Half-Mad and Half-Drowned

[Ophelia Debienne]

It had been a good day. Completely fine, even. She'd played cards with Julien Debienne that morning, and actually managed to win a few hands. She liked to win, even though she and her brother only ever played with buttons as their poker chips. She didn't exactly have any money to gamble. They'd had smoked salmon and rice for lunch, one of her favorites. She'd shown him her newest sweater for Douglas, her mother's little bulldog with his scrunched face and pointed ears. It was blue, with little silver reindeer.

But then he was off into the wide world without her, running some errand or meeting someone or another. She didn't remember. She'd been too upset to think on it much. She felt a little bad for overturning the table with their half-finished lunch on it, although she hadn't regretted it at the time. She hadn't quite meant to be so dramatic--she was trying to push out her chair by pushing against the table. Overturning the whole thing had earned her a satisfying crash, though, as the silver tray and cutlery clanged to the floor.

She'd refused to speak to Julien, forcing him to leave without a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She wasn't usually so unkind to him; usually, Mother was the one who earned her wrath.

And earned it she had, for as soon as Julien was safely away, mother and the servants had rounded on her with the infernal needle. They'd drugged Ophelia just enough to make her pliant, then forced her into the tub. She cried the whole time, as usual.

She hated the water, she hated it. It wanted to swallow her, to seep into her mouth and nose, and choke the water from her lungs. She knew it would, it wanted her dead. Dead like Rin. It would drown her too. But no matter how she tried, no matter how loudly she shouted and shrieked, her sluggish body was too weak to climb out of the tub when mother and Agatha kept pushing her back down by her shoulders.

When they finally released her and let her into her own room, she didn't bother getting dressed, she was too wet, too unhappy, too heavy. She was sure they were going to come back for her, drug her again as punishment for crying and misbehaving. She wanted to watch the door, so she'd know when they came back, no more sneaking, no more needles before she could fight. But she was wet, still dripping, and it was freezing in her room. They hadn't remembered to light the fire. She wrapped the quilt from the bed around herself like a cloak and huddled into the corner between the armoire and the wall to wait.

When the door finally creaked open, she pushed herself even farther into the corner, pulling the quilt over her head and face as if it could protect her.

She couldn't see that it was Julien Debienne , not Mother coming to drug her again.

[Julien Debienne]

This was the last thing he wanted to deal with after the council meeting. Now that the holiday was over with, names were being thrown into the hat for regency and Julien was already not liking where this was going. Naturally, he was vying for Triston, but to openly say that right off the bat could get him into trouble. Choosing a side so soon would have eyes turned on him at this very crucial time. No, he had to play it cool, keep to himself until he could be better help to his friend.

So, after listening to old men debate for over an hour, and never coming to a conclusion, Julien simply wanted to come home and relax. However, the second he stepped through the door and had one arm out of his coat, his mother came storming in to explain what his "sister had done". It never failed. Normally, he would have argued with her, knowing very well the approach she often took with Ophelia tended to be harsh, but he was too tired to. And he was too tired to deal with an irate sister, so he silently prayed she had quieted some by now. They hadn't exactly parted on good terms earlier, either.

"I'll handle it," he told Iva, before grumbling under his breath. "As always..." Julien let out a sigh as he ascended the stairs, running a hand down his face to try and wipe away the stress. He paused outside his sister's door, staring down at the needle his mother had shoved into his hand. How many times had they tried to simply talk with her? He understood putting a stop to Ophelia's violent fits not only protected those around her, but herself as well, however, she was terrified. What other kind of reaction did they expect?

After another moment, he rapped a couple of times upon the door before pushing it open slowly. "Lia?" Julien called out quietly, peering into the dimly lit room. The fire hadn't been started, and even he felt the chill as he set foot inside. He knew she was in that particular corner, so he pretended like he didn't know. Tucking the needle into the pocket of his vest because it was unnecessary at the moment, Julien shut the door before making his way to the hearth. Crouching, he began to try and spark up the flames to warm her bedroom up.

"You in here, little bird?" he called out again after a moment as he watched the fire come alive.

[Ophelia Debienne]

Ophelia perked up right away at the sound of her dear brother's voice calling her name, and she lifted the quilt ever so slightly to peer out at him as he crossed the room and crouched to re-start the fire. He barely looked around, and she wondered whether he'd seen her. Had the quilt really worked?

"You in here, little bird?"

She didn't answer, at least not right away. At a glacial pace, she rose silently to her feet, with the quilt still wrapped around her like a tattered cloak, and tiptoed across the floor. She leaned carefully down, next to his ear, and whispered, "Boo." Then, in complete contradiction to her earlier silence, she whumphed her way to the floor in a disheveled heap, bare feet poking out of the blob of quilt to be warmed by the blossoming fire.

Relaxed in her brother's presence, Ophelia was practically a normal young woman. She let the 'hood' of the quilt fall off her head down to her shoulders, revealing still-sopping wet hair and a nightgown that was just as bad. She smelled of genteel lilac soap, but she looked a bit more like a half-drowned cat with her wild hair and grumpy expression.

She turned to her brother with a sigh. "She pulled out the needle as soon as you were gone, again," she complained. "She knows I hate water, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. And still, she insists on drowning me in perfumed death."

Rin flopped on the bed behind her, she could hear the springs creaking slightly. "She really did, Jules! I saw! Lia cried and cried and cried!"

Ophelia nodded. "Rin was there, he saw. Even if I told him it's not polite to watch a lady in the bath!"

"You're not a lady, you're my baby sister!"

"I'm a lady and your baby sister, Rin."

[Julien Debienne]

Julien forced himself not to grin, seeing her climbing to her feet from the corner of his eye while he pretended to still not know she was there. He waited and waited until that whispered word was at his ear, and he feigned fright. He gasped, a hand going to his chest as he spun around to face her. "Well, there you are..." he said, acting like he finally caught his breath. He shifted again to take a seat on the floor beside her; his attention on the now roaring fire.

He noted her wet hair, and she was probably completely sopping wet still beneath that blanket. Mother had told him all about what happened, but he refrained from making any comment on it. The woman was sometimes too rough with her. Most of the time, Ophelia was completely fine for him...maybe because he tried to treat her as if nothing was wrong. But there was something wrong, wasn't there? And it was apparently jumping on the bed behind them, unseen and unheard by him.

Bringing his legs up, he rested his forearms upon bended knees; his expression darkening slightly. "I know, love," he told her with a light sigh. "I'm sorry I was not here to make things easier." Iva didn't always heed his word, but he did the best he could when things involving his sister got bad.

'Rin was there, he saw...' Although know he would see nothing, Julien still glanced over his shoulder anyway to find no one there, and he held back a second sigh. Lia was having a conversation with their dead brother, supposedly. Something about that always made his skin crawl yet he hadn't the heart nor the energy to argue with her about it. "I'm sure he did..."

[Ophelia Debienne]

Ophelia sighed and scooted closer to the fire. She hadn't realized she was so cold until she had the fire to counter it. Her fingers were almost prickling as she held them out to the flames. She imagined little ice crystals had been forming all over her fingers and were now melting away.

"It's not your fault," she assured Julien matter-of-factly. "She waits for you to go so that I don't have anyone on my side. She likes it better because she gets her way. No concessions for prisoners of war, Julien." She shook her head emphatically, then repeated in a singsong voice, "No concessions, no concessions."

She really didn't blame her brother. He was the only person who actually cared what she had to say. Her mother only wanted her to be a pretty puppet who said what she was told and ignored the ghosts around her. How could she ignore them like everyone else? Then she'd be just as bad as Mother. Maybe that was why no one listened to her. Talking to ghosts made her more like a ghost, too.

She turned to Julien once she could feel her fingers and smiled softly. "Would you help comb out my hair, Jules?"

[Julien Debienne]

Why couldn't their mother see moments like this? Perhaps, then, she would understand how to properly approach Ophelia and maybe better handle her outbursts. His sister was clearly afraid of Iva for many reasons, and the woman lacked the ability to assure her own daughter that it would be alright. It wasn't that she was really a cruel woman...but maybe she was just tired and wanted to simply give up. Ever since their father passed, Iva had never been the same.

In ways, Julien kind of understood it. He hadn't lossed a spouse in such a way, but it had still be a loss. One he willingly allowed to happen because of obligations, and one of those was seated right next to him by the fire. Even still, he didn't blame Ophelia in any way. He would do absolutely anything for her, no matter the cost.

He could only sigh lightly at his sister's reassurance. "I know it's hard to see sometimes...but Mother does love you. She's just-" A pause, he struggled on how to explain something he didn't fully comprehend. "I fear she has lost herself since Father died."

Finally, a gentle smile curled his mouth at Lia's question. "Of course." He rose up to his feet slowly, trying not to appear like he was getting too old as he felt his joints pop, to make his way to the vanity for her brush. He grabbed the chair from in front of it to set it next to the fire, gesturing for her to turn so that he could run the bristles through her long, damp hair.

"You know...you could surprise her, beat her at her own game," he began. "What if you were to suggest a bath? Or do whatever it is she normally wants before she asks?" Well, it was an idea, at least. Maybe, eventually, their mother would relent and not be as forceful if Ophelia was willingly doing these things on her own. And the girl had to wash herself. "Is there a certain soap you like instead of what she uses? I can get you whatever you want."

[Ophelia Debienne]

Ophelia rolled her eyes dramatically at Julien's insistence that Mother loved her. If she loved her so much, why work so hard to make her miserable? Why not listen to her? It was cruel to treat her like she was mad simply because she was different and even worse to try and drug her into submission. It wasn't as if she were a danger to anyone--just an embarrassment.

When he returned with the chair and sat behind her, though, she happily scooted back so that she could lean against his shins while he brushed through her tangled curls. It was easy to relax around Julien. She knew he cared about her wishes.

She huffed at the suggestion that she beat mother at her own game. She didn't want to cooperate, she wanted to be left alone. But he had a point--mother wasn't going to relent, so perhaps she could at least find a way to do things her own way.

"It's not the soap that's a problem," she explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The problem is me sitting in a great vat of water. Rin showed me what happened to him, and I won't do it. I won't, I won't. It's too horrible." She shuddered at the memory. Rin came to lay on the floor next to her and lay his head in her lap, soothing her nerves a little. She smoothed her hand over his messy hair, combing it with her fingers the way Julien was brushing hers.

"Isn't there some other way to clean up, without trying to drug and drown me?" She sighed heavily.

"I'm not doing things just to be difficult, even if that's what she thinks. But just being around a vessel like that, I can feel it in my nose, in my lungs, suffocating me…" her voice fell to a terrified murmuring and she clutched the quilt tighter around her shoulders. "I can't breathe in there. I can't, I can't, I can't. I'll die, and just be another one of the ghosts. Maybe that's what she wants. Things would be easier that way."

[Julien Debienne]

There came a light huff of laughter through his nose when his sister rolled her eyes. He understood, he really did. Feeling like Iva Debienne could truly and loyally love anyone seemed so farfetched these days. It was sad, but that mother of theirs was in there somewhere...buried beneath years and years of heartache and confusion. He also wasn't ever going to argue that she treated her children differently, but the thing was, she was hard on them both. Julien just didn't envy what Ophelia had to put up with, and Iva couldn't be bothered to listen whenever he tried to make the woman understand.

And it appeared as though his sister was going to be just as stubborn.

Careful not to tug too much as he worked the knots out of her dark hair, Julien also tried not to sigh. He needed one of them to try harder, otherwise, there would be little hope that anything would ever get better. It was like he already had kids, and the reason why he actually didn't want any. At least that was one blessing to come out of his divorce from Dani- they hadn't gone down that stupid road.

Still, he was patient with Ophelia as she explained...and he stilled for a moment. Lorin had died when Julien was but an infant, so not even he had been aware of what happened. He'd been told by his parents how his brother had passed, but he was fairly certain they all kept it from Ophelia, figuring she really didn't need to know. Yet, somehow, she found out and he had to chalk it up to her having heard some other way, a servant perhaps. It was just unsettling with how she spoke of the boy being there, a ghost lingering in that very room with them.

It frightened him sometimes, yet Julien did his best to ignore it and hardly acknowledged it so as to not upset her or make it seem like it was okay to speak that way. She was still speaking of the dead, though, so neither approach was working.

"Lorin had been a child, Lia," he finally told her calmly. "And in the pond where he could not stand. A tub is quite different, I promise you." Something told him that wasn't going to matter so he didn't press it. 'I'm not doing things to be difficult, even if that's what she thinks...' Julien nodded even though she wouldn't likely see. He understood the fear even if it wasn't one he carried himself, even if a tiny part of him thought she was being ridiculous.

"Is there anyone you trust to help you? Mother doesn't have to do it." Julien couldn't very well do it, either. She wasn't a child and it would be completely improper. "Also, use less water, just enough to pour and wash yourself. Easy. You don't have to be submerged at all." It was his turn to sound as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, but his tone was softened by a light grin. What Ophelia was murmuring after, however, brought him to another pause.

He stopped with the brush so that he could lean forward and press a kiss to the top of her head. "No, no. It's not what she wants, Ophelia, I promise you." His jaw clenched for a moment, worry seeping into his voice now. "I would be lost without you, and she knows it. You know it." Had there been a few times Julien honestly thought his mother would dare stoop to that level? Maybe, but he truly didn't think she was capable or actually desired to harm her daughter.

[Ophelia Debienne]

Ophelia sighed. "A tub is quite different," he said, and so did everyone else. But how different was it, hm? It was a vessel of water big enough to fit her whole body in. How was that different than a lake? A glass of water was fine, a pitcher even. The trough for the horses was pushing her boundaries, it made her uneasy, but she could live with that. A great tub filled with water was where she drew the line. She wouldn't put herself in water up to her chin.

As he continued, though, she was able to relax again. He was trying to help, after all, where everyone else just wanted her to give up and give in.

"Is there anyone you trust to help you? Mother doesn't have to do it." Julien couldn't very well do it, either. She wasn't a child and it would be completely improper. "Also, use less water, just enough to pour and wash yourself. Easy. You don't have to be submerged at all."

Well, she knew very well she couldn't ask Julian to do it--Mother had stomped out that idea back when Ophelia was 13. Apparently, it was improper for her brother to be in the room while she was bathing. Ophelia had even suggested that he be blindfolded, just so he could be around, but that was "preposterous." So it had been her, mother, and Martha ever since. Ophelia had evaded bath day cleverly many times over the years, but most of the time these days they caught her and got a needle into her before she had time. When she'd been younger they'd put something in her tea a few times, but she was too big for the older women to carry around these days. They needed her compliant, not unconscious.

What he said about less water, though, intrigued her. That was a good idea, actually. Perhaps she could propose it to Mother next time and avoid the needles altogether.

"No, no. It's not what she wants, Ophelia, I promise you." His jaw clenched for a moment, worry seeping into his voice now. "I would be lost without you, and she knows it. You know it."

Ophelia sighed again, leaning into the warmth of her brother's legs behind her as she tugged her now-straight hair over her shoulder and began winding it into a braid.

"I wish I did know it, Jules. But sometimes I wonder. She always says that I'm the bane of her existence, and Martha says I'll be the death of you both. She tried telling Mother to drug me all the time, not just for baths." She rose to her feet to get a hair-tie from the dresser, singing quietly to herself as she did, "Drugs, drugs, drugs, to make me sleep and make me weep, to give my mother less children to keep."

[Julien Debienne]

Julien was really trying to further understand and be as patient with her as he possibly could. She had a legit fear- he got that, but this fear in particular was stemming from something their dead brother had told her. The brother who died far before her time. There was something not right about that, but he knew if he argued it, it would only make matters worse right now.

Still, there had to be a happy medium somewhere.

This meant he would also have to have yet another talk with Iva. If Ophelia was willing to try something different and comply, then their mother would have to as well. He was the man of the house, was he not? The damn woman would have to bloody listen to him. It wasn't possible for Julien to be around every waking minute now- something had to give.

'...and Martha says I'll be the death of you both. She tried telling Mother to drug me all the time, not just for baths.'

That brought him pause as his sister rose up to retrieve something from the dresser. Ocher eyes blinked. "Martha said that?" he questioned. Sometimes he wasn't sure if Ophelia twisted the truth a little, or thought she was speaking the truth because it was what she thought she heard or what she firmly believed. "For how long?" Something about that didn't sit well with him, and he didn't like the idea of having a woman like that in his household.

[Ophelia Debienne]

"Mhmm, I heard her," she confirmed, nodding as she twisted the hair tie 'round the end of her braid. Once she finished, she straightened up, put one fist on her hip, and jabbed angrily at the air like she was poking an invisible person in the chest.

"You'll be the death of them, you wicked girl! You keep acting out like this and I'll give you something to cry about!" Her voice came out harsh and grating, with a peasant's accent, a fair imitation of Martha.

She shifted her posture then and turned to another imaginary figure, leaning forward and clasping both hands under her chin. "Poor Mum, you shouldn't have to deal with her, Mum. She's a menace. The doctor and I both agree, Mum, you should use the medicine every morning to keep her calm, keep her safe, Mum. She won't bother you no more if you keep her under lock and key, leave the needles up to me."

The mockery fell away as Ophelia drifted to her wardrobe and tugged it open, trailing her fingers over the clothes inside. "Keep her under lock and key, leave the needles up to me!" she sang to herself as she shuffled through the garments. So many pretty things she hadn't been allowed to wear in so long… She missed going to parties and watching the dancers. She missed music and laughter. But there was no point in crying over things that had been gone for years and years. This was her life, now.

Abruptly remembering she'd been talking to Julian, she stopped and turned around, one hand still lingering on the door of the wardrobe.

"Mother said I wasn't bad enough for that yet. Not no… yet." She sighed, looking like she might cry again as her brows pulled together and her lip began to tremble. "I'd never hurt anyone, Jules. I never have, not really. I only ever try to get away, just away. You know me."

[Julien Debienne]

Julien really didn't know what to say or do, except stare as though in disbelief. Well, damn, he was struggling to believe this. Then again, Martha was often very blunt and to the point, something he blamed on his mother. Iva was the very same way, if only a million times worse.

'You keep acting out like this and I'll give you something to cry about!' Martha had apparently said. This made him immediately sit up straighter and scoot to the edge of the chair as though he was going to jump straight to his feet. Was Ophelia exaggerating? He liked to believe he could trust in his sister's word, despite her illness, but sometimes it was hard to discern from what was truly real and what she thought she saw was there, or heard.

'Keep her under lock and key, leave the needles up to me!'

Her brother was up on his feet by the time she turned around, and he looked even more tired than before. At least it helped to hear that Iva didn't agree to it- yet or not, didn't matter. The woman seemed to have her limits, he had seen it. She hadn't wished for any of this, and she was the type of person who didn't handle things out of the norm very well. Their mother liked routine and simplicity, and her daughter was anything but.

Leaning forward to rest elbows upon his thighs, Julien ran a hand down his face with a sigh. "I know, little bird. I just worry for you, I don't want to see you getting hurt." A pause, he was already imagining the drama this was all going to cause. "Let me handle this, alright? No one but Mother and I should be giving you anything. But I expect you to behave, just as I expect her to behave, you understand?" He was being firm but not cruel, and not pointing fingers.

Let's face it, every woman in Julien's life was a handful in some way or another.

[Ophelia Debienne]

Ophelia nodded reluctantly. She knew that Julien would look out for her, she trusted that much, but she wasn't sure if that was enough. Martha wasn't bad when he was around to stop her, and Mother was the same way. When Julien was home, things were better. But when he left…

She didn't say that to him.

"I will. Promise," she said instead. She would do her best to behave and hope that Martha did the same.

[Julien Debienne]

At the very least, Julien knew that Ophelia would try to behave. He understood that she didn't freak out just to do so. She did it when she was terrified, and Mother and her maid weren't the easiest to deal with. He understood that much, for certain.

When she promised, he nodded and rose up from his seat. "I know, Lia," he told her with a gentle smile. "Now, get dressed before you catch a cold, hmm?"

Stepping over to her, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading to the door. "I'll be home today, so I hope to see you downstairs for dinner." And he would attempt to smooth everything over with Iva and Martha in the meantime. Oh, that should be fun.