Chapter Text
Cassandra Johanna Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo had her mother's hair and her father's eyes and her great Aunt's stubborn chin, though she learned at a young age that a 'stubborn chin' was code for: 'she's a mule of a girl, Johanna and you ought to have her whipped.'
The thing was that Cass never noticed Ludwig being told he was a 'mule' of a boy, though he was as obstinate as she was and just as likely to be sent to his room without dinner. Perhaps, she thought, it was because he had a nose that had already been broken three times by his ripe old age of ten and everyone knew what to expect when you met a boy with a broken nose and a chipped tooth. Cassandra had a chipped elbow but that wasn't the sort of thing you could see and it certainly was no warning.
The youngest daughter of the de Rolo family was by all accounts a spirited monster of a girl in the deceptive guise of an angel with hair the colour of caramel. She was, as noted by her tutors, nurses, and siblings: “the sort of child who challenges without disrespect and shows signs of intelligence beyond her years. She is, nonetheless, a difficult child. Self-centered, rarely quiet, and when bored (which is near constant) impossible to contain. You would think to look at her that she was her sister, born again, but where Whitney is calm and well kept, Cassandra can be expected to be irreverent and covered in a fine layer of filth. One can only hope she outgrows her childishness in due time.” In her defence, and Cassandra was fond of being defensive, Cassandra was six at the time of writing.
Perhaps, this evaluation of her would have been less severe if her whole family was not so well behaved. Her siblings all had their various flaws and secrets, but at their older ages with their years of practice, they all carried the de Rolo name like it weighed nothing on their shoulders. Ludwig and Cassandra, who were youngest and spoiled and protected, had the most trouble with this sort of thing. Ludwig was beginning to develop his poker face and becoming closer to Oliver and Whitney and further from Cassandra, which only caused her to stir up more trouble. She had the terrible idea that if she did not make herself the loudest of her siblings, they might all forget she existed. She was not tall for her age, nor exceptional at anything like her siblings were. Even Percy, who was the quietest and most withdrawn of her brothers and sisters, was more impressive than her for even she could appreciate that his mind was extraordinary. She had tried to win him over to her side and show him that she was as bright as he was, only to overhear his call her a 'brat' to Vesper, after which Cassandra (who at the point of this particular anecdote was eight and extremely sensitive to anything but pure adoration) had sworn never to love him again.
There were a great many of the siblings, as if the parents hadn't known when to stop, and then arrived at Cassandra who was an aforementioned 'difficult child' and found that as good a reason as any to keep the family to a lucky seven little ones.
Julius was the oldest and Vesper the second oldest. They were far too old to be considered children like their siblings and both were well on their way to becoming functioning adults with dreams to leave home and see the world.
Julius would one day inherit Whitestone and Vesper would marry nobility for a good bit of money, and on that account they were perfect children with impeccable manners who followed those plans to a T. Julius was charismatic and fair, the sort who broke hearts and was voted 'most trustworthy' in turn. Vesper was clever and good and though both her siblings were like little parents to her, Cassandra loved Vesper the most, for she knew she was her sister's favourite among the little ones. She knew Vesper, with her dark eyes and slow smirk saw herself, but braver in Cass. It was not the sort of thing one said out loud. Indeed, the de Rolos were not much on public affection, though Mother and Father murmured 'I love you” to one another after a dinner with more wine than usual, that did not make these things untrue.
Oliver was the older of the twins by five minutes, and he was as dark as his sister was light. His expression was consistently serious, which hid a consummate prankster who was unique in that he was never caught. The only sibling who was not in danger from Oliver was Whitney, who he protected fiercely and loved more than anyone else. Cassandra once asked Ludwig if he would jump in to protect her should Whitestone be attacked by pirates, as it had been in the bedtime story Vesper had told them. He had laughed in her face. Oliver had not laughed in Whitney's face. No. He had hugged her closer, for the story had scared her. Cassandra had punched Ludwig in the arm.
Whitney (who Cassandra was often compared to, and found consistently wanting) was lovely and considered to be the loveliest of the sisters for she was kind, and gentle, and formed like a china doll. Cassandra privately worried that her middle sister might be a bit simple. Her eyes were the colour of Lapis Lazuli and were slow to blink which gave her the distinct expression of a deer, if you were being kind, or a cow if you were not. Though Whitney never created a competition between herself and Cassandra (the thought would not have even occurred to her) a competition existed, and Cassandra was the perpetual loser. Yet, even though Cassandra was desperately jealous of Whit, she loved her equally desperately. It was impossible not to.
Ludwig, as we've discussed, was a mule of a boy as a child, who grew into a monkey, who grew into maturity and began to align himself with his older sibling. At first Oliver, but he soon realized that Oliver was loyal only to Whitney and it was not a bond that could be broken. Eventually Ludwig discovered that Percy did not have a 'sibling pair' and he became like a protege to their brother. He was very proud of this fact and seemed to think nothing of leaving Cassandra on her own and she swore she would never forgive him.
She did. It is easy to forgive the dead.
It is good to know that Cassandra by virtue of the order of her birth and because she accepted that she would most likely end up as a bardic governess to her sibling's children, was not the sort who accepted the castle as she saw it. She knew from her siblings that there were paths within the walls where she was not to go (and where she went anyway, with renewed enthusiasm) effectively ruinning several perfectly passable dresses in pastel shades. Her siblings told her, in conspiratorial tones that if she was to go (knowing their sister well) she should avoid the paths marked with white xs for those were tunnels that once had been whole but that now had become dangerous and unstable. In this, she listened, and she would come to dinners with her bleeding knees and hands hidden beneath gloves and stockings. She felt very brave and very interesting for she knew no one had ever managed to go as deep as she did. She imagined one day discovering some wonderful secret about Whitestone and impressing her whole family in one fell swoop.
“Our wonderful little explorer.” Mother would sigh. “Have you ever met one of her ilk?”
“No.” Father would say, his eyes crinkling with affection, “I don't believe I have.”
“I always knew she was exceptional.” Vesper exclaimed, for in these these dreams she was far less composed, “Haven't I always said that?”
Ludwig would come to hug her and with his eyes like rivers he would beg her forgiveness and she would refuse until Whitney spoke on his behalf. Then they would all have her favourite dinner of roasted Brussels sprouts, and cheese on toast, even though Percy got hives from sprouts, and they would finish with a glorious chocolate cake and Cassandra would get the biggest piece and not get even a smudge of it on her face or clothes.
This scene where she achieved something which shook her family's world was a reoccurring one that she revisited from age five to age twelve. At first, it wasn't about tunnels. It might be about whatever dance she had learned from her governess that day (becoming a dance master instantly) and then perhaps about the wonderful paper she had written for Professor Anders when she got a bit older. She was just reaching the age where these fantasies had added a few more to the characters list. Now, there was always a boy or girl who kissed her softly and whispered “I knew you could do it”. They were extraneous however, it was her family's adoration she craved.
Our story proper begins here:
Cassandra was dozing under a tree when she first heard the darkest horses in the whole world approach Whitestone. At the time she did not know they were the darkest horses in the world, only that there were horses and that they were coming. Once she opened her eyes, however, she noted they were also the largest horses she had ever seen, and that they looked magnificent and utterly vicious. The carriage they pulled was likewise: obscenely regal and it carried an air of danger. Despite the dark wood of the carriage and the dark fabric that covered the windows, there was not a speck of dust or mud visible.
It struck Cassandra as a ostentatious display of pride and she was not used to families with more pride than her own and for that reason she would have followed the carriage to see the sort of people who were inside. That alone would have done it, but her desire to see the carriage to its destination went deeper, there was a subtle sort of whisper from the carriage, and it called to her. If you were to have asked Cassandra what it was that the whisper said she would not have been able to repeat it, only that it said what she wanted to hear and that she was someone who had heard 'no' often enough to appreciate someone saying 'yes'.
It should not have surprised Cass, who prided herself on being quick and clever, when the carriage pulled up in front of the gates of Whitestone Castle. Where else would those with such money go? She had a good memory but she could not recall ever knowing such transport to bring her parent's friends to Whitestone. She could not recall ever seeing horses so fearsome, and she had a perfectly reasonable fear of horses. She would have remembered seeing such people before.
For they were such people. The groom did not run to open the door for the couple, it would not have been dignified, but he moved with perfect haste. Cass thought he moved almost as if he was dancing. From her spot, frozen in place some metres from the carriage, she could see that he had a prominent scar along his jaw and presumably down to his neck. She tried to smile at him but could not. It is unlikely he would have smiled back, even if she had managed it.
In a shocking breach of propriety, a woman exited the carriage first and snapped open a parasol which she handed to her husband who came soon behind. Cass had never seen that happen before, her Lord Father always helped her mother out of the carriage and her mother wore armour so it was not because she was weak. It was simply how things were done. She began to frown and like she had given a signal, the Lady turned around and her smile spread over her red lips like treacle. “Hello, little one.”
“I'm thirteen.” Cassandra put her hands to her hips and had she been paying attention she might have seen a flicker of something cruel cross the woman's face. Like most twelve year olds she was mostly focused on herself, indeed she did not turn thirteen for another few months, and only said it because she had needed something to sound impressive.
“Ah. Come closer, dear. Let me see you.” The lady looked to her husband and then back to Cassandra and again, had she cared to look, she would have seen the woman bite her lip for just a moment. Cassandra was drawn to the pair and as she approached she felt her heart start to beat faster. “You're a pretty one, aren't you?”
“You've not met my sisters, then?” Cassandra felt her face flush up and she was suddenly self-conscious of the too-short little girl's dress she wore and, even moreso, of the dirt and dust she had smeared across her cheek and over her hands and dress and legs. It was had not been easy to follow a carriage led by horses who towered over her and she had run herself ragged and gathered the dust and dirt to her. She tried to tug down her dress to hid the scabs on her knees. “I was much more charming as a child. I've not outgrown my awkwardness, Mother says.”
She could not have said what it was exactly that made her so nervous. She had met nobles before... Barons, and Counts, and Princesses: people who might be royalty if an estimated ten or fifteen people died in a convenient sort of manner. The couple was striking in a way that Cassandra was not used to, but she had been surrounded by the strikingly beautiful her whole life and did not find it as overwhelming as another might.
Perhaps it was the way that the woman's eyes looked over her, and then swept back up to look deep into Cassandra's own. Her family was kind enough and they did not forget her exactly but neither did they spend time knowing her. Seventh born and with no real talents, it wasn't hard to understand why it seemed like years since anyone had seen her at all. Certainly, it was different when the person who seemed to see you was so terribly beautiful. The lady had auburn hair pulled back into a knot and her hair smooth as satin and reflecting light like a pomegranate juice. Her skin was smooth and pale and her eyes were deep set and dark and they seemed to take in everything. Her husband was equally well made, tall and strong, with a neat goatee and wide shoulders. His hair was dark, and it was hard to tell his expression beneath the shade of the parasol he still held and the dark lenses that covered his eyes. To his credit, he let his wife do as she pleased, he did not hurry their conversation nor even shift his weight to indicate boredom.
“I don't know who you are.” Cassandra felt herself coming over closer and from her position only a few feet away she could see that the couple were so well dressed, it was almost an embarrassment of riches. The fabrics were dark and deep and heavy, and neither they nor their owners showed any wear from the road. If the Lord and Lady had not been so restrained with the jewels they wore (one each, and their rings) Cassandra might have been tempted to call them gaudy. Instead they were perfect and she looked like a peasant in comparison.
“I know who you are, dearest.” The woman reached for Cassandra and she did not seem to notice the dirt under her fingernails or ingrained in the calluses on her palms. “Your mother and I are old friends.”
“Mama...? and you?” Cassandra chastised herself for not saying 'Mother'. She wondered if she might have a voice as much like velvet if she practised daily. She cleared her throat, trying to find a deeper register to show that she was a grown up too. Finally it dawned on her that she had done everything wrong with this introduction. She pulled away from the woman and dropped into a perfect curtsy. Cassandra was graceful, more coordinated than her siblings, and she took great pride in that. She was so busy taking pride in herself that she didn't see the couple share a look of satisfaction. “I'm Lady Cassandra Johanna Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo. I welcome you to Whitestone.”
The woman dipped into a small curtsy, and her husband inclined his head to Cass. “I am Lady Delilah Briarwood. This is my husband, Lord Sylas. What a pleasure to meet you.”