Chapter Text
“Hey Duke!” You exclaim as you come up to him, just as the man ahead of you steps away. “How are you today?”
“I’m doing quite well, and you, my dear?” The Duke smiles as he sees you. The two of you are close, and have been for most of your life due to him knowing your parents.
“I’m great, just gotta pick up the usual for Mom and Dad, I have no idea how, but Mom’s completely burnt through all the milk we have in stock and she needs to make a new batch of croissants for Luiza.” You laugh, already pulling out the lei your mother had handed to you before you left.
“Well, I know Elouise, so I’m not too surprised.” The Duke reaches back and procures four cartons of milk– your typical order.
“You’re saving us,” You hand him the lei, right before you remember something. “Oh, I meant to ask– if by some insane circumstance, she happens to finish this with the batch she’s making now, could I stop by at maybe midday to pick up some more? Could you keep some for me?”
“Oh, sorry my dear, but I have to deliver a letter from Lady Alcina to Mother Miranda,” The Duke shrugs. “I would send an errand boy but I do have some matters to discuss with her. I won’t be back till sometime closer to dusk.”
At the mention of Mother Miranda, you’re paying much more attention. It’s not that you have a crush on her…it’s more like you’re an extrovert with an introvert addiction. And Mother Miranda? Top tier in introvert levels. No one talks to her at all. Well that and she talks to no one…hence introvert tier level S. Definitely an INTJ in your opinion.
“People write letters to Mother Miranda?” You try to sound more casual than excited, because you know the idea that’s just come to mind will probably be deemed deranged by most.
“Well, not particularly. The Lords write to her, I haven’t met a soul who would actually…mail Mother Miranda, though I’d be quite intrigued to see where that’d go.” The Duke raises an eyebrow to you, one hundred percent suspicious of your intentions with the information he just gave you.
“Yeah, me too, k bye!” You laugh somewhat awkwardly, taking your things and heading back to your mother’s bakery/home. You need to hurry though, you’re meant to meet Elena at the cafe in five minutes, and you’re more than eager to tell her your brilliant idea.
“ No .”
“But Elena–”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re not hearing me out on this–”
“Because you’re being one stupid ass!” Elena whips around to face you, still seeming appalled at your proposal.
“But no one talks to her! At services, it’s dead quiet. And no assistants, just the four lords? She must be so sad!” You protest, dejectedly taking a bite from the sandwich you had bought.
“It’s Mother Miranda , you dimwit!” Elena put her drink down for the sole purpose of rubbing her temples. You two are seated out on the terrace of Luiza’s cafe, as you usually are on Thursday afternoons. “She wants to be alone, sending her fanmail is not going to do anything but probably piss her off.”
“I personally think–”
“No, none of that, when you do that, we get put into deeper shit.” Elena points aggressively to you as she takes a sip from the coffee that you’re pretty sure she’s wishing was whiskey about now. “You send that to her and we’re all dead. She’ll kill you for being an idiot and me for letting you be one, then she’ll kill my dog for good measure.”
At that, you gasp. “Mother Miranda would never hurt Flopsie. No one would hurt Flopsie, and she’s not an exception.”
“Wanna bet?”
You groan, significantly put off from going through with your marvellous idea.
Mother Miranda would not kill you, or Flopsie, for sending her mail. While you aren’t one of the obsessed zealots, you do appreciate her for what she’s capable of, and therefore you feel somewhat…sad that no one actually talks to her. How lonely must that be?
No, you can’t just leave her like that, to be sad and depressed (all probably incorrect assumptions on your behalf but eh, you want the excuse.) You are going to send her those letters and nothing is going to stop you from doing it.
“What was that?” Elena narrows her eyes at you. You try to play it cool.
“What was what?” You bat your eyelashes at her as innocently as you can.
“You got this weird look of…determination–oh for fuck’s sake don’t tell me you’re still gonna—”
“Oops look at the time, Elena it really has been nice–” You’re up out of your seat and grabbing your things in a flash. “—but I’ve got to go help mom with the groceries and the– the baking! Yes, big stuff we’re doing for Luiza, alright, see you!”
You’re dashing off before you can hear the rest of Elena’s cussing and protests.
Hmm.. okay…so…what exactly does one write to the Priestess/Goddess of their village? It’s gotta be formal, for sure, but it can’t be robotic….
You’re up in your room, staring intently at the blank sheet of paper in front of you while absentmindedly twirling your pen. Your room has always been quaint. It’s not large, but it’s decently sized. It’s in the attic, so you’ve got a closet, a bed, a walk-in bathroom, and a desk which sits before the window.
It’s your favourite place to work, and once the weather permits, your window remains open as much as it can be. However, as of right now, the fresh air isn’t doing much to provide you with a spontaneous burst of ingenuity.
The opening line has to catch her attention, otherwise she’ll probably throw it out. Come on…think, think!
“Greetings and Salutations…oh fuck no,” You groan, scratching off the words. This is now the practice paper, you guess. “Hey Double M– yeah no I’d get killed,” You scratch that off too. “Uhh…simple, I’ll go simple… dear Mother Miranda…alright, that’ll do. Now for the rest…”
You spend the next one and a half hours on your poor, abused practice paper before you have the final version written and completed in front of you. On a different paper, of course. After multiple failed attempts of trying to sound posh for her, you realised the only way you’d be comfortable with it was if you spoke like yourself. If you are killed for it? Eh, it is what it is. You’re satisfied enough with what you’ve made, and you quickly look it over once more before sealing the envelope.
Dear Mother Miranda,
I hope this letter finds you well. My name’s Y/N…though I’m pretty sure you would know that seeing that you’re…well.. God, like god? Godly. Good job on that, by the way, this year has been great so far with the crops and animals and lycans and stuff.
You’re probably wondering why I’ve written this letter, and you seem like a straightforward person so I’ll be frank and tell you. I thought to myself today, does anyone talk to Mother Miranda? Well, I thought that many days because it’s so quiet in church and come on everyone wants someone to talk to and just because you’re a priestess/ goddess does NOT mean you don’t have feelings but that’s not the point and I have no idea how I’m managing to ramble in a letter, sorry.
The Duke mentioned a Lord sent you letters, and I was like, ‘She has a mailbox?!’ And…well, here I am now. I’m not too sure what to write about, so I’ll ask, how has your day been? Hopefully good!
Mine was uneventful. I had to go over to the Duke in the first place cause we ran out of milk and Mom’s been baking up a storm for Luiza’s little party thing happening on Saturday evening. It’s supposed to be a big one. Don’t worry though! Everybody’ll be there for Sunday service.
My friend, Elena, told me not to do this…for certain reasons. I’m ignoring her and hoping she doesn’t find out, but you don’t seem to be the gossiping type so we can keep this just between us, right?
Anyway, I’ll write to you pretty soon, don’t worry I won’t forget you.
Your faithful subject,
Y/N
You seal the envelope and stumble down the stairs, it’s much later in the day, and you’re sure the Duke should be back by now. The door slams shut by accident and you hear your mother yelling from somewhere in the house, but you’re already halfway down the street within ten seconds.
There’s no way this is a bad idea, everybody needs someone to talk to and Mother Miranda is no exception.
You won’t let a little bloodlust get in the way of making her feel appreciated.
“I had a feeling I would’ve been seeing you this evening,” The Duke chuckles as you pop up before him.
“Hi again, how did your meeting with Mother Miranda go?” You hold the envelope behind you, trying to calm down and get your nerves in check. You are still mailing Mother Miranda , and so understandably, you are slightly queasy at the thought.
“It went as expected,” One of the Duke’s more prominent qualities is his ability to be vague on any casual topic, so you didn’t push. “However, you are not here to ask about my day, are you, my dear?”
You shake your head with a tight smile and eyes which seem to not stick to any particular surface.
“Come, hand the letter here,” He extends his hand and your jaw drops in surprise.
“How’d you know? You know who it’s for?” You hold up the paper, still impressed at his skills of deduction.
“Mother Miranda, I presume?” He plucks the envelope from your fingers and puts it carefully into a satchel beside him. “I haven’t had such an odd request in a while, I do look forward to seeing how it plays out.”
“Think I’m gonna get killed?”
“I’m not quite sure. Mother Miranda has her days, just like everyone else. I would typically attempt to…deter you from doing this but I can see that I won’t get very far, as I’m sure Elena hasn’t either.” He eyes you knowingly and you shy away from his gaze.
“Whaaat….that’s crazy…anyway, can that be delivered today? I need a letter per day, once I survive the first one, that is,” You laugh at his disbelieving look.
“A letter a day?” He takes a breath. “Dear, I’m aware of the saying go big or go home, as I’m sure you are as well, but this is not big, it’s surely near gargantuan. I had assumed this would be your sole attempt.”
“Oh, no, I’m fully diving headfirst, I have my reasons, I just need to make sure a letter is sent each day, I’ve put aside savings and I’m sure I can afford it.”
“Here’s what,” The Duke leans forward and you listen with rapt attention. “If you keep me in the know about this, I will complete these orders for free.”
“Are you serious?” You gasped, on the verge of jumping onto the fat man for a hug.
“Certainly, I just do hope your little mission isn’t cut short in any way, I’m truly growing invested. Now, off you are, it’s late and I have a letter to deliver.”
“Thank you,” You offer your biggest smile before rushing home.
No way in hell are you sleeping tonight. You tried to busy yourself with cleaning, bathing and planning out your day tomorrow, but nothing helped. It’s quite possible that right now, Mother Miranda is receiving the letter and deciding whether or not she is going to kill you for it.
While you wrote the letter, the threat didn’t particularly feel imminent, but now? You felt like you were playing Russian roulette except instead of pulling a trigger and waiting for a bullet, you waited for each second, and with each tick of the clock, you expected to perhaps find yourself impaled on four talons.
You made this bed, now it’s time to accept the fact that one, you’re shit at making beds, and two, you’ve got to lay in it. Both figuratively and literally.
You get under the covers and close your eyes, willing all morbid thoughts to dissipate and let you sleep.
They did not.
The next morning, you wake up feeling like a zombie. Your night had been less than productive. At every creak of your house’s old floorboards, or wind-rattled windows, your eyes were shooting open and your body filling with dread.
You figure for someone who was so eager to write to the Priestess, you were overly on edge. You shake yourself awake and drag your damn near comatose body to the bathroom, in a desperate attempt to get ready.
The first thing you do for the morning, after essentially waterboarding yourself into being awake, is check your mother in the kitchen.
The second you enter the room, an array of smells hit you in the face. They range from sweet to savoury to things that would typically be savoury but were somehow made sweet. Your mother is probably the most well-known baker in the entire village, and it was reflected in both the quality of your home and your relationships with other business owners. The Duke, for example, is one of the family’s closest friends, hence his flexibility with prices. Though, it may not just be the family’s wealth, but your mother’s baking which truly got to him.
“Whatcha makin’ ma?” You ask, hopping over and hugging her from the side as she kneads some dough.
“I’m trying to do a garlic bread for Luiza, the last loaves sold out almost instantly, and I just recently finished the croissants she requested. Figured I’d get on top of it one time before tomorrow.” There are several doughs laid out, and you can sense that it’s at least half a day of work ahead for her.
“You want help?” You smile brightly at her and she hits you with the most insulting snort you’ve ever heard.
“Honey, your help is more of baking suicide, I don’t want my kitchen up in flames…again.”
“IT WAS ONE TIME!”
“Mmhmm, and I can’t afford that right now, so you can go ask your father if he needs help with deliveries.” She shoos you away before you can protest more.
Part of you desperately wants to travel to the Duke to see if there’s any news on how she received it– if she received it, but the more rational side knows that you have to give it some time. So, you go off and find your father at the front of the house, organising a few deliveries that you recognise are labelled for Luiza’s cafe, Anton’s restaurant and Lord Heisenberg.
“Care to race?” You smirk, knowing your father would pass up on your mother’s best eclairs before he passed up on a competition, especially a race.
“How are we dividing it?” He puts one of the bags down, his expression now mirroring your own mischief filled one.
“I’ll take Lord Heisenberg, since he’s the furthest from here,” You offer. “All you have to do is finish the deliveries for Luiza and Anton before I get back from Lord Heisenberg’s.”
“But, Luiza and Anton have more bags,” He countered. “You’d have one trip and four bags total.”
“True, however, if there are roughly six bags each for Luiza and Anton, and they’re close to maybe five minutes from here, even if you made two trips per person, you should finish before me…if you haven’t gotten slow, that is.”
“Excuse me? Little lady, I haven’t slowed in the two decades I’ve been doing this, and I won’t be slowing now, you ready?”
“We’ll see,” You shrug, before squatting, getting prepared. “Three,”
“Two,” He got into position as well.
“One.”
You had essentially slung the orders onto your back and started sprinting up the street almost immediately.
Terrible strategy.
You feel your muscles already aching halfway to the factory and the burning sensation seems to get worse with each step.
You slow your speed to a walk and take deep breaths, trying to pace yourself now.
You weren’t wrong when you thanked Mother Miranda for a good year, lycan attacks have become scarce to a degree that you aren’t afraid as you walk into their territory alone. Lord Heisenberg and Mother Miranda are the ones in charge of them, or, Lord Heisenberg is the older sibling left in charge and Mother Miranda is the pissed off mother. The lycans have been understandably unenthusiastic to piss either of them off. Whatever it is that they’ve been doing, it’s spared the village countless lives. It’s why you’re so eager to get this delivery to him, it’s nice to give back. That and one other thing. You want to ask about Mother Miranda.
Sure, it’s a foolish and probably unfathomably dumb idea, but based on previous decisions, you can’t exactly say that’s stopped you before.
You finally get to the door of the factory, and somehow don’t drop dead despite your yellow, blurry vision, wheezing and complaints.
“Hey kid, you have my donuts and cinnamon rolls?” Lord Heisenberg’s crackled voice comes through his intercom.
“Yes– whoo good lord –, sir,” You speak as clearly as you can, considering you’re still fighting for your life in terms of breathing. You aren’t exceptionally nervous about speaking to him, it is Lord Heisenberg after all, and he is always amiable with the villagers. So even though it was your first time meeting him, as your father typically took the orders for the Lord, you aren’t overly concerned. “Should I– bring them in—, or leave them out-side for you?”
“Uhhh…bring it in nah, I’m not feeling to come up there. And girl, breathe . Door’s open.”
You push on the metal door and true to his word, it swings open with a creak.
You venture through the twists and turns of his factory, some of the wheels looking so rusted beyond repair that you figure they haven’t been used in at least a decade. It isn’t long before you’re in his office and you stumble across a little television and chair.
There are some old books in a pile on the same table the TV sits on, but they’ve been pushed to the side and the paper looks yellow and worn. You’re still panting from exertion and at this point, it’s just embarrassing.
“You got the stuff?” A voice comes from behind you and you turn to find Lord Heisenberg approaching. You hold out the food and he takes it before very ungraciously pulling a donut out and stuffing the whole thing into his mouth. He instantly groans at the taste. “I’d hire your mother to be my personal caterer any day.”
“Ah, unfortun–” You take a breath, “–ately she’s stopped all that, got to be a bit much with the requests.”
“Damn, take some water,” He tosses you a bottle he already had on him and you drink it without hesitation. It immediately cools you down and you smile gratefully.
“Thanks.”
He looks at you for a second, as though expecting something.
“So…you just gonna hang around?” He asks, reaching for another donut.
“Oh, sorry, I– I was wondering if I could ask you a question?” You pull at the strings of your shirt.
“A question, eh? Sure, take a seat.” A metal chair zooms forward and hits you behind the knees, causing you to yelp as you fall back into it. “What’s up?”
“Well…it’s about Mother Miranda.”
“Uh huh…”
“Do you send her mail?”
Lord Heisenberg’s whole face is one of confusion, he even drops his head to the side, allowing his glasses to fall down to the tip of his nose. You see the way his grey eyes swirl in puzzlement.
“I guess…when I need to get information across which isn’t urgent enough for a phone call, why?” Another chair comes forward and he takes a seat, flipping it around so its back is against his front. “What’s this about?”
“I sent her mail.” You pull a face, awkwardness taking over your features.
“Sent her mail…huh. Haven’t heard of that one. What was the outcome?” He seems intrigued now.
“I don’t know, I didn’t check. I was just wondering if she even…checks her mail, especially if it’s from a villager like myself.”
“To be honest, kid, I don’t know. If any of the Lords or myself sends mail, it has our crest on it, so she knows to look. But then again, I don’t take her as one to have magazine subscriptions she gets every month to be crowding up the box itself.” He chuckles. “Just wait and see, I mean, there’s a chance she won’t even read it, or respond, so don’t get your panties in a bunch over it.”
“Hmm, well, that was all, thanks!”
You jump up and start heading out.
“Hey kid?” You turn around to find those grey eyes scrutinising you. “You got hella balls to do something like that. Really hope she doesn’t kill you for it, you seem like fun. I’ll check you next time I’m in the village.”
You smile and wave, before attempting to make your way home without bursting a lung.
“Almost, but I beat you by the small margin of half an hour,” Your father’s sitting outside on his lawn chair, with a cool drink in his hand. You’re one hundred percent sure he set it up just to emphasize his point.
“Har, har,” You roll your eyes, taking the drink from him and downing it. “I ended up talking with Lord Heisenberg, and forgot.”
“Sure, kiddo.” Your dad ruffles your hair before you go back inside.
It’s mid-afternoon, so you decide to write your letter for Mother Miranda and check out the Duke afterwards. But again, as you sit in front of the empty paper, your mind draws a blank.
Oh well, freestyle it is.
Dear Mother Miranda,
How are you?! See, I promised not to forget, so, here I am, not forgetting. I haven’t checked to see if you responded or anything, but I’m going to the Duke in a short while to send this one off.
My day today wasn’t particularly interesting, I bet my dad I could make faster deliveries, I was wrong.
Did I mention my mom owns the bakery? Probably, but, I don’t know if you’ve had any of her stuff. Personally, the apple pie is something I’d legitimately kill for. Not actually, please don’t use this as evidence later.
Oh, not that I’m planning to kill anyone, that came out wrong. You know what? I’ll just stop talking about that now.
I got to speak to Lord Heisenberg about you, he said it’s basically fifty-fifty if you read this. I don’t know which fifty I’m hoping for at this point. Hope all your fancy work is going well.
Talk to you soon!
Your subject,
Y/N.
Good enough. You shrug, sealing the envelope and making your way to the Duke once more. On your way there, you wonder if it’s too casual, but it’s already been written and you aren’t walking all the way back just to write something worse.
The Duke smiles upon seeing you walking up to his cart.
“Hello my dear,” He nods his head to you. “Here to deliver your next letter?”
“Indeed I am,” You smile, handing it to him. “Any word back though?” You feel like your stomach is in knots.
“I’m afraid not, dear.” The Duke offers you a sympathetic smile, and you feel your stomach drop. But why? You aren’t dead, this isn’t the worst outcome, though it certainly isn’t the best either. “Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Uh…yeah.” You try to agree enthusiastically, but he sees your dejection from a mile away.
“Don’t dwell too much on it dear, you must remember Mother Miranda does only what is necessary. She may be finding herself too busy to open unmarked mail.”
Did you have to put a crest on it? Did your family even have a crest? You’d have to find out later.
“It’s okay, thanks anyway, Duke.”
You turn and leave, now finding yourself at Luiza’s Cafe. She’s in the midst of setting everything up, so you knock to avoid startling her.
“Oh, sweetheart! How are you?” She opens her arms and you hug her.
You’ve always been amazed at the fact that although she is somewhere in her seventies, she could pass for fifties. She’s in her typical conservative button up dress, her hair tied up and a single silver necklace hangs from her. It’s something Vasile had given to her many years before they got married, and you never saw her without it.
“I’m doing great, Luiza. Anything here I can help you with?” You ask, pulling back a little from the hug.
“That would be lovely, dear heart, just set up these chairs over here.” She gestures to the stacks of chairs which had yet to be pulled out.
You spend the rest of the afternoon doing bits of chores for the elder woman, and when you’re done she gives you a kiss on the cheek and a cookie.
“Hehe, thanks,” You accept it and are on your way home in no time.
The stroll home is peaceful. Everyone is bustling about, all with their own little lives to manage. You look up to the sky and take a deep breath. Spring was always your favourite time of the year. It’s odd, for a lot of people, with the pollen and whatnot. However, in your opinion summer is too hot, autumn is a close second, but winter always has your ass freezing off. Spring is always going to be the perfect balance for you, it was warm enough to not wear layers, but the chill of winter still hovers around, to prevent excessive sweating. The only issue could be the humidity on some days, but who cares?
You look to the roofs of the houses as you pass, the birds flitting around, and the way condensation rolls from the tiles.
Then, you see something peculiar. A crow catches your eye. Not because it’s doing anything odd in particular, but because it’s staring straight at you. Like, direct eye contact.
Okay, freaky , but not too unnerving. Your gaze shifts away and you make it home within five minutes.
Your mother is laying on the couch, curled into your father as they watch the television.
“Oh honey, what were you up to?” She turns on the couch, and your father snickers.
“Moping about her devastating loss today.”
“Oh please, old man. Next time I’m not holding back.”
“Yeah, sure kiddo.”
“Anyway, Mom , I was helping Luiza out for tomorrow,” You slip your shoes off as you speak.
“Oh, that’s kind honey. Want to watch this with us? It’s the extended version of Lord of The Rings, second movie.” Your mother is giddy just speaking its name.
“Elouise got to choose tonight,” Your father adds with a grumble.
“I’ll pass, I’m tired as hell from today, and I can’t stay up for almost four hours,” You’re already making your way up the stairs. “Good luck Dad!” You yell from the top of the steps.
“I’ll need it!”
Having a television in the village is rare, you only know about a handful of people who do. So, you’re grateful for the opportunity but you’re also two seconds from passing out whilst standing.
You take a shower, tuck yourself into bed, and your eyes close.
The last thought in your head before you’re asleep is the odd crow and its glinting eyes.