Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Emma, or Downton Abbey. I can mix-mash with the best of them however. Well, in my dreams. R&R please
Chapter 1: Something Wicked This Way Comes
Lady Wilhelmina Tallmadge let the blind drop with a sinking feeling. A sigh escaped her lips as she turned away from the window and toward her vanity. Delicately, she rang the tiny silver bell there that fed down to the servant's wing. The daughter of the Earl of Camphrier Chateau, Wilhelmina would be expected to present for such an important guest. If only that were all she would be expected.
Gabrielle, her lady's maid, arrived soon after, looking doe-eyed and sweet as ever. Gabby was black-haired with pale, creamy skin and bright blue eyes. Many a footman and even some of the butlers had offered her their esteem but Gabby was either too naïve to note their intent or too kind to reject them. Wilhelmina sometimes, against her will, -for she would surely be heartbroken to lose her- hoped that one of them would be able to breach Gabby's walls and offer her a higher station in life.
"What can I do for her ladyship?" Gabby asked with a bow, her cheeks a rosy hew from the no-doubt drafty halls outside Wilhelmina's hearth. Camphrier Chateau was more of a castle in structure and ambiance. Her poor maid was looking far younger and frailer than her twenty-two years.
Nodding in greeting, Wilhelmina gestured to her expansive closet, almost the size of her canopied, monstrosity of a bed. "I'm going to need a suitable arrangement in order to greet his majesty, Lord Lysandre. I saw his party coming from Camphrier only a moment ago so we'll need to hurry."
Gabby's eyes widened at the mention of their monarch but she immediately got to work. In no time, Wilhelmina was gazing at her visage in the floor length mirror as Gabby smoothed and pinned the last of her hair. She was wearing a corset-fastened black gown with gold embellishments and lace overlay. She gave a reassuring pat to the lone pokeball tied at her waistline on a delicate gold chain. Her late mother's finest diamonds adorned her throat and woven into her dark chestnut hair were a few more just for good measure. One could never have too many diamonds, after all.
She stepped closer and critically examined her reflection, frowning. Oh dear, her stomach wasn't looking as flat as it had a few years ago, she would need to Holo Cast Simon, her personal trainer soon. She also found it quite sobering to gaze on her face. Unlike many of the ladies at court in the more fashionable districts of Lumiose City, the capital of the region and Kingdom of Kalos, Wilhelmina did not wear colour contacts to mask her green eyes. But maybe she should. Even with the make-up that Gabby had applied, they still looked frightfully dull.
"If I may say, you look lovely, my lady," Gabby beamed.
"Thank you, Gabrielle. As always, you did a fine job." She picked up her skirts and headed to the door, but turned back to her maid before she left, "If you'd care for an introduction to his lordship later, just pretend Ashara needs her feeding early." She knew Gabby and the other servants would be very eager to meet the King of Kalos.
"Oh, that's very kind of you!" Gabby nearly squealed, her northern accent coming to the fore. Hastily, she added, "My lady," a blush once more tingeing her cheeks. "However, I fear it would ring untrue to far too many. Everyone knows how you alone dote on little Ashara."
Wilhelmina frowned again, a familiar pang of sadness settling itself at the bottom of her stomach. "Quite." She offered up a small, sarcastic smile and winked, "Well, duty calls. Ta ta for now."
The Grand Foyer was awash with multitudes from the King's retinue as well as the Chateau's staff and patrons. She made eye contact with George Siebold, her closest and oldest friend in the world, and couldn't help a small snort from escaping, quite unladylike, from her lips. For he was standing at the wall behind where the King was greeting several of the patrons and bore the most awkward expression.
He was watching Malva, the podcast sensation and his colleague in the League, curtsey a bit too deeply at the King. She was quite the fiery spectacle indeed with her cleavage on full display in her horridly gaudy Elite Four costume. Her entire manner was entirely too obsequious and, judging by the hilariously consternated mix of distaste and neutrality warring across Siebold's features, he agreed.
Malva finally caught his ill-guarded expression and quickly straightened, shooting Siebold the most hideous glare. He looked mildly compunctious but no more so than the many times he bested her in their priority matches.
Her father, the Earl of Camphrier and owner of the Battle Chateau, Charles Tallmadge, stood stiffly at the base of the great staircase, waiting to greet Lysandre. He saw her descending the stairs and smiled, a little too keenly in Wilhelmina's estimates, gesturing for her to come to his side.
"Ah, your majesty, may I have the pleasure to present my only daughter and heir, Wilhelmina, Countess of Camphrier."
She curtseyed briefly, mindful of Siebold's watchful eyes and took the measure of their king. Lysandre was a tall man. Cold of countenance and red-haired as a Zoroark, he gave off the very unpleasing aura of a man bored of life and full of contempt at those around him, her father included. But when his icy gaze turned on her, he blinked, as though in surprise. Quickly recovering, he gave a curt bow and took her hand, brushing his lips to her knuckles. She hoped the shiver she gave would be interpreted as from nerves and not from the chill she had felt at his presence.
The king straightened and said stiffly, "The pleasure is entirely mine." Looking down at her, he softened slightly and extending his arm, added, "And please allow me the honour of escorting the Countess to the hall. I hear you've arranged a showing?"
Wilhelmina graciously took his arm as her father gushed about the flashy young Baron that had come to challenge the Chateau- boy by the name of Calem, only fifteen or sixteen years old.
As the King and she led the procession out of the foyer and into the Great Hall, Byron, their head butler, announced Calem's pedigree and standing. The boy was slight, with dark hair and big, determined blue eyes. He stood on his toes, ready for the fight. Next to him stood a stone-faced Frogadier, as calm as his master was eager.
"I've heard of this lad from my old friend, Augustine Sycamore, the Pokemon Professor in Lumiose. He's quite talented for his age, and already possesses a gym badge." Lysandre stared calculating at the boy for a moment longer and whispered, "A chosen one…"
"This will be a one-on-one battle for standing!" Byron was announcing, "Are there any challenges?"
Lysandre turned to her. "My lady, would you not defend the honour of your house? I should very much like to see your style."
Wilhelmina inwardly faltered but outwardly, painted a demure smile across her face and answered, "You flatter me, sir. But my honour will defend itself and… as for the rest, I wouldn't want to deprive another of the task. There are few enough new-comers that many of our patrons never get the privilege of a battle."
From behind them, Baron Tolly of Ambrette issued a challenge and came before the boy, releasing a punchy Bagon. As the battle commenced, Lysandre leaned over and grasped the pokeball at her waist, fingering the gold chain and coming far too much into her personal space for her liking. "Will you at least sate my curiosity? What prized pokemon would the fabled Beauty of Camphrier keep on her person?" His formality dropped for a moment and he said, almost playfully, "Your king demands."
Heart pounding, she kept her gaze firmly ahead as the battle progressed. Frogadier sent a volley of bubbles pounding into Bagon as the little dragon was off-balance from a failed tackle. She carefully took the pokeball out of his hands and into the folds of her dress. Then, still facing ahead, smirked, and said, "A lady doesn't play show and tell. You'll just have to wait and see."
It was a gamble, the King's disposition known far and wide for its volatile whims, but luckily Lysandre only chuckled, "As my lady commands." He moved closer and rested his hand at the small of her back for the remainder of the match. She chaffed at the possessive touch and thanked Arceus that it didn't last long. Frogadier finished off the battle in prompt fashion with a nasty lick attack that left the Bagon repulsed and finally, fainted.
At dinner that evening, after the King and his entourage had left, Wilhelmina was chatting amicably with Siebold, as was their wont to do. At the head of the long table, past the usual patrons, sat her father, excitedly chatting away with Baron Tolly. The poor man had not recovered from the shame at his loss but none-the-less, attempted to nod attentively to everything the Earl was rambling about. She felt her ears burn a few times at their conversation but otherwise ignored them and the others. There were far more pressing matters to discuss.
"You seemed terribly distressed over the turmoil you caused poor Lady Malva," she prompted Siebold archly.
Siebold, in his ambiguous thirties, had always seemed so annoyingly older and wiser than her. Now, at twenty-five years old, Wilhelmina felt the decade between them sometimes shrinking and sometimes expanding, like waves on the ocean. Sometimes, he felt like an older sibling and other times like a giggling best friend. Other times altogether, the waves carried him away and he was the Duke of Coumarine once more, past the peerage even of her father.
He gave a very small grin, his cerulean eyes crinkling. "Not jealous over Lady Malva, are you Willa? That would be rather unbecoming of the Beauty of Camphrier."
She huffed at his teasing tone. "What cause would I to be jealous? For once, I would happily wish her well on her quest."
He glanced away from her and looked at the painting he had supplied for their dining room of the legendary creature, Xerneas, grazing in a meadow. "Really?" His incredulity was evident as he turned back toward her, his lightness replaced with concern. "Your manner did not strike me as particularly suited to that end."
"And your manners did not particularly strike me as those of an eavesdropper."
"I apologise Willa, but your behaviour was more than encouraging toward his majesty. I could only assume that was your intent."
"Encouraging!? You must have heard him? He wanted me to battle that boy!"
"You could have simply excused yourself."
"And risk exposure? I should think not."
He sighed and held his hands up, "No, you're right. That would not have been fair. But what you did- intriguing him like that- is going to have repercussions."
"What are you talking about? The King will be back in Lumiose by now, far from here. What does it matter that I threw a little mystery at him? Royals must need a bit of that in their dreadfully dull lives, at least from the look of him."
Siebold glanced at her father across the table, still talking away. "I think it will matter a great deal."
Her father's study was as drafty as the rest of the Chateau, save for the fire he was sitting near that looked to be well nursed. She went to stand before him. "You wished to see me?"
He motioned for her to sit in the cushioned chair opposite his, within the warm glow of the embers. "Yes, my dear. I'd hoped to discuss the King with you, or rather, your thoughts on the man."
Siebold's words from earlier flashed in her mind and she internally berated herself for thinking she could ignore him. "I think he has a very…great presence. He certainly made quite the impression on many of our patrons and staff. Gabrielle was most taken with his manners."
"Yes, yes… but I'm asking what you, my daughter, think of him, as a King, a man…and maybe, in time, as something more to you…?"
She stood from the chair. "What!? Surely, you can not mean this?"
Earl Tallmadge stood as well, his face a little less jovial. "I certainly do. Lysandre spoke with me in private before he left and indicated that he would greatly enjoy seeing you again. He asked formally for my permission to commence courting you. He said… if you should be so inclined."
"Well I'm not!" She knew she sounded petulant, but she couldn't help it. Her whole life, men had come calling. Always wanting her association, her peerage, her inheritance. The owner of Camphrier Chateau possessed unequal status as the purveyor of the titles given to the Kalosian aristocracy. Wilhelmina did not fancy herself a prized Rapidash mare to be married off. She had played numerous suitors off each other and as long as her father had been content to keep his daughter, his only family close, she had never before had to worry about an arrangement.
His face turned a brilliant shade of Darmanitan red. "Well then, I'm afraid that you're just going to have to bear it. He is the King and ultimately, the benefactor of our estate. If he wishes, he could strip us of our title as easily as a Scyther could a Weedle. His standing is drastically above our own."
"And what if it weren't?"
He looked taken aback. "Come again?"
Slowly, trying to think it through as she said it, Wilhelmina went on, "Excepting for his hereditary crown, Lysandre is formally titled as the Grand Duke."
"What of it?"
"Titles can be won or lost on merit of battle. I could, potentially, outrank him through challenge. Parliament respects the sovereignty of the monarchy, but they respect the titles of rank more because they are earned. I could outrank him and then he would have no means to strip our estate. If he even tried, Parliament would legally strip him of his own standing and he'd appear petty to the masses and the nobility alike."
"That's a pretty theory, but aside from the one glaring fault in it, why don't you consider his offer? It's just to court you, I would never force you to marry a man you didn't want to. Why don't you give him a chance?"
"And I assume his wealth has absolutely no role in your plea?"
"I'll admit that the estate has fallen on some hard times. His money could be just the thing to bring the Chateau back up to its former glory."
Her heart dropped and she took a deep breath, calming herself. A different approach was required. "I'm not a pawn. I'm not chattel. If, and I say if, I'm ever to entertain the notion of Lysandre as a suitor, it must be on my own terms."
"If he should inquire, may I convey that to him- that you'll consider it?"
"No," she said, but abruptly went on before he could cut her off, "I'll convey it myself. I plan to visit the capital soon anyway. I have some shopping to do."
Her father seemed mollified by her response and they spent a few more minutes calming down and talking about the recent hatchlings from his prized Swanna flock.
The chat with her father had left her emotionally weary. She leaned back heavily against her bedroom door, pushing it closed behind her. Slowly, she slid down to the floor, staring emptily at her canopied bed for several moments. A frustrated tear ran down her cheek before she quickly swiped it away. She took a deep breath and, pushing her hair back, picked up the gold chain and pulled the lone pokeball into her hand. "Come out sweetling, I'm sorry you're getting dinner later than normal."
A bright red glow emanated from the ball and coalesced into the familiar shape of her ponyta, Ashara. The ponyta trumpeted a winny at seeing her mistress but then fell over as her wasted front leg gave out beneath her. Willa bit back a sob and caught the small pony pokemon before it fell. "Don't worry, I've got you…" she whispered to Ashara as the ponyta whimpered in distress.
Yea, Lysandre would be quaking in his boots.