Season notes: traumatized people triggering each other, abuse, torture, fictional slavery, con noncon*, (attempted) blackmail
Mattin jumped as Jahlene entered. He hurried to assist her out of the complicated veil-and-hairpin arrangement she wore every time she left the suite. His throat was tight, and he couldn’t force himself to speak. She didn’t keep him waiting.
“It went well; she’ll be here soon. I’ll need you to attend me at the recital this evening, but you can take a few hours now to get her settled.”
He felt his face flush, and he sagged as relief made his limbs go weak. He touched his heart as he bowed, signaling his thanks.
She snorted, “We had a bargain. No thanks needed.”
He swallowed and nodded. Of course. A bargain was a bargain, after all.
“I’ll want to speak with her in the morning, and it would be best if she didn’t leave the suite. And speak freely from now on, as long as we are alone.” She called for Parlen and opened the door to her bedroom cum office. “Mattin.” she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “You’ve done well here.”
Pleased and confused, he unthinkingly repeated the gesture of honored submission he’d used the night Oeloff appeared. Then he turned to gather the pins and such for Berta to clean and put away. He’d learned a great about glamour during his time with the lady. Enough to be sure she knew her comments whipsawed him. Why did she do it?
He didn’t wonder for long, instead pacing the room in anticipation of Marta’s arrival.
Mattin was wearing a path in the carpet when he heard a timid scratching at the door. He hurried to open it. Marta stood in the doorway with her arms wrapped around her middle. She wore nothing but a dirty shift. Mattin reached out and gathered her into his arms. She screamed.
He let her go, and she collapsed to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” she curled up in a ball, rocking. Mattin had no idea what to do.
“Marta? Marta, please, it’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you. Please, please come inside… what can I do?”
With much reassurance, Mattin got her on her feet again and inside the suite. Parlen hovered, drawn by the scream. Mattin didn’t see Jahlene, but her absence could only be a good thing.
Marta was still shaking as they got her seated on a small stool. Parlen went to rummage in the drinks while Mattin knelt before her, holding her hands. “Marta?”
“I… I’m alright. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… Mattin?” She reached out and touched his face. “I… everything is all fuzzy.”
Her hand on his face was frigid. Parlen came back and held a glass of something potent-smelling to her lips. “Drink.”
She took a small sip, then started coughing. When she caught her breath, her eyes were clear and focused. “Thank you. I… I’m being such a ninny. Oh God, Mattin.”
He caught her as she fell off the stool and held her as she sobbed into his shoulder.
“Shock,” Parlen said, “Brit would know what to do.”
Mattin shrugged, feeling helpless. “It’s alright. You’re safe now. It’s… everything will be fine.”
She didn’t say anything, just clung to Mattin like a vine. Eventually, she wept herself out and fell asleep.
Parlen helped Mattin tuck her into a cot and offered to get some food and water for when she woke up.
“Thank you. I don’t…” Mattin waved his hands, helpless.
Parlen chuckled. “I don’t think any of us thought past the rescue. We were here to help the valiant hero—” she directed a mocking bow in Mattin’s direction “—save the maiden. We taught you what you needed, you charged into the breach, the mistress wielded her political might to defeat the monster, and your sister would return to live happily ever after. Victory snatched from the Mare’s jaws and paraded for the world!
“Well, the Mare’s jaws leave hellish wounds, and the rest of us should have expected them, even if you didn’t.” She snorted. “Not like enough of us haven’t been in her shift.”
Mattin stared at Parlen a moment, then nodded. “I never thought beyond getting her free.”
Parlen shook out her skirts and checked her hair, “I’ll get some food. You might as well sit with her for now.”
Sitting next to the bed, holding Marta’s hand and listening to her breathe, Mattin had a long time to wonder what else he hadn’t thought of.
Marta slept the whole day, and Mattin had to leave her to accompany Jahlene at court that evening. Rumors spread quickly through the palace of the not-so-minor coup Jahlene and Falthro had pulled off, and many were eager for details. Mattin did his best to pay attention while his thoughts kept returning to Marta.
Parlen crept into the room where Marta slept and placed a tray by the bedside. Mostly leftovers from the breakfast Berta had brought up an hour earlier. It wasn’t much, but after everything she’d been through, the girl deserved to get breakfast in bed this once. Glancing over the sleeping form, Parlen saw Marta’s eyes were open, watching her. She bit her lip, wondering how long Marta had been lying awake in the dark.
“Good morning Miss Marta,” she said with a small curtsy, “would you like me to light a lamp? It’s a pity there are no windows in this cubby.”
“Who are you?” She asked, curling into a ball under the sheet.
Parlen’s heart ached. In spite of the brave face she had shown Mattin, the fear etched on this woman’s fragile beauty was a travesty. She wanted very much to reach out and soothe Marta. Instead, she crouched down, and clasped her hands in front of her. “My name is Parlen, Miss Marta. We met yesterday. I serve Lady Jahlene as her secretary.”
Marta spent some time examining her face. Parlen wondered what she saw in the faint light from the open door. After a minute, Marta relaxed slightly, and Parlen smiled in response.
“I had a dream. You were there… and Mattin. Is he in this dream too?”
She shook her head, “This is no dream, Miss Marta. But Mattin is here. We thought you were still asleep.”
“I am still asleep,” she replied, in a matter-of-fact voice, “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I don’t want to wake up.”
She was so fragile, so broken. Parlen finally understood what had driven Mattin to save her at any cost. She wondered how her own life might have been different if anyone had been that committed to saving her, all those years ago…. “No, Miss. I promise. I’ll go get Mattin now, shall I?”
“It’s always a dream,” she said, “I’ve had so many dreams. But I always wake up.”
“I’ll just go get Mattin, Miss.”
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