A Million Roads to Nowhere

Parchment

In the mess hall, Signe sits at one of the benches, eating in the kind of manner that can only be described as stress eating. Patrick approaches her and plops himself down on the bench.

"Is something the matter?"

Lots of things could be the matter, but he figured he'd try to be courteous.

"Clementine won't listen to me," she says. "She just brushes me off."

Suddenly, Patrick recalls all the times he's been in a similar position when trying to console Lena about whatever got her upset at the time. Usually it was her parents or her sister, sometimes because of rude people in town who couldn't mind their own business. This is familiar in that way, only more political.

"She has a plan," Patrick reminds Signe. "She's not going to change it unless something goes wrong."

"I feel as if I've failed."

Patrick frowns. He wants to reassure her, tell her she can try again, but it's not like he's technically on Rozenn's side in the first place.

"I think that Lady Clementine was right about what she said about Rozenn, that she should have come herself."

"It would be dangerous for her to leave around now."

"I suppose."

"I'm going to leave tomorrow," Signe says. "There's no point in staying now that Clementine is going to offer him a better deal than I ever could."

Patrick can't think of a reason to get her to stay, so he just nods his head. He invites her to go out on a walk, to which she readily agrees. Clearly, she needs to get out of her head for a while.

They go to the courtyard and wander around, looking at all the statues carved into the stone columns. He makes up stories about the images to cheer Signe up, and it's such a Lena thing to do that it makes him miss her with a fervor.

Maybe, once I get back, she'll have decided I'm worth talking to.

It's chilly out, but most of the snow has cleared. The worst of winter is still approaching, and hopefully that will clear out. Then, it will be spring. Then, it will have been a year.

"Could I... draw you?" Signe pipes up after a period of comfortable silence.

"Draw me?" he echoes.

Signe's face reddens. "I um- enjoy drawing. I have some charcoals and paper in my room. I bring them everywhere."

"I didn't know you drew," he says, then adds to answer her question, "You can draw me if you want to."

Signe's face lights up and Patrick never could have refused her.

The two of them go up to Signe's room to grab a stick of charcoal and her drawing book, then walk back out to find a spot to sit. They go behind the castle and to the top of the hill, where Patrick spreads out his coat like a blanket. They sit beside each other and Signe opens up to a fresh page and begins sketching an outline. Patrick watches, fascinated. He's never met anyone who could draw.

"Who taught you to do that?" he questions, eyes following her hand as she drags the charcoal across the page with the utmost precision.

"I did," she says.

"Really? You're very good."

Signe giggles, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear so it stops falling onto the paper. "I've only made a few lines, Patrick."