April

Bellavarn grabbed his coat and was about to head out when a figure slipped into the library.

"April?"

"Ta-da! I'm back. I finished that book you recommended, The Stalwart Three. It was sad, but it had a lot of fun conversations."

"I'm surprised you finished it so fast. Isn't that at least the third book in as many days?"

"Oh. That is nothing. Short ones like those only take a few hours. Since I've spent time working at the Grand Library, I can borrow their enchanted glasses to read faster."

Enchanted glasses? Bellavarn was sure he jotted down a note reminding him to look into that. It must have gotten lost. He didn't think there was an enchantment to absorb information faster; it was unlisted in his small library. How would such an abstract enchantment function?

"Doesn't that detract from the mood if you are reading so fast?"

April bounced on her heels. Her curly locks swayed as she shook her head once.

"Nope. Besides, I am used to it.. I go through each emotion at the same pace I would normally."

That was a convenient tool. Whoever invented it must have a biography written down somewhere. Maybe it could spark some inspiration in his own work.

Bellavarn shook away the thoughts. He placed an arm through a thick winter jacket. Soon it would no longer be needed. The snow was drying up. The winter chill was coming back with fervor, though, determined to make a second pass.

"Can I recommend you something else, or are you stocked on reading material?"

"I am good for the moment, actually. Did you get a chance to read The Fated Vestige I lent you?"

Bellavarn looked at the unopened book lying on his desk. Honestly, he thought he would have more time. He was recently struck by inspiration, thinking of a new way to develop the leylines on his device. Ballavarn was in a fugue all morning and just recently came out of it.

"No, I haven't had the chance. I will start it when I get back, but I really must be leaving before it starts to get dark."

April stopped bouncing.

"Is it urgent? I was hoping I could give you something."

"I am sorry, but I don't want to be out too long. You can wait here until I get back if you wish."

April looked down at a rug.

"Is... Is this a place I can attend? If it isn't professional business, I would like to be able to speak with you more."

"It isn't professional, but it is personal. I would prefer to go alone."

"I won't be a bother. I can stay in the carriage and wait. Just getting the chance to spend some more time together would be enough."

Bellavarn finished buttoning his coat. Putting on his gloves, he sighed at how pushy she was. It would be different if she were pouting or begging, but it sounded like she truly wanted to spend time together. The problem was that he reallydidn't want to bring her. This was supposed to be his time. He left his door open all day for her or others to drop by, but now that he was heading out...

"If you wish, you can come."

"Yay! I promise-"

"On the condition that you absolutely do not give me whatever you were planning to."

Her celebratory cheer was cut short. She drooped.

"What... Why? I don't understand."

"You can give it to me another day if you insist on joining me. Or you can wait here and give it to me upon my return. It is your choice. Just know, if you choose to give it to me while we are out... I will reject it."

He kept his voice level and his gaze stern, impressing the seriousness of his words.

April looked downcast and conflicted. This wasn't what she wanted, but she needed to respect Bellavarn's boundaries. She could either wait and ask later. Or go with and perhaps figure out what was so important.

"I'll accompany you. If you'll have me?"

Bellavarn straightened his jacket.

"I said I would allow it, so I will. Is your jacket downstairs?"

"It is. Will we be traveling far?"

"Not overly so. Just fifteen minutes by carriage. I will meet you down in the entrance hall in a few minutes. Go ahead and wait for me there."

"Okay."

Bellavarn walked out the door, ushering April with him. Closing it, he turned and walked down the left corridor. April watched him for a moment before turning in the oppisite direction.

=

April waited. It wasn't a long wait. It was just enough time for her to ponder. If it were professional business, April wouldn't have been allowed to accompany the Marquess. Bellavarn stated it was personal business. One that needed to be complete before night time. That meant it would most likely occur outside where the weather became freezing upon the sunset.

It would help if April had some clues as to where they were going, but Bellavarn hadn't given her any.

Until she saw him walking down the stairs.

Her eyes immidiately hones in on the flowers in his hand. Her first thought was that they weren't for her. Her second thought was, "of course they are for me." This would be his way of apologizing for being so brisk earlier. The third thought as he approached was, "Oh no. They aren't for me." Her fourth, fifth, and sixth thoughts spiraled out of control as Bellavarn only nodded to her before moving past, out the entrance.

"Same place as usual, Master Bellavarn?"

"Yes. Thank you for keeping it a secret, Nem."

Same place as usual?

A secret?

Oh, bother! What did I just get myself into?

"Are you still coming, Miss April?"

Was it too late to say no? April didn't want to know. Better remain ignorant of any competition. If she were to meet another lady like this...

"Ahaha... Of course."

She accepted Bellavarn's hand and climbed into the carriage, praying.

=

April's mind was a mess. A catastrophe. Mini-Aprils were in a panic, throwing out precious files while connecting dots on a wall.

An engineer. Definitely. A famous female engineer is helping him with his magic doohickeys.

The Mini-Aprils crossed-out pictures labeled in files using red lipstick.

No. Is it one of those crafters? Didn't he talk about a Kerv working in the ceramics studio?

Her miniature carbon copies sat around a table screaming accusations, deciding who to blame.

Is it one of the others from the Grand Library? There were a few other assistants who are prettier than I am. More available. More qualifications. Less freckles...

One of the Mini-Aprils introduced wine into the conversation, and everything turned up several degrees in severity. The table was tossed. A fire was started. The wallpaper ripped off. Mini-Aprils ran around screaming, waving their hands in the air, brawling, and throwing cups.

Then it all stopped.

"Lavender looks good on you; it brings out the yellows in your hair."

"Huh?"

All the Mini-Aprils paused in their actions, gaping in astonishment. One of them coughed, putting out the fire with a wand. The real April stared blankly at Bellavarn sitting kiddie corner to her. He wore a dark blue overcoat that made his bright blue eyes twinkle. His blond hair was groomed just below his ears and was brushed back off his forehead—the bouquet of flowers resting on his lap registered in her peripheral.

"It was a good choice. Ginger hair can be misinterpreted as red more often than not. Derived from the so-called 'red-head.' But there is a lot of yellow in the underlying tones. Wearing a lavender coat backdrops your hair nicely. Lavender also relaxes me more than your usual brightly colored clothes."

"Ha..."

Mini-Aprils reset their chairs and picked up the table together. Sitting down, they discussed this new development.

Is it a ploy?

Colors? Yellow?"

It relaxes him?

How do we respond?

I think we embarrassed him. Look, he is staring back out the window.

The April in charge made a decision.

"I don't think a man has ever so thoroughly analyzed both my hair and my clothes. It shocked me for a second."

She watched Bellavarn scratch his cheek, trying to hide a slight blush.

"Yes. Well. I know a thing or two about color, and you seemed lost in thought, so I thought I would try breaking the spell."

Had she seen this side of him yet? He was thoughtful. A bit awkward at timing and word choice, but thoughtful...

Bellavarn clearly became uncomfortable in the silence because he continued speaking.

"Have you had a chance to meet Denice at the mansion? I think you two would get along. She sometimes daydreams as well. Although she is a more reserved type than you are, I could see you two being friends."

"Denice?"

Bellavarn nodded, gazing out the window.

"One of the maids. Black hair, cut short to frame her face. Only a few inches taller than you. Quiet voice. She perks up when speaking about tea. I usually have some with her every few days."

April thought she could remember seeing such a maid on her second day visiting. She'd been sitting, drinking tea with Bellavarn when April entered. She barely noticed the maid picking up and leaving. April had been too wrapped up in talking to Bellavarn.

Great. Now she felt shitty...

"You know a lot about one of your maids."

Bellavarn shrugged.

"I take the time to spend moments with each of the staff when I can. I neglected to get to know them previously. Potter, in particular, has the luck of the devil. I can never beat him at dice. Maybe I just don't understand how it works. I'm just supposed to flip the cup, aren't I? It shouldn't be impossible to get one lucky roll, right?"

"I couldn't say..."

"And Cynthia is even more reserved than Denise. I can't get her to speak excitedly about anything. She always just sits there with her pursed lips, eternally amused by something. I think she is the type that finds solace in working simply to work. Getting her to relax and open up is a task in itself."

"I see..."

"I think Kerv likes her. I could see him eyeing her from across the room. I tried to set them up once. What a failure that was. It was worse than when I tried to pry Vienna from her soup station. Consumed by soup, that one. Never parts from the pot. Only way she goes home at night is if Misses Vale whacks her with a ladle."

"No. Really?"

"Really! I've been on the receiving end of a few whacks myself, and they are not pleasant. I pity her husband sometimes."

"You know her husband?"

"I've met him once. Lost a hand during his service. Still manages to wrangle six children all day."

"Six!"

"That was my reaction!"

...

It took some time, but the longer she listened to Bellavarn speak about his staff, the more enthralled she became. Each had their own story. Their own background and personality. Bellavarn brought each of them to life as he talked about them. Their interactions. They were less like employees and more coworkers. Peers or Collaeagues. Friends!

April was jealous. There was a fewer amount of staff among her own house. Even with less faces to remember, April didn't know all their names. She was too absorbed in books to bother learning about real people. They never matched up to the vivid characters she read about. None were heroes or princesses. But maybe, if she got to know them, their stories could be told. What hidden gems could she find? What has she been missing by retreating into paper? A treasure trove hidden in plain sight.

=

"We're here, Master Bellavarn."

Nem called out, interrupted their chat.

"Already? That was fast"

Bellavarn swiftly sobered.

"Alright. Wait here. I will be back in soon."

April glanced out the window, her eyes widening. Was this where Bellavarn had personal business? But this was...

"Wait."

Bellavarn stopped. His hand on the handle. His expression morphed into blank stone.

"Wait..."

April became less certain. She was always pushy. But this? She couldn't help herself after seeing this.

"Can I? Accompany you, I mean?"

Bellavarn was silent. His previous talkative mood evaporated. He gazed into April's green eyes, making her look away.

"I'll be silent, I promise."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep."

April could say nothing to that. How could she? There would undoubtedly be a time in which she felt the need to speak. To ask questions. How could she resist? All April could do was examine the lines of her gloves in shame. She traveled this far thinking traitorous thoughts. Bellavarn not only pulled her out of her brief funk but lit a spark in her that she didn't know she needed.

She sat in silence, waiting for him to exit, but he never did.

"You can follow if you wish."

April held her tongue and only nodded. Bellavarn stepped out, the cold air marching in.

Taking a deep breath, she followed.

=

Snow cleared off the beaten path and onto nearby grass. April took note of how the path weaved and curved naturally, instead of being in a straight line. Bellavarn's steps crunched snow as they traversed a less traveled path. He knew where he was going and didn't bother stopping along the way.

Little foliage or trees dotted the landscape. One here or there allowed some shaded sanctuary. Snow gleamed off the bare branches, a dilapidated bird's nest resting at the tippy top. Faded chirping could be heard over the crunch of snow and wind blowing past April's ears.

Winter's lasted extra long this year, but nature slowly returned. Soon, the rest of the snow would melt, grass sprouting once again. Leaves would grow anew, and spring flowers will bud. Bees will harvest the nectar of blooming flora. Animals peeking out from hibernation.

But not yet.

The chirping cut off as the birds nest toppled from a sharp wind.

No. It was still too early. Winter is present. Snow and silence. Dreary and moody. Unwilling to go away.

April halted her steps, stopping a few feet away from Bellavarn. He looked down at a small stone plaque. April read it from afar. The writing was crude, but the intent was clear. The name legible.

Astel Cross

The name didn't ring any bells for April. It sounded like a woman's name, but she couldn't be sure.

She watched as Bellavarn bent down, placing a flower in a nearby holder. Then he did the same for the next grave over.

Paul Cross

The white lilies accompanied older ones. Three flowers in each after Bellavarn removed the two most withered. Rocking on his toes, falling back, Bellavarn sat in the snow—no place better to sit as he montitored the stationary graves.

April felt uncomfortable being here. She wanted to know more, but the names on the graves didn't mean anything to her. They were nobodies. The graveyard wasn't a noble's graveyard. It wasn't even fenced. It was a small plot a ways away from the nearest village.

She tried to prevent herself from shifting her feet, but it was cold, and the wind was biting.

"Come. Sit. I'll cast a Heat spell."

April cautiously stepped over, watching Bellavarn pull out a piece of paper. Flashing, the area around them heated to a more comfortable temperature. The wind objected but was unable to blow within the circumference of the spell.

Notably warmer, April adjusted her clothes and sat down in the snow, holding her knees. She looked at the graves absently. Not knowing what to do or say. This was Bellavarn's moment, and he seemed to be lost in it.

She shouldn't have insisted on coming. Had she known he was visiting a graveyard at first, she would have waited at the mansion. But when she was already here... Her curiosity kept getting the better of her.

Now she understood why he didn't want to recieve her gift. He didn't know what it was but could likely guess. The meaning behind the gift would be sullied by this moment.

Hugging her knees closer, she didn't know how much time passed. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt ages longer. The silence unbearable.

"You are probably wondering who they are."

She didn't dare speak.

The silence hummed.

Bellavarn breathed out.

"These are Lannie's parents. Jeral's too."

The wind broke in past the barrier, ruffling April's curly hair. Bellavarn snapped another spell scroll, expelling the wind. He replaced his hands in his lap.

"Lannie is a maid. Kindest and most warm-hearted I've ever known. Not a mean bone in her body. She can make friends with anyone and always sees the bright side."

April heard a chirp from the fallen birds nest.

"Jeral is her brother. A guard. He taught me checkers and somehow always has smart words to say. Always looking after Lannie, protecting her."

A second bird cry joined the first.

"Their parents never made it to his knighting ceremony and couldn't congratulate Lannie on becoming a maid."

The cries went unanswered.

April's heart clenched.

"Lannie Cross was one of the first to accept me after the world made me a villain. They would be proud to know their little girl grew up to be so sweet and forgiving."

Bellavarn leaned forward, resting a hand on the graves.

"They would be proud that their son still watches over his little sister..."

April sniffed.

The bird cries went silent.

Bellavarn leaned back, gloved hands holding him up as he watched the puffy clouds glid across the sky.

"They aren't my parents. I know that. But I come here and wonder... Are they still watching? Are they proud?"

April sniffed again, pulling at Bellavarn's sleeve.

"Definitely. Of course they are! You said it yourself. Any parent would wish their child the best after they're gone."

It was hard to take the words seriously, seeing April's face. Bellavarn smiled sullenly, wiping her tears with his free hand.

"The dead don't speak."

"Well. I will speak for them. They say they are proud."

Bellavarn's smile developed into a frown, his eyes drooping as he looked back at the graves. How could April ever understand? These were his parents. The symbol linked to their memory. A gateway. This place gave him a way to speak to his own parents after so long. Bellavarn thought he might have seen them in death but couldn't have been more wrong.

Were they wandering that void of endless pain as well? Had they been reborn the same as him? Did they remember him?

Their worthless son who dropped out of school and became a useless, good for nothing, layabout. The pitiable son who wasted his only life and now had to piggyback someone else's. The fragile son who threw away his life after falling for the wrong girl. He threw away all their hard work at raising him, providing for him. He forgot to visit their graves...

He felt arms wrap around him. Warmth spread through him as he breathed in a floral perfume.

"April?"

She shook slightly as she held him, her face buried in his chest.

"You don't have to cry for them. They aren't your parents."

April unburied her face and looked up at Bellavarn.

She peeped.

"Then, why are you?"

"..."

Bellavarn felt at his face, his hand coming away wet from silent tears.

"Oh. I didn't realize."

April pulled away, holding him at arm's length.

"I don't understand. I don't. But I do. I do understand."

"Haha. You're not making any sense."

"I understand you are sad. Not why. But I do. I can feel for them. And you. The story isn't written but I can sense the sadness. You are sad. I am sad. It is okay to be sad."

"There are other words you can use."

"Shush. Crying isn't a bad thing. I cry when a book character dies. I cried when I stubbed my toe. It is okay to cry."

"You are just comforting yourself because you cried when stubbing your toe."

"Agh. Do you have to be like this?"

"I can't help it. It is my defense mechanism."

April held Bellavarn's shoulders so he couldn't move or look away. Her green eyes full of life and emotion.

"I know the world judges you. It is a scary place. My parents are so protective they don't let me leave the house; afraid I will be harmed or I'll contract viscious freckles. I can only work at the library because my father has a job there. I can only go out once a month otherwise. Your home was the first place I got to visit on a regular occasion. I was happy just visiting. Even if my parents hated the idea because of rumors."

April shook his shoulders when he looked away, bringing him back.

"But I saw you! One of the days I was allowed out, I saw you! You cared for people when they were cursing your name. You fed them when they were starving. You were a hero from the stories. I convinced my parents that you weren't evil or a monster like people want to believe. I wanted to meet you. To get to know you."

She chuckled softly.

"Heheh, I didn't think you would like books too."

"I like them a bit."

"You like them a lot. But I can tell your passion isn't exactly the same as mine. You have other things you love. Like talking with the people around you. Your friends at the mansion. I don't have that. Just books and stories."

Bellavarn gently removed her hands from his shoulders, placing them down.

"You can come over and talk books any time you want. I haven't stopped you, have I?"

April looked down. How did she somehow make this about her? It made her sound conceited.

"No, I didn't mean to say that I am unhappy. I was just relating, using my situation as a point of reference. I am not conceited. Really!"

Bellavarn laid back in the snow, facing up to the sky. He smirked.

"I know. That was just my defense mechanism talking."

April arched one eyebrow.

"You did that on purpose."

"I don't know, did I?"

April scoffed and fell, lying in the snow as well.

"You are playing with me."

"No, really. Thank you for your kind words. They meant a lot."

She eyed him, but he'd gone back to an unreadable expression. Gazing up at the sky instead, she marveled at how high the clouds soared. Was it possible to land on them and ride them to the next country over? Could she tour the world like that? Watch the world unfold like a book?

Bellavarn wondered if his parents were watching him through those clouds. The obtuse grey shapes drifted over a planet not his own. A reality not his own. Over a body that wasn't his own. Would they care? He would give the world to see them one more time. But he knew even in death it was an impossibility.

"Graveyards can be depressing."

"I think that is why no one is here."

"True."

Comfortable silence reigned as the two watched the clouds form different shapes. The wind shrieked. Breaking the barrier of warmth once again. April's hair poked her in the eye, and Bellavarn blocked a tuft of snow from falling on his face.

"Pfft. Pf. Pfft. Ick. Yuck. Its in my mouth now."

April tried to blow the hair away, but it wormed into her mouth instead. Bellavarn chuckled.

"Alright. We should go before the wind gets really angry."

"Pft. I... Pfft. I think I can live with that."

Bellavarn helped April to her feet, dusting himself off. They stood across from each other, reevaluating each other.

The wind smacked them across the face.

Screeching, they both ran for the carriage.