why are you all so against briar and sandry? im not against briar and tris that much, it's just another match. and i think that these briar and sandry are the most interesting characters, because tamora pierce didn't delve into tris' psyche enough yet.
by the way, i gotta ask, does the site allow you to upload new stories? when i go to "upload new stories" some kind of error happens...i want to know if it's just me or not...
i hope everyone is all right, in light of the tragedy this week. i've had this awful feeling since it happened, and im wondering how all you other people, from wherever you are, feel about this.
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Tris was expected either that night or the morning, Briar knew, and he hoped there would be enough time to see Sandry without the touchy Coppercurls in the way. Or that Pasco boy, whom he had met a couple of hours before. The tall lad, fourteen, had looked him over warily before asking him, "Are you in love with Sandry?"
She had made a strangled noise and he was out the door in one second, but she still was furious. "Pasco, you have better watch out," she warned, waving one finger at her student. He guffawed, neatly trotting out of her reach.
"Just asking," Pasco called over his shoulder, before her scarf launched itself at his head. "Ahh! Yazmin!" he yelled, only to be answered by her scathing remark: "What now? It was probably your fault, anyway. Come here and practice."
Sandry turned back to Briar, cheeks red. "Sorry about that," she muttered. "He can be such a strange one sometimes." Briar grinned back, wondering what she was thinking at the moment. Hastily changing the subject, she asked brightly, "Where's Zak?"
Briar laughed a little bit. "He said he had never tasted such good wine that wasn't strong at all," he told her, and she giggled. "He's sleeping it off. I forgot to tell him that it was a bit different than his Inn's dark ale. Theirs is nearly like water," he explained.
She grinned a little, sympathetic. "Is he embarrassed?" she asked kindly. Sandry leaned on the windowsill, elbows on the cold sculpted stone. The breeze was growing chilly, she noted, but she didn't want to return to her own room yet.
"Not really, no one was there but you, Pasco, and me. Not too bad," he commented. "He's probably disgraced himself far more before."
"Oh. Well, if his head starts to hurt in the morning, Dedicate Moonstream showed me how to weave a remedy into cloth. It helps aches of all kinds, I think," Sandry said cheerfully. "Maybe it can help."
A knock sounded at the door, and it opened, revealing the Duke. "Get some rest, both of you," he said kindly. "I know you want to talk, but tomorrows going to be a long day." He made a face. "Sandry, I will need your help tomorrow, and Trisana is also arriving in the morning."
"Thank you, Uncle," Sandry responded, and Briar agreed. Vedris smiled and shut the door again, his heavy footsteps slowly thudding down the hallway. "Excuse me a moment, then," she told Briar. "I'll be back, but I'm going to change for bed."
After she left, he did the same. Strange, wasn't it? Like old times, almost, like Discipline. Briar shrugged into a lighter cloth shirt, and the old breeches he used for nightwear. He never bothered with nightshirts, they were for sissies anyway. He sprawled at the window seat, head on one of the beautifully embroidered cushions. Sandry reentered in a moment, grinning.
"Never will change, will you?" she asked. "Always the same clothes." He nodded, feigning an apologetic posture. Sandry settled by the window, propping her chin on her knees. She wrapped herself more tightly in her shawl. "Gods, it's cold," she commented idly, tucking herself under the deep cushions. "I thought it was supposed to be a warm night."
Briar shrugged. "I'm warm. Maybe if you wore more clothes, it would help." Then covered his mouth hastily. So he liked her dress a little. He didn't have to be such a chuffle, but it was lovely. He jerked his eyes away from her hair, where it was braided and pinned sturdily above her bare neck. "Oh, whoops. I shouldn't have said that, right?"
"What?" she shrieked, hitting him with the flat of her palm. "Not. Not true, its perfectly acceptable attire." Actually, a bit not, she admitted to herself. But it was pretty, and she liked it. The rose-colored ribbons tied at her shoulder, the only sleeves the shift had. And the cloth, a soft white, fell softly to the floor from an umpire bodice, and though the top itself was sufficiently high, it was...different. Her friend Kairi in the city told her that boys could not resist a bare neck and shoulders. So she foolishly tried it. Ah, well, too late.
"Well," he replied waspishly, before rolling over to close the window. "Yeah, it's a little bit cold." Briar turned his face to the window, waiting for the blush to go away. It was pretty, and so was she; however, he didn't want to admit it just yet.
She curled up, like a cat, on the cushions next to him. Yawning, she picked up the grey kitten, placing it gently on the pillow next to her. "Tired," she said, snuggling into the soft, deep rug.
"Yeah." Even against her will, Sandry felt her eyelids drooping. The lights dimmed and faded as she fell asleep. Briar watched her for a moment, before curling up beside her. What would Zak say? Or do? A smile made the very edges of his mouth turn up with mirth.
He knew it was stupid, and that he really shouldn't. But so tempting! And another thing just like old times: he knew it would bother her (though hopefully she wouldn't mind) and that it would make her mad at him. Briar grinned, wondering what the reaction would be if she knew he was watching her sleep.
He folded himself next to her, settling on the elegant cushions with a small sigh. Sandry muttered and rolled over, her hair gently touching his chin before she was still again, nearly in the curve of his arms. Exhaling slowly, Briar tried not to move; she didn't stir.
Willing himself to fall asleep, so his decision would not change, he succeeded and the world receeded into darkness.
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A clatter below them woke him, and the sunlight drifted through his closed lids. Opening one green eye, and then the other, he was rewarded with the image of Sandry, still sleeping. Then his gaze trained down to his arm, around her waist, and he nearly jumped up from where he lay.
Schooling his breath to a near minimum, Briar blinked twice before calming his nerves. Slightly.
She was curled up against him, twined firmly close in his arm, with her forehead resting against his chest. So close, in fact, he believed he could hear her heart softly beating against his own. Her hand, small but very strong (he knew very well from his Discipline days), was neatly holding his upper arm. With a slight start, he realized that his golden rose ring graced her index finger.
He was glad he hadn't moved, otherwise waking her and frightening the both of them. Briar suddenly realized the precarious situation and his insides froze, but surprisngly not from shock.
The sounds below, the clattering and horsehooves, increased to a volume that was no longer ignorable. Sandry stirred, inhaling deeply, then opened her bright blue eyes. Now, if he wasn't such an idiot, he would have kept his eyes closed and pretended to be sleeping. But, instead, he met her gaze squarely and the noble's eyes widened.
Every nerve on fire, from his hand on her waist to their touching legs, he uttered one hesitant word. "Sandry?" The tiny crease between his eyebrows, the curling, ever-messy hair disheveled, only increased his look of uncertainty. Not that she felt any better.
"Yes?" she asked quietly, attempting nonchalance, but her voice betrayed more than she might have wished.
He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Sandry watched, entranced, as he shifted his face a bit closer to hers, leaning slightly forward until their lips were only a hand's length away and-
And just below the window, a loud voice said grumpily. "Hey, you guys!"
Simultaneously, the two sat up, shielded from view by the heavy, closed curtains. "Tris?" Sandry called out, blushing furiously. "Is that you?"
"Yeah," came the reply. "Barely made it for the holidays. 'Autumn Banquet,' Niko said, 'Couldn't miss it.' "
"I'll get dressed," Sandry said hurriedly. Standing hastily, still a flushed red, she turned to leave. Quickly, Briar grabbed her hand, and the noble paused. The strange look in his green eyes warmed her cheeks as he stared searchingly into her own blue eyes. Shyly, she squeezed his palm before dashing off to her room.
Dressing, Briar couldn't quite meet Sandry's eyes as she slipped back into his room. They instead ran to meet Tris in the hallway, where she was struggling with the heavy hall door. After a round of hugs, which Briar didn't especially enjoy, they turned back to the chambers. The windmage stood in front of Sandry's door, trying the knob. "How come it's locked?" she asked, puzzled. "How did you get out into the hallway, without opening your own door?"
Both Sandry and Briar looked mortified for a moment, for there was no true way to explain that. "Oh!" she muttered, attempting a diversion. "Wait! We have to wake up Zak!" Briar agreed eagerly, and they nearly sprinted to the sleeping boy's door.
"Who's Zak?" Tris demanded, running a hand through her messy hair. She looked practically the same after all these years, with glasses and grey eyes. The only real change was that her hair nearly reached the bottom of her ears, a feature that testified her growing control over lightning.
"Zak's Briar's friend," Sandry explained, glancing shyly at the plant mage. Tris glanced at the two of them, slightly puzzled at their bizarre antics. "He's from Yanjing." She raised her delicate hand to tap politely at the doorway, but instead Briar opened the door and barged in.
"Zak, wake up," he said loudly, stomping over to the bed. "It's morning."
"Ow," the reply came from the mass of sheets. "Too loud."
Sandry glared at Briar, glad of the excuse to look at him with mock indignation hiding her emotions. "Here," she pulled a silken cord out of her skirt pocket. "I truly thought you might need this." With deft motions, she tied the white cord around his wrist in an intricate knot.
"Hey, my head feels a lot better," Zak said gratefully, sitting up. "Thanks."
Tris snorted.
"Hi," the blonde boy said brightly. "Did I meet you yesterday?" Zak sat up, entirely dressed from when Briar dumped him, snoring drunkenly, in his guest chambers. "I don't remember..."
She grunted softly. "No, but not that you'd remember. If I were you, I would watch how many fair maidens you toast during the ball tonight."
"Toast? Fair maidens?" Zak asked, confused.
Sandry smiled. "A tradition, in this area. A fable and a bit of superstition, I must say. Tris?" she asked, "Explain?"
The redhead shrugged. "Actually, that's all I know about the ceremony. I think we'll defer to the expert, unless Briar claims knowledge, for once?" Tris looked at the boy, but he looked blank. Once again, Sandry remembered Daja's words, and wondered if Tris really did have feelings for Briar, for she did seem to look at him a lot.
Sandry sighed. "Centuries ago, the Autumn Festival was celebrated in the rural areas that is now Emelan. It's dreadfully romantic," she warned. Both Briar and Zak looked plagued, but Tris' eyes lit up.
"I need a good tale," she said eagerly.
"Fine," Sandry said. "A farmer's daughter, a young woman, had fallen in love with the son of the village's headman. Though they begged, the couple wasn't allowed to marry, for she was already betrothed against her will to an older man of their liking."
"Oh, gods," Zak muttered, looking disgusted. "Its one of those stories."
"Yes, it is," the noble replied waspishly. "They planned their scheme in secret, with the hope that their parents would not disregard the union. The Autumn is when the Gods look down at the harvests, and they believed such holy witnesses would deter the parent's wrath."
Briar rolled his eyes, but continued with the plot nonetheless. "The lovers decided to meet in the woods on the night of the Autumn Feast, to drink the cup of marriage on the day the gods deemed blessed. The boy made his way undiscovered, luggin' the required wine, but the girl was stopped by her parents."
"They attempted to hold her as she slipped through the fence, but in a fit of rage her father shoved her into the millpond. She drowned, and though her father regretted his anger after, it was far too late." Sandry added. "The young man waited for long hours, until he heard the trees themselves whispering of her death."
The plantmage shrugged. "He went nuts. The lad drank the toast to his girl's spirit, vowing his 'eternal love,' before leaping into the river to join her in death. They say the stars themselves, bid by the maiden, lifted his dead body from the water."
"That's so sad," Tris said breathlessly, and even Zak looked a bit interested.
"That's why its tradition," Sandry finished, "to raise a goblet of crimson wine to only one individual this night, usually the person whom you have affection for. And under the stars, which is why the banquet is held outside, if weather permits."
"So we do that?" Zak asked, confused. "I mean, we don't gotta marry them or nothing, right?"
Sandry rolled her eyes. "What do you think?" she teased, blushingly aware of Briar standing beside her. "If that happened, why, I don't think anyone would come to Uncle's banquet! But be careful," she warned. "Don't drink more than a glass, or the charm will wear off."
"Fine," he grumbled.
"And the point is to toast just one female," Briar told him, and Zak made a face. "You remember that, won't you?" Zak laughed, sighing half-heartedly.
"I was never a one-woman man!" he exclaimed jokingly. Briar grinned, knowing how true that statement was about Zak, before wondering what he himself was. A one-woman man...person? He wondered what Sandry was thinking at that very moment.
~~~~~~~~
The next hour saw Briar, Zak, and Pasco in the kitchens, while Sandry struggled with Tris' dress. "Honestly," the noble said, exasperated. "Cannot you stay still for one moment?"
The weathermage scowled. "No." She raised her arms for the sleeves' fitting. "It's nice, though," Tris said grudgingly. Sandry looked at her handiwork, and smiled. The cloud-grey cloth, cut nearly perfectly for Tris' plump figure, was quite becoming, with the darker grey and silver embroideries that decorated the gown.
"Tonight will be fun, will it not?" Sandry asked. "We're mostly together." Nervously, she twisted the rose ring on her finger, a habit that she increasingly used as of late.
"Yeah...Briar sure has changed, hasn't he?" Tris said, glancing wistfully down at her skirt. As she saw the emotion flicker through her friend's grey eyes, Sandry's own blue eyes filled. This morning had been shocking enough, and she was quite sure now that Briar cared for her. Yet, what of Tris? What would she say...for Sandry knew now that Tris had feelings for Briar.
She remembered Daja's words, however. "You cannot punish yourself for what is going to happen anyway," the dark girl had told the distraught noble. "What if you don't ever speak of it? Both of you could live in misery for years, like Rosethorn and Crane. You know they will not even allow themselves to recall those better days. Is that what you want?"
Sandry breathed deeply, dispelling the last of the tears before Tris could see them. "Well, we're ready," she said brightly. "Tonight, I shall weave ribbons through your hair, and put it up."
"Niko won't let me grow it out much," Tris muttered. Her fingers lightly touched the fiercely curling strands, shamefaced. "It's too short."
"It's fine," Sandry told her friend gently. "See?" Fingers directing the silky ribbon, she demonstrated the hairstyle she planned. Tris' face colored with delight. "Lovely," Sandry told her, with a smile born both from happiness for her friend and the guilt that rested deeply and heavily in her breastbone.
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