#classic hannah: getting attached to painfully minor characters in children's fiction

[chryseis]

Unsung

Fandom: Deltora Quest Summary: As peace settles upon Deltora, Marilen is tasked with recording the life of Anna of Del. Pre-canon, mid-canon, post-canon. Characters: Marilen, Anna, Jasmine, Lief, Sharn, Doom, Barda. Pairings: Jarred/Anna, Lief/Jasmine Notes: I was working on a Jasmine-and-Doom prompt, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Anna. So, here is a non-linear story with several stories bundled up inside it. AO3. FFN. 

-- The hour was late, and her hand was sore, but Marilen did not stop her work. Words seemed to pour from her mind and onto the page. The steady breathing from Josef’s crib grounded her as she wrote. She had known that becoming the palace librarian would be a great task, and that recording in the Annals would be part of her life’s work. And she knew that some stories were of more importance than others, even if they did not outwardly appear to be so.

She took a moment to look upon the beautiful face of her sleeping son. She preferred to work with Josef in the room. After such a long time of war and death, it was hard to focus without knowing her son was safe. Losing him was unimaginable. But that was why the Annals were important to her; so she could record the stories that she might never truly understand. She turned the pages to the beginning of the particular account, and looked at the section title written in her own flourishing script:

Anna of Del

Four people who Marilen loved had approached her to request that she commemorate this woman into the Annals. She had spoken with them many times; listened to their stories, and she had taken pages of notes. Although she had never met the woman, and she never would, Marilen felt a connection to Anna that was as fine and lovely as Toran thread.

With a sigh, she set her pen down and shook out her hand. Researching a figure who was not widely known was a strange task. Her head was awash with little facts and stories and the emotions of the people who loved Anna enough to wish to see her immortalized seemed to always linger.

It had been Jasmine, of course,  who had come to her first.

—

The celebration had gone late into the night, and into the early morning, too. But, yet, all of Deltora seemed to crowd the palace hill— laughing and drinking and dancing— to celebrate the marriage of their beloved king to one of their favourite heroes. Marilen had begun to tire, and wondered if it was time to follow Ranesh, who had brought Josef to bed. But before she could start towards the palace, Jasmine grasped her hands and pulled her back into the dancing crowd.

The new queen had abandoned her shoes somewhere, and her lovely green dress was streaked with dirt. She was an impressively poor dancer, but Marilen happily allowed herself to be led by Jasmine’s improvised steps.

They twirled—laughing— by Lief, who was dancing with a ring of children whose parents had disregarded proper bedtimes to celebrate the historic event. Marilen beamed and called his name, and Lief looked up. He was grinning with delirious happiness, and held out out his hand for Jasmine to join him.

“In a moment,” she called to him, letting go of Marilen briefly, so that she could trail her fingers across her husband’s hand.

“The whole kingdom has come for you!” Marilen shouted over the music and crowd, as they allowed themselves to get lost among the people. Many of the dancers toasted and called Jasmine’s name as they went past.

“So it would seem,” Jasmine said. Her eyes flickered over Marilen’s face. “But there are some people who should be here and cannot.”

Marilen realized that Jasmine had led them to the edge of the crowd. She let go of her friend’s hand, and gently touched her shoulder. Jasmine looked up; her smile was still bright, but there was a sadness in her eyes that had not been there before.

“I wonder if I could ask you a favour,” Jasmine continued. “I want to be sure that my mother is never forgotten. I will tell you all about her, another day, if you promise to write it down.”

Marilen looked deep into her friend’s searching gaze. “I would be honoured. I swear it.”

—

Jasmine was not pleased. She had been building a tower of sticks and leaves, but Mamma had made her stop and told her to climb up into the treehouse, even though it would not be dark for ages. Still, she allowed her mother to guide her onto her cot.

“It was going to be so tall, Mamma,” Jasmine complained. “I was going to put my doll inside and—“

“Jasmine, listen to me,” Mamma cut her off quickly. Jasmine stopped, and her eyes widened. Mamma never interrupted, and she always had a smile and a game ready to play. But she was scared, Jasmine realized, and that frightened her, too. “Listen, sweetheart, I have some things to tell you.”

“Where is Papa?” Jasmine looked around wildly; the house was quite large, but it was clear that her father was not at home.

“He will be back soon, but I must speak to you. Will you promise to be good and listen?”

Mamma’s face was so unusually serious, that Jasmine could not help but nod solemnly.

“Good,” she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Someday, Jasmine, we might have to be very quiet, and pretend that we do not live here.”

Jasmine was confused and it made her anxious. “Why would we have to pretend?”

Mamma shook her head, unwilling or unable to explain. “It is just the way of the world.”

Jasmine looked at her mother’s face, searching for some sort of trick or game, but could find nothing. “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing right now, but I must show you something,” Mamma paused for a moment to ensure that Jasmine was watching. “If I do this,” she pointed her smallest finger up, and dragged it under her eye, “it means that Papa and I want you to run away as fast as you can. Do you understand?”

Jasmine nodded, although she was not sure that she did.

“If I do this,” Mamma bobbed her chin against her chest, “I want you to hide yourself away.”

Jasmine could not help the bubble of laughter that burst forth; Mamma looked very silly.

“Jasmine, this is important,” Mamma pleaded, and made her practise both of the stupid gestures until Jasmine insisted on going to sleep, mostly out of boredom.

Later that night, she awoke to voices from her parents’ cot. Papa must have come home. Jasmine kept her eyes shut, and listened.

“I have never seen them this close,” Mamma whispered. Jasmine heard the shift of bodies on the cot.

“Nor have I, they always stay on the trail,” Papa was very bad at whispering, and she could hear him clearly. “I followed them as best I could, but I did not get far.”

“I did not tell Jasmine. I did not know how to try. But I made up signals for her to follow, if the Guards come near again. I do not think she understands.”

“We ask so much of her,” Papa’s voice shook, and Jasmine could not help but open her eyes a little, but she could see nothing through the darkness. “This is not a proper life for a child.”

“We always knew it would be hard, my love,” Mamma said in her firm and gentle way. “Jasmine is strong, and we will keep her save.”

She heard the sound of rustling blankets as her parents settled in for the night. Jasmine’s eyes closed of their own will, and she felt herself being pulled down into sleep. Still, she pictured the signals in her head. She did not know why, but it was clearly important that she remember them.

And so she would.

—

Marilen had been walking to her office one evening, when Sharn had found her in the hall.

“Marilen,” Sharn said warmly. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course,” Marilen followed Sharn to a window seat. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Sharn looked down through the window, at the city below. “I wanted to congratulate you on your successes in the library. I knew you would be well-suited for it.”

“Thank you,” Marilen was touched, she held Sharn’s opinion in the highest regard.

“As you add to the Annals, I wonder if there is someone you might keep in mind.”

Marilen looked out the window, but whatever Sharn saw was clearly a memory from long ago.

“There was a woman… I met her only once,” Sharn said quietly. “But I wore her name and clothing, and slept in her bed for seventeen years. I am alive only because of her.”

—

Leaving Endon and Jarred, Anna had pulled Sharn into the bedroom. Sharn looked around in a daze; the room was smaller even than the palace closets. Anna guided her into a chair in front of a mirror, and pressed a damp washcloth into her hand.

“We must make you look the part,” Anna said. She stood behind Sharn and began to unravel the complex decorative thread in her hair. “You will have to alter my clothes, eventually, you are much taller than I am.”

Sharn washed her face roughly, as if scrubbing it raw would erase some of the horror of the night. She stared into the mirror as Anna continued to work at her hair. Looking at her bare-faced reflection was like seeing a stranger. She wondered dully if any of her friends and family had survived the slaughter. Surely not. She thought of Prandine’s thin scream as he fell to his death.

I hope it hurt, she thought viciously.  

Anna had nearly finished with her hair, and it tumbled down Sharn’s shoulders. Guilt stabbed at Sharn’s heart as she thought again of their plan. “You are much kinder than we deserve.”

“Nonsense,” Anna said lightly, although she could not disguise the slight tremor in her voice. “Jarred has waited seven years for Endon to call upon him. I knew this.”

“Are you not afraid?”

“Take my hand,” Anna insisted, and knelt beside her. Confused, Sharn did as she was told. Anna’s palms and fingertips were rough and hard against Sharn’s smooth and soft skin. The other woman smiled wryly. “Blacksmith’s hands. There is no cream or salve in Deltora that would soften them. And I would not wish for that. Because of the callouses, I never need to fear that my hands will fail me, and so I do not falter in my work. I am terrified, Sharn. For my neighbours, for myself, for my husband, for my child. For you. But I must put my faith into something. So I will put it into hope. My hands guide me when I work in the Forge, and I will trust hope to guide me tonight.”

Sharn clasped her other hand on top of Anna’s. “You have proved your bravery tonight. As have I, I think.”

“Yes,” Anna embraced Sharn quickly. “We shall stay brave, for each other. And we will meet again as friends in kinder days, I know it.”

—

Marilen had been expecting a third request, but she had not expected it to be from Lief. They had taken their breakfast in the palace kitchen. Although it was usually a bustling place, especially in the morning, it had only been the two of them. Lief had been eating in a strange silence, which was rarer still.

“Are you alright?” Marilen finally asked, annoyed by the staring contest Lief seemed to be having with his eggs.

Lief looked up, alarmed, as if he had forgotten she was there. “Have… have you heard of Anna of the Forge?” He asked by way of an answer.

Marilen raised her eyebrows. “It is a name that keeps finding its way to me.”

Lief paused. “When you write about the night of the Shadowlord’s invasion… I would be very pleased if you would mention her name.”

—

Jasmine cried out, and approached a thicket of leaves covered in nasty spines. The plant was studded with large round berries: some were pale lavender in colour, and others were a wicked scarlet. She lifted the front of her shirt to form a basket, and began to gather fruit, taking care to avoid the thorns.

Lief and Barda exchanged an anxious glance. They trusted Jasmine’s instincts, but they did not trust the evil appearance of the berries.

“We will find food elsewhere,” Barda decided. “These look as if they have been waiting for our arrival, and not with good intentions.”

“It is trying to trick you, but not the way you believe,” Jasmine insisted eagerly without looking away from her task. “The purple ones are poison, but the red are perfectly fine.”

The more Lief stared at the berries, the more they appeared like droplets of blood clinging to the leaves. “How do you know?”

“These plants grow in the Forests, too,” Jasmine held a berry up to her collarbone, and Filli’s tiny paws reached to grab it from under her jacket. “My mother solved the trick. The foxes would always eat from the bushes, and they would leave the purple ones behind. She saw a sparrow eat the purple ones, and it died.” She shrugged, and slipped a berry between her lips. “She called them fox berries.”

Barda laughed and knelt at her side. “Once again, it seems a debt is owed to Anna of Del.”

The fierce grin that Jasmine gifted him in return was as bright and beautiful as a star.

It was true, Lief thought, as he joined his friends on the ground. She saved my life before I was even born.

The three of them gathered the berries, but Lief kept his eyes on Jasmine’s pleased face. He watched her closely, and when she caught him staring, he did not look away. She reached into the folds of her shirt and handed him a berry. Lief took it and bit down. The skin was tough, but the inside was pleasant and tart. He smiled his thanks.

Jasmine reached over and tapped his bottom lip with her finger. “Your teeth are already stained red.”

Lief reached over and stole a second. “It is worth it.”

—

Marilen had been expecting the knock on her office door. Feeling oddly sheepish, she hastily covered her project with a stack of books.

“Please, come in,” Marilen urged, and began to clear papers off of the extra chair. Doom opened the door with a tight-lipped smile, and took the offered seat. Marilen took her own chair and waited.

She had wondered when he would come. She knew he would, and so she had not approached him. The time was right: the people of Deltora had found a reason to celebrate once more. A new heir had been born, and she had been given a name that was well suited for a future queen.

“My wife deserves a place in the Annals,” he told her bluntly.

“I know,” Marilen agreed. “You are not the first person to tell me.”

Doom snorted. “Jasmine?”

“And Sharn, and Lief.”

Doom’s face betrayed nothing, but Marilen swore she saw a flash of surprise in his eyes. She hesitated as she assessed how to begin. She cared deeply for Doom, but was not always sure as to best speak with him.

“Will you tell me about her?” She asked hesitantly.

Doom stared ahead for a long time. “Yes. Yes I will.”

Marilen looked at the papers on her desk. She did not want him to know she had started, she did not think it would be a worthy read until it was finished.

—

Jarred lay flat on his back with nothing to do but stare at the treetops and pray that his wife returned soon.

If I die here, it could be that I have deserved it, he thought dryly.

How stupid he had been, allowing himself to be stung by the Wenn. He had survived in the Forests for more than five years, and if he died it would be because he had simply not been paying attention.

Finally, hurried footsteps came down the path. He heard his name whispered fiercely, and suddenly, Anna was there with Jasmine balanced on her hip. She set Jasmine down, and threw herself to her knees.

“Mamma, is Papa going to die?” Jasmine whimpered.

“No, we are going to heal him. But hush, sweetheart, we must be quiet,” Anna whispered, pressing a quick kiss to Jasmine’s brow. She leaned over Jarred and pressed a second kiss to his lips. “Do not make me lie to her.”

Jarred forced a smile and felt the dry skin on his lips crack. “Come here, Jasmine,” he said. “Hold my hand, so that we may be brave together.”

Jasmine rushed to his side. He could not tell if she had taken his hand, but she kept her wide eyes on his face, as if he would die if she looked away. Anna was fumbling with a jar she had pulled from her pocket on his other side.

“I do not know if this will work,” Anna’s face was pale, but her lips were pressed in a determined line. She tilted his head up, and the foul-smelling liquid to trickle down his throat. Jarred made himself to swallow, and almost wished that he had not. Pain began to spread through his body. His skin felt as if it had caught fire, and his blood seemed to boil in his veins. He gritted his teeth and moaned, forcing himself to muffle his screams. Anna covered his mouth with one hand, and gripped his shoulder with her other. Her face was twisted with anguish. The pain swelled, but Jarred realized that he could feel his daughter’s hand clasping his, and his wife’s hands on his body. It was enough to carry him through.

Later, as they lay in their cot, Anna had caressed his face with her hands.

“I feared that I had killed you,” she confessed with shame.

Jarred let out a startled laugh, for nothing could have been farther than the truth. “No, dear heart,” he kissed her cheek. “You saved me, like you always do.”

—

Marilen had listened to so many accounts of Anna’s life. Doom and Jasmine had brought her so many stories, and Lief and Sharn had shared their second hand accounts. (She loved to sing, but her talents lay elsewhere… Did Doom tell you how she once made burrowroot soup? We spent the night washing out our mouths… There was a romance novel at her bedside that had clearly been well-read… Jasmine swears she could pull a coin out of your ear…) Anna had been a clever and brave woman, whose life might easily be forgotten: she had never led the Resistance like her husband or saved the kingdom from destruction like her daughter. But she had saved the lives of at least five people, and ensured that Deltora had set forth on its path to freedom.

She looked back at her writing. Sleep could wait, this was more important.

“My people broke a vow once,” Marilen whispered to the silent room. “And you suffered for it. I am one of the many who owes you a debt. I will make sure your stories are heard.”

No one was truly dead while there were people to remember their names.

Marilen would ensure that Anna of Del lived forever.