My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Myra, how are lessons going?" the woman turned to her daughter, pulling the focus off of Gavin who only had the King trying to reminisce about a time he couldn't remember.

  "They're fine, Mom," she rolled her verdant eyes wide then shook her head wildly. "I learned a new trick today, wanna see?" Myra lifted up her fingers, but the woman grabbed onto them.

  "No, no, that's...as long as you're controlling it. Learning how to temper all the fire stuff. And you better be acting respectful to Lady Rutherford."

  Myra snorted, then swooped her hands back over her forehead to try and tuck the free hairs back. The move drew Gavin's eyes to the tiny tips of her ears. It was kinda cute how they ended in this little bump, like a mosquito bite or a tick. Or other things he probably shouldn't say aloud to pretty girls.

  "What was that?" Myra's mother wasn't about to give up, "Don't mumble, I hate it when you mumble."

  "I! Said! I! Am! Being..." Myra stopped shouting and her eyes wandered past the courtyard, "Hi teach."

  The adults both turned to find Gavin's mother hobbling towards them. Her cane glowed bright green, the magic guiding her along and keeping her upright, but she had a bright smile upon her face. "Ali!" his mother cried, and the King actually dashed across the muddied grounds to wrap an arm around her for a great bear hug. She buried her face into his chest, unable to make it for air against his shoulder.

  "Lanny, you look resplendent as always."

  "'Resplendent?'" his mother's eyebrow shot up as she stared in shock at the King, then her gaze drifted over to the elf.

  "Word-a-day courtesy of the princess' new tutor. Believe me, that's one of the better ones he's clung to," she laughed at the man's expense but her face was soft.

  "Good to see you, Reiss," Lana tipped her head to her, "You're looking well. Though, we weren't expecting you two at all." Her eyes narrowed and she turned hard to Alistair who lifted up his hands. Only his mother could get away with all but threatening the King of Ferelden.

  "Don't blame me, it wasn't exactly my idea," he raced to defend himself, when he turned to shout, "Hear that, old man? It wasn't my fault. Blame the elf you all like so much."

  "Thanks for throwing me under the apple cart," Reiss grumbled, and the King reached over to wrap his arm around her and kiss her cheek. At the display Gavin politely turned away and in the process he caught Myra doing the same. She had her tongue stuck out and emphasized a look of disgust. It was so preposterous he laughed at it, which caused her to smile wider.

  Maker's grace, that increased his burning blush.

  While Gavin made friends with the ground, his father finally joined the party. Cullen nodded his head to them both, "Reiss, a pleasure. You..." he said at the King who shrugged.

  "That could have been worse," Alistair began before his face crinkled up and he pinched his nose, "Sweet merciful blood of Andraste, what is that stench? Smells like the inside of a bronto." He risked sniffing the air a bit before honing right on Gavin's father. "It's you! Were you living inside of one?"

  Cullen folded his arms tight and put upon the King a glower Gavin thought only he had to suffer. "It's called labor, work, what people do to survive when they don't have a dozen servants to bathe them."

  "I happen to think he smells fine," Lana cooed and slipped into his father's radiance. Naturally, Cullen snuggled an arm around her, as if protecting his wife and also supporting her. When she turned to him for a kiss, Myra failed to hide her gagging sound. That caught all the adults attentions but the girl was quick to put on a big smile.

  "Wheaty..." the King's voice dipped lower as if in a warning.

  Lana was quick to walk over the awkwardness, "After such a long trip, you must want drink and food. We have a few bottles in the cellar we can crack into. I got them from Teagan's stock."

  "Now we're talking," Alistair slapped his hands together in excitement. "And it'll give us a chance to hear all about how our baby girl's doing," he reached over to snag Myra by the shoulders and pull her into a headlock. She squirmed as he rubbed his fist into her hair but kept laughing.

  "Dad! No," she slid out, her hair a mess courtesy of her father. "I...I have to finish cleaning up the training area. Right, Ma'am?" she turned to Lana who blinked in confusion a moment.

  "Well, you best get to it then," Reiss interrupted. "Though I'm almost tempted to follow to see the impossible, my daughter cleaning up after herself."

  "She's been a wonderful guest," it was his father who stuck up for the girl he tended to give a wide berth to. Gavin couldn't quite figure out why. It wasn't as if she was contagious with anything, yet every morning Cullen would make certain his work kept him and his son out of Myra's path.

  "Hear that Reiss? Our girl's perfect," the King smiled wide and she groaned, "Practically perfect. Go on ahead with your chores, Wheaty. Then skip on back, we really do have a good hundred letters from people back home for you. And they all demanded responses."

  "'Kay Dad," she moved to dash away before suddenly turning on a copper and wrapping him up in another quick hug.

  "I should assist," Gavin's brain took over his mouth, whatever it was thinking of failing to fill him in on the plan. Sure enough his father's concerned eye landed on him. "It will go faster if I do."

  "Son, I don't know..."

  "Let him go. It'll be fine," his mother was quick to speak over their father. Most assumed that the ex-Commander commanded the abbey and the family, right up until they came to meet his mother. "Go ahead, Gavin. I'm certain you two will get on well enough by yourselves." It had to be his imagination that she all but winked at the end of that.

  A hand grabbed onto his and he turned to find Myra tugging hard on him. "Come on, let's go...before they get all mushy again."

  Shuffling to get his dumbstruck feet under him, Gavin followed after the girl leaving their parents to head inside. A bit of their small talk struck him, but Gavin was too focused on following Myra his eyes unable to land anywhere safe but his feet. They'd set up a special magic zone for his mother to do things in. Runes glittered in a circle around it, protecting the area from observation and keeping the magic contained within. It was little more than a section of recently burned grass, even more burned to ash courtesy of Myra, with a few dead stumps in the way.

  "What..." Gavin glanced around at the fallow land, "what are we supposed to clean up exactly?"

  "I left my stupid stick here," she grumbled, picking up a staff carved out of a dead birch tree.

  "That's it?" he patted his hands together, the hairs at the back of his neck rising. He could blame it on the magical shield, but Gavin often had it happen around Myra.

  "Well..." she rolled her head around then smiled wickedly at him, "Lady R's wanted me to try and ice the ground, but..."

  At her look his entire mouth dried to a husk, it felt as papery as a wasp's nest yanked out of a dead log. She stared at him with a glint in her eyes that both terrified and fascinated him. "But what?"

  "Wanna do something fun?" Myra leaned closer to him and Gavin froze, every joint in his body locked tight. All he could do was nod his head up and down, agreeing to something he barely understood.

  She smiled again, then nodded in response. "Good. Uh, do you know anything fun to do around here?"

  "Um..." No, he spent his entire life walking from one edge of the abbey to the other. Canvassed the woods only to find it full of brambles, tree branches, and insects. Dabbled around the farmland acreage and realized that in general fields of grass contain little more than grasshoppers and giant piles of manure. "I might know of one thing," he said.

  The guilt that burrowed at the back of Gavin's head suddenly dug in deeper and he turned towards the abbey. His parents told him to come right back, they'd wonder, his father would certainly worry. He was about to suggest they head back when a soft, pink hand glanced across his tan one. The deepest green eyes stared into his and he was gone. He'd have run away to Redcliffe if she asked it.

  "Follow me," Gavin tried to sound impos
ing, but his voice cracked at the first word. Embarrassment burned hot up his cheeks and he slipped away from Myra, rubbing the back of his neck as if that would assuage the guilt and...other confusing feelings.

  Taking an old path, he led her deeper into the woods. Myra walked behind him for a bit, staring around at trees, and squirrels, and squirrels on trees, but that grew dull quickly for her. Laughing, she dashed off deeper into the thicket. Gavin was about to ask her to come back. He could deal with his parents upset at his vanishing for an hour, but losing Myra would be the death of him. Never mind what a king would do. Was drawing and quartering still performed?

  "Catch," she tossed her mage staff at him, which he fumbled with in his slippery grip. Her hands freed, she scrambled onto a log and ran up it towards the tree's higher branches.

  "What are you...?" Gavin asked even as the girl leapt off the end of the tree, snagged onto a thick branch, and let the momentum swing her in a circle. She managed to pick up speed, twirling through the air as if she weighed nothing. The laugh was infectious, even as he felt terror rising in his legs about what to do if she fell or hurt herself. Myra kept up the spin, when she suddenly let go.

  Her arms outstretched, sleeves billowing in the wind, she landed hard into an old pile of leaves. Gavin rushed over, the mage stick clutched tight in his hands, but the girl stood up, laughing as if it was all a big joke. "How did, how can you do that?" he gasped, amazed at how far she managed to fling her body.

  "That's nothing," she winked, then placed her palms flat over her head and tipped into a cartwheel. "Back home I'd do this on ledges or roofs. Scares my Mum half to death, cause she'd rather I be chained to some desk sticking papers together or cataloging blood stains."

  "Blood stains?" Gavin was confused but also transfixed at her lithe body. She moved as if in control of every muscle at her disposal, the thin arms catching and twisting her limber legs onward. It was...also not something he should be staring at, probably.

  "Oh yeah," Myra continued on, not catching on that he'd been staring at her silhouette while she was upside down. "There's a good dozen categories for blood stains, all of which require precise number and lettering, blah blah blah." To finish, she bunched her knees up and then did a straight on backflip. It was impressive, but she wobbled a bit at the landing. Still, nothing seemed to bother her as she smiled, "Andraste's girdle it feels good to stretch."

  "Is that why you don't wear any mage robes?" Gavin spoke, then paled at her look. It probably wasn't polite of him to notice her clothing, because then he was looking at her and everyone seemed to be against that idea. Still, it wasn't hard for him to not notice that while the few mages he knew clung to the robes of old, Myra was always running about in tight but not restrictive pants and a tucked in tunic. The shirt bore a lower neckline than most that let him sometimes catch a glimpse of the freckles across her collarbones. That was a long couple of hours of him hiding in the barn lest his father read the guilt on his face for noticing.

  Myra shook off her snarl and smiled again, "Nah. Though, that is a good point, don't want to get the droopy sleeves caught, or I'd go, woosh, right off an edge. Splatter on the cobbles, very messy. Seen a few of 'em. Ugh."

  "Ah," he had no idea how to respond. They told him little of the girl coming to stay for awhile as his mother taught her how to control magic. She was from Denerim, she was the daughter of friends of her parents, and that Gavin had apparently met her before when he was much younger. Maybe Myra remembered it, but he couldn't. He never seemed to meet much of anyone.

  Slowing up, Myra turned closer to him, the smile dripping away, "It's my Mum. She's not wild about my magic. Wild would be an understatement. She all but blew the top of her head clean off the first time I set the room on fire. As if I meant to do it."

  Gavin drew his fingers down the staff, the soft birch wood comforting against the skin. Was he the one to harvest it? He was often out with his father, plucking up old wood Cullen could turn into canes for Lana. "Sometimes I think my mother's disappointed I wasn't touched by magic."

  "Oh?" her always dancing fingers wrapped around her staff, but she didn't yank it away. He felt Myra's eyes peering up at his, but Gavin screwed his eyes tight to stare at nothing.

  "She'd often tell me about it when I was younger. The Fade and the wonders it held. Had me sit in on her potion brewing to get the hang of it just in case. But..." he tried to shrug it off and smiled at Myra. The girl sighed.

  "Parents, huh? Bet they're all back there necking and stuff," she snickered then shuddered.

  "Come again," Gavin blinked madly, a vision of his parents choking each other flitting through his mind. That couldn't be what she meant.

  "You know," Myra pursed her lips tightly together and then smacked them, "My parents are the WORST about it. And they think I don't know. Please. They're as subtle as a cat in heat."

  Gavin felt the blush returning and he tried to begin walking to shake it off. "Ah, now I understand."

  "No kidding. I thought mine were bad, but yours are...is that what love does? Makes your brains get all gooey and liquified until you act so stupid it makes everyone around you sick?"

  "I...I have no idea," Gavin admitted. He was aware his parents were affectionate but never thought it was too outlandish.

  "Really?" Myra skipped near him, hopping out front so she could face him while walking backwards. She met him eye for eye, the girl a bit taller than Gavin. "So, you're saying you don't have a girlfriend."

  Gavin chuckled, "I have few friends, though some of the aides will sometimes play a game or two with me."

  "No, not like a friend who's a girl, but a..." she waved her hand as if that would somehow draw understanding to his brain, "a girl girlfriend. You know?" Myra stopped in her tracks, but Gavin failed to catch on. He made it another step closer to her and found himself a breath from her inquisitive eyes. They were always crinkled at the edges in a smile, but that did nothing to deflate their great size. It was like staring into grassy fields fresh from a summer rain, each gigantic and urging him to run through it. Freckles filled her peachy face from her nose down across her cheeks, the dots reminding him of the ones he spotted on her upper chest.

  Gavin felt his breath constrict at the thought and he mentally tried to mumble a prayer. That was supposed to help him focus, or at least keep from making a colossal fool out of himself. "I, no, no, no-no-no," it was all he could say, his eyes finding his shoes fascinating while she stood so close he could see the stain of cherry juice on her lips.

  "No girlfriend then?" Myra drug it out before smiling wide and spinning around, "Good. I don't get the fuss of it all. Genie, she's my friend back home. One of my friends, the dark haired one with the funny eyebrow. Long story short, don't try to shave your own down without help or you end up looking confused all the time. She keeps going on and on about this boy who's just perfect. He eats perfect. He breathes perfect. He probably farts perfect. What are perfect farts? Little toots of perfume."

  "Or marshmallows," Gavin said, happy to be walking.

  She smiled wider at him, "Yes, the perfect boyfriend must fart marshmallows, for all the hot cocoa one drinks. I guess he's only good for winter then. Need a boyfriend that farts ice for summer."

  "A mage then," Gavin tried to circle the conversation back around to something he could understand. Perfect boyfriends were beyond his expertise.

  "Ha," Myra rolled her fist around and small flames flitted across her fingers like the dancers at the chantry during satinalia. He watched the soft yellow fire when he felt her staring at him. "This doesn't bother you?" she asked, waving her hand back and forth as if the fire might suddenly leap out at him.

  "Not particularly."

  "Everyone back home practically shat themselves when I'd do this," she chuckled as if it was fun to terrorize her friends and family, but those smiling eyes drooped down, Myra staring at her flame.

  "My mother is often casting spells around us, for as long as I can remember. It's hard to be u
pset when you can have a snowball fight in summer," Gavin said.

  Myra closed her fist, smothering the magical flame, and she laughed, "Right, exactly. It's not scary, it's helpful, but..." She paused in her rant and glanced around, "Where are we going? Have we left the grounds yet?"

  "Grounds?" he blinked in confusion. "We're deeper into the forest, if that's what you mean."

  "No, I got that part just...is this land you know, part of your abbey?" she hopped up and down on her toes, enjoying it while also looking skittish.

  Gavin glanced around the quiet forest, only birdsong and soft sway of the wind glancing shadows across them answering. "It belongs to the Arl. Which then I guess means it belongs to your father. I think."

  "Yeah, right," she scrunched her nose up as if smelling something awful, then darted back to stare behind where they came. "And your parents, they let you come out this far?"

  "Often," he nodded. Gavin caught the mark he put in a tree and bent over to lift up a fallen pine branch. Its soft needles provided cover and a difficult to squeeze under barricade. For a moment Myra eyed it up in caution, but she dipped down to scoot under it. Following behind her, but not too close, he heard the gasp and smiled to himself.

  As he staggered up, he spotted the girl rushing towards the giant statue half submerged in the crystal blue pond. "Maker's balls," she gasped, then clasped a hand to her mouth at the swear. Gavin shrugged, having whispered worse under his breath when he'd nick a toe or a pig bit his fingers. She giggled at him not objecting where his parents would, and then spun back to stare wide eyed at the statue.

  It was ancient, and huge. Carved from grey stone that felt out of place in this area, it reminded him of a horse, but didn't really look like one. There were no obvious gaps for the body or legs, the entire statue one giant slab, but it felt like a horse. If that made any sense. Only the potential horse head and top half of the body were visible, while a bright crystal blue radiated out from the slab into the pond around it. It practically glowed with blue, brighter than any lake he'd ever seen.