

His gaze falls back down to his hands, silent for a long moment as he sorts through the thoughts in his head. ]

I...I wasn't always...like this. But it...it's been...a long time since I wasn't.

[ he's talking, talking more than she is used to, saying more than he has ever said before - not in quantity, but in quality, in subject matter. the knight has never spoken about his past, not a single word, and even though what he is saying now is nebulous, it is nevertheless a great step forward for him to say it all. her surprise at his candor is muted, but writ on her expression nevertheless. ]

Like.. this?

[ she asks, gently, her cold fingers still wrapped around the warm teacup. ]

.. angry, you mean?

[ or.. or everything? all that he is? ]

...All of it.

[ He answers quietly, in a tone gone self-conscious and withdrawn. This isn't easy, even if it's overdue, even if he owes her some kind of explanation, after what she saw and the way he chased her off. And while he might not have the courage to tell her everything, he can at least try to start talking about himself a little bit. Not only for her sake, but also for his own. It's been such a long, long time since he's connected with another person in any meaningful way. ]

The castle, the servants, and...myself.

[ Aside from the physical changes, he used to be a very different person, too. Not one so bitter and pessimistic and afraid, one that valued his life in the time that he spent around others rather than hiding from them. But time has changed him, warped him, made him into something different. Something he doesn't like. ]

[ she has wanted him to talk about this from the moment she arrived, she has been terribly, painfully curious - who wouldn't be? this place is.. outstanding, incredible, she has never seen this sort of magic in her life, how could she not want to know everything about what happened here, to this castle, to these people?

but he looks so.. sad. so drained, and quiet, and afraid. though the last time they saw one another was when he was driving her away, alisaie cannot bring herself to be angry about it, not now, not after she has grown to know him so slowly and closely, and though she yearns to know the truth, she does not want to know it at his expense.

she says nothing, because she does not want to push him into talking only to please her, or because he feels obligated - but she loosens one hand from her teacup, and reaches to gently curl her fingers beneath his own, prying one hand away from the other, her thumb running gently over the back of his wrist. ]

[ If he was surprised at how she had touched his face when she first stirred, it doesn't come close to how surprised he is that she takes his hand now, now that she has come to her senses. He draws in a sharp intake of breath, his eyes flitting to his hand in her own. Her hands are...so small compared with hers, but when she draws her thumb over his wrist, she seems stronger than he could ever possibly be.

A tight feeling grasps at his chest, a squeezing where his heart would be if he had one, and while he cannot cry, he cannot even tear up, he still blinks his eyes quickly, his hand carefully and gently closing over her own. ]

I-I don't...I don't understand...how can y-you possibly be s-so...so kind to me?

[ After everything he's put her through? After everything she's suffered at his hand? ]

[ it's a.. good question, really. sometimes it is very easy to forget that he is her captor now, and she a prisoner, which is astounding, really, considering how long she had clung to the idea, how she had allowed it to fester within her, to keep her angry, to keep her strong. yet somehow in this moment.. she had forgotten it, despite how recently she had fled the castle, how desperate she had been to get away, and never return.

everything seems to have changed so slowly, and yet so quickly. ]

Because I.. can see your heart.

[ she says at last, after a few moments brooding silence, her heavy-lidded eyes still settled on his face, tired and tranquil. ]

I do not know what happened to you, or this place, but I do know that you take no pleasure in hurting others, I know what the others say about you, I know what I feel when I am with you.

[ she feels that he is kind, and sad, and lonely in a way he does not know how to heal - something alisaie can understand so very deeply. he has imprisoned her, but something in him has.. changed. warmed. a flicker within him that has only grown as she has gotten to know him. ]

I.. know how it can feel to be desperately lonely, even in a crowded room.

[ ...Whatever fortune brought her to his castle, he does not deserve her. He doesn't deserve her compassion or her empathy, after everything he's done, and yet she gives it freely, and while his artificial features have trouble capturing it, his expression crumples, his free hand lifting to catch his face, a dry, gasping sob caught in his throat.

He cannot begin to express with words just how deeply those words touch him, how much they mean, how welcome they are, after years and years and years beyond memory of loneliness, of keeping himself closed off. Perhaps at last...he can try to...let someone in.

What a terrifying and wonderful idea. He cannot help but think that this new bond forged between them is tenuous and ill-fated, that it cannot possibly last in the face of all he has to fix within himself, that he is damaged beyond repair. But despite his best efforts, she has glimpsed his true heart beneath the beast, and for her kindness, he owes her nothing less than to at least try.

And it can start right here, with her. With the strength of another buoying him up, lending him the strength to stand when his own legs won't carry him. ]

I...I don't know what to say...you should hate me. But you...

[ He looks down again at their joined hands, at her slim fingers within his thick, cold grasp. ]

You...make me want to hope again.

[ it makes her heart ache a little to see him crumple, but she knows that it is important, that it is a first step toward something greater, something better, an outlook for him that could be healthier and happier. she is not foolish enough to think that she alone can fix his problems, no one can truly "fix" another person, but she can help him, support him, and believe in him. he risked himself to save her life, he left his beloved castle walls to pluck her from the snow when he could have left her to die. she know how much that means, what a big step forward it is. with a little help, mayhaps he can step forward a little further every day.

gently, she weaves her fingers more tightly through his own. his hands are large and powerful and dangerous, but she has never felt more safe in her life. she knows now that no matter what, he will not hurt her.

but she's still so tired. warmed by the tea, she is able to settle against her pillows again, her eyelids dropping low. ]

You worry too much.

[ she murmurs through the curve of a smile, a quiet laugh in her throat to stand against the sob in his. ]

[ Maybe he does worry too much. It's hard not to, with what he's been through, with what time has made him, but...even if he was always a worrier, it didn't manifest quite like this. Maybe this is something he's supposed to learn from all this. Maybe this is how he can begin to grow again, step by step, until his heart can be free from fear and doubt.

His gaze settles on her as she leans back against the pillows, and a peace unlike anything he has known in ages settles over him like a warm blanket, eclipsing entirely the fear he had felt before. And...he smiles. It's weak and fleeting, but irrefutably there, the mark of the person he once was, and perhaps...the mark of the person he can become once again. ]

Mayhap I do. [ Gently, he squeezes her hand, mindful of the pressure he applies to her still-recovering fingers. ] Get some rest, Alisaie.

[ He will...continue to watch over her, as she does so, and marvel that maybe, just maybe, there is a way out of this pit of despair he has wallowed in for so very long. ]

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batb part two: electric boogaloo

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