Gwenhwyfar Carey
August 03, 2005 1:09 AM
Getting a bit desperate now... by Gwenhwyfar Carey
The common room was nearly empty as the clock struck nine, and the noise level was even lower than was usual for a House of people who whispered in their organized cliques and alliances. True loners, those utterly without allies, were a rarity in Crotalus due to the very nature of its students, all cautious members of society, mostly purebloods, and usually schemers. A few days earlier, Gwen had been part of an alliance, but now she was the only official loner of her year in Crotalus. She supposed it was just the heightening of her imagination always induced by one of her attacks, but it seemed that everyone was watching her and muttering as she sat alone in front of a table, writing a letter to her cousin Andrew Carey with an abandoned chessboard at her elbow. Two more letters lay nearby, both bearing the seal of the Savannah Careys. The seal of one was broken, revealing a short message in a man's handwriting.Gwenhwyfar,
The Family Council will convene next week to decide what is to be done with you. You may contact no Carey other than Thomas himself, which I disadvise. He has no tolerance for fools.
Alasdair Carey, Head of the Georgia Division of the Carey Family, also known as the Savannah Careys
The second, still sealed, was from Gwen to the man she had been advised against writing to: Thomas Carey, head of not only the Virginia Careys but of the entire Carey family. He was the final court of appeals, the man who would make the final decision as to whether or not she would be allowed houseroom until she was of age if the Council went against her. She knew she was taking a risk, writing to Andrew as well as Thomas, but it was a risk worth taking. Thomas of Virginia and Andrew of North Carolina were the two men who could save her.
Putting down her quill, Gwen rubbed her eyes wearily with the back of her hand and reread what she had written. If Andy was at all as she remembered him, she had just made him an offer he couldn't refuse. The mix of desperation and deal-driving might have been a bit off, but it would have to do. Andrew was hardly a Carey at all, divorced from a Muggle as he was, so perhaps such small mistakes as those she had made would go unnoticed.
To Andrew Carey, Head of the North Carolina Division of the Carey Family, from Gwenhwyfar Carey, of the Georgia Division of the Carey Family. My sincerest regards to you and yours.
Cousin, you must understand that I do not write this as the daughter of Alasdair Carey but as myself, Gwenhwyfar. This letter is written in the strictest confidence, and I beg that you would keep your silence. If you do not, I fear for both of our lives and the lives of certain others.
There is to be a meeting of the Family Council in the coming week, a meeting called for no purpose other than my father' attempt to disown me on the basis of my being a blood traitor. I will not argue my case fully here,having already done so in a letter to Thomas Carey, but I will say that I do not see myself as a traitor to the Careys or the Carey way of life. We are survivors first and foremost, and whatever I have done, I have done it for the benefit of our family. The world is changing, cousin, and we must change with it.
You are a branch head,and if you are at that meeting and vote in my favor, then my father's plan to disown me will be abortive. You have spies the same as any other Carey,and I should know. Find out the date of that meeting, attend it, and save me, and I will help you in return. I speak not of the debt you believe you owe me, cousin, but I do speak of the girl included in that debt.
If you will help me now, I will help and protect your daughter Amber to the utmost of my ability when she arrives at Sonora when I am a third year. It will be difficult for a half-blood Carey nonetheless, but with my aid, it will be much easier for her. I give you my oath as a pureblood witch that it will be so if you will stand my friend in this hour of need.
Check this letter for signs of tampering when it reaches you, and burn it once you've read it. I have been forbidden familial contact, and this would count very much against me. Recall the terms I am offering you, cousin, and stand by me as I will stand by you in future.
Written by my own hand and by my own will in the Crotalus Common Room of Sonora Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
Gwenhwyfar Carey
Her letter to Thomas had been much longer and much less based in emotions and perceptions than the letter to Andy. Andrew was an idealist and a dreamer; Thomas was a rock of practical good sense, which was how he had accomplished all that he had. Eloquence had been necessary, but so had straightforwardness; Thomas had told her himself, once, that he valued directness in people. Andrew would cave before the offer to help Amber. Thomas would care little for deals or excuses; he lived in a world of cold, hard fact and wanted nothing else laid before him as evidence for and against her.
She touched her bruised left arm and winced, the marks from where her father had done his best to twist her arm out of socket still tender to the touch. Another mark, disguised by a makeup charm she had overhead Jordanna using, would have explained the slight swelling of her jaw. There were facts a-plenty, if Thomas and the Council only knew them. She and Morgaine were the stereotypical abused daughters in every way, including their reluctance to use their injuries against Alasdair, or they had been. Something had given way when he lost control so completely that he struck her in public, but not in the same way it had when she had her attack earlier in the banquet.
He was going to try to kill her. That much was painfully clear. If he would risk bringing the law down on his head for knocking her down in a crowded room, if he would appoint Catherine Raines her keeper, then he was at the end of his rope. If he succeeded in disowning her, he'd have no problem with killing her as a nameless stranger, and if he failed, he would have no problem with killing her as his daughter. He saw her as a threat to his plans, to his legacy. Perhaps even to his life.
Only one of them was going to be alive when the time came for her to leave Sonora. The other would be dead at the live one's order. It was a chilling thought, but one that wouldn't leave her. Somehow, she knew that it was true. Either her father would kill her, or she would have him killed. She might have bought herself some time with her letters, but she didn't know if it would be long enough for her to get used to the idea of having someone killed. She doubted it, somehow. He had no scruples about killing; she was somewhat softer of heart and conscience. Perhaps there was one more letter she should write. As she pulled out a clean sheet of parchment, she glanced at the chessboard beside her, its pieces now still and inanimate.
"The next move is yours, Father," she muttered, uncorking her ink bottle. "I've made mine." \n\n
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Gwenhwyfar Carey
Getting a bit desperate now...
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