Chapter Text
“Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova! Will you just listen to your favorite goddaughter for once?”
“Continue this and Sonya will be my new favorite.”
The doors flung open unceremoniously, colliding against the walls with a horrible crash. In strode Marya whose face was as red as her crimson coat and Natasha rushed in after her to take her side, furious admonishments pouring out of her mouth that Marya could not decipher. The captain could hear her goddaughter’s voice becoming more distraught and her hands flying in all directions to emphasize the severity of the situation but she refused to listen to her. Like Andrei had predicted, Marya was now drowning in her own pride, too ignorant to understand the selfishness of the decision that she thought was best for everyone, of how she had just foolishly placed a bet on Hélène who had not spoken to her ever since their encounter with the king. Natasha had chased Marya all the way home, shoulder to shoulder and her mouth to ear as she cried to her godmother about this stupidity. No one had ever seen Natasha so eager and helpless all at once as she stood up to Marya who refused to even spare a glance at her. To no avail, Marya buffered out every word and Natasha eventually gave up. She could not last a second longer wasting her breath if her words were going to fall on deaf ears so she trudged up the staircase in defeat. Hélène followed behind Natasha up the stairs but went her separate way to hide in her room. She could not even find it in her to speak up since everything had been decided for her. To minimize that feeling of redundance, she resorted to isolating herself for a while. She would only come out when she felt like it but for now, she could not bear hearing them converse any more.
Mary and Sonya whispered among themselves, stopping when they could hear their voices as clear as day now that the room was barren of anyone but themselves and Marya. With Natasha and Hélène gone, it became strangely quiet. Marya stood at the foot of the stairs and she stared off into the direction where Hélène had disappeared off to, but she did not say anything. Her stubbornness prevented her from abandoning her thoughts to run after her lover. Instead, it glued her feet to the floor like an adhesive with her eyes to stare at the hallway uselessly. Mary and Sonya proceeded with their whispers but it was cut short. Mary leaned in to say something to Sonya and the girl nodded obediently. Giving Mary a kiss on the cheek, Sonya scurried off to her room, sparing a moment to offer a small bow her head in Marya’s direction. Mary stayed. Standing beside Marya, Mary placed a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention.
“What were you thinking?” Mary questioned softly and furrowed her brows.
“I know what I’m doing, Mary. I’m not an idiot,” Marya hissed through gritted teeth, tearing her shoulder away from Mary’s hand to walk to the parlor.
Mary followed beside her. “I didn’t say that you’re an idiot.”
“You implied it.”
“Now you’re just being childish!” Mary scoffed.
“And you’re the one stirring up the argument.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “You’re endangering Hélène and do you even realize that you might lose her again?”
“I won’t. Not to an oaf like your brother,” Marya argued.
“You don’t know him like I do!” Mary protested as she slid in front of Marya with a pleading look. “Please, just think about it.”
“I am capable of handling a man who only knows how to sit on a throne and command. I’ve had enough of Natasha’s jabbering and I barely have any patience left to listen to yours,” Marya huffed angrily as she brushed past Mary who proceeded to follow her.
“Think of Hélène, at least. Have you even thought about how she feels about this? About being the reward of the duel?” At that, Marya froze and Mary continued. “You’ve always condemned people for objectifying others but now you’re doing it. What does this say about you?”
Spinning on her heel, Marya raised a finger at Mary. “I am doing what I can to protect Hélène. If I hadn’t accepted that duel, he would have taken her away from me because of the power he has. This is the only way that’ll make things fair because I have a chance to use my own power against him.”
“You’re not broadening your perspective enough to see the idiocy of your decision!” Mary cried out.
“Why should I? All I have to focus on is on winning and if I broaden it out too much, I’ll get lost and that will be the path to my failure,” Marya retorted, and straightened her back. “Go back to your books. I don’t need any more people pestering me!”
Mary stiffened up at the way Marya loomed over her as she spoke, shrinking into her meek self once more. She found herself at a loss for words and decided not to persist this quarrel. Everyone else in the house had given up on talking some sense into Marya and it was now Mary’s turn to join them in defeat. It sparked just a little hope in Mary that Marya would bring the same fire to the duel, the fire that managed to silence four people who knew Marya better than anyone. What chance did Andrei have against a stranger whose skills were unknown to him? It was something to hold onto, Mary thought to herself, but she reminded herself that she knew both parties; though, she did not know the person that Andrei was now. Even as the brightest scholar in town, no amount of mathematical calculations could predict the outcome of the duel. There was hardly a probability to begin with and it frightened her. She could not do anything to prevent the duel from happening so the only person she could turn to was their loving God. If He was witnessing this, he was most certainly shaking his head in disappointment.
The air in the parlor went rigid as the only two figures who occupied the room went silent. With the curtains drawn over windows that were sealed shut, the silence became dense and it was slowly weighing on Mary’s shoulders. Her posture slackened and she picked on her cuticles to distract herself from the intensity of the moment. Marya had not moved at all after her little outburst but her chest heaved as she steadied her breathing. Mary did not need Marya’s command to know that it was time to take her leave so she stepped away from the woman’s side to walk towards the hallway that they had come from. Standing at the mouth, the scholar stopped and she looked at her feet in contemplation.
Craning her head, she spoke. “I know who Andrei was… But I’m afraid you’re facing a man I’ve never known. I’m sorry… I can’t help you out of this one.”
“I don’t need to know who I’m fighting. I’ve fought more strangers than acquaintances,” Marya spoke coldly.
“You’re wrong,” Mary disagreed plainly. “Approaching the unknown is always dangerous and you of all people should know that. The Asian Seas, Dolokhov and his poisoned bullet, losing your arm when you got the ZhiYu and, let us not forget, the fact that you actually died.”
“And?”
“You almost killed Hélène when we didn’t know any better. Don’t you see the recurring pattern or is denial blinding you?”
Marya did not respond. It was not because she was at a loss but because she was aware that if she spoke anymore, the argument would prolong. She should be training but Mary was wasting her time away with a pathetic quarrel that was leading to a dead end. Why the scholar persisted or even how she did it were mysteries to her. Mary could be a stubborn one like Marya and sometimes she forgot that her own scholar, the incredibly timid Mary Bolkonsky, was capable of standing up to her. Marya was skilled at the articulation of vocabulary and so was Mary, so there was no determined winner in their fight. Concluding a draw in a fight, a silly verbal one, before her duel was not the encouragement that Marya needed and with that Mary’s lecture about facing the unknown may became more factual than opinionated.
Footsteps made their way out of the room and soon, Marya was alone to dwell on Mary’s words and her own mind that challenged against them as she, in her best attempts, tried to find rationality. As her thoughts plagued her, her feet moved in coordination with them. The more she pondered, the quicker she strode through the hallway to her destination: the training room. Initially, she did not think to train for she had believed that she was capable of beating Andrei with the tricks that always earned her the title of a winner. With Andrei, a soldier who fought his way to the top, he could be better than she was. How could she forget that he was a man of war? Being the king of Polumnyy would also mean that he could possess the sufficient skills to protect their kingdom. He could squish Marya like an insect under his boot and call it a day, then he would take Hélène for his keeping as his prize. Her dread morphed into anger, and Marya forced the doors open with a kick.
A cloud of dust greeted her as the doors swung open. The training room had been unused for a great deal of time, time enough to create a cake of dust over the straw training dummies and the floors. Marya was grateful for the fact that she preserved the dummies for the occasion for it saved her the energy of crafting one to take the place of the stumps the straw figures were erected upon. In the room were four dummies but one was already worn in aged slashes and stabs. Scattered by the destroyed mannequin were the remnants of a shattered sword. The pieces that formed the blade were jagged and cracked from overuse; or perhaps from the rage of a dragon. Some were even coated in dark brown patches of dried blood that trailed to the hilt that had been discarded in the corner of the room. Above the hilt was a dent in the wall which indicated that it had been thrown with an excessive amount of strength. This was a story Marya would never revisit but the corpse of the sword was always there to remind her that the story still existed.
Marya made sure to close the door behind her so that no one would come sticking their nose into her business. She did not need another soul nagging her about the rashness of her decision. Tightening the glove of her right hand, she unholstered her sword and drew closer to a standing mannequin. Then, she raised her weapon and dealt the first strike. One strike after another, the dragon began to emerge; the same monstrous creature that had managed to destroy a steel sword and part of the wall. Icy cold eyes flared with anger and the clanging of metal against wood and straw echoed through the room. She did not know how long she was going to train but she knew that she could not overwork herself. Most importantly, she had to make time to see Hélène and speak to her. Hélène had not spoken since the commotion in the market nor did she spare Marya a glance. If, and it was a massive if, she lost Hélène to Andrei, she would not want them to be left on silent terms. It was a selfish thought after what she had done but Marya could not bear living in Hélène’s hatred. She wanted to show her that she cared, that she wanted to protect her and that she would do anything to win this for her rather than brag. She would show it.
Hélène sank further into the tub, her head barely above the water as she tried to relax in the place where she could calm herself down. The water dimmed the lighting into a soothing navy blue that reflected from the walls with specks of metallic green that shone from her tail that failed to fit in the tub. Despite how her fins rested lazily on the edge of the tub, she felt at ease. The blurry scenery reminded her of home, the ocean. Even through closed eyes, she could make out the rays of sunlight that penetrated through the water from a window high above the tub. The colors swirled as the water moved but they did not blend. The colors were their own individual identities, mixing but never cohesively, and they created the landscape that she was so familiar with. However, unlike the ocean, the water had no current for her to flow with but where was she supposed to go when she was now in the safety of her home? Well, for now…
She tried to focus on the way the water gurgled in her ears as she breathed, bubbles floating from her parted lips and to the surface with every exhale. Counting her breaths helped as a brilliant distraction. She emptied her mind and kept herself from wringing her hands together nervously. Instead, she let them float by her sides. The water carried her body carefully, like hands handling a delicate antique. If there was no one to care for her fragile frame, she would turn to the water. The warmth of Marya’s hold were always lulling but with what had ensued, the warmth was replaced by insecurity. Those same hands that held her molded her into a trophy for a game she chose to play with a man who she did not even know. Like her father had done to her from her childhood to her adulthood, she was being carved and shaped into what others wanted her to be. It never bothered her before for it aided her in adapting to newer surroundings. But Marya? Hélène once believed that she would be enough for her; and disbelief had never pained her more.
She floated away from her state of trance and intrusive voices interrupted her peace. Her focus had returned to the memory of the fight in the market. She could hear Marya’s and Andrei’s arrogant voices as they played their gamble and she could remember the terror of being labelled as the champion’s price. With a choked gasp, she ripped through the surface, startling poor Svob who had been lounging in a smaller tub beside Hélène’s. The octopus had leapt out of the water in alarm but then quickly made his way up the side of the tub to attend to Hélène who was coughing water out of her lungs. He grasped her shoulder and pulled himself up to nuzzle himself against the mermaid’s neck in a manner of comfort, and this was enough to elicit a small laugh. She held Svob in her hand against her neck and gave him a small kiss on the head.
“I’m okay. I just scared myself,” Hélène murmured but Svob still clung onto her. Peeling the little creature off her neck, she cradled him in her hands. “Why don’t you go back to your tub and relax, hm? I promise it won’t happen again.”
Just after Hélène said that, there was a knock on the door and her heart skipped a beat. The red locks of hair against the bathroom’s complementary colors of blue and green was enough to give away her visitor’s identity but she did not greet her. Hélène returned Svob to his designated spot and the octopus looked in between his two mothers in confusion. The air thickened with an intensity that discomforted Svob and he slid out of his spot to slide into his tank where he could hide away. Marya had not moved from the door and Hélène had turned her back to Marya, finding the walls more fascinating to acknowledge. Making the first bold move, Marya entered. She sat herself upon the wet floor beside the tub but made sure that there was some respectable space between her and her lover. From where she sat, she could hear Hélène’s ragged breaths and she lowered her head to look at her boots.
“Can we talk?” Marya began quietly.
“I don’t suppose I have a choice,” Hélène muttered.
Marya understood what she meant. “I won’t pressure you into listening. If you want me to give you some space, I will. I won’t be stubborn.”
“Just talk.”
“Oh- Um…” Where was she supposed to start? “I know that I made a really stupid mistake. I made a decision that was meant to be yours and I interfered because I wanted to protect you. I wanted to show you what I was capable of and that you would always be safe with me.”
“Did you want to show the king or me?”
“You.”
“Be honest with me, Marya.”
“… Both of you.”
Hélène nodded, much to her dismay, and she kept her gaze trained on the wall. “Why do you always feel the need to be proud? What is it that you’re trying to prove? This isn’t anything like you.”
“I was always a prideful woman, Hélène.”
“No, you’re not.” And Hélène finally looked at her, stone-faced. “Not to me. You were arrogant when we first met but I understood why you had to play that act. When we were strangers, you had to show me who was in charge. You had to show your crew and your enemies who was the woman of the ship, and you did a wonderful job with that. But now, you’re trying to prove to a man that I am in your possession. I am not your ship, Marya. I’m not some jewel for you to gamble off!”
Marya was tongue-tied. The heroic intentions that she had convinced herself she was working for fell into bitter ire. What she had hypothesized about her rash decision-making for the greater good came to bite her back for it was not the same that Hélène saw. While Marya saw this to be an act of defending her loved one, Hélène saw it as a show for Marya to graciously flaunt her sword in front of an audience that was her and Andrei. Her illusion of invulnerability had diffused upon others, and she had been too confident that they were indomitable. Hélène could have said something to break the argument before it all led down to the duel but Marya could have just stayed out of it. Were it not for Marya's intervention, none of this would have happened and Hélène might have simply excused the whole situation by using her own voice. Now, she could not even conjure her own voice to speak, to admit her errors and seek forgiveness. It was too much damage on her pride but it was nothing compared to what she had already inflicted on Hélène.
“I didn’t mean to objectify you like that”-
“But you did!” A tear rolled down her cheek but her stare hardened into a glare. “You turned me into a prize. A damsel in distress to be picked up by the strongest contestant of your big duel.”
“I just wanted to protect you,” Marya debated.
“I’m not as useless as I appear to be! I can defend myself and I can be more than just a disposable accessory by your side.” Hélène sucked in a deep breath. “Am I just not enough for you?”
Marya was taken aback, and she heard herself gasp aloud. “Hélène… You’ve always been enough and you still are. I just… I was worried that if I couldn’t defend you, you’d leave me or find me unfit to be your lover. I stepped into the situation and I couldn’t back down knowing that you were in danger.”
“I’m sick of being turned into what people want me to be and I need to know that being myself is enough for someone,” Hélène sniffled, her glare breaking into frown.
Crying in front of Marya was nothing something Hélène was afraid of but she blinked back her tears. It did not do much to hide the cracks along her façade from Marya. If there was anyone who knew her inside out, it was the redheaded woman sitting beside her. She had seen every flaw that Hélène spent decades concealing, all within a matter of months. It was sometimes shocking how easily Marya could unfold her secrets. And it occurred to Hélène how none of these flaws stopped Marya from loving her. What her own father had fashioned her to be was not what Marya fell in love with but the person behind the cracks. Oh, it was all too much for her to bear. Her thoughts were in conflict with each other in a hideous war zone that reduced her into sobs and she could not identify the reason for her tears. Maybe each tear had its own reason of falling, far too many to count as they continued to pour down her flushed cheeks and into the water.
Wordlessly, Marya enveloped Hélène in her arms and pulled her close. The mermaid was torn in between jerking away from her arms or leaning into her but it the latter was decided when Marya kissed her tears away. Hélène’s arms snaked around Marya’s neck and she burrowed her face into her lover’s chest. Red locks had fallen out of its intricate hairstyle as Hélène clutched Marya’s blouse, fingers accidentally yanking on loose strands of hair. Her sobs died down into nothing and it was silence, something that the both of them needed. After the yelling and fighting, the air felt lighter as some sort of resolution had been found. Draping a towel over Hélène, Marya carried her out of the chilly bath and into their bedroom which was a more comfortable substitute to alleviate their stresses. With a free hand, she managed to grasp the handle of Svob's miniature tank and brought him out with them.
Marya waited until Hélène transformed her tail back into legs but she had no plans to leave her freezing in a towel. While Helene took her time to muster the energy to morph, Marya dressed her up in her nightgown. Neither spoke for they allowed their actions to do most of the conversing. Hélène rested herself against Marya once she was decently clothed and her arms locked themselves around her lover's waist. Pulling Hélène into her lap, Marya peppered kisses along her cheeks then pressed one to her lips where it lingered. If this might be their last, Marya would make it worth it.
Whatever it was that was coming for them tomorrow would be problems reserved for that day alone. For now, they could only wait in each other’s arms for the day to arrive, and in Marya’s case, she could only pray to her God to guide her through, if he was kind enough to do so after being witness of Marya’s mistakes. Otherwise, she would lose the one she loved to a man incapable of loving.