Chains

A story of freedom in chains. Of choosing and of love. Yes, both characters are female. No, there are no LGBT issues in this story. This is just a tale of love in one of it's many forms.

Chains

Istary had lived her whole life in chains.  Delicate, golden chains of responsibility and the cold, unyielding iron ones of fear and uncertainty.  Her caretakers had draped her with them, both kinds.  ‘Danger’ they had whispered to her, ‘Difficulty, pain and misery.  You are privileged, special.  What more could you want?’  Freedom, she wanted to answer- but she never did.  Istary was timid, frail and washed out.  Her bones were visible in her face and ribs, her skin pale and hair a limp, tired blond that always behaved.  Rather like her that way.  The finery her caretakers showered her with only exemplified that.  Dark brocade and colorful jewels only showcased her own plainness, her wraith-like existence.  And as always, the chains.  Fine gold chains that draped over her full skirts, traced patterns on her corsets and hung around her shoulders, neck and arms- even dangling from her ears and in her hair. They featured in every outfit, crisscrossing gloves, spiderwebbing gowns, adorning hats and head-dresses.  It didn’t MATTER that they were thin chains, incapable of holding anyone, because they held her.  Perhaps that only proved that she was no one.   And then there was HER.  Marianna.  Probably the strongest chain of all.  Marianna was everything that Istary was not.  She was confident, proud and independent.  She walked with her shoulders back and with a man’s stride, like she expected the whole world to roll over and lay down at her feet merely because she wanted it.  Mariana had dark hair and eyes, gentle curls that would go wild with any provocation.  Her skin was olive and tanned and she wore leather- tight leather pants and short cropped shirts that revealed the muscles that shifted beneath her skin.  Mariana was strong, a capable swords-woman and head of the guards.  She did what she wanted whenever she wished it, and never let anyone place chains on her.  Instead, Mariana had chained herself to Istary- but could it be a chain when done of her own free will?

“Hello princess.”  The tone was smug, mocking as it fell from pale pink lips.  Istary ignored the speaker.  Mariana knew very well that she was a priestess, not a princess.  Still, the slur stuck.  “What, no hello?”  Istary sighed internally, Mariana was in a teasing mood today.  She would never get away from it.  “I’m hurt, really.  Here comes my favorite royal after I was waiting forever for you to finally be ready, and you don’t even greet me!  Why, I’ve half a mind-”

“Please stop, Mariana.”  Istary cut in quietly, a bare whisper that could easily be missed.  Indeed, Istary half hoped it had been.  Mariana scared her.  However, she knew from experience that once Mariana was on a roll, nothing would stop her.  And Mariana had very good ears.

“Oh-ho,” Mariana smirked, “the little mouse DOES have a voice!  And I had half believed you mute.”  Istary remained silent.  “Come now, little mouse”  Mariana goaded, “Squeak again!”  Istary made no sound, she couldn’t bring herself to.  “Is-ta-ry~” Mariana whined, “talk to me!”  Istary was momentarily surprised- Mariana almost never used her name, but still- she made no sound.  It felt like her tongue was weighed down with the chains that covered every other inch of her.  Mariana sighed, and dropped the teasing tone.  “You have a beautiful voice.”  She commented, ignoring Istary’s shocked expression.  “But you never use it.  You have a wonderful complexion that you never show off.  You have a breathtaking smile that I never get to see and an enchanting laugh that you never let me hear.”  Mariana swung around in front of Istary, halting her in her tracks.  “You have strength that you never use.”  Istary looked at Mariana disbelievingly.  Mariana raised an eyebrow- “Do you know how hard it is ,” She asked, with  a piercing glare, “to wear these?” Mariana lifted a handful of the jingling chains from Istary’s dress.  “It’s damn difficult.  I’d never survive living the way you do, day in day out.”  Mariana looked Istary straight in the eyes, black locking with ice green-grey.  “Little mouse,” Mariana smiled bitterly, “I dislike seeing you in your cage.  I don’t like your collar.  I don’t like the way you squeak- I want you to roar.  I want you to run.  I want-” Mariana took a breath before leaning forward, lips centimeters from Istary’s so that the air they breathed mingled- free air Istary thought, “to love” Mariana whispered, the words hissing against Istary’s mouth, as if she was the one saying them, breathing them, tasting them- and then Mariana was there and she was tasting her, cold and sweet with a hint of spice and fire and she was kissing back and when had Mariana stopped scaring her or was she still scared~  And suddenly, the chains didn’t matter.  The responsibility, the fear, the always, constant imprisonment; because she was free.  

No one at the castle ever saw either priestess or guard again.  Many searches were undertaken, many quests given.  And yet, though they scoured the country side, put out notices to neighboring kingdoms and placed rewards, the fugitives were never found.  Many didn’t want them to be.  The people in the nearby village remembered well the pale girl in chains they always saw in the window, watching the outside world with timid longing.  They remembered her wide, frightened eyes and the way she never smiled.  They remembered how she never set foot outside those walls or joined the games she watched, always as an outsider.  They remembered how she never walked under the sun, never tasted the fresh, morning air- crisp and clear as it rolled down the mountain.  They also remembered the woman of fire- dark and foreign.  The way she strode with confidence, with graceful danger, with a fearless disposition.  They remembered how the free one shadowed the imprisoned, slowing her strong steps to match faltering ones, gentling powerful hands so as not to hurt delicate ones.  They remembered- remembered soft smiles for one who never saw them, mischievous smirks for one who never appreciated them and sturdy arms for one who would always need them.  From the pale one, they saw fear.  They saw fear but also longing.  They saw trepidation and awe, they saw trust and reliance.  And then they both disappeared.  The villagers were not stupid- no matter what the people behind stone walls and cold, friendless corridors thought.  They saw the signs and remembered them.  They saw misery turn to joy, captivity to release, fear to love.  They saw the chains go on, and they saw them unlock.  They saw freedom.  Istary had thought Mariana was her greatest chain- and perhaps she was.  But she was also her key- the one who released her from everything else.  And Istary loved her for it.  Loved her enough to chain herself again- this time to Mariana, the same way Mariana had chained herself to Istary.

Don’t let your chains make you think you are free.

Author's Note

I don't want to hear any criticism of my pairing. Feel free to rip into everything else. The dialog sounds weird to me- advice?

Reviews

[Sandr]

I love this story and the poetic way in which you told it. The last paragraph was by far my favorite part of it. Honestly, amazing!