Concordia discors

Title: Squid and Squickability

Fandom: Sanguinity

Author: Josh Amos

Summary: A one-shot in which I attempt to envision the reunion between PrincessB and Pierce after the latter has been away at school.



PrincessB gave the punt one last hard shove, and felt it suddenly lighten as it entered the water and bobbed to life under her hands. Her skirts were wet up to her waist, even though she was only standing in knee-deep water--why, she wondered irritably, did water do that? The fabric clung to her, cold and heavy and in the way, making her struggle for a ridiculous length of time before she was finally able to climb into the little boat. She lost both her shoes in the process, and damned near unshipped an oar. But it didn’t matter.

As soon as she was certain she couldn’t be seen from the castle, she hauled off the layers of sopping silk, toweled herself dry with the upper part of her shift, and pulled on the things she’d stolen from the back of Pierce’s wardrobe. These clothes hadn’t fit him for years, since long before he’d gone away to school, so she knew he’d never miss them. She almost tossed her own clothes over the side, but then decided it would be more sensible to hang onto them, and settled for bundling them out of sight under the seat. After all, however impractical they were as clothes, miles upon miles of silk might be somehow useful.

She felt an unexpected pang of regret when she cut off her hair, but it had to be done. Boys didn’t usually wear theirs much beyond shoulder length. She hacked hers off even shorter, just about level with her cheeks, reasoning that it was better to wear as unfeminine a style as possible within the bounds of acceptable fashion. Her thin face and slender body were liability enough, even with the short hair.

When she stopped staring at the long locks of her hair coiling like seaweed in the water and resumed rowing, she prayed, the rhythm of her efforts making it easier than usual to lose herself in the prayers. ‘Dear Storyteller,’ she pleaded, ‘please help me to set my own genre. Let this not be some pre-ordained novel of manners concerned only with the tedium of court life, and not a predictable princess-marries-prince romance…unless that be Thy will, in which case, please reconcile me to my role, but grant me the strength to shape my story. Send your Angelic messengers to protect me, and to give me hints. Bless those I love, through each and every chapter. Send them joyful plot twists, and resolve the conflicts that oppose them, but not too easily.’ Then she lapsed into meditative silence, ignoring the dull ache that was working its way into her arms and shoulders and back.

It was dusk before she’d finally made her way far enough along the coast that nothing looked familiar, and nearly dark before she’d bypassed the first unfamiliar village and reached a small harbor, hidden from view until she was right at the mouth of it. She brought the boat into the cove cautiously, clumsily poking one oar at the rocks to keep from hitting them. She dragged the punt ashore with relief.

There was no one in sight on the tiny, rocky beach, just a narrow path heading up hill and vanishing from sight. Beta curled up in the bottom of the boat and tried to sleep, but it was colder than she’d expected, and things buzzed in her ears and tried to bite her. The best she could manage was a fretful doze with her arms wrapped over her head and her hands pulled inside the sleeves. The stars whirled overhead, and the wind in the trees made a noise like pages turning. She felt giddy and queasy with exhaustion.

‘The strangest things wash ashore here,’ said an amused voice. Beta, dreaming, heard it but didn’t answer, thinking it was part of the dream. A hand grabbed her shoulder and shook her roughly awake. She opened her eyes dazedly, and saw a pirate: the most beautiful pirate imaginable. The woman’s red hair was a wild mass of every shade from copper to blood, and she wore a gaudy but impressive imitation of gentleman’s clothes, with leather boots that gleamed in the moonlight. She looked sympathetically down at the princess.

‘You’d better come with me,’ she said. ‘You look half frozen, and there’s plenty of room at the Briary for those willing to work--and to keep their mouths shut. Can you do that, boy?’

‘Yes,’ said Beta, still wondering if she was really awake. ‘But what’s the Briary?’

‘A refuge for the right sort,’ said the lady pirate, ‘a fortress against the wrong sort, and a thorn in the side of all the others. Here, carry this.’ She tossed a bulging burlap sack at Beta before lifting a second sack to her shoulders. Beta caught it obediently, but then wrinkled her nose at the smell.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Dried squid,’ came the answer. ‘Hurry up. If we have to wake the gatekeeper he’ll be livid.’

The warmth and light of the kitchen came as a shock, but not as much a shock as the sight of cousin Pierce sitting on one of the long wooden benches sharing a plate with a rough-hewn peasant. Pierce glanced at her with mild interest and no sign of recognition. 'A stray?' he asked.

'A guest,' Beta's rescuer said shortly.

'Care to share our room, boy?' Pierce asked, earning him a look of reproof from the other man. Beta nearly snorted with laughter.

'Don't feel obliged to enter that den of iniquity,' the woman said. 'We can find you space to bed down alone.' For one fleeting instant Beta's impish curiosity almost led her to accept Pierce's offer, but she thought better of it...for now, at least.