War for Auros: Origins

Bethany 1

Bethany

The day was only half way through, and the wind howled and battered the front of the house. So torrential was the wind, that the fires of the braziers lining the house's bulwark were all blown out, and the ash inside them strewn over the courtyard's pavestones. It seemed the servants would have a field day of cleaning once the winds had dissipated.

Inside, a muffled grumble of a breeze sang through the corridors and the cooks clanked and banged in the kitchens as they made the Lord and Lady their luncheon. In the main lounge, Deryck sat, arms thrown out archly, in a large chair of lustrous rouged velvet. Bethany sat opposite, ogling him with enmity. Her hands were placed lightly on her knees and her brows framed her anger as though her face was a painting of the howling gales outside. Arguing, they held themselves carelessly and cursed each other with vicious recoils and provocations.

Bethany's voice was hard, almost explosive, as she delivered her words to him: "For months you have been the most callous and intolerable man in, I dare say, the entirety of Ghosphum! You no longer talk to me as though I were your wife; any guest that came in here would think me a servant, the way you talk to me! And as for Sythigen..."

"Shut your mouth, you're giving me a headache!" He dictated, erecting his elbow on the chair arm and resting his head on his elevated hand.

"This! This is what I'm talking about!" She returned, but then sighed, knowing that shouting was not the solution. "What happened, Deryck? You once loved me more than money or status. What changed?" Her voice wavered as her mind rewound to happier times. As young lovers, the two were totally besotted; nothing could tear them apart. Alas, to her it appeared that the strains of time had taken their destructive toll on their relationship, and now they were just an old noble couple, bitterly ignoring and spiting each other.

Deryck was about to speak, but stopped when he saw a tear running down Bethany's cheek. He stared awkwardly, somewhat moved, but mostly annoyed. "Bethany," he began, "I am the harbinger of this family. Do you think that I should simply stand by while Sythigen runs off around the land, eking money from ancient refuse? And that fool Threigan is no company for him; his family are a toothless mouth away from being ragged beggars. Did you hear the way he spoke to me at the doors? Provincial wretch."

Bethany shook her head with contempt. "You selfish, selfish man. I'm surprised I've managed to stay clinging on to this marriage for so long."

Anger filled Deryck. "Oh, so now I'm to be threatened with divorce, am I? Do neither you nor Sythigen feel any gratitude for what I have given you both? I tell you. I do not want my legacy to be passed down to some common treasure hunting waif!" With every stressed word he held his hand in the air as though saluting to it.

"Sythigen is turning into a refined man. And he's only young. More the fool are you not to be proud of him, because, I tell you, your disapproval will only serve to distance you from him. And me. And soon you will be an acidic old miser pottering alone in your grand house, looking out of your dingy little circular window all day, wondering why life regurgitated you so cruelly."

"No." Deryck countered. He gritted his teeth and cringed quite visibly. "You're right." He looked away from Bethany, abashed in his admission.

Bethany's glassy gaze hovered about his face as a feeling of surprise ensued; she couldn't remember the last time Deryck admitted he was wrong. Such an obstinate oaf, she thought, but perhaps this was a step in the right direction. "Thank you." She said lightly.

"But I don't want to talk about this any longer. And, in any event, the cooks will have our luncheon served up soon." Deryck asserted.

"Wait. I need to know what you're feeling; you're my husband; I still care about you." Bethany attempted a smile, tried to rekindle the old flame she felt in her heart in younger years, but Deryck shied away from her and clearly grew more irritable.