When Things Were Simple
“He barely even knows me.” Selaeno carefully arranged glass jars full of dried herbs on the shelf before her. “You know that’s not required, child. But unlike most of the young men after what’s between your legs, he’s an honest one.” An old woman replied, at work with her mortar and pestle, making medicine. She was a crone, blue-eyed and with long greyed hair tied into many braids. Her tone was serious, no-nonsense, but she had a smile now and then, deepening the numerous lines on her face. “Little star, Gaelan’s a good man with good prospects. He may be simple, but at least he’s not old or ugly, and he’s got coin. I’d say I’m surprised he hasn’t been married off already, but I’m sure it has something to do with you.”
Selaeno turned a jar over and over in her hand in thought, pretending to examine its contents. “I know.” It wasn’t much of a protest. She knew she was lucky, she could end up with someone miserable, revolting. “I … I don’t know. It just feels odd, Nan.” Her grandmother chuckled at that. “That’s how it is. You think marriage is like what you read in books? Little star, it isn’t easy at first, but he’ll treat you right.” She sighed lightly, looking down at her hands. “I’m old, I won’t be here much longer. I’ve been past my time for years, and I want to see you safe before I move on. You’ll have a home, comfort, and stability. Don't go turning this opportunity away. If the gods are kind, you’ll have your first babe before I draw my last breath.”
But that’s not how it turned out. You died not long after. I approached my wedding day, alone. I suppose I’m glad you weren’t there and that you died peacefully, instead.
“I promise, Nan. I’ll marry him, there won’t be any trouble.”
“I promise, Nan. I’ll marry him, there won’t be any trouble.”
Another memory. Brief, yet poignant.
The young man cleared his throat, pulled a small piece of parchment from his vest and read aloud from it. “My heart is taken by you, fair lady, and you should have my devotion, too.” There was an amused grin on his face, clearly appreciating how ridiculous and exaggerated the poem was. He continued, nonetheless, and Selaeno wasn’t sure if she should laugh. “No flower you grow exceeds your splendor, but your person is just as tender—Oh gods, this is awful, isn’t it?” Gaelan crumpled up the paper, chuckling. “It was mother’s work, I could never write something like this. I apologize.” He was warm, comical. Selaeno admired this, and her mild embarrassment dissipated with a smile. “I appreciate the effort, anyway. At least she was being thoughtful, right?” It made things easy, the lighthearted exchange. Where there was once anxiety, her husband-to-be was making an effort to bring her cheer, proving that he cared.
There was a pause, and Gaelan stepped closer to her. “I know how this must be for you, Selaeno. It can’t be easy, we barely know one another. But I want to.” Selaeno folded her hands together, having a hard time making eye contact. “I know you mean well.” He didn’t seem satisfied with that response and so tried to reassure her. “I can make you happy. You can still have your gardens, sing at the tavern every day, run your grandmother’s shop, whatever you want. I’d do right by you—I’d never want another woman. I know there’s no love, but love will come with time.” Gaelan took the girl’s hands into his and squeezed gently. Selaeno looked up at him with a faint smile. “I believe you.”
If we never agreed to marry, if we never even met, you’d probably still be alive. I was the worst thing that ever happened to you.