#ashencreature

@ashencreature

Continued from here

Miss Marple glanced up from her knitting when Ella spoke. “Don’t you have any family who could help you?” she asked gently. This was the modern age—parents were not nearly as critical about such situations now as they had been when she was a girl. Many older people in her acquaintances either bemoaned the loose morals of their children and grandchildren, or were helping to raise the very same grandchildren. Yet this girl was here alone. Baring the tragedy that had befallen her lover, one would think that someone else in her family, or his, would have had enough mercy to at least step up and help the pair out. Even if she might not approve of the chain of events that led to these situations, Miss Marple knew that she would do has much for a niece or cousin in trouble.

The poor baby was still crying. Miss Marple had never had many skills when it came to small children—she was much better when the children were old enough to think and reason for themselves. Still, something needed to be done.

“It’s really no big deal.” The girl insisted with a smile. “It’s not like I have much of a home to go to, nor would I be welcome. I like being able to be around for other people that don’t have anywhere to go. There’s always at least one poor soul who comes in looking for something to eat and someone to talk to.”

Looking over at her friend, Ella sighed and lifted her eyes to the sky once more. “My mother used to tell me all manner of fairy tales about the stars before she died. She said that Fairy Godmothers came from the stars and that they lived there. So that they could always look after us from above… And when she died, I always used to ask Father if she was with the Fairy Godmothers in the stars… Then he died and I had no idea what was happening. I didn’t believe in Heaven then. I wanted Mummy and Papa to be together. But I never could separate the idea of her being with the Fairy Godmothers and he in Heaven.”

Did any of what she was saying even make sense? Belle was so smart, and she was probably making a complete fool of herself, like Madam and the girls always said.

“I sound mad, don’t I? Talking of Fairy Godmothers and magic. They’re just stories made up for children. If my stepmother could hear me, oh how she’d laugh that awful laugh of hers. There’d be no end to her ridicule. But she’d be right, I suppose. Every word of it.”

Belle tore her gaze away from the skies overhead to watch Ella instead. It seemed that more and more she pitied her friend, who seemed to be just a sweet, poor soul whose lot in life kept turning more and more tragic. Belle could barely remember her own mother, but the thought of being without her Papa was more than she could ever bear to ponder. And to think, dear Ella had been surviving without either parent for some time with only those awful women in her home! Belle had never had the misfortune of meeting Madame Tremaine or her daughters, but if they were even a tenth as horrible as Ella described, then it was no wonder that her friend was so afraid to share her feelings.

🌹*╱ ❝ of course. ❞ she echoes. his response to her inquiry coaxed a bright and genuine smile out of the girl, ❝ but, the taste of a kiss would fade soon after, would it not? ❞ an idea sparks and soon nimble fingers work to unclasp the bracelet that sat upon her wrist, a golden rose pendant held together by a glittering chain. she then fastens it to his wrist, ❝ there, now you may have a part of me always. ❞ because i love you. shock washes over the young girl’s face,  ❝ you     you love me? ❞ soon after, her expression softens.  ❝ elias, i    i love you, too. ❞ 

The Professor had been flying his TARDIS one day. He had done some reworking on one of the main circuitry that morning and wanted to see if it had worked. But suddenly, a few sparks emitted from the console. “No, no, no, no, no…” He muttered to himself. He must have put the wrong wire in a hole.

“What do you think, Ella? Do these make me look ‘cool’?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, having found a pair of sunglasses nearby.

Ella couldn’t say that she was surprised… Somewhere, deep down in her heart, she knew it. When it came to her, at least, Madam was unrepentant. Rubbing her lips together, she bowed her head for a moment, but quickly lifted it up.

She wasn’t going to cry. Not again. Not this time. The woman before her couldn’t ever hurt her again. Ella’s own marriage and position ensured that. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid, though she couldn’t show it.

“I know that.” The queen answered, sighing. “Just as I know I would do the same. I would still be kind to you and the girls. Because your cruelty was never enough to break me.  It wasn’t then, and it will not be now… I did not ask you here, Madam, to recall the past. I asked you here to mend the future.”

Letting her words linger for a moment, she fiddled with her mother’s wedding ring, now in its rightful place on Ella’s own finger. “I know that the majority of what you did was for Anastasia and Drisella. I hold no ill against them. They were merely the product of your raising. And I’m certain that had they been brought up as I had, the three of us would be no different… In any case, they can’t be punished for your crimes. I’ve found suitable marriages for them with noblemen among the court. They’re good men; kind, loyal, and true. If you’ll send them, they’ll have their every need looked after here.”  

          Who did she expect to find wearing the queen’s crown? It was still Ella. Only Ella.

          Perhaps she thought power would have done something to transmute her, turning her golden beauty to steel. Perhaps she thought to find her with her softness gone, a woman sharpened to a knifepoint. But nothing had changed. Ella stood looking at her with the same patient dark eyes, the same loveliness. Her inner sunlight still shone undeniably through. Margarethe’s lips pressed together, pinched by distaste. She plucked restlessly at the hem of her glove, again and again and again.

          She had no choice. She knew that. She knew even before she set foot in the presence of Her Majesty. Whatever Ella wanted would have to be agreed to. Suitable marriages were far, far more than their mother could provide for Anastasia and Drisella. And marriages to noblemen--with the queen’s blessing! It was more than they could ever hope for in exile. The only way forward for her, for them, was to bow her head and humbly thank good Queen Ella. She could hear herself grinding her teeth in the silence.

          “... How... Generous of you, Your Majesty.” She said the words, and said them sweetly, but they were a poisonous kind of honey. Under the first taste of sweet, they were bitter. “My daughters... Will certainly be pleased.”

          They were merely the product of your raising. The words rang in her ears. And I’m certain that had they been brought up as I had... What did Ella know of Anastasia and Drisella’s bringing up? What did she know of all Margarethe had done in raising them, all she’d sacrificed? This petted, spoiled, adored creature--she would never know sacrifice. She would never know what it was to be alone, and burdened, and responsible, and to have to choose for one’s own sake and the sake of one’s children--to choose the most unwanted thing, because it was the only way open to you...

          “And for me?” She smiled, but, wide-eyed, loathing, it had the look of a grimace. “Do tell. How will Your Majesty the Queen punish my... Crimes?” Her gloved hands twisted together. A muscle in her upper lip twitched, betraying the sneer just waiting to show.