James Garin

When James asked if he had dreamed her voice, she couldn’t help but smile. It felt ages since she had. It was easy to lose track of time down here in the dark: she knew it was likely that it had been only days but it already felt like weeks, months, years since she’d seen the sun. The punishment for stealing from the Queen was death, but she wondered if they didn’t meant to keep them down here until they begged for it.

Perhaps this wasn’t the worst scrape they’d ever been in, but until this moment, Valery had never felt like they’d had no chance of escape before. Perhaps it was because they’d surrendered so easily to Cassius and his dragon or perhaps it was because this was the first time that they’d be in a bad spot without all four of them together. But seeing James here, alive (even if he was in the same situation they were in) someone made her feel like they might just make it out alive, after all. And she found something she hadn’t had before: hope.

“We stole from the Queen one too many times,” She said, “We were stupid and careless. We’d come in and out so easily before we stopped being as cautious as we once were. This time someone discovered we weren’t who we said we were and we ran. We made it safely back to the Revenge, but it wasn’t long before Cassius and his dragon caught us and brought us back.” She’d wanted to fight and die on the ocean, but she’d listened to her captain and laid down her sword.

Even if they died here in these rotting cells, it would have been worth it to have seen James once more. They might not die on the sea, but they would die together.

She couldn’t help but chuckle when he explained what he was doing here. “That sounds like you. You always kiss the wrong girls.” This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d found trouble because of it. “Perhaps you should stop.” She teased.

She listened as he described the Isle of the Damned to her and his time there. She’d imagined it to be hell on earth – not this paradise that James spoke of. Part of her wondered if he was lying, but she did not think he would have been able to have survived the Island, otherwise. She did not think that he was only telling her a half truth.

“Why would someone name a place like that The Isle of the Damned?” She asked, “To keep anyone else from ever sailing to it?” She wondered aloud. Although by James’s description, it sounded as though he was the only one there — so perhaps the tales of it had worked too well. She liked the idea, however, of a beautiful island that everyone was too scared to sail to that only they knew about.

“I feel sorry for the lady,” She said, “She was saved from marrying Loys but then she was kidnapped by you. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” She teased. Perhaps his plan could have gone better (in fact, most of them could), but it had, as he said, brought them together. And together, maybe they would be able to escape.

James chuckled.  “I leave the lot of you on your own for one, single year and you manage to anger the Queen of all Aragoth,” he teased.  “I’m impressed.  I thought my tale was doleful, but I only took on the Queen’s aunt.”  He laughed.  “I confess, I’m a little disappointed I won’t be going to the gallows with such a fantastic tale.  You can proudly declare that you survived an encounter with Cassius Montagu and his dragon, a duo so ferocious they felled all the rest of their mighty Order.  My foe wasn’t a dragon at all but merely a lioness - and that, sadly, only of the metaphorical variety.”

He smirked.  He couldn’t deny it.  After all, it had been the price of a night with Lia that had landed him on the Isle of the Damned in the first place.  “What’s life without a little spice?  It’s far more interesting kissing the wrong girls.  That’s where the challenge is.  Besides, you know I’m not one to surrender without a fight, particularly when what’s at stake is something so pleasant as kissing.”

Shaking his head, James grinned.  “I suppose it must be because...There’s a great variety of caves and mountains on the Isle and, when the winds howl, they whistle through the caves till the wind sounds like the moans and shrieks of mortals in terror and sorrow and agony.  Perhaps the Vysovans, in the mists of time, thought the Isle was, indeed, haunted by the souls of the damned because of it.  Or,” he added with a wink.  “Perhaps some clever pirate decided to ward off anyone who might look there for his hidden treasure with a gruesome name.  I ought to have been more careful in my ministrations, there.  Perhaps I would have happened upon some great booty and might have been able to repay Godfrey straight off and then I, too, could make the bold claim that I’d faced down a dragon and lived to tell the tale.”

Still, as he thought, James knew he was glad it hadn’t gone that way.  He didn’t know how to say it, but he was glad to have met Celia, even now, when it seemed no longer possible he could do any good because of it.  James wasn’t about to surrender his hope, however, of escape until the axe fell and he was dead.  He’d learned, by now, that life was a series of wild twists and turns and the vicissitudes of fate, he’d often seen, had more in store for him than any simple death.  James wouldn’t believe in an unbeatable situation until he met with it.  Until then, he’d always have his hope.

The fresh clothes were scratchy (and a challenge to get into on her own, but she’d managed in the end), the soap had dried her skin, and the water had been lukewarm at best, but in the end, she still felt more refreshed than she had when they’d arrived. Her old clothes and jewels had been discarded and she looked more like Avia Raryn than Celia Beaumont. 

The only thing that remained was the sapphire ring upon her finger. You’ll be a Mortain one day, it promised. She let out something between a laugh and a cry when she thought of the day that the return message had come from Swystone. The ring had come with the reply and she remembered eagerly placing it on her finger. It had been there since: reminding her of the future that she would one day have. It still held promises, but for a much different life. What a silly, stupid girl you have been. 

Still, she wouldn’t discard it with the rest of her things. Loys may not be the man she once thought he was, but she would still be Lady Mortain one day. So instead she wore it round her neck, hidden underneath her clothes. 

The room was crowded with weary travelers bent over their supper and loud men who were spending their last dragons on drink. It was dark and noisy and the food smelled strange (and rather off-putting). 

I’m a long way from home, she thought. 

She pushed her way through the crowds, looking for James, and she stopped short when she finally found him. He’d cut his hair, had a bath, and changed his clothes – and now he looked more the man she had once known. He looked like the man she had once wanted to marry. But she wasn’t so easily fooled: he’d lied to her, stolen from her, insulted her, and kidnapped her – it would take more than a bath for her to forgive him. 

She approached the table where he was sitting and took the seat across from him. He’d already had food brought around for her. She eyed the stew suspiciously and jabbed at something she couldn’t identify with her spoon before deciding she wasn’t quite hungry enough to try it and instead went for the drink. An instant later, she was choking on it. It had been strong and bitter. This was not her mother’s wine. 

He took her wardrobe in with equanimity, even a touch of pleasure, until his eyes fell to her bare hands.  “What did you do with your ring?” he hissed, gut twisting.  He hadn’t expected this feeling.  After all, James had planned on ever again beholding the ring that had once belonged to his mother, when he’d left.  The fact that it had, yesterday, graced the finger of Celia Beaumont and now did not ought to have been nothing to him...but he found it was not nothing.  He prayed she hadn’t rid herself of his mother’s ring, altogether, though he was conscious he couldn’t have entirely faulted her for doing so, if that had been her move.

Cocking a brow at her as she commented on the food, he chuckled.  “I find it’s best not to ask in these circumstances,” he said, tone half-teasing, though he was really quite sincere.  “There’s not much left for the people to eat, once the Queen has her way, so they must make do with scraps.”  If James were to bet on it, he’d guess this was pigeon stew, though rat, crow, opossum, or really anything else was equally possible.  Bemused, he wondered distantly if - were it crow - her act of consuming it, as a Beaumont, might not be construed as cannibalism.  

Either way, it was sustenance and that was all James could really ask for, in these circumstances.  “Perhaps,” he drawled.  “It’s roast pheasant stew.  That would suit your fancy, Avia, would it not?”

First off, thank you for this visual bc klajsdflkjdskjflkdjls WHAT LOSERS <33333  Second, wow!!  This is actually really hard alkdsjfkljasdflkj  Also, it’s worth nothing that of these two James is ~my baby~ and so I ~want him to win in my heart of hearts which…I fear is keeping this from being a truly balanced discussion #sorrynotsorry

Ok, soooo obv if they have their native technology, Vardon would win bc he’d just shoot James before he could get close but since that’s not really a fair analysis of ~ability~ I’m gonna say that they’re just, like, idk bashing each other w rocks or something AND I’m gonna say it’s to the death so they’re both fighting full-out

Xavier is 38 years old w a loT of experience and aptitude in fighting, but he also hasn’t done it in a long time (he’s got minions for that now)

James is 32 (well, probs 33 or 34 now…I’m guessing it’s been at LEAST a year in Aragoth since we started writing like four years ago alksdjflksdjf) and fights basically everyday of his life (you…chose this life my buddy, my pal, don’t complain)

Both are trained in war, but one as a regular soldier; the other as a knight and later a pirate.  That is to say, one is more brutal than the other - and that in terms of personality, too.  Both are survivors.  Xavier is arrogant; James is cocky.  Xavier is a strategist; James is spontaneous.

1/7 significant quotes → celion: a lesson in ransoming

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” She scolded, “This isn’t because I’d miss you! I’m certain I should not! Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused since I’ve met you?” She asked, crossing her arms. The list was a long one. But so was, she realized, the list of things she’d gained from his acquaintance. She decided not to mention any of those things now. “I will be happy to be rid of you! But I … I can’t … sit and do nothing while you are sentenced to die.”

She rolled her eyes, “Of course not! You know that’s not what I meant. I only want you to be serious! And do … something!” She realized she had not suggestions to offer and no help to give. She only felt as though she had exhausted every option available to her to free him and she was angry and frustrated with herself. “You’ve been in these situations before … how did you escape last time? You could do it again!” She cried, hands grasping the bars.

As he related his time since he arrived, she began to despair in him having any sort of plan of escape. But when he mentioned the tunnels, she felt a new spark of hope. “The tunnels? The tunnels beneath the castle? I know my way through them! They connect the palace to Fain and Ravenwood! I could lead you through them!” She felt a rush of excitement at the idea, as though had solved their problem. But she had conveniently forgotten about how she would manage to sneak him out of his cell, through the prisons, and then to the tunnels in the first place.

She didn’t appreciate his comment about her mother. “Don’t speak of her!” She cried, frustrated … even though she supposed he was right. She had never stopped to consider how much wine her mother consumed, but she now imagined that she must slowly let it put her to sleep, just as she relied on it to get herself through the day. Celia’s relationship with her mother was not what it once was … she couldn’t trust her … but she loved her still. Part of her wished that it could be as it had been before and he had been the one to take that from her. It was silly, she knew, to be angry with him for her mother’s behavior, when all he had done was help her to see her for who she was, but it was easier, now, to be upset with him than herself for not seeing it all sooner.

She softened, however, when he brought up their past adventures together. She didn’t mean to. She was supposed to be angry with him, but he’d managed to summon the good memories from the past few months and even though she hadn’t said it, she realized that she would miss him. She would miss him very much. One way or another he would leave this prison and, when he did, there was very little chance that they would see each other again, whatever happened.

“They weren’t all bad.” She managed, finally.

“You aren’t making any sense,” She said, when he described where he had been before this. “It was a prison, but a prison without bars? And one that you were able to simply sail away from?” Wherever he had been, it seemed very unlikely that he had gained any sort of experiences that would help them in their current situation.

She paused, suddenly realizing what else he had said, “You stole from your own brother? Why would you do such a thing? Surely he would have leant it to you, if you had only asked him?” She stopped again, considering his story, “The money from my ransom … that is how you meant to pay him back for it? Goodness, how much did you take?”

She forgot her anger and confusion for a moment, when he began to mention the plans for escape that he did have. Why had he not mentioned all of this earlier? She thought, frustrated. But she was pacing now, her thoughts fixated on what he had said, “I might distract one of the guards … “ She said, “But would I be able to get the keys at the same time?” She wondered, aloud. And she would need a lookout. “We need help.” She said, finally. But who could she trust? No one, she realized. No one at all.

“James, is there anyone else in the city you trust?”

She felt like slapping him when he requested that she think of him when she kissed her husband. She had no great expectations what her romance with Loys would be like (she thought it much more realistically would be nonexistent based on what James had told her), but she would not think of another man when she was with him! “How dare you say such a thing!” She cried, “I don’t expect to love him, but I will not be having any such thoughts of you! I wish you’d never kissed me and don’t mean to ever think of it again!” Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. She thought of it often, already, and a part of her suspected that she would only think on it more, rather than less. But she would rather die than let him know that.

He was right: her mother did underestimate her. Everyone did, now, except for perhaps James, himself. And for now, she realized, would be her greatest advantage.

“Specifically since I’ve met you?” inquired James with a roguish grin.  “No idea.”  He tilted his head.  “Do you mean to tell me?  I’d relish hearing an accounting of it from your lips.”  He was, after all, very fond of her lips, he considered with a self-satisfied smirk.  For all that it had been an impulse of the moment, James remained quite pleased with himself for having stolen that kiss.  “You’ve wounded me, Radiance,” he said, continuing to grin.  “I freely admit that I’d miss you if you were to be beheaded by some relative of mine.  Is it so very much to confess that you might?”

Chuckling, James nodded to himself.  “She prefers me do something,” he mumbled, grasping his prison bars.  “When I’m well and truly caged.”  Amusement flitted in his eyes.  “And what, pray, would you have me do?  Perhaps if I were to pace like a caged lion you might feel less ill at ease?  There’s little else of which I’m capable at present.”

He shook his head.  “I can’t do what I did last time.  But I have been in other similar situations.”  James grinned.  “Those are tales, indeed.  One time, when I was, oh, sixteen or seventeen, I challenged my jailers to a duel which, if I won, I would be free to go.  I had no reputation at the time and - thinking to make an example of me and my insolence as their were seven of them and one of me, they agreed.  I dueled them all and won my freedom.  Seeing as they were, therefore, incapacitated, they chose to honor our agreement and I escaped.  On another occasion, I had a very merry gaoler, indeed, and drank him under the table with some drugged wine.  On another occasion, I used the thigh bone of the previous inmate of my little cell - who was still there - to bash my captor over the head and made good my escape that way.”  

He shrugged.  “But unfortunately, I’ve now a reputation which will prevent the first; no access to any herbs or the drink of those guards which will prevent the second; and finally this piteous cell can at least boast that it is entirely free of the earthly remains of its previous occupants which will also prevent the last solution.  I’m afraid I’ve quite run out of tricks, Celia,” he said, softly.  “I never thought the day would come, but so it has.  I suppose the Imperial City has seen more tricksters than some of those little seaports along the coast.”

James perked up with interest, leaning forward.  “Do you, now?” he laughed.  “Why did you not mention this sooner?  Well, then,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together.  “Perhaps we could scrape something together, then.  But,” he added.  “I won’t leave without my brother,” he added, nodding in Godfrey’s general direction.  “Or Valery, so if you truly mean to help me escape from this place, we must be thorough.  Are you sure you wish to be caught up in that, Celia?” he inquired softly, very softly.  “I doubt as your mother or cousin shall be very forgiving if they ever have reason to suspect your involvement.”  Not that James thought she would end up in one of these cells, but trust, certainly, would be lost.

James huffed.  “Why not?  Gods know I spared her life!  Was that not enough?  If I’d have struck her down I’d not now be in this abominable prison.  I think I’ve well and truly earned the right to abuse her reputation a little though, goodness knows, its in such a state down here as to need no help in tarnishing it from me,” he said.

“There now,” murmured James, softening as well, a smiling lighting his face.  “I quite agree.”

Shifting, James sighed.  “It’s not a sorry I’m altogether proud of, Radiance,” he admitted, quietly.  “After I borrowed - I did not steal it! - some money, which I meant to repay just as soon as I was able, that...harlot over there,” he said, pointing at Sybil who was asleep with her head on Godfrey’s shoulder.  “Convinced him that I’d stolen the money with no intention of ever repaying him and that it amounted to insubordination and mutiny.  She had him maroon me on the Isle of the Damned and leave me there to die.  I did not, however, die.  I refused.  Besides,” he added.  “Anyone with the education which - do I surprise you? - I have, may quickly deduce that the awful shrieks and moans coming from the island - unsettling as they are - are made entirely by the wind as it rushes through the strange catacombs and rocks there.  

“The island is actually quite a paradise,” he added.  “I survived by lying on a beach eating coconuts and mangoes, whiling away my days playing the shipwright as I made an ill-conceived attempt to build a small seaworthy vessel for myself...a skill I can now inform you from experience, I entirely lack.  But the island still has a curse.  A live volcano keeps it fertile, but when it erupts, it is as if the demon himself rises from the seventh hell.  That was far more harrowing.  I survived by scaling the sheer cliff sides and, finally, escaping on the poor little boat I’d buitl that burned up halfway, forcing me to swim to shore, where I ultimately washed up half-dead like a boiled potato...Which, incidentally is how I ended up as the muddied mess you met on the road.  So, you see, a prison without bars from which I sailed away.  I’m very afraid none of those tactics will do in this instance,” he added, glancing at the iron bars.

James huffed.  “I most certainly did not steal from him!  I borrowed!  I borrowed,” he said, quickly.  “You see, there was...” he thought of Lia and smiled privately, before flicking his eyes back to her.  “There was a girl who...Well, if you must know - and I’m afraid you really will be quite shocked - I used the money on a whore and I don’t mind telling you I passed a delightful evening with her and do not regret that I did.  But I did not steal the money!  I borrowed it with every intention of repaying the loan.  You see, I’d been very...generous with your bracelet and spent it quite quickly.  Godfrey,” he added.  “Was far wiser with his ill-gotten gains and made them last longer.  I did not think he would miss it before I could repay him and we were to leave dock that next morning and I knew I’d not see her again for months and months and, yes, she is a whore and I know what you must think but...I really am quite fond of her.”  He paused.  “You see, I borrowed it...without his knowledge.  But I was always going to repay him!  It was never more than a loan.  I would own the fact to you if I’d simply stolen it from him.”

He arched his brows.  “Not so very much as you must think!  It is simply that, having just exited my little prison in a most harrowing fashion, I had not so much as a copper to my person and I knew I’d need enough not simply to repay him, but to reach him and I knew he’d be halfway round the continent by that time.”  He glanced back towards the sleeping pirate.  “For what it’s worth...I was right.  I simply did not know where round the continent he might be.  And, in any case, I needed not only enough to find him and repay him...but enough to bribe my way back into his good graces and those of the rest of the crew which, as you may guess, all amounts to a great sum and, fortunately, fate brought you to me.”

James thought immediately of Alymar and laughed aloud.  He shook his head.  “Not a one,” he said, arching a brow.  “Between you, my brother, and little Valery, I think we may account for all those in this city who can claim my trust.”  He paused.  “But you, Celia, you live here.  Surely...surely there is someone here you can trust?”

“For all the trouble it has caused me, I can’t say I dislike the efficiency of it all. They’ve killed two birds with one stone.” He shook his head, “I do not think the Queen was behind this. She’s wanted me dead for years but … I know Avelina was behind it. She was too happy to see her daughter wed Valles. Her one redeeming quality is her love of her daughters. It is a crazed, possessive love, but love all the same. She dislikes the idea of marrying them to anyone. I don’t think she could bare to see it happen unless she knew that they would be happy. And Lynessa would not have been happy with Jon.” He paused, “But she had help. She did not act alone. Someone helped her. This plot was not her own.” It went off too perfectly to have been planned by her.

“I do not think it was the Queen … Avelina plays the loyal subject well but … she’s let it slip more than once that she knows what Rowena truly is. Who would be fool enough to trust her? Her nephew, Arthur, might … but he would not breathe if the Queen herself didn’t allow it. She’s been seen very often in the company of Dmitrei Massard. He is clever enough to plot such a scheme and see it carried through but … I expect he is also too clever to tie himself to a sinking ship. Avelina may have won, for now, but she will ultimately be her own destruction. And that, I suppose, is a small comfort just now.”

Alexandir laughed at the thought of being trapped with Valles, “Yes … and just when we thought these prisons couldn’t be anymore drearisome. I expect one of you would be dead long before the executioners came for you.” Even unarmed, Alexandir had no doubt that James would have bested him. Jon Valles liked to think himself one of the greatest warriors in all of Aragoth. But he was slow and stupid and overconfident. He would have been no match for James who could have both outwitted and outfought him without much effort on either count.

He smirked when James asked him why Avelina should want him dead. “Oh, she’s wanted me dead even longer than the Queen. We were to marry once, she and I. I’d been blindly optimistic at the time that we might even be happy.” He laughed at that now. How foolish he had been!  “What a cursed union that would have been. I don’t know why she hated me: perhaps it was because I was a born a Godiva, or a dwarf, or that I was to be her husband despite her protests. But she hated me. And she’s hated me since with a blind fury. She’s convinced herself that I am to blame for every horrible thing to have ever happened to her. I am the great mastermind behind it all. It is flattering in a way. I myself have tried to explain how I might have accomplished half the things she’s accused me of, but I’ve always fallen short. For all of my many, many faults, she thinks I am far and away more conniving than I can even imagine myself to be.”

He laughed, “The only way to escape Avelina Beaumont is death. You do well in counting yourself lucky that she has not paid a visit to you yet – of all the horrors of this prison, the inability to escape her has been the worst. But she may yet come to you. You, too, have committed crimes against her that she is not likely to forget. Although take comfort in the fact that they shall never be as heinous as my own. She is like to think that I plotted the kidnapping myself, and you are only the sorry fellow I hired to carry it all out.”

James arched his brow with surprise as Alexandir avowed his belief of the Queen’s innocence.  “Of all the people I might have expected to hear come to her defense,” he began, eyes twinkling with mischief.  “I confess, you were remarkably low on the list...particularly in your current predicament.”  Chomping into his apple (James loved apples but this one was a sad, nearly rotted affair), he listened with interest to Alexandir’s reasons.  

“Intriguing,” he mused, thoughtfully twirling the apple atop his fingers.  “She does seem to rather bear a grudge against you,” pointed out James (as though Alexandir required any confirmation on the subject).  James barely knew Avelina, but he knew that much.  “But who would get into bed with her?  Speaking as one, myself, she seems a bad risk, if you ask me,” he added, narrowing his eyes.

“Dmitrei Massard?  That doddering old fool is still alive?” laughed James in surprise.  He stopped to quirk a brow at Alexandir when he made his declaration of Dmitrei’s character.  For one sinking moment, James was seized with the wretched fear that his only ally in this part of the world was so dull, he thought Dmitrei Massard to be a clever man...yet as he continued, James shook his head slowly.  This was Alexandir Godiva, one of the cleverest men in Aragoth.  No, that was not the issue here.

“I do not know who you have met, my friend,” mused James, turning to face Alexandir.  “But I can assure you that the man you have just described is not Dmitrei Massard.  The poor old fool was known to get lost in his own Great Hall which, I might add, contained a table, four walls, and not much else.”  James chuckled softly.  “Everyone in the South knew full well that the Queen had summoned him simply to ensure that she would always have a vote in her favor, no matter the scheme.  Lord Massard was known to be spineless, always quick to agree with whomever was most powerful.  Do those sound like the actions of an ambitious and calculating schemer?”  He paused, tossing aside the core of his apple.  “So then the question becomes this: just who is that man and what does he want?”

James chuckled.  “I imagine you are quite right,” he replied.  “I doubt the late Lord Valles would have been any more fond of me than I of him and that would be enough, I think, to settle it for either of us.”  It was his judgment that neither Valles nor himself was very likely to put up with the other’s companionship for long - whatever form that may take.  Like Alexandir, James suspected the form may well have been lethal.  Either way, he was particularly glad not to have to endure even however long that would have taken in his presence.

James chuckled, resting his head against the wall behind him.  “I met her for only a few minutes joined together, but I confess I rather disliked her and, in fact, am now sorry I let her live...only I let my conscience get in the way.  What a bother it is,” he commented, ruefully.  “I couldn’t strike her down with her own daughter watching.  In any case, dreadful as those few moments were, I can only imagine what a marriage to her might have been.  Even if it did land you here, I am confident this is still a better fate than that might have been.”

James let out a low whistle.  “To think I was so hard on her daughter when that’s what raised her,” he commented, distantly, before shaking himself and glancing towards the rancid crust that their guards called bread.  He shook his head.  “How convenient for her,” he commented, drolly.  “I think it would be a great deal easier to go through life with only one villain responsible for every misfortune in life.  One might easily avoid some of the greater confusions and worser emotions that color life.”  For himself, James usually had no one other than himself to blame, but for all that, he thought that such a blind hatred would rob some of the spice from life.  “If,” he added, shrugging.  “Perhaps a tad boring.  To always know who the perpetrator is, well,” he shrugged.  “Where’s the excitement in that?”

Smirking, James nodded.  “Ahh, perhaps it was you who suggested I steal away her youngest daughter,” he commented, sarcastically, assuming that that would not be something anyone - including Avelina - could ever reasonably believe.  He was wrong.  “That would have been very tidy of us, indeed.”  He took a drink of the foul-tasting water - only to choke on it almost instantly as Alexandir continued to tell him that this was, in fact, Avelina’s belief.