*Chapter Four Remastered*
Hello everyone! From now on, this novel is undergoing edits. At the top of every chapter, if you see the little stars that means that this part of the novel has been remastered. It will NOT always be faithful to the original. In addition to grammatical edits, there will also be revisions regarding plots, characters, and locations to make this a neater and more coherent story to follow. The blurb has also been remastered. All original chapters will be LOCATED AT THE VERY BOTTOM in case you want to compare changes or reread anything! Thank you so much for your love and support and I hope you enjoy Stubborn Roots Remastered!
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Vivia pulled and yanked on the branch of a dead bush she found hiding under a layer of snow. After another tug the branch slipped from her grip and she landed on her back. With a grunt she yanked off her gloves and tossed them into the snow. This was useless. She'd never dealt with such a stubborn dead root before. The bush was only one of many other treacherous weeds she'd have to pull out in the months to come. Spring always came early in Canta and so in another two months or so when the snow began to melt she'd have to prepare the land for the new crops.
A head popped out of nowhere, blocking the sun from her face. Agna smiled. "The little knight just woke up."
Vivia wiped the sweat from her forehead. "How's he feeling?"
"He said his leg hurts." Agna shrugged. "I kept asking about the gash on his side but he insisted it was alright. It's too bad. I wanted him to get undressed."
Vivia's mouth twitched as she resisted the urge to smile and Agna extended her hand to her. She took it and pulled herself up. The two of them walked back to the cottage together.
"I saw you grinning."
"Be quiet, Agna."
"I know you were thinking the same exact thing," she shut the door behind them and the warmth of the fire place welcomed them with open arms. "There's nothing wrong if we just look."
"I thought you liked the baker's boy, hm?" Vivia slid off her cloak and quirked a brow. "What was his name again?"
Agna rolled her eyes. "He's too boyish and charming."
"You don't like boyish and charming?"
Her eyes drifted to the stairs. They were filled with mischief. "I like whatever is up there."
"Mhm."
Vivia removed her cloak and hung it up to dry. She went into the pantry to look for something when she saw that there were chocolate chip cookies left over from last week. With a joyous gasp she took the plate out of the pantry and removed the clear top. "Look what I found."
Agna plucked one from the plate and bit into as if she couldn't eat it fast enough. "My Gods I'm an amazing baker. I forgot about these."
"I'll bring some up to Luc," she said. "I'm sure he must be hungry."
"Luc? Are you—?" she pursed her lips. "What are you doing?"
Luc stood before her mirror with scalpels in his hands that she was sure he had no idea how to properly use. He was fiddling with the stitches on his side, probably trying to remove them, and when he glanced at her he huffed impatiently. "They itch."
"So you decide to pull them out? Give me that!" she snatched the scalpel from his hands. "Do these look like scissors to you?"
"I know what a scalpel is, Miss Ellspire. I'm more than capable of removing stitches myself."
Vivia put her tools back in the cabinet where he found them. "Can't you see that your skin is red? They aren't ready to come out yet. In fact, you could've just irritated them. Let me see."
Luc was hesitant at first to let her come near him. His brows furrowed and he remained close to the mirror. He was covered in small fading scars, undoubtedly the markings of a man in the King's army. Luc was also well-built and a marvel of a man. She wasn't as aware before as she was now. The first time around he was covered in blood and it was the middle of the night. Now she was looking at him in broad daylight, while he was awake no less, and the thought made the tips of her ears burn.
She cleared her throat. "Some of them need to be closed up again."
He scoffed. "Bloody wonderful."
"No one told you to pick at it."
"Forgive me for wanting to speed up the healing process," he retorted.
"You underestimate how much I'd like my bed back, Sir Fernbrooke." Vivia said. She tilted her head towards the table. "Sit down and I'll see what I can do."
Luc collapsed into the nearby chair rather brusquely, a cantankerous expression on his handsome face. Her stomach twisted.
Handsome.
She hadn't realized it before but he was. Very handsome indeed.
***
After fixing up the botched job on Lukas's side, Vivia went back out into the cold. He watched her from the bedroom window, pulling, fighting, and failing at removing a dead bush from the ground. It surprised him that she was a field hand. Her fingers were soft, delicate, and without calluses as they should have been.
He watched her for longer than he should have before returning to writing his letter. It was a risky endeavor but worth a try. After all, he needed to get word out to someone that he was alive and well and still stuck in Canta.
Lukas couldn't concentrate on writing his letter. He was in pain and his left side was burning up. Being trapped within these four walls for so many days was starting to drive him stir crazy. He couldn't understand how people could live in the country. Without the life and noise of the city, this place was maddening.
Curing his ennui proved to be a difficult task. He went through all the books in Vivia's room, some fairytales and children's stories she must've read before bed when she was younger. The majority of them were medical books but he was surprised to find miscellaneous ones like philosophical accounts and instructions on how to build a boat. He decided to read that one and sat by the window to do so. Every once in a while he'd glance outside and watch her struggle with the bush, she'd fall, he'd chuckle, go back to reading and that cycle continued for some time until she gave up and came back inside.
By the time he finished his book he realized it was moonlight streaming into the room and not the sun.
He hadn't heard from Vivia in hours and wondered why she never came up to nag him to eat something. He grabbed his cane and steeled himself before taking the first step. There was nothing worse than having to go up and down that flight of stairs. It was worse than that time his older brother Hesman pushed him into a rose bush. After pulling out all of the thorns he was in pain for weeks. Walking and sitting was excruciating.
"Miss. Vivia—?"
There was only one candle still burning. All the others had gone out; it must've been the dead of night. Vivia had fallen asleep on the kitchen table, with her cheek resting on the page of a medical book. She was surrounded by owls, jars, oils, thick pastes, and strange plants in containers he'd never before. It look liked she was trying to make something to soothe an itch.
He remembered what she'd said earlier about wanting her bed back. It was clear in her voice that she was taunting him but as he looked around it was clear there was only one bed in the house. There were a few chairs, two tables: one little one small, and a tiny couch. His thoughts had been so consumed by Calais that he didn't have time to think of the great compassion this girl was showing him.
Lukas could've been a dangerous person and yet she opened her home to him, not expecting a single thing in return. She did it out of the kindness of her heart. He would have to remember to thank her. As soon as he returned home he would have Ebor send her a trunk full of gold and fine dresses.
She always wore the same outfit—it was like clockwork. In her wardrobe she had several white dresses lined up and every day she laced up the same leather stay and wore the same faded blue cloak.
Lukas put down his cane and gently pushed the hair out of her face. He was careful about lifting her, so as not to wake her, and made his way to the stairs. As she stirred he froze, his heart pounding in his chest. But her eyelids only fluttered a bit and he made it to her bedroom without issue. When he laid her down in bed his entire leg was sizzling with pain and he thought he might've pulled a muscle somewhere.
Vivia sank deep into the covers and did not wake.
"Goodnight." He said.
***
One Week Later
"I'm going to get this out."
Luc laughed. "I doubt it."
"No," Vivia steeled herself. "It's been an entire week. I'm going to tear this stubborn thing right from his roots."
"If you insist."
Vivia thrusted the shovel at Luc's chest and he grabbed it, chuckling. Vivia pushed her sleeves up to her elbows and pulled on her gloves. An entire week had passed and there was no way this dead bush was going to get the best of her.
"Watch," she said. "I'm going to get it out this time."
"I should like to see that."
As Vivia got to pulling, her mind drifted to a few nights ago. She'd woken up in her own bed with no recollection of how she got there in the first place. She tried to ask Luc but seeing as how it was difficult for him to walk she couldn't imagine him carrying her up a flight of stairs. All he said was that she must've been so tired she'd forgotten she put herself to sleep. Since then, Luc refused to sleep anywhere but that tiny couch near the window.
"I was wondering," he said. "How long it might take for the stitches on my leg to come off."
"Well, it's been around two weeks," she grunted. She lost her grip on the bush and went to grab it again. "If it doesn't get infected then that limp will be gone in no time. You should be good to go in about a month."
"A month." He repeated.
"Don't sound too elated," she chuckled. "I'm sure you're aching to be back in your lovely bed in your own home back in Calais."
"On the contrary," Luc seemed to be elsewhere. "I'll miss this place. It's...peaceful."
Vivia looked at him then, both surprised and curious to hear him speak with such sentiment. He hadn't been here long but perhaps her quaint little home had made an impression. Before she could say anything, the bush was freed from the ground. A shout escaped her lips as she fell back, tripping over her feet, and knocking over Luc as she went.
Luc's chest shook beneath her as the two of them laughed, a melodious and unabashed sound full of life.
"I'm s-sorry," she gasped between laughs.
His silver eyes were alight with amusement as he reached out and captured one of her curls. "There are snowflakes in your hair."
Vivia's heart skipped a beat in her chest and the words died on her lips. She was about to say something but she couldn't her remember. Her mind went blank and all she could think about were the snowflakes in her hair and Luc laughing beneath her.
"Vivia!"
She bristled at the sound of her own name.
"You left the stove on."
They both looked over and saw Tomas standing on the back porch with his arms crossed over his chest. Luc and Vivia exchanged a look before she rolled over and got to her feet.
"I'm sorry again—"
"It's alright."
"I got the branch out."
"That you did."
She bit her lip. "Can I help you? I'm sorry, I completely forgot—where's your cane?"
"Really, Vivia, it's alright—"
Vivia spotted his cane in the snow and she grabbed it before helping Luc to get back on his feet. He did a good job of concealing his discomfort but even she could see beyond that quirky smile and healthy glow that he was in pain. She was such a fool. She should've been more careful.
They walked back to the cottage together and Luc went upstairs to lie down. Vivia turned off the stove and poured herself and Tomas a cup of tea. They sat across from each other at her kitchen table and she avoided eye contact.
"You were out there for a while."
"There was a bush," she said.
"Mmm."
"I was pulling it out and then it came out and I lost my balance and I fell—"
"And seems to be your favorite word today."
She ignored him. "I think I hurt Luc. Poor thing. We both fell rather hard."
"I see."
"See what?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
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And that's chapter four remastered! I hope you guys like it. This one didn't need much editing. The original can be found below.
QOTC: What time is it where you are right now?
AOTC: 3:32AM yikes, someone send some HELP
XOXO Lilly
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Vivia pulled and yanked on the branch of a dead bush she found hiding under a layer of snow. After another tug the branches slipped from her grip and she landed on her back. With a grunt she gave up, pulling off her gloves, and letting the cold sink into her skin. This was useless. She'd never dealt with such a stubborn dead plant before. The bush was only the beginning of the many other treacherous weeds she'd have to pull out in the months to come. The snow would begin to melt in a few weeks and that meant preparing for the spring.
Vivia sat up and decided to give the branch one last pull. She did so but forgot to put her gloves back on. She lost her grip and fell back into the snow with stinging hands. "Ugh!" she grunted. "Come out of the ground!"
"Hey Viv!" Agna stood in the doorway of the cottage with her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her pretty face. "The little knight just woke up."
Vivia wiped the sweat from his forehead. "How's he feeling?"
"He said his leg hurts." Agna shrugged. "It looks fine to me though. I kept asking about the gash on his side but he insisted it was alright. It's too bad. I wanted him to get undressed."
Her mouth twitched and she bit the inside of her cheek to resist a smile. Agna was grinning at her and as Vivia got up, she turned away so she could giggle without being seen. She jogged back to the cottage and past her best friend.
"I saw you grinning."
"Be quiet, Agna."
"I know you were thinking the same exact thing," she shut the door behind her. "There's nothing wrong if we just look."
"I thought you liked the baker's boy, hm?" Vivia slid off her cloak and quirked a brow. "What was his name again?"
Agna rolled her eyes. "He's too boyish and charming."
"You don't like boyish and charming?"
Her eyes drifted to the stairs. They were filled with mischief. "I like whatever is up there."
"Mhm,"
Vivia jogged up the stairs with the pomegranate Tomas had brought her the other day. On her way up, she cracked it open. They looked like tiny glittering rubies in an inconspicuous shell.
"Agna said you—what are you doing!"
Luc was fiddling with her instruments in the mirror and trying to cut the stitches on his side. He glanced at her then huffed impatiently. "They itch."
"So you decide to pull them out? Give me that!" she snatched a scalpel from his hands. "Do these look like scissors to you?"
"I've been taught to remove stitches, Miss. I'm more than capable of removing them myself."
"Well, whoever taught you is terrible at it because so are you." Vivia put her tools back in the cabinet where he found them. "Can't you see that your skin is red? They aren't ready to come out yet. In fact, you could've just infected them. Let me see."
Luc was hesitant at first to let her come near him. His brows furrowed and he remained close to the mirror. She was well aware of all the other scars on his body so he shouldn't have been embarrassed. He finally conceded and lifted up his shirt. The skin was clearly irritated and a stitch had begun to bleed. She pressed her lips together unsure of whether or not move her hand. She gently reached out to touch his skin and he winced.
She sighed. "Infected."
"Bloody wonderful."
"No one told you to pick at it."
"Forgive me for wanting to speed up the healing process," he retorted.
"You underestimate how much I'd like my bed back, Sir Fernbrooke." Vivia reached for the bowl on the table and showed it to him. "I brought pomegranate."
***
After fixing up the botched job on Lukas's side, Vivia went back out into the cold. He watched her from the bedroom window, pulling, fighting, and failing at removing a dead bush from the ground. It surprised him that she was a field hand. Her fingers were soft, delicate, and without calluses, as they should have been.
He watched her for perhaps longer than he should have before returning to writing his letter. He figured it was worth a shot. He needed his brothers and father to know he was alive and well. He was still in a lot of pain and suffered from frequent headaches. He was often weak and needed that bloody cane to get around.
No matter how many times Lukas wrote his letter he couldn't bring himself to finish. He wrote several of them before burning each one. He couldn't get the words out right. How was he supposed to explain to his father why he was out there with his soldiers, to begin with? He'd never hear the end of it. He couldn't bring himself to lie either. He decided that what needed to be said had to be explained in person.
To try and cure his boredom Lukas went through the piles of books he found around Vivia's room. Many of them were medical books while others were about history, science, cooking, just about anything he could think of. He even found a book on building a boat. He decided to read that one and sat by the window to do so. Every once in a while he'd glance outside and watch her struggle with the bush, she'd fall, he'd chuckle, go back to reading and that cycle continued for some time until she gave up and came back inside.
By the time he finished his book he realized it was the moon streaming light into the room and not the sun.
He hadn't heard from Vivia in hours and wondered why she never came up to nag him to eat something. He grabbed his cane and steeled himself before taking the first step. There was nothing worse than having to go up and down that flight of stairs. It was worse than that time his older brother Hesman pushed him into a rose bush. After pulling out all of the thorns he was in pain for weeks. Walking and sitting was excruciating.
"Miss. Vivia—?"
There was only one candle still burning. All the others had gone out. It must've been the dead of night. Vivia had fallen asleep on the kitchen table, with her cheek resting on the page of a medical book. She was surrounded by bowls, jars, oils, thick pastes, and strange plants in containers he'd never before. It looked liked she was trying to make something to soothe an itch.
He remembered what she'd said earlier about wanting her bed back. It was clear in her voice that she was taunting him but as he looked around it was clear there was only one bed in the house. There were a few chairs, two tables: one little one small, and a tiny couch. His thoughts had been so consumed by Calais that he didn't have time to think of the great compassion this girl was showing him.
He could have been an awful person and yet she opened her home to him, not expecting a single thing in return. She simply did it out of the kindness of her heart. He would have to remember to thank her. As soon as he returned home he would have Ebor send her a trunk full of gold and fine dresses for her to wear.
She wore the same outfit every day. In her wardrobe, she had several white dresses lined up and every day she laced up the same leather stay and wore the same faded blue cloak.
Lukas put down his cane and gently pushed the hair out of her face. He was careful about lifting her, as not to wake her, and made his way to the stairs. As she stirred her froze, his heart pounding in his chest. But her eyelids only fluttered a bit and he made it to her bedroom without dropping her. When he laid her down in bed his entire leg was sizzling with pain and he thought he might've pulled a muscle somewhere.
Vivia sank deep into the covers and did not wake.
"Goodnight."
***
One Week Later
"I'm going to get this out."
Luc laughed. "I doubt it."
"No," Vivia steeled herself. "It's been an entire week. I'm going to tear this stubborn thing right from his roots."
"If you insist."
Vivia thrusted the shovel at Luc's chest and he grabbed it, chuckling. Vivia pushed her sleeves up to her elbows and slid on her gloves. An entire week had passed and there was no way this stubborn dead bush was going to get the best of her. She managed to pull off some branches in the past few days but hadn't made much other progress. The entire garden was almost spring ready except for this last stubborn plant.
"Watch," she said. "I'm going to get it out this time."
"I should like to see that."
As Vivia got to pulling, her mind drifted to a few nights ago. She'd woken up in her own bed with no recollection of how she got there in the first place. She tried to ask Luc but seeing as how it was difficult for him to walk she couldn't imagine him carrying her up a flight of stairs. All he said was that she must've been so tired she'd forgotten she put herself to sleep. Since then, Luc refused to sleep anywhere but that tiny couch near the window.
"I was wondering," he said. "How long it might take for the stitches on my leg to come off."
"Well, it's been around two weeks," she grunted. She lost her grip on the bush and went to grab it again. "If it doesn't get infected then that limp will be gone in no time. You should be good to go in about a month."
"A month." He repeated.
"Don't sound too elated," she chuckled. "I'm sure you're aching to be back in your lovely bed in your own home back in Calais."
"On the contrary," Luc seemed to be elsewhere. "I'll miss this place. It's peaceful."
Vivia looked at him then, both surprised and curious to hear him speak with such sentiment. He hadn't been here long but perhaps her quaint little home had made an impression on him. Before she could say anything, the bush was freed from the ground. A shout escaped her lips as she fell back, tripping over her feet, and knocking over Luc as she went.
She had a mouth full of melted snow and some was melting in her ears. She spit it out and shook her head.
"Did you just spit on me?"
She looked up at Luc who was half under her and her legs were tangled up in his. She laughed. It was unexpected, unabashed, pure laughter that shook her body to the core. "I'm so sorry."
Luc's chest beneath her shook with laughter and the two of them remained that way for what felt like a long while. They were floating in an endless ocean of sparkling white opal and they were glistening in the sunlight. His silver eyes were alight with amusement as he reached out to touch her hair.
"There are snowflakes in your hair."
Whatever words she might've spoken got caught in her throat. The door to the cottage opened with enough force that she could hear it.
"Vivia!"
She groaned internally.
"You left the stove on."
They both looked over and saw Tomas standing in her doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Luc and Vivia exchanged a look before she rolled over and got to her feet.
"I'm sorry again—"
"It's alright."
"I got the branch out."
"That you did."
She bit her lip. "Can I help you? I'm sorry, I completely forgot—where's your cane?"
"Really, Vivia, it's alright—"
Vivia spotted the cane in the snow and she grabbed it before helping Luc to get back on his feet. He did a good job of concealing his discomfort but even she could see beyond that quirky smile and healthy glow that he was in pain. She was such a fool.
They walked back to the cottage together and Luc went upstairs to lie down. Vivia turned off the stove and poured herself and Tomas a cup of tea. They sat across from each other at her little kitchen table and she avoided eye contact.
"You were out there for a while."
"There was a bush," she said.
"Mhm."
"I was pulling it out and then it came out and I lost my balance and I fell—"
"And seems to be your favorite word today."
She ignored him. "I think I hurt Luc. Poor thing. We both fell rather hard."
"I see."
"See what?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
"Nothing indeed."
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Hey everyone! Super excited to see that this story has reached 60 something reads?!?! Um, Awesome?!?! Thanks so much! Please give this chapter a vote and let me know what you thought in the comments below.
XOXO Lilly