Home / Fan Fiction / V(cough) C(cough) fic / Stand Alone Stories / The Old Woman in the Village

DISCLAIMER: The following stories are all non-profit, amateur efforts not intended to infringe on the rights of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, David Geffen, Warner Brothers, Geffen Pictures, Knopf, Randomhouse, the city of New Orleans, the U.S. Constitution, any copyright holders that I might not have thought of or even a certain author who shall remain nameless but who has a set of initials which are, coincidentally enough, just one letter off from spelling "B.S."

The Old Woman in the Village
by The Brat Queen

Second Place - Best Minor Character '98-'99

"Push, my Lady, push!"

"Take care with that, you don't want to hurt her."

"I should think not. Ah!"

"Sorry, my Lady."

"Give her this, it will ease the pain."

"Once more, my Lady."

"If needs must."

"Just once - there!"

Suddenly the room of the castle, which for hours had been warm and filled with the oppressive humidity of sweat and exersion, burst into activity as birth mothers, nursemaids and other assorted servants crowded around the newborn child. The babe passed from hand to hand as they cleaned and cared for him, while others watched over the process of afterbirth.

"It is a boy, my Lady," said one of the younger maids. She smiled, the expression genuinely pleased beneath her mussed braid of hair. "Le Marquis shall be proud."

Gabrielle de Lioncourt, Marquise of the castle Lioncourt, sat up tiredly amongst her pillows. "He may or may not," she said. Her voice, which had never lost the accent of her native Italy, was crisp and sharp. "Give him here."

With minimal fuss, the ladies handed the young child over. La Marquise took him in her arms, studying him carefully. The boy, to his credit, had stopped his lusty birthing cry and now examined her in return.

"A midsummer child, Lady," the eldest birth mother declared. "It is a good omen for the seventh son."

"Perhaps," la Marquise said. Her ice blue eyes swept the room, cutting them all down one by one. "Leave us."

"But Lady - "

"Leave," la Marquise repeated. She paused, her eyes finally settling upon Yvette, who had kept her own counsel throughout the proceedings. "Except for you."

Yvette nodded, brushing her thick grey hair out of her eyes. She had expected as much. "As my Lady wishes."

Yvette watched as the other women left the room, shutting the door behind them. This was not the first time she and la Marquise had been alone like this, although the serving women had yet to show their approval.

Yvette could live without approval, or censure. She could likewise live with both, so long as it was silent.

La Marquise had returned her attention to the babe, studying him carefully. Yvette could not hold that against her. This was her seventh child and, to date, her fourth child living. A true assesment of his heath was worthwhile.

"What do you see for him?" la Marquise asked, finally.

Yvette disliked being asked this, even though she had expected it. "I do not care to say, Lady."

The ice blue eyes met hers now. "I do not care if you do. What do you see?"

Yvette sighed. She stretched back her shoulders, wincing at the slight crack in her back when she did so, then closed her eyes to form her own study of the little one. So young, she thought, he has only just arrived and yet she demands his future…

"Well?"

Yvette's brown eyes opened once more. "It is much as could be expected, Lady. Seventh son, born on midsummer - his life is touched by magic."

"Will he live?"

"It is not for me to say, Lady."

"The Hell it is not," la Marquise said, her Italian lips rolled the vowels in her anger. "You know. Tell me."

Yvette sighed, again feeling regret for the little one. "He has as much a chance as his brothers, my Lady. More than that I could not say."

La Marquise nodded, accepting this. She turned back to the child. Her long, thin fingers touched his face, caressing his cheekbones in particular. The silence of her actions was only broken by the baby's soft, gasping breaths.

"He will live," la Marquise said. Her tone made it a declaration.

Yvette smiled. "May we all hope so, my Lady."

"No," la Marquise said, fixing her cold stare on Yvette once more. "He. Will. Live. And do not tell me you cannot arrange this."

Yvette had known la Marquise for too long to think that she played games. "Lady, that is not for us to meddle with. Only Heaven knows what may be in store for him."

"He will live."

"Lady, you don't know what you ask - "

"You do not wish to deny me, Yvette. I think you would find that most unpleasant. He will live. Fix it."

Yvette looked away. Her eyes were drawn to the window, and the dark blue tinge of the nighttime sky that slowly crept upon them. She felt herself longing to be out in the fresh air. "Lady," she tried once more, "what you ask for him is not a gift."

"What I ask for is not your opinion. Do it."

She shook her head. Silently she sent a prayer up to the Heavens to ask for mercy, and for help. "As my Lady wishes," she said, finally. She moved forward, gesturing for la Marquise to hold the baby out. She took a few moments to breathe deeply, gathering her energy. When she felt she was ready, she looked up. "The babe's name?"

"Lestat," la Marquise said. "For the summertime."

Yvette nodded. It was an apt name. She leaned over the child and began to sketch a rune over his head with her fingertips. "Long life for you then," she whispered, "Lestat."

"You know there have been problems."

Yvette closed the door behind her guest then returned to bustling about in her kitchen. She decided to prepare a hot cider to help pass the time. It was winter, over a half year since she'd seen la Marquise. Now, with no other announcement, the Lady once again showed up on her doorstop. It didn't bode well. "Of what kind?" she asked, finally.

A thin, blonde eyebrow raised in bemusement. "I would think that your domain, Yvette."

There were some things even she did not have the patience for. "It is not my business to snoop in the affairs of others, my Lady," she said. She sat down at the table at last, giving a mug over to la Marquise then taking one for herself. She took one sip, then simply held it, enjoying how the hot liquid soothed her aching bones.

La Marquise seemed to approve of this. "Very well." She took a sip of her own drink. "I am with child again."

Yvette could not hide her surprise at this. "So soon?"

"His father felt it wise," she replied. She looked down into her mug, as though searching for her own future there. "It's a girl."

Yvette knew better than to question such instincts. She also knew better than to speak in a way that was any less than careful. "That shall be a surprise for le Marquis, shall it not?"

"No, no it shan't," la Marquise replied. She looked both young and old, suddenly. Looking closely Yvette could see the beginnings of grey in her hair, but her face was still that of a woman over twenty years Yvette's junior. "This is the last of it. I shall have no more. I have Lestat. There need be no others."

Again Yvette chose her words carefully. "My Lord must be upset at such a prospect, especially after the loss of young Jean."

"My Lord need not know," la Marquise said. "This is the last, no more after that. And I want you to arrange it."

It amazed Yvette that even royal lineage did not keep women from having the same problems the world over. Silently she stood and moved over to a nearby cabinet. Pulling a key out from under her skirts she unlocked it, her hands needing a few moments to work the small mechanism. She squinted in the darkness, then pulled a bottle forth. With careful measurements she poured out a draught of its dark liquid into a smaller bottle and handed that over to the Lady.

"That will end it," she said. Then, thinking of her own lost children from years ago, added "If you wish to keep the little one take it when she is born. Otherwise…" Yvette trailed off, shrugging.

La Marquise nodded. She stood up and dropped a few gold coins on the table. "Thank you, Yvette."

Yvette bowed, closing the door after her. She decided to feel grateful, at least, that such unhappiness was not her own and would at least keep her fed and warm throughout the coldest winter months.

She was not overmuch surprised when, months later, the news came 'round that le Marquis's latest child - a son - had arrived a stillborn.

"No!"

The shriek pierced the stillness of the mountain woods. Yvette looked up from her herb gathering. The voice had sounded familiar, somehow.

"No! No! No!"

Keeping to the shadows, she moved towards the noise. The clearing, when she came to it, did not surprise her.

The Witches' Place it was called. A place where, not too long ago, they burned anyone considered heathen.

The village priest had brought the local children to it now. Yvette's mouth creased in a frown. She had no doubt of the lesson he was teaching them. Nor did she doubt that this new priest would not last long. If he felt this way for the Witches' Place it took small wonder to figure out how he would react to the harvest bonfires.

Most of the children milled about, some with hands stuck in mouths, others holding on to the hands of their nurses. They seemed, as most children do in these matters, bored.

Save for the one.

"No! Take me home! Now! Please!"

One of the other children moved aside and Yvette could finally see the little troublemaker clearly. Her grey eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was the golden boy, le Marquis's son. Hardly out of toddling stage he'd been sent off with his nurse to learn like the rest. However this lesson he did not seem to care for. His face was red with crying and he clung to his nurse like a babe in the womb.

"Take me home! Take me away! Please!"

Yvette smiled to herself, pulling back when she saw the nurse comply with the boy's wishes. If nothing else, she thought, he shows more heart than his brothers before him. Things bode well for you, young Lestat.

"Lady? I was told to come here."

Yvette frowned, pulling on her dressing gown as she went downstairs to answer the call at her door. She recognized the girl at once. One of la Marquise's maids. Although why la Marquise thought it wise to send this young bird out in the dark of night escaped her.

"What is it?" Yvette asked, not bothering to keep the tiredness or annoyance out of her voice.

The little thing almost wilted. She pulled her cloak around her defensively. "My mistress told me to come. She said that you would have something to help my Lord's young son?"

Yvette sent a prayer to the Heavens for patience. "Fine. Fine," she said. "Come in. This will be quick."

She shut the door behind the girl then went to her powder cabinet. "Your Lady is forming a habit of this, I notice."

The girl seemed near tears. "It is very bad this time," she whispered. "He…" Her doe-like eyes looked down, then back up again. Her voice was softer when she spoke. "My Lord was… thorough, in his retribution."

Tired as she was of this, Yvette could not help but feel a spark of interest, if only for Lestat's sake. "What happened?"

The girl was obviously tired herself for she gave the private answer readily. "My young lord went to the priesthood. He declared a vocation, but my Lord preferred him home." The girl hastily crossed herself. "It wasn't right," she said, her voice mouse-quiet now.

Yvette paused as she took this in. Lestat was what? Twelve now? Not yet ready to be a man but declared himself a priest? Yvette nodded to herself as she measured out the powders into a packet. It seemed right. She could understand how a boy with a glimmer like that could feel a calling there. And there was as good as anywhere, especially considering the harsh hand of the boy's father.

"Here," she said, handing the packet over. "Your mistress knows how to use it. It should ease his pain. But tell her," she added as the girl made to bolt for the door, "to remember that the boy's blessing was not a gift. I told her that. Bid her remember it."

The girl nodded, even if she did not understand. Her small hand darted out to hand over the usual few coins and then she vanished into the night, her feet sounding a light patter down the street until the darkness closed in around her.

"I do not care, Yvette," la Marquise said. In anger she tore off her necklace, throwing it down on the table between them. "Do as is needed."

"My Lady, please," Yvette said, choosing to ignore the insult of la Marquise's gesture, "consider his needs. Perhaps it is his time."

"No!" Yvette's ears rang at the response. "He will live. Fix him."

Yvette felt a shiver at the memory of those words. "Lady, sixteen is a fine age for a young man. There are so many who do not even make it so far…"

"He will live," la Marquise said. She picked out a bracelet from under her sleeves and handed that over too. "Please."

Yvette stared down at this. Not the bracelet, fine though it was, but the hand. It shook in fear.

"Please," la Marquise said again. "I think his father may have truly come to kill him. He ran off with some actors like a damned fool." There was a small crack in la Marquise's voice. Almost imperceptible to the human ear. "He beat him so hard I think his heart stopped once. The village priest has already given him Rites and the idiot doctor has given up. Please."

Yvette considered this, then snapped the bracelet up into her own hand. She ignored the necklace. "Alright, my Lady," she said. Her dark eyes met pale blue. "But this time only for him. Get him out of that home, Lady, or next time it will be his death."

In all the years she had known her, Yvette had never seen la Marquise look so pale. Inwardly she recanted a bit of her harshness, but again only for the boy's sake.

"A love potion," the young girl giggled. "For the handsome lord."

Yvette smiled patiently. It was not the first time in as many years that one of the young village girls had come to her asking for help in wooing the golden lord's heart - or other body parts for that matter. She didn't have the heart to tell this one that Lestat's heart had been won, finally. Or that the winner was no girl but the draper's son.

"You wish a husband?" she asked the girl. The young thing tittered and blushed straight up to her bright red hair. "Alright then. Burn this candle under the full moon. It will bring your true love to you."

It won't be Lestat, she added silently, but whomever it is should keep you happy.

The girl thanked her profusely and left some fresh-baked bread with her by way of payment. Yvette breathed in the scent gladly. She was unable to knead her own, these days.

"Am I too late in coming, Yvette?"

Yvette looked up in surprise as the shape of la Marquise materialized out of the shadows once the young girl had left. "No, Lady. Come in."

La Marquise entered the house slowly. The thick hood of her cape caused her breath to echo. Yvette winced in sympathy as she heard the catch of pain with each inward gasp.

"I wish a reading, Yvette," la Marquise said. "I need to know the future."

"The future is always clouded, my Lady," Yvette said. But she sat down at the table across from la Marquise and pulled her cards out nonetheless.

"I know," she replied. "But I need to know the possibilities."

Yvette nodded and began to shuffle. "Your question?"

"About Lestat." Yvette was not surprised. "His future, should he leave."

This brought surprise, however. It was well over five years past the time when Yvette had bid la Marquise to send the boy away. She wondered what had finally changed matters, but knew better than to press. Instead she sent another prayer for Lestat Heavenward and pulled out a card.

It was not what she expected.

"The Tower, my Lady," she said, disbelieving her own eyes.

La Marquise did not pause for interpretation. "Should he stay?"

As if of its own accord, Yvette turned over another card. "The Emperor."

"What does it mean?"

Yvette looked at the cards long and hard before giving an answer. "Should he stay, he will forever be dominated by… an overly strong male influence." It seemed the safest way to put it.

"Killed by his father, you mean," la Marquise said. "Or his brother now. What is the other one then?"

Yvette still could not fathom the reason behind the card. "Disaster, my Lady."

La Marquise's mouth stretched thin as she thought. "If he goes," she said at last,"what will ultimately happen?"

Another card. "Death, my Lady." Yvette quickly explained. "Not literal. Change. The Death card means a life will change."

There was a moment of silence, then la Marquise nodded. "It's the best we can give him, then. It can only change for the better." Another pause passed between them. "What of me?" she asked softly. "He will want to know."

Her hand pulled out the next card easily. She studied it, then showed it to la Marquise. "Ten of swords."

Blonde eyebrows raised. "It looks like a prison."

Yvette nodded, letting that be her answer.

La Marquise accepted this, giving the card back. "It comes as no surprise. How long, then? Will I at least be dead soon enough?"

Yvette needed only the number on the next card. "Perhaps six months, my Lady. As of right now, I would not expect more."

"But he will live?"

"Yes," Yvette said, staring down at the cards of Death and The Tower once more. "He shall." She looked up at la Marquise again. "But it will not be a gift."

"It's good enough," la Marquise said. "He'll live and fight as he always has. It's good enough."

"If you think so, my Lady," Yvette said. She folded the cards back into the deck. "Have you any more questions for me?"

"No," la Marquise said. She stood and tightened the clasp of her cape. She put a jewled pin down on the table. "It is all I need to know. I am content with it."

Yvette nodded, taking the pin and putting it in her pocket. She looked at the cards again, then stood, crossing over to her cabinet. After a few fumbles the door unlocked. She pulled out a vial and handed it over. "Here," she said. "Just in case."

La Marquise took the vial carefully. She undid the stopper and took a small sniff. Her expression changed to one of recognition and she closed and put the vial away. She frowned. "Why?" her tone attempted to make the comment sound self-mocking. "I am not pregant again."

"No," Yvette said. She pointed back to the table on which the Death card could still be seen. "But you may wish a change of your own, perhaps."

La Marquise smiled, accepting this. Her hand came out once more, this time with her wedding ring in her fingertips. "Here, then. At this point I think it shall do you more good than I." Her smile became wider, more genuine. "I will bear it in mind, if my own death does not come soon enough."

With that la Marquise left. Yvette never saw her or her son again.

She was content with it until her own dying day.