Gabrielle's Diary 28 (2/20/02)
Promises to Keep
I have finally reached the end of my patience so far as being held prisoner by my relatives is concerned. Enough, after all, is enough. Dalt wasn't so bad; in fact, there were definite upsides to spending time in his playground. But after visits to both of my brothers, who both really enjoyed pointing out that I couldn't leave thier playground without thier permission, I just wasn't quite so copacetic about entering anyplace I couldn't walk out of.
Which is why I perhaps overreacted a little when a very large, decidedly male, stranger trumps me and bids me to step through into what is clearly a cell. And then he calls me 'cousin.'
We had more or less decided that we seemed to be inside Corwin's mind. Trying psychic contact -- either via trump or just a direct touch -- got a response best measured on the Richter scale. Some part of him heard us. We knew the chains and spells holding him down were a bitch and a half; the four, or perhaps three and a half, of us hadn't been able to overcome. I didn't think highly enough of our abilities to think that Elayne, Darian, and I could overcome them without any help from Lorne, particularly not from within. But with Lorne's help, we'd gotten very close, and I was willing to gamble that if we could reach Corwin and lend him our combined strength, he might be able to break himself out.
Once again, I was wrong. I've been wrong too often lately. I've tried to play solely to my strengths over and over lately, and I keep coming up short. I may have some skills, but none of them seem to be quite up to managing the situations I've been facing.
Well. In any case, I panicked when the stranger trumped, and it was a childhood voice that called for Uncle Corwin, called for him in the childish belief that nothing could stop him. And he heard me.
I've seen Uncle Corwin angry before, but I had never heard quite the note in his voice when he bellowed. Rage and frustration, and maybe something a little like fear. I feel guilty for driving him to that point. I was overreacting, and I had no right to harrow him like that. I will have to apologize, if I ever get the chance.
I continued feeding him power past the point where it was clear the power wasn't doing him any good. There is something of a family tradition of pointlessly stuborn resistance. I continued until all three of us were almost at the point of collapse. And then -- well, accepting the trump and stepping through of my volition had marginally more dignity than being forced. Even if I did fall to my knees as soon as my new cousin let go my hand.
'Not quite like Athena,' indeed! I had to make some answer to that; saying I was more like Aphrodite from the sea was, if not as clever as the original reference, at least some kind of reply.
The last thing I remembered before falling into darkness was seeing Uncle Corwin, chained to a chair. At least, I thought, he didn't look as though he'd been mistreated.
At least he still had his eyes.
It hurt to see him bound like that. He'd always seemed so full of life, so full of motion, so unstoppable to me. Anything that could bind him like that frightened me. What could I do to someone who could stop the man who'd always been my protector?
I knew he wasn't invincible. I remember when I first heard about Eric's regency, and what Eric had done to Corwin. I was staying up late with the grown-ups, sitting in a corner with my embroidery in the parlor. There was a card game going on, I think; Corwin was playing Julian, and maybe Caine or Gerard. I'm really not sure.
They had been arguing and tempers were growing shorter and voices louder. Old grudges were being rehashed, and at some point Corwin snarled, "You just stood by and watched while they held me down and burned my eyes out!"
I dropped my embroidery on the floor. Corwin's words conjured up a vivid, vivid image -- I have a very visual mind, and picture things without any effort at all. The argument kept going, but I was too lost in the picture and the horror of having one's eyes burnt out -- of my beloved Uncle Corwin having his beautiful blue eyes -- Flora came storming in at that point, and pulled me off the couch. She was ranting at my uncles, something along the lines of "I knew none of you have the courtesy to let old grudges lie in the past, but I thought at least one of you might have matured enough to have a care for who might be listening!"
She brought me up and put me to bed. I didn't sleep well, and woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare where I watched, along with all of my uncles, as they.... Well, you know.
I snuck out of the nursery down the halls to Corwin's room. I wouldn't just stand by and let anyone hurt him. I was going to sit outside his room all night, and make sure that no one hurt him while he slept. Silly, I know, but...
Corwin had the grace not to laugh at me when he came out into the halls, Greyswandir in hand, to find out who was lurking outside his room. Seeing him with the blade in his hand, I became convinced that he wasn't safe at all, and took up my most militant posture.
"What the hell?" Corwin relaxed out of his fighting posture, and bent over me. "What's wrong, little Gabrielle? What do you think you're doing out here?"
I stood my ground with all the ferocity I could muster. "I won't let them hurt you."
"Who? Who do you think is going to hurt me?"
"I don't know." I was crying a little at this time, and hiccuped words around sobs. "But... but... I won't just stand by if somebody tries to hurt you."
It was at about this point that Corwin figured out what I was talking about. "Sweetheart... Look, nobody's going to hurt me. Come on inside, ok?" He settled us down in his room, and put on a shirt. He sat down in a chair and pulled me into his lap. "Sweetheart, that was a long time ago and a really difficult time. There's nobody who could do that to me now... and even if they did, I'm a tough old bastard. Nobody can keep me down, Gabrielle. I promise you."
"But... if you're ever in trouble, I'll save you. I promise."
Corwin smiled, amused and paternalistic. "I'm sure you will, little Gabrielle."
He stayed up late playing card games with me; we progressed from Go Fish to Gin Rummy to Poker, before I fell asleep in his black leather armchair. A much more comfortable chair than the sturdy wooden contraption Corwin was now chained into. I'd have to find some way to keep my promise. I didn't know how.... but I had to find one.
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