#through meeting people like skye mcnully carewyn and others and through becoming a father to eos orion learned how to stand his ground | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carewyncromwell · 3 years

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Cinderella AU time again at last, baby!! Let’s do this!

Florence’s “Christmas Witch” is inspired by Italy’s Le Befana, who like Santa Claus/Father Christmas and his many variations serves as a holiday gift-giver to young children. Given that in this universe, Florence is more favorable toward magic than its rival nation Royaume, I figured them having a similar tradition was appropriate.

The background depicted in this picture is based on this window from a guest apartment in the Chateau de Chambord in France, though of course this is the outside of such a window, rather than the inside. Damn it, do I hate backgrounds with a burning passion. XD;;

In my headcanon, Orion suffers from anxiety. Anxiety disorders aren’t uncommon among children who were raised in orphanages, and a common visual cue for anxiety is clasping one’s hands in front of them, which Orion does constantly in the game Hogwarts Mystery. Plus two types of therapy prescribed for dealing with anxiety are meditation and regular physical activity (like Quidditch! :D). For safety, though, I also want to put in a trigger warning for this part -- be advised that there will be some discussion of PTSD and war-related trauma, around the middle of this.

Previous part is here -- full tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

The morning after Royaume’s Winter Festival, Skye was surprised to find Orion in Florence’s palace library. Admittedly he was balancing on one foot with one leg crossed over the other on the step near the top of a tall ladder while reading, which was very typical of Orion -- but the book was a very thick volume on the weaving of various fabrics, and he was devouring it with intense interest while vaguely humming a tune under his breath that Skye didn’t recognize.

“Oh willow, willow, willow...willow...”

Skye cleared her throat to try to get the Prince’s attention. “Hey...Orion?”

Orion, however, was too focused on what he was reading. It took Skye striding over, stating his name twice more, and finally giving the ladder a light smack to get his attention.

“Orion! Mind coming back down to Earth for a minute?” she said, her voice oddly tense. “I need to talk to you.”

Orion stopped humming and looked up from the book at last, his expression rather pleasant.

“Skye...you’ve returned from the front.”

Skye frowned. “Yeah...Dad’s nearly recovered from his injuries. Penny Haywood wanted to thank you for the herbs you picked up.”

Orion inclined his head slightly. “I’m glad to hear your father’s condition has improved.”

Skye nodded, looking faintly guilty.

“...Orion...I’m sorry about what I said the other day,” she said uncomfortably. “I was just so worried about Dad and his troops, and you being all wrapped up in this girl who works for the enemy...it just...it rattled me, I guess.”

“Florence and Royaume should not be enemies for all time,” said Orion patiently. “If there is to be peace, the mistakes both sides have made in the midst of the War will have to be forgiven.”

“I know,” muttered Skye. “And...well, I know how you feel about the War -- about war and fighting in general. It just feels like what you’re doing is so slow, and people are hurting, and...”

She hung her head.

“I know it’s no excuse, for what I said, but...I am really sorry.”

Orion’s black eyes softened. “It’s already forgiven and forgotten, my friend.”

Skye looked very relieved. Her face burst into a smile.

“...Thanks, Orion. I gotta admit, I...kind of want to meet this ‘Lady Cromwell’ now, after everything you told McNully and me about her. She sounds a bit too good to be true, but...well, I never really thought I’d ever hear of a Royaumanian defending magic...especially one of their courtiers.”

Closing the book in his hands with a quiet snap, Orion lowered the leg he had bent beside the one he was balancing on.

“Fortunately I think you’ll have the chance to do so very soon,” he said with a smile. “Last night was an unquestionable success.”

He leapt down the rungs of the ladder with alternating feet, all the way back down to the floor with a light thump.

“I went to the Winter Festival and met the Prince of Royaume himself.”

Skye gave a start. “You what?”

Orion was beaming from ear to ear. “It was all thanks to Carewyn, appropriately enough. She was the one who arranged it so that he could sneak out of the palace disguised as a peasant and attend the Winter Festival, even with the King and Queen keeping him so strictly contained. Prince Henri himself even said as much, that it was all Carewyn’s doing. Imagine...because of her, the two princes of rival nations were able to meet on completely neutral ground as equals. And now that we’ve been introduced and I have a better fix on Prince Henri’s character, I have a great opportunity to open negotiations in full.”

Skye looked rather impressed, even as her face twitched with discomfort.

“That’s...smashing, Orion,” she granted halfheartedly.

Orion raised his eyebrows curiously. “I would say so...but your aura doesn’t seem to agree with your words.”

With a deepening, guilty frown, Skye reached into the hanging pocket attached to her faded blue skirt and took out a sealed letter, which she handed to Orion.

“The King asked me to bring this back for you,” she said lowly, as Orion opened it and began to read. “He’s requested you and McNully to join him at the front.”

Orion’s face had lost all of its pleasantry, leaving it very stony and unreadable, as his black eyes scanned the letter once, twice, three times.

“McNully’s gone to get the coach ready,” said Skye lowly. “He said that he’d meet us just inside the castle gate.”

The ride from the Florentine royal palace to the battlefield at the northern-most border of Royaume and Florence was a stressful one. Once anyone exited the capitol’s walls, the War was immediately much more visible, since most of the War was fought on Florentine soil. Plus many of those magicians who specialized in casting spells were encouraged to settle closer to the wealthier hubs of the country, so that they could cast temporary illusions to obscure certain buildings whenever the opposing army got too close. That was how people such as Florence’s court magician, Severus Snape, had attained such a respectable status.

Orion spent the entire coach ride sitting with his legs crossed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, and his eyes closed so he could meditate. Despite his eyes being closed, however, when they arrived at their destination, he could hear the shrieks of wheels on old wagons, the whinnying of unsettled horses, and suppressed moans of pain, and he could smell the burnt wood, gunpowder, and indescribable smell that could only be labeled as “death.” Even just the sounds and smells brought all the memories flooding back -- his and his mother’s house set ablaze...the rearing horses with Royaume blue and red on their saddles...the deafening explosions and the gray ash that rained from the sky...his mother’s light-less eyes and his own labored breathing and clutching, shaking hands...

Orion had never been blind to how run-down much of his country was, but its problems only became more apparent the closer one got to the border, and especially to the war front. Every building was brand-new and cheaply built, for they no doubt had been built and rebuilt several times over and their occupants didn’t have the funds to build it back as well as before. And then once one approached the army camp itself, there were just about no buildings or fortresses at all, since it was so hard to keep them from being demolished. Instead all the Florentines really had were tents that wouldn’t stand up to most any elements. In the freezing cold of winter, many had been crowded under groves of trees, in a vain attempt to try to protect them from the snow that had buried their neighbors, and there were large bonfires set up everywhere where the soldiers gathered, just to warm their bundled hands and feet. One small fire featured a cooking pot and some sort of foul-smelling soup -- it took Orion a moment to realize the smell was burning leather.

It was tragic to think of how many men back in the Florentine capitol like Lord Malfoy had become very rich because of the increased danger of shipping goods through war zones, while the men who actually had to stay in that war zone had to cook their own boots and eat them for sustenance.

Orion did not open his eyes even when the carriage came to a stop. It was proving harder to find his center of balance when the smell of gunpowder outside made the memory of terrified screams and crackling wood pound against his eardrums.

Inhale. Exhale. Let go. Find your center. Balance.

He felt someone lightly touch the top of his clasped hands. When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Skye.

“...We’re here,” she mumbled. Clearly she knew she was stating the obvious, but didn’t know what else to say.

Orion looked from her to McNully sitting next to her, his eyes very dark even though his face was rather unreadable. McNully looked very grim as he slowly opened the door to the coach. As soon as he did so, someone outside announced very loudly,

“Presenting his Highness, Crown Prince Cosimo Amari VII, heir to the throne of Florence!”

With a swallow, Orion slid his legs down to the floor and, unclasping his hands at last, he hoisted himself up as best he could, took hold of the door frame, and climbed out of the coach. He held his head up high and didn’t shrink, but his eyes were rippling turbulently like oil under candlelight as they surveyed the barren landscape.

Men by the dozens were being carried away on stretchers toward a large off-white medical tent -- even more were being carried away from it or, worse, not even coming close to it at all, for it was already too late. They were too badly injured for Penny Haywood’s potions to save -- for as powerful as magic could be, life and death were inevitable things. The gray-haired flower witch who’d given Orion the charm around his neck had told him so, the Prince recalled, as his hand absently came up to trail over the circular pendant. He’d asked her if she could stop someone from dying, and the sweet grandmotherly woman had looked upon him with an incredibly sad, pitying look.

“Death isn’t something anyone can stop, I’m afraid. One can put it off, certainly...I’ve been able to give people some extra time with my potions, but only by putting in a lot of my own time and energy. And even after putting in that time and energy, there are still plenty of people who I couldn’t work fast enough to help. That’s one of magic’s Chief Principles -- potions take time, but their effects last longer.”

The Prince of Florence tried to bring the cooling, calming sensation that had accompanied the charm around his neck when the woman had first given it to him back to his mind, as the smell of death that hovered over the camp made his heart chill and his stomach churn.

Orion could sense Skye climbing out to stand beside him, and not long after, McNully had lowered himself into the wheeled chair the footman detached from the boot of the coach. By the time McNully and Skye had joined him on the ground, a royal entourage had approached them, introduced by the captain who’d announced Orion’s arrival --

“Presenting his Majesty, Cosimo Amari V, Master and Commander of the Florentine Army, Lord of the Southeastern Sea, King of Florence!”

An older man about Orion’s height with a short mane of graying dark hair and just as strong of a jaw strode forward. Although he greatly resembled Orion visually, however, their physical attitudes couldn’t be any more different: as relaxed and modest as Orion was, the King of Florence appeared traditional and proud. They did, however, both appear quite detached, in their own way -- Orion because he didn’t want to be on the battlefield at all, and the King because he seemed to not be entirely sure how to address his adult son. But frankly, considering that Orion had been snatched out of poverty and made Crown Prince just to replace his older half-brother, Cosimo VI, after he was assassinated by the Royaumanians earlier that year, that wasn’t completely surprising.

“Cosimo,” the King greeted him formally. “Good that you’re here.”

Orion didn’t respond, his face close to impossible to read as he clasped his hands in front of him again.

The King’s emerald green eyes scanned his son’s face briefly before he brought up a hand to take hold of his shoulder and lead him further into camp.

“Come -- we have much to discuss...”

Skye and McNully followed Orion and his father to the largest and brightest white of the tents, pushing the flap with the official Florentine gold-and-green-flower emblem aside to walk inside and gather around a large table. There was a large map laid out on it with many dark green and blood red miniatures and model canons scattered across the surface. Skye’s father, General Ethan Parkin, was also present -- he had to sit in a chair rather than stand like almost everyone else due to him missing a leg and being forced to lean on a crutch, but he sat up very straight with boastful levels of pride. Once he, his generals, and the Prince were all gathered around the table, the King immediately set about discussing McNully’s newest military strategy, which would involve splitting the army in half so as to covertly attack Royaume’s forces from two directions, so as to not only better pinpoint where their canons were currently positioned and avoid them, but also to prevent them from retreating.

It soon became apparent to everyone in the King’s tent, however, that Orion was not in the mood to discuss any of this. He stayed quiet for the majority of the meeting, clasping his hands in front of him, and his eyes remained on the far edge of the map on the table, far away from the battlefield. In his mind, he tried to find his center, even though the sounds of the anxiously whinnying horses outside brought back the memory of the ones that had nearly stampeded him so many years ago, when his part of town was set ablaze.

Find your center. Find balance. Find peace.

Carewyn’s soft, content face as she sang under the willow tree beside the Royaumanian palace moat rippled over his mind, and he felt his heart rate slow.

“Oh willow, willow, willow...shall be my garland...”

Orion tried to stay there on that lake bank in his mind as the King discussed how essential it’d be to prevent any Royaumanians from getting in or out of their camp during their siege -- for, as General Parkin pointed out, if any help arrived, then it would prevent the Florentine Army from wiping out their enemy and ending the War. McNully himself looked rather unsettled by the thought of “wiping out” the enemy and was quick to say he’d only intended for the Royaumanians to be fenced in, like in a game of chess, but the King of Florence clearly didn’t think it was enough.

“This newest batch of drafted soldiers are our last resort. Unless we wish to expand the draft to take all those over the age of 18, regardless of health or status, to take their place, we must bring this War to an end, once and for all. And to do that, our enemy must be decisively crushed.”

He looked up at Orion.

“That is why, son, I’ll need you to take command of the left flank of the army.”

“What?” said Skye and McNully, both taken aback and horrified.

“Your Majesty,” McNully said very quickly and firmly, “I-I fully intended that General Parkin would -- ”

“Believe me, lad, I’d normally be chomping at the bit to do it myself,” said General Parkin with a rather sour expression. “But considering that I can’t even properly stand yet, his Majesty decided it might be a good idea for me to...sit this one out.”

“Prince Cosimo will need to know our army as well as I do,” said the King firmly. “Even when we bring this War to an end, he’ll need to be able to lead them in battle, in order to protect our kingdom. And from what I understand, Cosimo, you’ve been gathering intelligence in Royaume itself for a month now without arousing any suspicion...I believe your flair for stealth would be perfectly suited to the task at hand.”

“I’m afraid I must disagree,” said Orion in a very quiet voice.

The King halted. Orion had looked up at his father out the side of his black eye when he’d first addressed him, and although his expression had been very restrained, his eyes had gone very dark. His hands clasped a bit tighter as he faced the rest of the King’s military officers.

“This meeting is adjourned. Please excuse me.”

He turned on his heel and made as if to leave. The King, however, roughly grabbed his shoulder.

“It most certainly is not,” he said, his green eyes full of both disbelief and urgency. “Cosimo, this is not up for debate -- I require you here, to lead the men.”

Orion didn’t turn around. “...You require my aid, to lead our men in this battle?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” said Orion levelly. “Then should I choose not to cooperate, you will not be able to act on this strategy at all.”

All of the King’s officers looked appalled as Orion left the tent. The King’s eyes grew very wide, flickering with desperation as well as some righteous anger, as he chased after him, stepping in front of Orion to prevent him from leaving.

“Cosimo, this is our chance to end the War once and for all! To bring peace to Florence, to right all of the wrongs the Royaumanians have done...”

“Can one right any wrongs by committing more wrongs of their own?” murmured Orion.

“War is not that black and white, my son,” said the King sharply. The surrounding soldiers were starting to take notice. “Sometimes the ends must justify the means -- it’s something all young kings must learn, and I would prefer you learn it before I’m gone, rather than after making a big mistake.”

Skye and McNully had rushed out to join Orion.

“All people make mistakes,” Orion said softly. He tried to leave for a third time, but the King refused to let him pass.

“But you are the Crown Prince of Florence!” said the King. He was clearly getting frustrated now. “Therefore your mistakes are much more consequential -- when you make mistakes, the people you cherish, that you want most desperately to protect, pay the price!”

His father’s rising volume wasn’t helping Orion’s mood. His anxiety had already been spiking in the tent, but it was only getting harder for him to focus on his breathing with the King continuing to press the issue and the unpleasant, sickening smells and sounds of the battlefield surrounding him.

“Think of your friends, Cosimo,” said the King in a strained voice, “your home, your subjects...”

His friends... Skye’s and McNully’s faces rippled over Orion’s mind, before being joined by KC’s, Badeea’s, the Weasleys’, and Andre’s at the Festival...Carewyn’s...Carewyn rushing up to him at the palace gate -- sighing tiredly and handing him her uncomfortable white heels -- dancing in spirals around him, her red lips turned up in a smile and her ginger hair flying free --

Another battalion was coming through, with stretchers and horses loaded up with wounded soldiers -- the smell of death was suffocating --

“Think of your mother, Cosimo,” said the King. “Could you bear it if any other little boys lost their mothers, the way you did?”

“Don’t talk about -- !” gasped Skye, looking righteously furious, but McNully quickly grabbed her arm to urge her to be quiet.

Skye’s objection wouldn’t have helped, though. The mention of Orion’s mother, combined with the smell of fire and the sound of horses, brought the images flooding back -- his mother’s light-less eyes -- his own gasping for breath --

Orion closed his eyes, trying to find his center, even as his clasped hands started to sweat.

Return to Carewyn -- return to the lake shore, to her voice --

Carewyn’s brother was on the battlefield, fighting for Royaume -- if Orion charged into battle, could he not end up bringing about her brother’s death? Could he bear seeing Carewyn’s heart broken, upon learning that the only family she had who truly understood and loved her was dead? Could he bear the thought of all that blood being on his hands...the blood of his soldiers and Andre’s -- the blood of Carewyn’s brother -- ?

“This is your responsibility, Cosimo,” said the King, as he seized Orion’s shoulder and squeezed it. “You must lead our men into battle -- ”

SMACK.

To everyone’s complete and utter shock, Orion had actually ripped out of the King’s grip, backhanding his hand away with force.

The King flinched back, looking stricken. Orion stared at his father, his black eyes very wide and devoid of both consciousness and its usual composure. There was no rage or violence in his posture, but his face was very white and his hand -- still hovering in mid-air -- was trembling slightly.

“Forgive me,” he said at once, his voice very soft and unusually fragile. “Just...please, don’t touch me.”

He strode past his father, right over to the coach he’d arrived in. Instead of climbing inside, however, he immediately yanked one of the black horses free from its restraints and climbed up onto its back.

“Cosimo!” the King cried, but it was no use. Orion had already sharply flicked the reins and rode off into the distance with speed.

Orion didn’t stop riding until he’d once again reached the palace gate of Royaume. He ended up tossing off his well-tailored olive green doublet on the way, so as to leave his more peasant-like white undershirt behind. His hair also came loose of its ponytail in transit and Orion didn’t care in the least to try to restrain it again. His heart was pounding so fast and his blood was so spiked that all he could focus on was finding peace -- and in that moment, peace was a person. He just needed to hear Carewyn’s voice...needed to see her face...

Orion tied his horse up not far from the palace and hopped the castle wall. He knew Carewyn wouldn’t be expecting him -- before the Winter Festival, they’d said they’d meet up on the 9th, which was coincidentally after Florence’s Christmas Witch festivities. Even so, and even though Orion knew Carewyn would worry about him getting in trouble, he couldn’t think of the risk to himself. His heart was just too clenched with anxiety for him to place his focus on anything other than reaching her -- even though once he reached the castle, the tension that squeezed every nerve in his body in a vice grip only increased with the knowledge that he had no way to figure out where in the castle she’d be or how to get her attention. As fate would have it, however, as Orion paced through the gardens, clasping his own sweating hands, a familiar tune rippled over the air.

“The sweetest sounds I’ll ever hear are still inside my head...

The kindest words I’ll ever know are waiting to be said...”

The song itself was one even Orion knew -- it was a rather well-known love song in both Florence and Royaume, and one of his mother’s favorite songs when she was alive. But more importantly, the voice singing it was the wonderfully emotional, deep-as-the-sea tone he’d so needed to hear. Orion’s heart gave something like a spasm of relief as he swept around the perimeter of the palace, staying low behind the hedges, until he spotted an open window in a nearby tower where the voice was coming from. When Orion reached the tower in question, he couldn’t stop himself from collapsing against the wall back-first, closing his eyes, so he could just focus on her voice and let it wash over him.

He was suddenly so short on time. The King was so desperate to end the War that he was now open to slaughtering the enemy, if it served that goal. And as confident as the King was that the plan McNully had suggested would put an end to the Royaumanian army for good, Orion himself doubted it would or even could. The cycle of vengeance could only continue ad infinitum until either everything was destroyed or one royal decided to be the better person and stop the fighting. But how could Orion hope to pursue the diplomacy he’d wanted, once the King had done something so ruthless? How could he hope to appeal to Prince Henri or his parents, after such a severe, fresh wound? And Carewyn...how could he face her again, if her beloved brother died because of his own father’s orders?

He needed time. He needed peace. He needed...

“...is waiting somewhere...somewhere for me...”

Breathe. Find your center. Inhale. Exhale.

Orion barely knew what made him do it, but he knew he had to get Carewyn’s attention somehow. So he squeezed his hands, opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and started to sing the words in return.

“The sweetest sounds I’ll ever hear are still inside my head...”

Carewyn had been cleaning one of the guest suites when she suddenly heard her own song echoed back to her from outside the window. She straightened up abruptly.

Who...who is...?

The voice was male and oddly wispy -- the singer was certainly not trained or very comfortable singing, but he still sounded so earnest...almost desperate.

“The kindest words I’ll ever know are waiting to be said...

The most entrancing sight of all is yet for me to see,

And the dearest love in all the world is waiting somewhere for me --

Is waiting somewhere...somewhere for me...”

Carewyn leaned her broom up against the wall and looked out the window. When she looked down, she caught sight of a familiar mane of dark hair and slightly-too-clean white shirt.

“Orion?”

She recoiled from the window at once, her hands flying to her messy ginger ponytail as she looked over her burnt orange and beige servant’s dress. She was in no state for him to see her like this --

She looked into the mirror hanging up on the closest wall and swallowed.

Carewyn knew she was being foolish -- Orion was going to find out sooner or later that she was nothing but a servant...but...

She’d liked being a lady, for him. She’d liked being someone he could respect. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him with the truth of who she was, really, it was more...her being ashamed of herself. She hadn’t had a choice of whether or not Andre or KC or even the Weasleys knew that she was the child of Charles Cromwell’s disowned youngest daughter and a dead-beat merchant with no dowry or prospects. But Orion hadn’t known her. She’d been able to be who she wished she could be, if just for a moment, when they first met...and in every moment after, she found herself that bit more reluctant to put that mask away.

Carewyn wanted to be a brave, noble, graceful, sophisticated lady for Orion. She wanted to be someone he could admire, instead of the insignificant, pathetic, lying fake who’d sold her and her brother’s souls and futures away forever, just to try to save his life. A girl who, truthfully, was no better than her terrible family -- who had brought every bit of unhappiness she’d ever experienced on herself...

Orion started the song again down below, in an attempt to get Carewyn’s attention -- Carewyn, up above, quickly fashioned her hair into a pretty braid in front of the mirror and sang under him as an echo, as if wanting to reassure him that she could hear him.

“The sweetest sounds (the sweetest sounds)

I’ll ever hear (I’ll ever hear)

Are still inside my head --

The kindest words (the kindest words)

I’ll ever know (I’ll ever know)

Are waiting to be said --

The most (the most) entrancing (entrancing) sight of all (sight of all)

Is yet for me to see,

And the dearest love in all the world...

Is waiting somewhere for me... (Waiting somewhere...)

Is waiting somewhere...

Somewhere for...me...”

Once she was finished with her braid, Carewyn quickly dusted herself off and dashed over to the window.

“Orion!” she whispered only as loudly as she dared.

Orion opened his eyes, turning around and looking up at Carewyn with a very soft smile adorning his lips.

“Beautiful as ever, my lady,” he complimented her, inclining his shoulders in a short bow. His hands were still clasped in front of him. “Like the sweet Nightingale that sang for the Emperor.”

Carewyn took several quick glances around, visibly worried. “Orion, what are you doing here?”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Standing, at present. Though I was singing just a moment ago -- or at least trying to. My voice cannot compete with yours, I’m afraid.”

Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the smile off her face, even despite the concern she felt. Her smile, however small, was like a warm, soothing hand on Orion’s heart.

“You’re lucky that no one else heard you!” Carewyn hissed down with as much reproach as she could manage.

Orion smiled wryly. “Most assuredly. I’m certain that Madam Ali and the Weasley brothers would hardly enjoy my ‘accompaniment’ as well as they do yours.”

The sweat on his hands had gone cold, making Orion actually shiver a bit as he found his body temperature and heart rate finally starting to calm. His smile flickered slightly on his face, creating a much more pensive and murky expression.

“...Will you take a ride with me, Carewyn?” said Orion, very abruptly.

Carewyn blinked. “What?”

Orion squeezed his own hands together, but tried to keep his voice level and his shoulders straight.

“I realize we’ve made no plans today, and that you are enamored of the work you do at court...but you so enjoy riding your horse, and we’ve not yet taken a ride together, out into the country. There are such beautiful valleys east of here -- perfect for stargazing, I should think, once the sun sets.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, back into the guest suite she was cleaning. The windows weren’t washed yet, and she still had to bring the dirty sheets down to the laundry so she could have them clean in time for tomorrow morning...

Sensing Carewyn’s discomfort, Orion said in an oddly insistent voice, “I’ll wait for you, should you say yes. Whatever you must do, I’ll wait until you are finished.”

Carewyn’s gaze snapped back down to Orion in surprise.

She’d never heard him sound like that before. As mysterious and unreadable as his face was, she could still sense that something was off. Perhaps it was how his black eyes searched her face -- or perhaps it was the tenseness in his clasped hands.

Carewyn knew she was in no state to go riding with Orion in her dusty servant’s uniform, especially when she still had work to do...but truly, she didn’t have to wash the windows today, after having already done them yesterday...and she could always fetch the sheets early the next morning before coming up to the guest suite to change them out.

If something is wrong, I can’t leave Orion to deal with it alone, she thought to herself.

Even if she was only a fake and a liar, Carewyn wanted to be there for him. He deserved to have someone there for him...even if it was just her.

And so with a swallow, she looked back down at Orion with a very solemn, but gentle look.

“...I’ll need to change into something warmer and fetch my horse...but I’ll be down in thirty minutes. Can you meet me outside the gate?”

Orion’s heart flooded with relief that he couldn’t completely keep off of his face.

“I’ll be waiting, my lady.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #my art #my writing #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #andre egwu #badeea ali #charlie weasley #bill weasley #ethan parkin #this part got so long I had to split it in half!!#and also draw a new drawing for it #god I hate backgrounds #but yeah anyway the part following this one should be out tomorrow hopefully since the sketches are already done #my poor bb orion ;~;#and also my poor bb carewyn too to a lesser extent #this'll be better explained in later parts but orion is the bastard son of the king and his lover a peasant woman #as you might notice orion was named after his father -- just like the king's first son and orion's elder half-brother the first prince was #that signifies that orion's mother thought of orion as an heir to the throne even though he was still a bastard #(I'm sure all the kids who knew orion growing up must've been perfectly respectful about this one kid being named like a prince >> )#damn this thing is turning into a jukebox musical over here XD;#I'm sorry I just couldn't resist 'the sweetest sounds' just gives me such joy

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

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((Previously on “Quest for the Quidditch Cup”...))

[Carewyn decided, upon parting ways with Orion, to head back down to the Slytherin dorm to change out of her uniform. She’d shifted quite a few folded shirts around in her trunk before finding the piece she was looking for -- one she rarely wore, least of all for anything related to Quidditch. But given the circumstances, her “Sports Chic” jacket seemed like the right thing to wear.

A little while later, Carewyn headed to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey directed her to a cot in the middle of the room, behind a green curtain. With a deep breath, Carewyn strode over.

Lying down on the cot was Slytherin’s Star Chaser, seventh year Skye Parkin. It was remarkable how little she’d changed visually, over the years -- even though she’d grown even taller than Carewyn, she wore her hair and dressed the exact same way. Carewyn knew she looked nothing like how she did when she and Skye first met -- Skye, on the other hand, looked as though their first training session had been only yesterday.

Skye had been looking rather grumpily at the ceiling until she heard someone approach. When she saw who it was, the Slytherin Chaser immediately shot up in bed, her face betraying a light one more akin to a child catching sight of Father Christmas.]

[Carewyn was startled by how happy Skye was.]

We haven’t spoken nearly at all in three years. Did she really forget why that is?

“...So I did.”

[Skye could see the faint aloofness in Carewyn’s body language. The excitement in her face almost instantly flickered and died, and her gaze fell down to the sheets at her side.]

Skye: “...Did Orion talk to you?”

“Yes, he did. ...He said you...wanted me to take your place, on the team.”

Skye: “(bluntly) Well, of course -- we can’t beat Ravenclaw without a third Chaser. And you’re easily the best Chaser at Slytherin’s disposal, right now -- I mean...”

[She swallowed.]

Skye: “...I trained you myself. I should know.”

[Despite the bluntness, her voice sounded almost painfully earnest.

Carewyn crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes drifting down to the ground as she considered her response. Her silence agitated Skye visibly.]

Skye: “(desperately) So...so you’ll do it, won’t you?”

[Carewyn raised her gaze back up to meet Skye’s. Although she didn’t smile, her face and voice both softened noticeably.]

“...I wouldn’t be wearing the jacket you gave me right now if I wasn’t.”

[Skye’s eyes welled up with emotion and relief, her face breaking out into a wide smile.]

Skye: “Oh Carewyn, you’re -- you’re smashing, that’s what you are!”

[Her eyes trailed over Carewyn’s matching “Sports Chic” jacket.]

Skye: “(awkwardly) ...I noticed that first, when you came in. I was so happy that you...well, that you didn’t throw it away.”

“What, because we fell out? That’d be stupid.”

It’s a nice piece of clothing. I wouldn’t have been able to afford replacing it.

Skye: “(mumbling) I’d sort of thought you would’ve burned it...I probably would’ve, if I’d been in your shoes.”

“(very coolly) I’m rather glad I didn’t give you anything sentimental to me, then.”

That’d be a terrible thing to do, to destroy a gift someone gave you! It’d be like destroying a piece of that person too, wouldn’t it?

[Part of Carewyn really wanted to change the subject and not address the elephant in the room -- to not pick at the old wound -- but something stopped her.

“ -- and I’m sick of having to watch you suffer, silent and alone, especially when it’s pointless!”

Ben’s words from their confrontation in Jacob’s room over a month ago echoed in her head. It was a sentiment that Charlie and Bill had also expressed not that long ago, after what happened to Rowan.

“You told me, once...that it was okay, if I couldn’t be happy, remember? When I wanted to leave Hogwarts and not finish school? And you remember what you said to me? ‘Please...please, Charlie, don’t fight your battle alone.’”

“You are a liar, Carewyn — you’ve always been a liar — but I know you only lie because of how much you care."

She’d become the sort of person, throughout the years, to just put her feelings aside -- to soldier through. As much as her pride disliked the thought taking root in Carewyn’s mind, however, she knew that she should resist the urge to shove the whole affair away.

Something...should be said. She had every right to speak from the heart, right now.

So Carewyn took a deep breath, her eyes resting on the foot of Skye’s bed as she spoke.]

“...Skye...I’m still...very angry, about what you did. And as much as I’ll put the team and Slytherin first, I can’t forgive you for it. I appreciate your support, I really do. I know Quidditch means a lot to you, so trusting me with this...well...I know it must not be easy. (lowly) ...I don’t know if I could trust anyone else to deal with the things that mean the most to me on their own very easily. (more sharply) But if you had felt remorse for what happened, enough to want me back on the team, then you should have made up with Rath. She was the one who was owed an apology -- not me.”

Skye: “But that’s just it -- I was trying to make up with her!”

[This startled Carewyn enough to look up. Skye looked frustrated.]

Skye: “(surly) I thought before our last match, I’d try talking to Rath, out at the Training Grounds -- clear the air, try to put an end to this rivalry thing we’ve had, all these years. And what did I get? A Bludger to the chest, three broken ribs, and losing my one chance to earn the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin.”

[She crossed her arms grumpily, only to wince in visible pain and immediately unfold them, crumpling in on her left side.]

Skye: “Owww...!”

[Carewyn immediately bustled over, her eyes narrowing reproachfully.]

“Lie down and rest. If your chest hurts that much to touch, then you probably shouldn’t even be sitting up.”

Skye: “Don’t fuss over me, Carewyn -- I get enough of that from Madame Pomfrey -- ”

“(harshly) Clearly not enough, given that you’re not listening. You’re not feeling well, so you should slow down before you might hurt yourself even more.”

[Skye smiled darkly.]

Skye: “Guess I can see why everyone in Slytherin calls you a ‘Mama Bear.’ That Vasiley kid must get a lot of use out of you...”

[Her gaze becomes a bit sharper.]

Skye: “You want to know how I feel?”

Skye: “Which means you’ll have to find a way to deal with Rath.”

[Carewyn’s lips pursed solemnly.]

“...I know. Gryffindor would’ve won the Quidditch Cup the last three years were it not for her knocking Charlie off his broom every time he went for the Snitch.”

Skye: “(to herself) Right, you’re friends with Gryffindor’s Seeker...”

[Carewyn could sense her discomfort. She raised her eyebrows coolly.]

“Charlie and I have been through a lot together. I would’ve thought the two of you could find some common ground, given that you’re both so into Quidditch...but then again, I know making friends with people in other houses isn’t really your thing.”

[Unlike Carewyn, who would jump in to fill the Chaser spot on a team holding Charlie and/or Andre, Skye exclusively played with other Slytherins, even during Quidditch friendlies.]

Skye: “(stubbornly) Not other houses -- just other Quidditch teams.”

“Same difference.”

Skye: “There is a difference. Most people who play Quidditch are serious about it, Carewyn -- they could very well be your rivals even after graduation.”

“Or they could end up being your teammates too.”

[Skye glanced down at the sheets uncomfortably.]

Skye: “(lowly) ...I know.”

[Despite the surly tone of her voice, there was audible regret too. Carewyn wondered if she was once again feeling bitter about her failed reconciliation with Rath.

Skye looked back up at Carewyn very seriously.]

Skye: “You’re a good Quidditch player...but I know you’re also good at solving problems. In this case, our problem is Rath.”

“(dryly) She is a big one.”

Both figuratively and height-wise.

[Skye nodded.]

Skye: “But every Quidditch player has their weakness, even her. If you find it, you’ve got everything you need to win the Quidditch Cup.”

???: “Ahh -- so this must be the new Slytherin Chaser!”

[Carewyn turned around, startled.

Strolling up to Skye’s bed, her high heels clapping against the tiled floor with each step, was a tall, square-jawed woman dressed in the most obnoxious magenta dress robes Carewyn had ever seen. A sparkling beetle-shaped brooch was attached to her lapel, sparkling just as cheaply as the fake gems on the cat’s eye glasses sitting on her nose.]

???: “(eagerly) Carewyn ‘Cursebreaker’ Cromwell...we meet at last!”

Rita: “I’m writing up a profile for Miss Parkin, in anticipation of her joining the Wigtown Wanderers next season! My readers are eager to know everything about the newest up-and-coming member of the Parkin Quidditch dynasty!”

[Her enthusiasm fades so over-dramatically and instantly, it was almost comical.]

Rita: “...Though I did not anticipate that she wouldn’t be able to participate in the coming match...”

[Instantly the enthusiasm was back as she gave a supercilious shrug and turned to Carewyn.]

Rita: “Well, time and deadlines wait for no witch!”

[From the time she was little, Carewyn had always had a tendency to make snap judgments about people that usually turned out to be right. It was at school that she learned that trait was indicative of strong Legilimency potential -- and right now, she got a very unpleasant feeling from Rita Skeeter. Making eye contact with the woman gave Carewyn very manipulative, untrustworthy vibes, and she had the feeling that if she used her Legilimency properly on Rita, she’d see a lot of seedy things.

So Carewyn, putting on her most polite and detached smile, responded with muted politeness.]

“...That’s kind of you to offer...but I don’t think I have much to tell. I might be playing in the match, but I’m only a one-time substitute for Skye. She’ll be the one your readers will want to hear from. And our Team Captain, Orion Amari. Murphy McNully, as well -- I’d say he’s one of the best Quidditch commentators Hogwarts has ever seen.”

Skye and Orion are the ones who’ll be playing Quidditch professionally next year...and McNully will be starting a position with the League, as a junior commentator. They and the rest of the Slytherin team have worked really hard for years now -- I’m just sweeping in for one match. And besides...with their graduation, that good press will mean more than ever...

[Trying to imagine the Slytherin Quidditch team led by anyone other than Orion was surreal...it reminded her of how uneasy she felt, when Bill was about to graduate.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed slightly.]

This is not my story. It’s theirs.

[Carewyn had to admit as well that the thought of someone this obnoxious trying to interview Orion was the funniest mental image she’d conjured up in a long time.

Rita looked quite put-out by the dismissal.]

Rita: “Perhaps...”

[The word came out as rather disinterested and disingenuous, to Carewyn’s ears. A moment later, however, her expression once again flipped on a dime, becoming brighter again.]

Rita: “...I know -- perhaps you two ladies can clear something up for me! I heard about your injury, Miss Parkin, but I’m afraid I’m still a bit unclear about how it happened.”

[Skye’s eyes narrowed coldly.]

Skye: “Rath, that’s how.”

[Carewyn shot Skye a hard, reproachful look out the side of her eye.]

Don’t bring the press into this, Skye! Don’t make it worse!

Rita: “(interested) Erika Rath? The Ravenclaw Beater?”

[Skye either didn’t notice or else completely ignored Carewyn’s look.]

Skye: “She hit a Bludger at me. On purpose.”

[Carewyn was ready to correct the record. She was ready to shut Skye down right then and there and make it clear that Rath would have no reason to hurt Skye --

But at the same time...she hadn’t been there, or seen what had happened. She didn’t know what Rath’s intentions really had been, even if she thought she could guess. And more importantly, Carewyn sensed nothing but ill intent from Rita Skeeter. If she contradicted Skye to Rita’s face, Carewyn had this bad, bad feeling that things could get worse. Something in Rita’s eyes...Carewyn got the bad feeling that she was looking to cause trouble...looking for some sort of team drama she could exploit -- like a tabloid journalist -- ]

[Her voice came out a bit more coldly than she intended, but her volume remained level.]

I’m not giving rope to someone who’d use it to make a noose around our necks.

[Rita cocked her eyebrows at Carewyn with great interest, her pink-lipsticked mouth curling up in a rather devious smirk.]

Even if you do, I will not be a party to it. I will not help you get there.

[Fortunately at that very moment, Madame Pomfrey bustled over.]

[She shot a reproachful look at Skye.]

Madame Pomfrey: “Especially if she intends to attend your upcoming match.”

[Skye frowned, but leaned back against the pillows obediently.]

Skye: “Okay, okay...”

[She offered Carewyn a weak smile.]

Skye: “It’ll be weird watching from the stands -- but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[Carewyn shot a glance out the side of her eye at Rita and then looked back at Skye. She knew she wouldn’t be able to warn Skye not to tell Rita anything more about Rath while the reporter was in earshot -- but at least it sounded like Madame Pomfrey would be shoving Rita out for the interim, so perhaps that would halt any further damage...

She gave Skye a small smile.]

“I know your teammates will be glad to have you there, Skye...even in these circumstances. And I’ll do my best, to fill your shoes.”

I’ll have to work very hard...but with how many people are depending on me, there’s no other option.

[Skye beamed.]

Skye: “Better get on figuring out Rath’s weakness, then! Our team’s counting on you!”

[Carewyn nodded, rising to her feet, and started out of the Hospital Wing. On her way out, Rita caught up with her, sweeping past her with a little “ta-ta” sort of wave over her shoulder.]

Rita: “Best of luck with your practices, Carewyn! I’ll be seeing you...”

[Carewyn’s eyes narrowed on the woman’s obnoxiously colored magenta back.]

Lucky me.

[She gave a low, sardonic huff, turned on her heel and strolled off.]

((OOC: I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist giving some love to Carewyn’s “bb bear” Kyril Vasiley @kyril-hphm in that one liner -- even if yeah, I think your Skye is a Gryffindor, Ky? XDD OH WELL.

In Carewyn’s universe, partially because Skye is a seventh year here and partially because I don’t love the way Skye’s been written in the game, I’ve decided to write her as a more three-dimensional and potentially likable character (even if I myself see her as pretty gray). She and Carewyn are never going to be friends again, but Skye does feel legitimate remorse for their broken friendship and for how her actions lost the Slytherin team a really brilliant Chaser -- most notably, the first person she ever trained in Quidditch herself. Skye exhibits what I feel is a rather toxic attitude, not knowing how to censor herself, look before she leaps, look at things from someone else’s point of view, not take any disagreements as personal attacks, or put other people’s feelings before her own (which of course puts her in direct conflict with Carewyn, who’s super attuned to that)...but in this version of events, she at least has figured out by this point that she’s made quite a few mistakes and caused a lot of damage. She just isn’t the best equipped to fix what’s been broken on her own.

BTW, do any of your Slytherin MC’s play Quidditch? Please consider commenting on this post if they do -- I could use some names for the Slytherin Keeper, a Beater, and one more Chaser. Since Carey and Orion are two of the Chasers and I already want to salute Night Rhea @nightrhea-hphm as one of the Beaters. ;3))

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #roleplaying #quest for the quidditch cup #skye parkin #rita skeeter #orion amari #murphy mcnully #erika rath #poppy pomfrey #charlie weasley #gameplay

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