———————————————————————— VERWEESD OF VLISSINGHELM "View of La Crescenza" by Claude Lorrain ———————————————————————— The carriage rattled as it bumbled its way along the countryside roads, wheels steadily turning in the thin gouges made from decades of similar carts coming and going along the same path. The farmlands stretching out on either side of the lane were empty and black, burned already after the harvest was made. It was somewhat of a relief to know that such a burning was out of normal tradition, rather than fear of something destroying all that grew there. The Blight had long since been fought off, without ever scarring the Lokkenland farmlands underneath the van Hal banner. Their people had, perhaps, been blessed unknowingly by the Divine Instrument Eotranna. The other possibility was sheer luck being granted onto the Anglian farmers that stemmed there, and good luck at that as who knows all that would have fallen in the collapse of the Regalian breadbasket. Nonetheless, burned by farmhand or due to disease, the land provided very little to speculate on while traveling through it. Lunch had already been stopped for and inns had been passed, so there was no place to visit now for the encroaching night until the van Hal estates were reached some hours along. Every now and again a passing horse or two would trot by with riders chatting in the tongue of the land, loud laughter carrying after for some. It was a boisterous people in Vlissinghelm, if anything. With the few things to watch in passing, the Countess situated within the tidy carriage had tucked a quilt over her lap and leaned her head beside the window at the door, peering dully through the gap in the red curtain. She had already finished her book earlier in the day, working through it since the morning before and finishing it in a rush to know the ending just before that day’s picnic lunch. The remainder of her books were stashed in her luggage at the back of the cart and the woman had no intention of stopping the ride just for another read. So, instead, Haeddi was enveloped in her own thoughts, picking her nails against a loose thread on her skirt. ——— The two arrived at the estate of her father just after supper, when the sun was low on the horizon and the farmlands were featureless without their characteristic wheat being waved in the breeze. It had all been harvested weeks before, long before her arrival, and stored away for a winter’s worth of baked treats and bread rolls. It was only a shame that the girl had missed the holiday season and much of the sugary treats that had come with it. Instead, she would have to settle with Haggelslaage, although she had little issue with that. As the carriage was halted before the front steps of the grand house, she flung open the door of it and leapt down from the cart without even bothering to touch the sole step between her and the ground below. Her skirts billowed up all the while, puffing against the fine dirt, although her excitement was hardly halted as the noblewoman began towards the front steps. Sand discolored the fair white lace at the seams of her dress, and no doubt added color as well to the skirts underneath. It was only at a loud call that she finally stopped in place, hovering one foot over the step above the one she stood on and hands firmly scrunching her skirt to avoid tripping in her hurry. “HAEDDI HARHOLD! What on Aloria do you think you’re doing?!” The cart behind her yelled, or rather the woman within it did. Slowly, Haeddi turned in place to face the carriage as the finely dressed apparition of her mother popped her head from the doorway. A signature scowl was spared to her daughter, who only patiently waited to hear the scolding that was to come. So it did. “My word, what sort of girl- no, noblewoman- jumps from a landau like a wild animal? Don’t you have any shame?” With far more grace, Vivienne Harhold descended from the carriage at her own volition, waving away the offered hand of the coachman. Her skirts rested down without a disturbance to the path around it, and so she clicked up onto the stone stairs to loom over her daughter without even a mark of tan sand to her own fair colored silks. “Aren’t you going to answer me?” “Mother,” finally began Haeddi, taking in a deep breath to dissuade an annoyed sigh that any teenage girl might offer, “I’m only excited to see papa! It’s been just ages since we’ve seen him and-” “-Ages that had good reasoning! Don’t try and deceive me, you little… Hm.” There was an uncharacteristic pause from Vivienne, and then she only offered a sneer, her worst of names put to rest; if only because of the listening ears of the coachman and a servant boy that were unloading trunks from the carriage. The mother’s hand lifted, resting far-too-heavily a top Haeddi’s shoulder as the two both turned to continue inside. The door to the estate swung open before knuckles could be rapped against it, men waiting on the opposite side to invite in the Hound’s wife and his youngest daughter. Both stepped in, Haeddi sparing a small nod to the footman nearest to her, while Vivienne stared through as if she saw nothing but glass. Both made their way through the estate with ease, the Duchess having little issue in finding her way around and Haeddi taking comfort in relying on her mother, just this once, to take her in the right direction. Eventually, the two made it to the lounge and invited themselves to join the already fairly populated room. At the head of his own chair, Hengest Harhold himself was seated with his eyes half-shut and nothing less than three dogs curled near his feet. Another one, the smallest of them and perhaps a puppy in of itself, had come to sleep in his lap. Yet, it was not Hengest that announced the entrance of the two women, but instead the fourth eldest of the Harhold children, Aethelwulf, who jumped to his feet excitable and called, “Mother! Oh, you’re finally home.” One-by-one, the heads of the other eight children scattered throughout the room in their own activities, whether cards or reading, even quietly arguing against one another, popped up to view the Ithanian woman that filled the doorway to their sitting room. Of the eight, six of them scrambled to their feet and rushed to the woman, immediately barking for her attention and chatting away. The two oldest children remained in their own places, although watching the woman earnestly. Haeddi, on the other hand, was eventually shepherded away from her mother’s side and found herself awkwardly standing on the outside of the circle of children. Thus, she sat herself down beside her eldest sister and watched the affairs in silence. As all things would have it, Vivienne was quick to quiet her gaggle of youths, snapping out a few choice words and the rare, but forced smile. The majority of the children eventually floated back away from their mother to return to their previous activities, the excitement of her return wearing down as quickly as it had come. Only Aethelwulf and Cwynthryth remained at their mother’s heels, squeezing themselves close to her sides once she settled onto the couch, and being the rare few that Vivienne did not demand space from. It was unsurprising nonetheless; if there was anything the children knew of their mother, it was who her favorites were. Haeddi remained in her spot, staring blankly towards the fireplace, her fingers picking at the seams of her blouse as she idled. It was then that her eldest sister finally glanced towards her and slowly leaned over until their shoulders bumped, causing the younger girl to startle. Her gaze rose then to her sister’s, met with a gentle smile. “Hi there,” murmured Agatha. Despite the fact that Agatha was not one of Vivienne’s children, she looked more like a Harhold than Haeddi ever had. Even with the older girl being one of two that was a bastard from some countryside baroness long before Cwynthryth was born, her hair was the chestnut brown like Hengest’s as well as the dull green eyes that their father shared. Haeddi considered her one of the prettiest women that she knew. “Hello, Lady Agatha,” was the returning whisper. Despite the fact that Haeddi was trying to be courteous to the bastard girl, she was only answered with a frown. Gradually, her sister leaned off of her again and back against the couch instead, returning that foreign distance between them once more. She couldn’t help but feel that she had done something to offend her sister. Thus, after a moment’s pause, Haeddi added on, “...Your name is Agatha, right?” “Yes. Just Agatha. You don’t call your sisters ladies in your own home.” Ah. So that was it. Now Haeddi understood the offense that had occurred, yet she didn’t make a word to apologize. She had been taught by her beloved mother to be formal with her bastard siblings. They weren’t real siblings, after all, but rather charity that her father had allowed to live underneath their roof. Despite the fact that Agatha and Eadwald were the eldest of the nine children, they were never going to be heirs to anything. Granted, neither would Haeddi ever live up to anything unless she managed to marry well, considering her place as the very last in line. Agatha, even with her sister’s silence, sat and stared at the fireplace in front of them. It occurred to Haeddi some minutes later that perhaps she was still waiting for an apology, or at least for the conversation to continue, but she wasn’t sure what to say that may reverse the evident offense she had made. Her sister eventually stood and stalked away to join Eadwald and one of their other sisters for a game of cards. Thus, Haeddi was alone again in place and panned slowly down to her hands, scrunching her skirt in her grasp. It was only when a grittier voice spoke that her attention rose up again. “No hello for me, girl?” Hengest was staring towards her expectantly, still lounging in his chair like any father enjoying niksen. She had heard stories too of her father, shared only when her mother was angry. It was in times when she had frustrated Vivienne that she told, in a raised voice, of all Hengest’s flaws. When she had just begun to read as a child and struggled, it was blamed on inherited stupidity from her father’s own illiteracy, rather than a need for glasses that Haeddi learned to ignore. Too was it her father’s fault when she became upset with Vivienne’s ways, a disobedient and wild animal like the Hound Lord. Still, there were little things she wished for, and one such thing was not to enrage a wild man nor his hounds. So the girl mechanically made her feet and paced across the lounge to stand before her father. He stared at her still, in silence, judging her in wait. “Hello, papa,” murmured the girl then, her excitement to see him leaking away as she briefly met his gaze. Her hands folded atop one another, pinching her fingers against the back of her hand. Hengest released a slow sigh then and lifted his hand to pat it roughly against her shoulder, finding no patience to convince her of his love at that time. Haeddi stepped back then, happy at least that she had survived her yearly introduction with her father. It would be another year before she had to chance whether she would be granted a bittersweet, but endearing hello, or one of shallow distaste that her father opted to show her. Another year after that, unbeknownst yet to the girl, would be her last hello to her father as she was left at that estate in Vlissinghelm for her mother to continue her roamings alone. ——— Haeddi’s head smacked into the carriage window with one particular bump and a mumble of pain escaped her. She slid her hand up to touch the spot, wincing gently. Her eyes fluttered fully open and she noted that the sun had sunk much further now than it had before. She knew where the dream was going, it always returned to that place: the day her mother left for Ithania- without her. It was a wonder of why she always hung onto that memory, since her reminders of her mother even then were nothing, but bitter. It was a simple life though, truly, underneath the word and ‘wisdom’ of her mother, and perhaps sometimes simpleness is longed for, even if it comes with its bruises. A sigh then escaped the Countess, slouching lower into her seat within the wobbling carriage. She could see the wide walls of her birth estate upon the horizon, yet it was still some ways away, easy to see now with the flattened plains that it looked across. Haeddi reached out her hand, grasping her finished novel back up and flipping once more to page one. ——— I worked on this for about a month because I didn’t know how to end it lol anyways just enjoy the backstory part :pray: i thought it was good
