Categories > Original > Fantasy > God Has No Place Here

A Secret

by herk444 2 reviews

The day after Liam comes to stay. It seems that no one is a morning person. ((Things are subject to change, I will probably edit much more soon))

Category: Fantasy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Drama, Fantasy, Humor, Romance - Published: 2006-10-10 - Updated: 2006-10-10 - 2398 words

((Woah! It's another chapter! Sorry this one took so long, but I've been kinda sick and I've also been tweaking the other chapters, adding things and whatnot. You may want to read them, although there are only a few new details, they may help you to understand a few things better. Also! I would like to thank all of my reviewers, as they are the only thing that keeps me going! Remember, no reviews, no new chapters. Now, on to chapter three))
The Very Next Day, Mid Summer 1729

The sun seemed to have risen early that morning. Its light invaded the curtains of bedroom window and pooled through out the expanse. Her eyes twitched a bit out of discomfort as she awoke slowly from her slumber. "Vladislaus...." She moaned softly from beneath her covers, eager to return to her strangely vivid dream.

"No," a playful voice answered. "It's just me." The turquoise eyed youth said. As he finished dressing himself somewhere off in the corner of the room, he was careful to not allow the rays of sunlight hit his face directly.

"You best be getting up, a maid was sent here not ten minutes ago declaring rather loudly that breakfast was waiting. She seemed to be overly curious as to why on earth I was in here." Liam said, buttoning his vest. He did not bother to look at himself in a mirror. "And who is this Vladislaus anyway? The name sounds quite foreign if you ask me." He said, turning to a bump under the covers that could only be that of a sleeping person.

"I didn't ask you, and he's nobody." She grumbled as she sat up in bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "You go down to breakfast, I'll be there in a moment." Lucinda blinked slowly, allowing the day to sink in.

Liam shrugged and exited her room, beginning his decent down the large staircase. Damn. She thought. I really need to stop talking in my sleep. If this goes on then he'll know all of my secrets...The raven haired girl sighed and, after dressing herself, went downstairs to follow the wonderful aroma that was wafting from the dining area.

She was pleased to find that her cousin had not been disturbed, as he was sitting and eating quite contently. "I see you've helped yourself." She said as she descended the last few stairs, her deep scarlet dress bouncing frothily as she did so.

He watched her keenly as she sat and poured herself a cup of wine mixed with water, perhaps to kill the strength so early in the morning. "Would you like some? You don't seem to be drinking anything." She offered, her voice still a bit groggy.

"Oh, well, I don't" He said, choosing his words rather carefully. Lucinda looked at him curiously for a moment, but then just shrugged and began to pile some oatmeal into a large bowl.

"Was father here when you came down?" She asked through a spoonful of her breakfast. Liam grimaced at the fact that she was talking with her mouth full, but he covered it quickly with a grin.

"No, but he left you a note." He said as he handed it off to her. "I didn't open it, being as nice as I am." He chuckled silently as he saw Lucinda shudder when their fingers touched. Liam was fully aware of how icy his skin had been feeling recently. He really had changed quite a lot after that one night in London.

She took a moment to put down her spoon and ripped open the letter, unfolding it and scanning the contents. As she slid her hand over the paper, she stopped for a moment. "Ahh...." She hissed, having accidentally cut herself.

Liam's nose twitched intently for a moment. He then looked up to see Lucinda cradling her right index finger. "You're bleeding." He stated, there was a strange hiss that hid itself beneath his words.

Lucinda looked up at him and smiled weakly. "It's nothing, just a paper cut." Her eyes shifted to the small drop of red that had expanded from the cut. She gently bent down and half-kissed, half-sucked the wound. Liam inhaled sharply, causing himself to choke upon his oatmeal.

Lucinda laughed heartily and shook her head. She then returned to the letter that was left so hastily by her father. After a few minutes of silence in which the only sound was that of Liam's silverware meeting his bowl, she placed down the letter lightly. Lucinda wiped off her face and placed the napkin on the table, her movements slow and quiet.

Liam's eyes rose slowly from his breakfast. He soon noticed how incredibly languid his young cousin's movements had become. "What is it?" He asked, quite curious as to why her mood had changed so swiftly.

Lucinda shook her head, not wanting to discuss it. "I'm going upstairs, I've lost my appetite and I need to finish getting dressed..." She lied hastily. Without waiting for a reply, she retreated back up the god forsaken stairs and plunged into her room. Liam rose from his chair quickly, which had caused it to tip and fall. "Um...Um..." He looked from the fallen chair to the form of Lucinda who raced up the stairs. He decided to place the chair upright and then wait a moment or two before following her.

"How can he do this? He didn't even say goodbye! Three months! Three whole bloody months! What am I to do about the house?" She thought to herself, swinging open the large door that opened her room. "You can't keep me in here forever!" She screamed, not caring as to who heard. Lucinda slammed shut the door in her anger. "And what in bloody hell would he need to go to Romania for?!" She huffed in her mind.

If one were to look back into the history of Lucinda's family, they would discover many things. For one, the Branch family had always run uptight with a quick temper. In fact, the whole family was like a bouquet of roses. The blossom of the rose represented their eternal beauty, and the thorns expressed their tendency for a sharp tongue. Perhaps this is why they have succeeded in their respected lives. By retaining this ongoing balancing act they were able to keep their enemies at bay and their loved ones subservient.

Lucinda approached the tall silver framed mirror, sixteenth century, and gazed at her reflection. "I'm too thin." She stated plainly, attempting to get her mind off of the contents of the letter. "Nobody wants a thin bride." She said, turning to the side, examining how incredibly skeletal she was.

"I will die early; I'll just get sick and die like mother. My body will wither away within months of catching a cold and I'll die." She closed her eyes, entwining her long dark lashes.

"Stop being foolish". A voice in the back of her mind said.
"Oh shut it." She spat.
"I mean really Lucinda, you're making a fool of yourself. Of course you'll be married, you are a Branch after all. Any man would give himself for you."
"Liar." She said again, shaking her head so that her hair clouded around her.

After a few more moments of the verbal battle that raged inside her head, she opened her eyes and stared lazily into the mirror. "And now I find myslef alone, yet again." She sighed and began to braid her hair. "Well, except for Liam of course. He is good company I suppose."

After a few moments of searching, she procured a pink velvet ribbon. "Perhaps this color will brighten my mood." She said as she tied it around the tail of her long plait. Lucinda then took a seat on the plush stool and just let her arms lay across her lap. She sighed and started to listen to her own heartbeat, clearing her mind.

She began to lose herself in the image of her own eyes, reflected by the mirror before her. At times, Lucinda could swear that she could remember her mother, which was deemed absurd by Talon.


"She died when you were three, it is simply impossible that you would be able to remember her." He would say in an annoyed tone, he did not discussing the past. But still, she recalled the feeling on being cradled warmly and having a sweet melody cooed into her ear. It would seem that her memory would be triggered at strange times. One example of one such time had occurred back when she had been only eight years old.

She had been getting ready to attend a fancy party, she could not remember for what occasion. But she knew that she was going with her father. He had insisted upon her being dressed by a maid that would also pin up her hair. Perhaps the maid would even be able to procure a few soft curls that would be more fitting to a young girl, rather than the fearfully straight hair that would normally spill over her shoulders, giving her the look of a drowning person.

It had been about noon when she had begun to be dressed in a gown that was a shade of soft lavender, with little bows placed wherever possible. Lucinda disliked it greatly, but it was the only one that would fit her tiny frame. After the struggle of lacing her into it had finished, the maid sat her upon a vanity stool and began brushing her hair. The woman, who was plump, with unruly dirty blonde waves for hair that was pinned on top of her hair in a bun, was strangely gentle as she ran the bristles through Lucinda's dark sheet of hair.

The thing that triggered the young girl's memory, took place when the woman had been placing locks of her hair onto hot rollers. The woman, who would have been the same age as her mother, began humming. Softly at first, but her volume began to escalate as time went on. Eventually, when the child could take it no more, she sent the maid away in a fury of harsh words, and lay down on her bed to cry. But as she lay there, face soaked with tears, she could not remember why on earth she was sobbing so. This only made them come faster and more insistently.

Needless to say, with this fit she was excused from the party, but was given harsh looks from her father in return for her poor behavior.

Within a week, the girl had completely forgotten about her fit of tears, but remained sensitive to humming. Perhaps, for this reason, she became entangled in the haunting music that was so uniquely Celtic. The melodies came from her mother's home in Ireland, and so were linked to her memory.

She remembered that once for Christmas, she was given a flute from a family friend. Lucinda would practice it daily within the enclosed private garden that was surrounded by thick stone walls. For weeks on end she searched her mother's library, tearing through wrinkled sheets of music long forgotten, until one day she came upon a single sheet whose edges seemed to have been scorched.

The notes that had been arranged upon the page seemed strangely familiar, as though they had been hidden away in her memory from years long passed. As she played the song for the first time, it seemed as though a far away, breathy voice accompanied her tentatively.


Lucinda was torn from her reverie as a light knock came to the door. She quickly assumed a more natural position and picked up a nearby book and placed it upon her lap.

"Come in." She said in a chipper tone.

Liam's newly shaven face poked into the room. "Promise you won't throw anything at me?" He asked, having heard her tantrum.

Lucinda rolled her eyes playfully and turned to him with a smile plastered upon her face. "I promise." She eyed him happily a giggled as she stood and felt his smooth face. "You shaved!" She exclaimed, ignoring how his skin still felt unnaturally cool.

He nodded. "Well yes, now that I was able to get a chance. I have been traveling all the way from London," he noticed her frown. "I didn't tell you that I came from London?" She shook her head no.

"The University isn't in London, Liam." She stated, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, no, but I was just staying there for a bit, seeing the sights and all." He replied, a bit too quickly. This earned him yet another guarded look from Lucinda. "Don't look at me like that!" He retorted, frustrated by her behavior. Liam sat upon her bed and gazed out the window. He noticed how a thick bunch of clouds had thoroughly covered the sun, sending the land around them into an early darkness. He kept his eyes upon the trees that swayed outside. He was not eager to meet her heated gaze.

"I won't have to look at you like that if you didn't lie to me." Lucinda softened her stare and decided to try a different approach. She sat next to him upon the mattress and ran a hand over one of his. "Now tell me, what has been going on?" Liam shook his head and laid it upon one of the pillows. He felt something hard beneath it as he did so.

Lucinda stood again, frustrated that she was seemingly unable to break down her cousin's defenses, and stared at herself in the mirror that was parallel to the bed.

Liam slid one hand beneath the pillow and brought forth a thick, leather bound book with no title. "What is this?" He asked, turning to the back of his cousin.

When Lucinda attempted to see what he had by viewing him from the mirror, all she saw was an empty bed and a floating book. She whipped around, to see her cousin holding her book with her mysterious Vlad in it. She looked again to the mirror that was devoid of any image of him, and then back to her cousin.

"That is my book." She said slowly, still unable to convince herself of what was happening. "And you...have no reflection."

End Chapter Three
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