Luke stood at the large, stone sink in the now-empty kitchen, the sound of running water the only other presence. He meticulously washed his plate, scrubbing away every last trace of food as if trying to cleanse himself of the morning's unpleasantness. Once finished, he placed the clean plate in the drying rack and turned to retrieve the silver band he had placed on the cool countertop before washing his hands.
He reached for it, his fingers hovering above the smooth, cold metal. A thought, dark and rebellious, flickered through his mind. His fingers twitched. Just a flick of the wrist. A silent, defiant act. He could send it clattering across the stone floor, maybe even out the nearby window, into the overgrown gardens beyond. Gone. Severed. The physical manifestation of the unwanted contract, vanished into oblivion.
His hand remained suspended in the air, the weight of the small ring seeming to amplify in his mind. The implications of such an act crashed into him – the fallout, his mother's fury, the disruption of the ancient oath. A sigh, heavy with frustration and a reluctant sense of duty, escaped his lips. His fingers closed around the cold silver. The rebellious impulse, for now, remained just a thought.
He slid the silver band back onto his left middle finger, the cold metal a familiar, unwelcome weight. With a sigh that carried a hint of resignation, Luke turned to leave the kitchen, the morning's earlier defiance already beginning to wane against the ingrained sense of obligation.
He walked with a brisk pace, his mind still churning with a mixture of resentment and the looming prospect of his patrol. He rounded a corner in the hallway, his thoughts so consumed that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings.
BUMP.
He collided squarely with something solid, the impact jarring him. A sharp, floral scent, cloyingly sweet, filled the air – cologne. He stumbled back, a surprised grunt escaping his lips, his balance momentarily lost.
Two hands immediately gripped his shoulders, steadying him. "Whoa there, easy now," a familiar, smooth voice said, laced with a hint of amusement.
Instinctively, Luke recoiled. He smacked the hands away with a sharp, dismissive gesture, a surge of irritation coursing through him. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto the source of the unwelcome cologne and the unwelcome touch.
Jasper.
"What are you doing here?" Luke demanded, his tone sharp and unwelcoming, his eyes narrowed as he took a step back, putting distance between them. The heavy scent of Jasper's cologne still hung in the air, irritating his senses.
Jasper, unfazed by Luke's hostility, ran his fingers through his vibrantly dyed red hair, the artificial color a stark contrast to the muted tones of the house. "Just paying a visit," he said, his voice light and airy, a perpetual smile playing on his lips.
Luke couldn't resist the jab. "That… red is certainly something."
Jasper chuckled, seemingly taking no offense. "Why, thank you, Lucian! I always strive for a look that's… unforgettable. A splash of vibrant energy in an otherwise… monochrome world, wouldn't you agree?" He winked, completely missing or ignoring the intended insult.
Just then, Beatrix appeared at the end of the hallway, her expression softening as she caught sight of Jasper. "Jasper!" she exclaimed, a genuine warmth in her voice that was noticeably absent when she spoke to Luke.
"It's Luke," Luke corrected sharply, the formality of his full name grating on him, especially coming from Jasper.
Jasper clapped a hand to his chest, feigning dramatic remorse. "My deepest apologies, Luke," he said, drawing out the name with exaggerated playfulness, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Such a grave error! Forgive my utter lack of decorum." He offered a theatrical bow, his red hair swaying dramatically. The over-the-top apology, dripping with insincerity, only served to further irritate Luke.
Luke scoffed, a short, dismissive sound. He couldn't stand Jasper's constant need for theatrics. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away, eager to put distance between himself and the annoyingly cheerful visitor. He could practically feel Jasper's amused gaze following him down the hallway.
Before Jasper could even fully straighten from his exaggerated bow, a blur of youthful energy launched itself across the hallway. Hugo, his earlier disappointment at Caspian's absence forgotten, collided with Jasper with a joyful shout. Jasper, laughing, effortlessly caught the boy, hoisting him into a spin.
"Hugo, my little whirlwind!" Jasper exclaimed, his voice genuinely warm as he twirled the younger boy around. "Look how you've grown! Almost tall enough to reach my magnificent red locks without jumping!"
Hugo giggled, his arms wrapped tightly around Jasper's neck. "Your hair is even redder in person!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration. "It's like a sunset!"
Jasper chuckled, setting Hugo back on his feet. "And you, my young friend, must be… oh, let me see… nine now?" He winked.
Hugo’s brow furrowed in mock indignation. "Ten! I'm ten, Jasper! I was nine last month!"
"Ah, my apologies! Time flies when you're… subtly irritating people with your burgeoning magical talents," Jasper said with a playful grin. He then slung his worn backpack off his shoulder and rummaged through it, pulling out a brightly colored comic book. "Speaking of cool things," he said, handing it to Hugo, "I saw this in town and immediately thought of you. It's about this awesome gargoyle who can turn invisible and has these super cool stone wings!" He flipped through a few pages, showing Hugo the dynamic artwork. "He's a bit of a mischievous prankster too, always getting into trouble, just like someone else I know." He nudged Hugo playfully.
Hugo gasped, his eyes wide with delight. He snatched the comic book from Jasper's hand, a delighted "Whoa!" escaping his lips. "Thank you, Jasper! This looks amazing!" Without another word, he turned and darted off, already flipping through the pages, his earlier quest for Caspian completely forgotten in his newfound literary treasure.
Beatrix, who had been observing the exchange with a more critical eye, mumbled under her breath, loud enough for Jasper and anyone nearby to hear, "Gargoyles can't turn invisible. That's completely unrealistic." She shook her head with a sigh, clearly unimpressed by the fantastical elements of Hugo's new reading material.
Jasper scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically in Beatrix's direction. "Oh, as if you've ever met a gargoyle, Miss Encyclopedia."
A beat of silence hung in the air as Beatrix continued to observe Hugo's retreating figure with a slight air of disapproval. Then, Jasper's question seemed to register. He turned to her, a playful challenge in his eyes. "Wait a minute. Have you actually met a gargoyle before?"
Beatrix shrugged, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. "Who knows?" she replied airily, already turning and starting to ascend the grand staircase.
Jasper, intrigued and perhaps a little needled by her cryptic response, called after her, his voice laced with mock disbelief. "Who knows?! Beatrix! Have you actually met a gargoyle?!" He hurried after her, his hair bouncing with each step.
Josephine, who had been observing the entire interaction with a quiet amusement that didn't quite reach her eyes, finally addressed their guest as Jasper reached the landing. "Jasper," she said, her voice carrying a note of cool formality, "welcome."
Jasper, caught completely off guard by Josephine's unexpected address, stumbled on the last few steps. He flailed for a moment, a surprised yelp escaping his lips, before landing with a soft thud on the polished wood. Scrambling to turn over, his vibrant hair a disheveled mess, he looked up at Josephine, his usual confident demeanor momentarily shattered.
A slightly sheepish grin spread across his face. "Ah, Mistress Josephine," he said, his voice a little breathless. "A pleasure, as always… though perhaps not the most graceful of entrances." He pushed himself up into a more dignified sitting position, brushing imaginary dust from his attire.
Hazel, who had been observing Jasper's less-than-elegant arrival from the upper landing, strolled past him with a studied nonchalance. "Jasper," she greeted, her tone remarkably even, almost devoid of inflection, yet laced with a subtle, almost artificial sweetness. It was a performance, perfectly polite but utterly lacking in genuine warmth, like a perfectly crafted porcelain doll offering a pre-programmed greeting.
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A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips before she continued her ascent, her silk robes rustling softly as she disappeared into her room.
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With a final, enigmatic glance at Jasper, Josephine turned and glided away, leaving him to his own devices. Jasper, undeterred by the cool reception, bounced to his feet and followed Beatrix, who had continued her ascent to the second floor.
He found her in her room, which was a stark contrast to Luke's austerity, filled with books stacked high on shelves and scattered on every available surface. Beatrix was already sitting on her plush, velvet-covered bed, a thoughtful expression on her face.
Jasper hopped onto the edge of the bed beside her, his usual cheerful demeanor returning. "So," he began, his eyes twinkling, "where were we? Oh yes, the highly debatable existence and capabilities of gargoyles."
Beatrix smiled, shaking her head. "You're incorrigible." She then shifted, her curiosity piqued. "Tell me more about your work at the library, Jasper. You mentioned finding some fascinating old texts recently."
Jasper waved a dismissive hand, his rings catching the light. "Oh, the dusty tomes and endless cataloging can wait. Much more pressing matters at hand, like the very real possibility of invisible stone creatures." He then dramatically threw himself backwards onto Beatrix’s soft bed, his arms and legs splayed out.
Beatrix watched him with amusement. "So, you do read during your shifts?" she asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Sometimes," Jasper admitted with a grin, propping himself up on his elbows. "But I'm not really a 'lose myself in a sweeping historical romance' kind of guy, you know? That's more your territory, my dear Beatrix." He gestured towards the towering stacks of books with a flourish of his hand. "Me? I'm a man of action! Of dynamic visuals! Of heroes with impossible abilities!" He punctuated his words with enthusiastic hand gestures, nearly knocking over a precariously balanced stack of books on the nightstand.
Beatrix, clutching a soft velvet pillow to her chest, listened intently, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, what do you read then?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Besides comics about unrealistic gargoyles?"
"Graphic novels! Comic books are far too… brief," Jasper corrected with mock seriousness, his hands emphasizing the distinction with wide, sweeping motions. "I appreciate a good, multi-issue saga! The unfolding storylines, the intricate artwork, the sheer audacity of some of the heroes! Take 'The Crimson Comet,' for example," his hands mimed the swooping flight of a superhero, "he can manipulate gravity and talk to squirrels! Now that's a protagonist!"
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Jasper’s animated gestures softened, and a more thoughtful expression crossed his face. He sat up, leaning forward slightly. "You know what? I'm actually a little… envious of you, Beatrix."
Beatrix tilted her head, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Envious of me? Why?"
Jasper chuckled, correcting himself. "No, not you specifically, though you're quite brilliant, of course, with all your fascinating books. I mean… your family! You all have these incredible… well, powers! Josephine with that whole… crow thing," he shuddered slightly, "that's seriously next level creepy, but undeniably cool! And Hazel with her energy constructs, all that shimmering light and force! And even Luke, with his near-miss reflexes and those daggers – talk about intense! And Hugo, already slinging spells! It's like living in some incredible superhero team-up!" He spread his hands wide, a look of genuine awe in his eyes. "Meanwhile, I'm just… really good at shelving books and finding that one obscure tome someone needs."
Beatrix leaned closer, a warm smile gracing her lips. "That's not true, Jasper. You're great at so many things! You always know the perfect book to recommend, you tell the most hilarious stories, and you're the only one who can actually make Hugo sit still for more than five minutes."
Jasper chuckled, but a shadow of doubt flickered in his eyes. "Those are… nice compliments, Bea. But 'great'? Compared to, you know… conjuring shields of pure energy or having a murder of crows as your personal spies? I hardly think so."
Beatrix gently touched his arm. "But those are their abilities, Jasper. You have your own strengths. You make people happy. You bring a different kind of magic into our lives."
Jasper still looked unconvinced. "If I were so 'great,' then why does Luke look at me like I'm a particularly unpleasant insect he's trying to scrape off his boot?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If I were truly so wonderful, then maybe… maybe Luke wouldn't hate me so much."
"Oh, don't take it personally, Jasper," Beatrix said, a familiar weariness creeping into her voice. "Luke hates everyone. It's kind of his default setting. You just happen to be… in his line of sight today."
Jasper scoffed, a hint of genuine hurt flickering beneath his usual cheerfulness. "That's not true, Bea, and you know it. He tolerates Hazel, sometimes even manages a grunt of acknowledgement for Hugo. And he clearly respects Josephine, even if he argues with her constantly. His animosity is… specifically reserved for me."
Beatrix sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "He's… complicated, Jasper. There are reasons for the way he is."
"Oh, I'm sure there are," Jasper replied, his tone laced with a touch of sarcasm. "Ancient family curses? A tragic backstory involving a lost puppy? What grand explanation absolves him of basic courtesy?"
"It's not an excuse," Beatrix countered gently, "but… he struggles with those who are… untouched."
Jasper frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Untouched? What does that even mean?"
Beatrix hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Those without… the Gift. Without the… divine spark that runs through our family. The Oath. You… you don't have it, Jasper."
A look of understanding, mixed with a hint of something akin to sadness, dawned on Jasper's face. "Ah," he said softly. "So that's it. I'm… ordinary. Mundane. In a world of glowing hands and talking crows, I'm just… Jasper, the overly enthusiastic librarian with questionable hair dye."
"You're not just 'Jasper,'" Beatrix insisted, reaching out to take his hand. "You're kind, and funny, and you see the world in a way that none of us do. Your lack of… magic doesn't make you less."
"Easy for you to say," Jasper murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "You can probably levitate the entire library if you felt like it. You belong here, in this world of extraordinary abilities. I'm just… a visitor. A novelty."
"You're not a novelty," Beatrix said firmly, squeezing his hand. "You're my friend. And Hugo adores you. Even Hazel cracks a smile at your ridiculous jokes sometimes. Luke… well, Luke has his own issues. It has nothing to do with you being 'untouched.'"
"If it has nothing to do with it, then why the constant daggers, both literal and metaphorical?" Jasper asked, his gaze searching hers. "Why the barely concealed disdain every time I'm around?"
Beatrix sighed again, running a hand through her hair. "He sees the Oath as… a burden. A responsibility he never asked for. And I think… I think he resents anyone who doesn't carry that weight. Anyone who is… free from it."
"Free?" Jasper scoffed. "I wouldn't call being constantly side-eyed by your brooding brother 'freedom.'"
"He's like that with a lot of people outside the family," Beatrix explained. "Anyone who doesn't understand the… pressures. The expectations."
"So, it's not just me?" Jasper asked, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
"No," Beatrix confirmed. "It's… anyone who exists outside of our particular brand of family weirdness."
"That's… somewhat comforting," Jasper admitted. "Though it doesn't exactly make his glares any less intense."
"Give him time," Beatrix said softly. "He's… a work in progress."
Jasper snorted. "A work in progress that seems to be perpetually stuck in the 'resentful teenager' phase."
Beatrix chuckled. "Something like that. But you… you make him think. You're different. He doesn't quite know what to make of you, and that probably irritates him more than anything."
"So, my very existence is an affront to his brooding sensibilities?" Jasper asked, a wry smile returning to his lips.
"Pretty much," Beatrix confirmed with a nod. "Consider it a compliment. You're shaking up his carefully constructed world of angst."
Jasper leaned back on the bed, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, if my mere presence is causing such delightful internal turmoil, perhaps I should visit more often. For the sheer comedic value, of course."
Beatrix laughed, gently punching his arm. "Don't push it."
"But think of the possibilities!" Jasper exclaimed, his usual enthusiasm returning. "Maybe one day, I'll crack that stoic exterior! Maybe he'll even offer me a… grunt of begrudging acceptance!"
"One step at a time, Jasper," Beatrix cautioned, still smiling. "One very, very small step."
"But even a small step is progress!" Jasper declared, his eyes twinkling again. "And who knows? Maybe one day, I'll even convince him that red is a perfectly acceptable hair color."
Beatrix shook her head, her smile widening. "Now that, is a truly unrealistic fantasy."
Just as the laughter subsided, a voice, low and slightly husky, drifted from the doorway. "Actually," it said, a hint of amusement lacing the tone, "red is a perfectly acceptable hair color. Quite striking, in fact."
Both Beatrix and Jasper turned to see a guy leaning against the doorframe, his dark, almost black hair styled in a way that suggested a complete lack of concern for conventional grooming. He wore a simple black t-shirt and comfortable-looking sweatpants, his presence radiating a quiet, almost effortless coolness.
Beatrix’s face lit up. "Cas!" she exclaimed, a genuine warmth in her voice.
Caspian pushed himself off the doorframe, a slow, easy smile spreading across his lips as he greeted them. "Beatrix," he acknowledged, his gaze then shifting to Jasper. "And Jasper. That red is… bold. I approve."
Jasper grinned, clearly pleased by the unexpected compliment. "Well, thank you, Cas! Coming from you, that's high praise indeed."
Beatrix, however, looked slightly perplexed. "But… how did you get in, Cas? The front door was still locked when I came upstairs."
Caspian rolled his eyes, a hint of playful exasperation in his expression. "Really, Bea? After all these years? Magic." He punctuated the single word with a small, almost imperceptible flick of his wrist.
Just then, a loud, insistent caw echoed from the open window. Caspian turned his head towards the sound, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. He raised a hand in a theatrical greeting towards the unseen observer outside. "Good evening to you too, Josie," he said, his voice dripping with mock formality. "Yes, I've arrived safely. No, I haven't corrupted the youth with any particularly potent spells… yet. And yes, I will endeavor to keep the noise level to a minimum. Though I can't make any promises regarding Jasper's sartorial choices."
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He winked at Jasper before turning back to Beatrix, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Always a pleasure to have your mother's… unwavering attention."
Hugo, still engrossed in his comic book, wandered past Beatrix's open doorway, barely glancing inside. "Hey, Cas," he mumbled absently, his eyes glued to the page, and continued down the hallway.
Beatrix and Jasper exchanged confused glances. Caspian, however, simply held up three fingers, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He silently counted down to zero.
Just as Caspian lowered his last finger, Hugo came skidding back into the doorway, his comic book clutched in his hand, his eyes wide with belated realization. "CAS?!" he yelled, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and renewed excitement.
"Well, hello there, sleepyhead," Caspian said, his smile widening as Hugo finally registered his presence.
Hugo bounced on the balls of his feet, his earlier fascination with the gargoyle momentarily forgotten. "Cas! You're here! You're really here!"
"I've been practicing that new spell you showed me! The one that… uh… makes things… grow-er flow?" He wiggled his fingers in the air with determined concentration. "Worg srewolf!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with unrestrained glee. Hugo exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.
He waited, his eyes fixed on a small, empty pot on Beatrix's windowsill. Nothing. The pot remained stubbornly barren. Hugo's face fell, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. "It's not fair! I practiced like, a million times! Why isn't it working for me?" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Magic is so stupid sometimes!"
Caspian chuckled, ruffling Hugo's hair. "Patience, little sprout. Magic takes a bit more… finesse than just yelling backwards words at inanimate objects." He winked. "Maybe you're not putting enough oomph into your 'worg'?"
He then turned to the empty pot, a playful glint in his eyes. He mimicked Hugo's hand movements, though with a smoother, more deliberate grace. "Worg srewolf," Caspian murmured, his voice a low, steady hum.
Instantly, a tiny green shoot poked out of the soil in the pot. It unfurled rapidly, leaves sprouting and reaching towards the light. Within moments, a small, vibrant blue flower bloomed, its delicate petals unfurling in the warm air of the room. Hugo's jaw dropped in amazement.
Caspian straightened up with a flourish, offering a theatrical bow to the small audience of Beatrix and a dumbfounded Hugo.
Jasper, ever the appreciative spectator, clapped enthusiastically. "Bravo, Cas! A truly… blossoming performance!"
Beatrix, meanwhile, knelt beside Hugo, who was still staring at the now-flowered pot with a mixture of awe and intense frustration. She put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "It's alright, Hugo," she said gently. "You'll get it. Cas has had a lot more practice."
Hugo, still slightly sulky, mumbled, "Yeah, well, he's, like… super old! That's why his magic works better."
Caspian clutched his chest dramatically, feigning mortal offense. "Old?! I'll have you know I'm in the prime of my… magical youth!" He struck a heroic pose, which was somewhat undermined by his sweatpants.
Beatrix chuckled, patting Hugo's arm. "Don't be silly, Hugo. Cas isn't old." She then turned to Caspian, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "He's… ancient. Practically a relic. Probably remembers when dirt was invented."
Caspian's dramatic pose faltered. He stared at Beatrix, his mouth agape. "Ancient?! Beatrix! I am but a spry… several decades young!" His voice rose in mock outrage. "I still have all my own teeth! Most of my hair! I haven't even started collecting antique doilies!"
Jasper, sensing an opportunity for some playful prodding, leaned forward with a curious smile. "So, Cas, just out of academic curiosity, what is considered 'ancient' in magical circles? We talking centuries? Millennia?"
Caspian blinked innocently, his offended expression vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He smoothly changed the subject, his gaze drifting towards the doorway as if he expected Luke to just appear. "Speaking of relics… has anyone seen our perpetually brooding Oathbearer this morning?"
Hugo, still a bit put out about his failed spell, offered a blunt and somewhat inaccurate summary of the morning's events. "Uh, yeah," he said, his brow furrowed. "He got all grumpy and had a fight with Beatrix about some stupid… rocks, I think? Then he stomped off to his room and slammed the door really loud."
Caspian blinked, his gaze shifting from Hugo to Beatrix, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. "He fought with you? About… rocks?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Hugo's simplified version of events. "Is that right, Bea?"
Beatrix sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Not exactly rocks, Cas. It was… about Jasper, actually." She shot a brief, apologetic glance at Jasper. "Luke… well, he wasn't particularly welcoming this morning, and I… defended Jasper's presence."
Jasper's jaw dropped slightly. He looked from Beatrix to the doorway Luke had stormed through, and back again. "Wait," he stammered, a mixture of surprise and something akin to bewildered amusement in his voice. "You two… fought? Over me?"
Beatrix waved a dismissive hand, a slight blush rising on her cheeks. "Oh, it wasn't a fight fight. Just a… disagreement of opinions. Luke being his usual charming self." She tried to downplay the situation, her gaze flicking towards the window.
Jasper, however, was clearly intrigued by this unexpected revelation. He kept glancing between the door and Beatrix, a curious frown creasing his brow. "But… he actually got angry? Defending my honor, were you, Bea?" He nudged her playfully. "I didn't realize you cared so deeply."
Beatrix rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Don't flatter yourself, Jasper. I was merely pointing out his general lack of social graces."
Caspian, sensing the shift in the conversation and perhaps wanting to avoid any further awkwardness, clapped his hands together. "Alright, Hugo, my apprentice in subtly irritating magic," he said, ruffling the boy's hair. "How about we leave the intricacies of sibling squabbles to the experts and go work on making those flowers… perhaps dance a little?" He winked at Hugo.
Hugo, easily distracted by the prospect of more magic, perked up. "Ooh, can we really do that?"
"Absolutely," Caspian replied, already heading towards the door. "There's a whole world of inconvenient floral choreography waiting to be explored."
As Caspian and Hugo made their exit, Jasper still looked slightly bewildered, his gaze lingering on Beatrix. "But… seriously? He got upset?"
Beatrix sighed, leaning back against the pillows again. "It's really nothing, Jasper. Just the usual family dynamics. Luke gets… territorial sometimes."
Jasper sat up straighter, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a surprising earnestness. "No, Bea, it is something. I made you two argue! I don't want to be the reason you and your brother drift apart." He looked genuinely concerned, his hair seeming to dim slightly with his worry. "That's the last thing I'd ever want."
"Drift apart?" Beatrix scoffed, though her voice held a hint of something less certain than her words. "Don't be dramatic, Jasper. Luke and I have been 'drifting apart' since we were children arguing over who got the window seat in the car. This has nothing to do with you."
"But it does!" Jasper insisted, his hands gesturing emphatically. "He was perfectly content being grumpy in his own corner of the breakfast table until I showed up! My mere presence seems to… agitate him! And now, because of me, you two had a fight!"
"We didn't have a fight," Beatrix repeated, emphasizing the word. "We had a slightly raised exchange of differing opinions. It happens. We're siblings."
"But if I wasn't here…" Jasper began, his voice laced with doubt.
"Then he would have found something else to be contrary about," Beatrix interrupted firmly. "Trust me on this, Jasper. Luke doesn't need an external catalyst to be… Luke. It's his natural state of being."
"But still…" Jasper persisted, his brow furrowed. "I don't want to cause problems for you."
"You're not causing problems," Beatrix said, her tone softening slightly. "You're a friend. A good friend. And if Luke can't see that, that's his issue, not yours."
"But what if he… what if he makes you choose?" Jasper asked, the playful light in his eyes dimming with genuine concern.
Beatrix hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting towards the door. "He won't," she said finally, her voice more certain than her expression. "He knows better."
"But if he did?" Jasper pressed, needing reassurance.
Beatrix looked back at him, a newfound resolve in her eyes. "Then he would find out very quickly whose side I'm on."
Jasper’s expression suddenly hardened, his usual lightheartedness replaced by a surprising intensity. "Then you will pick Luke," he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. It wasn't a question, but a demand.
Beatrix stared at him, utterly bewildered. "What? Jasper, what are you talking about? Of course I care about Luke, he's my brother, but why would I have to… pick?"
Jasper sat up, his gaze fixed intently on hers. "Because, Beatrix, this… this family of yours… this world you live in… it's dangerous. You will have powers, responsibilities, enemies you probably don't even know exist. I'm… I'm just a normal person. If it ever came down to it, if there was a real threat, a real danger… Luke, with his abilities, his training, his Oath, he can protect you in ways I never could. He belongs in that fight. I don't."
His voice was surprisingly grave. "If I ever became a wedge between you and your family, especially Luke… if my presence ever put you in more danger… you have to choose him. He's one of your own. I'm… expendable."
Before Jasper could elaborate further on his grim pronouncements, a plush velvet pillow, the very one Beatrix had been clutching earlier, sailed through the air and smacked him squarely in the chest. He yelped in surprise, losing his balance and tumbling backwards off the edge of the bed with a startled "oof."
Beatrix glared down at him, her earlier confusion replaced by a flash of anger. "Don't you ever talk about yourself like that again!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp. "Expendable? You think you're expendable? You are one of the kindest, most infuriatingly cheerful, and genuinely good people I know, Jasper. Don't you dare diminish yourself like that! You are not some pawn to be sacrificed for the sake of family drama or potential danger! Honestly, sometimes the things you say!" She threw her hands up in exasperation.
Jasper, sprawled on the floor, blinked up at Beatrix, a wide, relieved grin spreading across his face. He chuckled, the tension from his earlier pronouncements dissipating. "Alright, alright! Point taken! Consider my 'expendable' status officially revoked by order of the fiercely protective pillow-wielder." He pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his chest playfully. "My apologies, Bea. I got a little… dramatic there."
Just then, Hazel appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a casual air, though her eyes held a hint of something unreadable. "Jasper," she said, her voice surprisingly soft. "Forgive my rather… perfunctory greeting earlier. I was… preoccupied. Welcome." There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, her usual mask seemed to falter, replaced by a flicker of something that might have been genuine politeness.
Jasper beamed at Hazel. "Oh, it's quite alright, Hazel! No offense taken. Always a pleasure to be in such… vibrant company." He offered her a polite nod. "And how are things on your end?"
Hazel leaned further against the doorframe. "Things are… as energetic as ever," she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips. "So, Jasper, how's the noble profession of book-wrangling treating you these days?"
"Splendidly!" Jasper exclaimed. "In fact, could you do me a favor? Would you mind passing on my sincere thanks to Mistress Josephine? The library has been the recipient of some truly magnificent donations recently. They've allowed us to acquire some rather rare and fascinating texts. Please tell her we are deeply grateful for her continued generosity."
Hazel's smile widened slightly. "Of course, Jasper. I'll be sure to let her know." She inclined her head in acknowledgement.
Hazel's gaze lingered on Jasper for another moment, a subtle thoughtfulness in her expression. Then, she turned her head slowly, her eyes locking onto Beatrix's. There was a beat of absolute stillness, a silent intensity in her stare that seemed to stretch beyond the normal bounds of casual observation.
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It was as if an invisible thread connected their gazes, a weight of unspoken communication passing between them. Hazel's expression was unreadable, yet it held a certain knowing, a shared understanding that excluded Jasper entirely. It was unnerving in its quiet intensity, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between their eyes.
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After a lingering moment that felt charged with unspoken meaning, Hazel's intense gaze on Beatrix softened slightly. A small, almost secretive smile touched her lips. "Well," she said, her tone returning to its usual lightheartedness, though a subtle undercurrent remained, "you two enjoy the rest of your… day." With a final, fleeting glance towards Jasper, she turned and gracefully disappeared from the doorway, heading down the hallway in the direction of Josephine's room.
Jasper watched Hazel's departure with a bemused expression. "Well, that was… decidedly weird," he commented, turning back to Beatrix. "Did anyone else feel like they just walked into the middle of some sort of silent, intense staring contest?"
Beatrix shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the velvet pillow. "That's just Hazel being Hazel. She has her moments."
Jasper's eyebrows shot up. "Was that… a telepathic thing? Because I didn't get the memo. Or the mental invitation."
Beatrix looked genuinely confused. "Telepathic? No! What are you talking about? Hazel doesn't… do that. She just… zones out sometimes. Gets lost in her own thoughts. It can look a bit intense, I suppose, if you're not used to it." She shook her head slightly. "Definitely not telepathy."
"Oh," Jasper said, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Well, that's significantly less… climatic. And a lot more… boring."
A low, sarcastic voice echoed from the hallway, just outside the doorway. "Speak for yourself, bard."
Luke stepped into the room, his dark eyes fixed solely on Beatrix, completely ignoring Jasper's presence as if he were a particularly uninteresting piece of furniture. He wore the same dark clothes from breakfast, and his expression was still decidedly thunderous. "Beatrix," he said, his tone clipped and leaving no room for argument, "Mother wants to see you. In the study. Now."
Beatrix groaned, rolling her eyes. “what does she want now?"
A rare, fleeting chuckle escaped Luke's lips, devoid of any real amusement. "Just go, Beatrix. Before she sends the crows after you." He paused briefly at the doorway, a sardonic glint in his eyes. "And bring your… pet. She mentioned wanting to have a 'chat' with our resident splash of color."
"He's not my pet, Luke!" Beatrix retorted, bristling slightly. "His name is Jasper, and he's a guest!"
But Luke was already halfway out the door, his back to them. "Whatever you say, Bea," he tossed over his shoulder, the use of her shortened name dripping with sarcasm. He disappeared down the hallway without waiting for a response.
No sooner had Luke's figure disappeared than Jasper dropped to his hands and knees, pantomiming exaggerated sniffing motions around the floor. He let out a soft, playful whine. "Did someone say… walkies?" he asked, looking up at Beatrix with wide, innocent eyes. He even gave his head a little shake, as if trying to dislodge imaginary water from his ears.
Beatrix stared at him, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on her face. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Jasper," she said, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "Get up. You're not helping."
Jasper scrambled to his feet, still chuckling. "What? I'm merely embracing the role assigned to me! Method acting, you see. Gotta fully embody the 'pet' persona." He winked, brushing imaginary dust from his colorful attire. "Besides," he added with a playful nudge, "who can resist a charming, albeit slightly flamboyant, pet?"
Beatrix just shook her head, a fond smile she couldn't quite suppress playing on her lips. "Just… try to be civil in front of Mother, alright?"
"Civil? Bea, civility is my middle name! Well, not literally. I dont have one... But I assure you, I shall endeavor to unleash my most charming and utterly non-pet-like behavior." He offered her his arm with a theatrical flourish. "Shall we brave the maternal study?"
Beatrix took his arm, and together, they headed out of her room and down the grand staircase towards the study.
As they descended the stairs, the air grew heavier, the scent of old parchment and something vaguely metallic filling their nostrils. They reached the study, a grand room lined with towering bookshelves that seemed to stretch towards the high, ornate ceiling. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the rich wood paneling.
Josephine was seated in a plush leather armchair near the fireplace, her posture regal and composed. In her hand, she held a large, black crow, its intelligent eyes fixed intently on Jasper as he and Beatrix entered the room. The crow remained perfectly still, a silent, watchful sentinel.
"Beatrix, Jasper," Josephine said, her voice calm and measured, her gaze unwavering as it met theirs. The crow in her hand suddenly took flight, its powerful wings beating silently as it soared out of the open doorway, disappearing into the dimly lit hallway. "Please, have a seat." She gestured towards two smaller chairs positioned opposite her.
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Jasper, ever the one to break the tension, offered a slightly nervous smile. "So," he began, his gaze flicking between Josephine and the empty space where the crow had been, "are we in some sort of… maternal summoning situation? Did someone break a priceless vase? Because I swear, it wasn't me this time."
Josephine's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "Neither of you are in trouble, Jasper. Though your continued… exuberance does occasionally test the limits of my patience." She then turned her attention, her gaze sharp and direct, to the absent member of their family. "This concerns Luke. And you, Jasper."
Jasper blinked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Luke? And… me?" He looked at Beatrix, who offered a small, reassuring shrug.
Josephine nodded slowly, her gaze steady. "Indeed. Luke, as you both know, possesses a… singular disposition. He operates within a perpetual cloud of his own making. However," her eyes narrowed slightly, "I have observed that your presence, Jasper, tends to… amplify this inherent moodiness. It is as if your very being acts as a catalyst, stirring his already turbulent waters into a veritable tempest."
"Well, that's hardly my fault!" Jasper exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Luke doesn't like me simply because… well, because he doesn't like me! There's no grand conspiracy here, no secret button I'm pushing to make him all broody!"
Josephine's expression softened slightly, a hint of something akin to weariness in her eyes. "There is a reason, Jasper. A deeply ingrained one. You see, Oathbearers… We are raised with a particular… prejudice. We are taught to distrust, even despise, those who are 'untouched' by the ancient magic, those who do not carry the weight of the Oath."
A thoughtful silence fell over the room. Josephine continued, her voice taking on a slightly melancholic tone. "Thankfully, when Beatrix and Hugo came to me, and when Hazel… well, when she became my own, they were young enough. I could shield them from the worst of that ingrained hatred. But Luke… his upbringing was different. By the time he came to me, the seeds had already been sown by his birth father. The distrust, the resentment towards the 'untouched'… it was already a part of him."
Jasper's eyes widened in sudden understanding, and a look of disbelief crossed his face. "So… so he's… it's like… a magical racism thing? He just automatically dislikes anyone who doesn't have powers?"
Josephine and Beatrix both stared at Jasper, a stunned silence hanging in the air. Beatrix's mouth hung slightly open, while Josephine's usually composed expression flickered with something akin to shock.
Realizing the weight of his words and the intensity of their reaction, Jasper's cheeks flushed. "Oh, gods," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "I… I didn't mean… it just sounded… I'm sorry. That was… incredibly insensitive."
Josephine slowly regained her composure, her gaze thoughtful. "It is… a deeply ingrained prejudice, Jasper. A product of a history steeped in the responsibilities and burdens of the Oath. It is not… precisely the same as the societal prejudices you may be familiar with, but the underlying principle of ingrained distrust towards those deemed 'other'… the parallel is there." She sighed softly. "Regardless of the terminology, it is a bias that I have long sought to temper in Luke, with limited success."
Beatrix reached out and gently placed a hand on Josephine's arm. "You've had more than limited success, Mother," she said softly, her gaze filled with a genuine affection. "I remember… before you… before Luke came here. The stories. How he… lashed out. Destroyed things. They said… they said he couldn't even be in the same room as someone 'untouched' without… without it being a danger to everyone." She shuddered slightly at the memory. "Now… now all he does is argue and glare. That's… progress. Significant progress."
Josephine offered a small, weary smile at Beatrix's words. "Progress, perhaps, in the grand scheme of things. Though it often feels like wading through treacle. Still," she conceded with a sigh, "the absence of shattered furniture and terrified servants is… a definite improvement."
Jasper, who had been listening intently, his earlier embarrassment replaced by a thoughtful concern, suddenly sat up straight. "Mistress Josephine," he said earnestly, his hair catching the firelight. "I promise you, I will do everything in my power to not… amplify Luke's… inherent moodiness. In fact, I will endeavor to be the very picture of unobtrusive pleasantness! A calming balm to his turbulent soul! A… a purveyor of profoundly un-aggravating interactions!" He gestured emphatically, nearly knocking over a small side table.
Beatrix raised an eyebrow, a skeptical smile playing on her lips. "Jasper, you trying to be 'unobtrusive' is like trying to contain a supernova in a teacup."
"I resent that!" Jasper exclaimed, though his tone was more playful than genuinely offended. "I can be subtle! I can blend into the background! I can be… the beige of social interactions!"
Josephine regarded him with a mixture of amusement and doubt. "Jasper, the last time you attempted to 'blend into the background,' you wore a sequined waistcoat and engaged the visiting dignitary in a spirited debate about the migratory patterns of garden gnomes."
Jasper winced. "Details, details! The point is, I am willing to make an effort! For Beatrix's sake, for the sake of domestic tranquility, for the sake of not inadvertently triggering any Oathbearer-induced apocalypses!" He spread his hands wide in a gesture of sincerity. "Just tell me what I need to do! Should I avoid speaking to him entirely? Should I communicate solely through interpretive dance? Should I perhaps… wear more muted colors?" He glanced down at his brightly patterned trousers with a look of mild distress.
Beatrix chuckled, shaking her head. "Just… be yourself, Jasper. But maybe… dial it down a notch? Just a tiny one? Perhaps refrain from any spontaneous gnome debates in his vicinity?"
"Dial down… my essence?" Jasper clutched his chest dramatically. "Is such a thing even possible? Am I not a creature of pure, unadulterated enthusiasm?"
"Think of it as… strategic enthusiasm," Beatrix suggested gently. "Focused bursts of joy, deployed at appropriate moments, rather than a constant, unwavering barrage."
Josephine watched their exchange with a faint smile. "The sentiment is appreciated, Jasper. However, Luke's… aversion is not entirely dependent on your actions. As I have explained, it is deeply rooted. But," she conceded, her gaze softening slightly, "any attempt at… peaceful coexistence would be welcome. Perhaps… refrain from overly… vibrant displays when he is present. And perhaps… avoid direct, prolonged engagement unless absolutely necessary."
"So… be seen and not heard?" Jasper summarized, a hint of his usual theatrical despair creeping back in. "But where is the joy in that? Where is the opportunity for witty banter and illuminating philosophical discussions?"
"Perhaps save the witty banter for those who appreciate it," Beatrix suggested dryly. "And as for philosophical discussions with Luke… trust me, you're better off debating the merits of invisible gargoyles with Hugo."
Jasper sighed dramatically. "A world without witty banter with the brooding Oathbearer… it's a bleak prospect indeed. But… for you both, I shall endeavor to… mute my inner sparkle. Temporarily." He made a solemn face. "Consider me… Jasper, the Slightly Less Enthusiastic."
Josephine nodded, a hint of genuine gratitude in her eyes. "Your willingness to try is… sufficient, Jasper. For now.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCEBalA2gHq
