A/N: Special thanks to those who reviewed since the last update - Saraa Luna, Quaver Ava, Free Thought, Professor-Evans, and SgtHolton. This chapter was difficult to write, as the Character Notes will explain. On the plus side, it's the first one in a while that hasn't exceeded 5,000 words! Woohoo!

Begrudging Bride
Lord Keetch Swalestrom

"Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds, they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material." - F. Scott Fitzgerald

My father gave up the search for the Edgewise Knight after the first hour, cursing profusely as he did so. He did not call off the search, but I could already tell that he had lost much of his resolve and confidence. My sister's freedom was safe for yet another month, but the Otterguard was like a new joke to the public. The Skipper of the Otterguard had put on a challenge in the stadium and got bullied out of a victory.

"A score of my Otterguard beaten by one warrior," Father had seethed, leaning over a well-marked map. "Have they all gone fat and soft on me?"

At that point, I had finished giving the last of my orders and turned to him. This is what happens when you hide things from me, I wanted to say. But that would have done him no good. Empty reassurances were quite useless as well, so I corrected him on his numbers.

"He beat only a pawful of them and vaulted his way to escape." The statement was a gentle one, though my father ignored the comment. I looked about and saw that we were practically alone outside the stadium. The civilians had given us a wide berth and there was not an idle Otterguard in sight. I supposed that moment was a good a time as any.

"Father, I -"

"I know you have your questions, but not now," he warned. I gaped at the inflection of his words; it was not rare by any means, but he hardly ever directed that tone towards me. It was insensitive, I supposed, trying to wheedle information out of him while he was under such stress. Hundreds of beasts were questioning his skills and methods. He did not need the same from a member of his family. So, as any son should, I took it upon myself to drive some of the search parties throughout the otter-populated areas.

By the time we had officially abandoned the search, it was nearly sundown. I had spent all my time on fruitless patrols while my father had gone elsewhere to give commands. Once I was dismissed from duty, I decided to pay my family a visit. There was little doubt that Corinne and my mother were already beginning to interrogate him.

I did not feel like waiting for my carriage to pick me up, so I hurried along to Castle Terrace as quickly as I could. The taverns were alight with bawdy laughter, mothers called the last of their children inside, and cart bells tinkled hollowly as peddlers retreated to their homes. Those were the distant and calming sounds of Southsward's night, so you can imagine my surprise when I came home to bustling halls and servants zipping about like flies.

The flock of serving beasts were so busy and flustered, in fact, that the doorbeast nearly forgot to take my effects.

"What is the meaning of this?" I asked as he folded the cloak over a forearm.

"Lord Keetch, it seems as though Lord Galen has invited the suitors to the estate for a grand feast," he answered with a hint of frustration.

"Feast? You mean supper," I corrected him. The participants of the tourney were all guests within the Swalestrom residence until they chose to depart for their own homes. Feasts were not an uncommon thing, but it was rare for one to sprout up at the last second. Those things could not be thrown together haphazardly; they required at least seven days of planning - for everybeasts' sake, guest and servants alike.

"No," he sniffed. "I mean to say that Lord Swalestrom invited all twelve of the suitors to come to a well-furbished dining hall to eat a twelve-course meal with his family."

"Why was I not told about this?"

"He had just sent the invitation before sundown," he replied. I saw that he was looking elsewhere, probably in the direction of a task that needed his attention. I dismissed him and cut through the shoal of servants and straight into the dining room. Though my father's staff was in complete disarray throughout the rest of the estate, the dining hall maintained its typical state of serenity.

"Ah, there he is!" my father chortled, loud enough to capture everybeasts' attention. "We've saved you a seat, son!" I looked about the room and at all those curious faces peering back at me. Half of them (such as Egan) were boorish creatures who did not deserve to set foot in Swalestrom property; the other half were none of my concern.

I nodded, gave a clipped "hello" and laid claim to the empty seat beside my wife. "When did you get here?" I whispered to her.

"I only just got the invitation a short while ago," she answered. Flustered as she was by the sudden occasion, she was faring far better than myself. I took some time to immerse my thoughts in the situation, scanning the guests and skimming the conversations. It was bad enough that I had just discovered the feast. It was worse to find myself under-dressed compared to all the other attendants. Even the servants' garb looked comparable to my work-worn Otterguard uniform. I took a moment to tug at my sleeves and tunic, straightening the wrinkles the best I could.

Ayda tapped at my wrist. "Don't worry," she whispered. "Everybeast's got eyes on Corinne anyways." It was true. Corinne, dressed in a white-laced gown looked untouchable and serene amongst the talkative company.

But though the reason for all the guests being there, she was beside herself in silence. She paused only to grace a suitor with a curt answer, whisper in Gavin's ear, or send the quickest of glares in my father's direction. To the suitors, the event was a sudden act of generosity from the Swalestrom family. To those who knew the truth, however, the event was my father's diversion - a way of procuring meat shields than conversationalists.

I watched as my father roared with laughter from the head of the table, taking much solace in the company of others. The questions might have been dangling on the tip of my tongue, but they had no choice but to remain there until the guests had to turned in for the night. Very well then, I said to myself. A lord is patient.

The dinner was a mixture of ease and tenseness, the air thick with chatter - beasts speaking aimlessly if only to beat back the hollow silence. I was always known to be a solemn creature, so nobeast took it to heart when I remained tight-lipped. Corinne and my lady mother, however, had their patience challenged by the guests at every turn. It did not take a trained socialite to see Corinne's sulk hidden beneath her quivering smile.

"Oriel!" somebeast snorted. "Edgewise Knight! What a sty-oopid name." As genial as the suitors had been towards Oriel earlier that day, they expressed a certain level of contempt for him at the table.

"The peasant's dream, they call him."

"A pauper?"

"Well it's no wonder he has won so far," another snubbed. "Lowborns brawl in the streets over the tiniest scraps. Imagine all the practice he's had."

"Running away from the king's law," one muttered with a sad shake of his head. "Maybe he didn't know any better?"

"Well it was a good thing that Oriel creature tucked his tail and ran when he did," Egan interjected, carving a slab of pigeon breast with a vengeance. "If he was any slower, I'd have had his heart skewered on the end of my sword and sliced from shoulder to groin," he said with a tiny flick of his knife.

Indeed, I thought to myself. When badgers fly.

Corinne was seated next to Egan, rigid as she kept her eyes on her dish while he spoke to her - no doubt about his many bloody achievements - brutal things that most males talked about, such as ruthless sparring and noble hunts on harmless pigeons. I suppose he was a charming sort of fellow, in his own violent way.

Perhaps that was what maids wanted in males. There was a reason why females swooned at the idea of a valiant warrior, as evidenced by their reaction to Oriel earlier that day. I am neither female nor insane, so I cannot possibly understand (thankfully).

Still, there was something about Egan that seemed particularly cruel. I am not speaking in contempt because he had bested me in paw-to-paw combat during the first tournament. He seemed to enjoy beating other beasts - not out of competitive sportsmanship, but in demeaning the pained opponent - as if he were exacting justice.

"Don't you agree, Lord Keetch?"

I looked up and saw the Egan's bruised face looking expectantly at me; a few of his surrounding suitors shadowed his challengingly questioning expression. I swallowed my food. "Pardon? What was it you said?"

"Only that the Oriel beast needs to be put in his place," he sneered before he gulped from a goblet of wine. He looked to me and his supporters, ignoring Corinne while he slandered her representative. "A peasant! Not even knighted. Only nobles and well-bred knights should be a part of these sorts of tournaments. In addition to the maid's champion being identified, nobility should be a requirement. Let a lowborn flea partake, and soon they will be crawling out of the woodwork thinking that they could do better than their station."

My father pretended not to hear. Instead, he laughed at another conversation and told the serving maid to compliment the cook. Gavin, having inherited my father's non-confrontational air, followed suit.

"That is a bold statement to make," I replied coolly.

"Yes, yes it is," the brute self-congratulated.

"Especially since the host of this feast was once a... how did you put it? A lowborn flea?" It had a devastating effect on the volume of the dinner table. The discussions instantly halved as Egan gulped thickly and flicked his wrists above his plate as though he had hiccuped.

"I apologize. I did not mean to put it that way."

"Of course not," I replied. "You, insulting a host in his own home. Unsuitable behavior, truly. No, no." I shook my head. "I am sure you were not thinking when you said that."

"I... meant no offense against your father, Lord Keetch," he said. "I mean it. I do hope to be friends. Brother-in-laws, perhaps."

I took a bite out of my fish. "Perhaps." The curt and ambiguous reply made his nostrils flare in frustration.

"But of course we want you as part of the family," my wife interrupted, appeasing to Egan's ego so that my own anger had time to quell. "We hope for a bridge between Swalestrom and Stalwart. You are Lord Swalestrom's first choice, after all." For the first time since my arrival, Egan regarded my wife for more than a second and nodded - a patronizing action an adult would give to a child. I felt Ayda bristle at the gesture, though her countenance did not betray her.

"I hope you don't hold a grudge on me for the minor misunderstanding," said Egan to me.

I smirked in what I hoped was a carefree manner. "A grudge? Believe me, if such a thing were ever to occur, I would let you know... passive aggressively." A phantom smile appeared on Ayda's lips and I realized that I had used her quote. At the very least, we could both agree to hate Egan. The guest, however, sat dazed as he tried to decipher my meaning - insulting, joking, harmless?

Before long, a hot anger flashed over his face before he quenched it with the goblet. It was at that moment that he decided to take his vengeance out on my sister. In her silence, she seemed meek and easy to pry information from.

"And what do you think, my dear lady?" he asked.

She stopped fiddling with her silverware and looked at him with solemn grey eyes. "I wasn't paying attention to you," she said with an indifferent shrug. "What was it you were saying?"

"That lowlife lowborns such as Oriel should be banned from the tournament altogether," he drawled. His brows popped slightly at my father's calm face and added, "Lord Galen, we know nothing about him, so I am to assume that he's a commoner with little things to offer. Clearly, his actions have proven that he's ashamed of his identity. Besides, if he was worth a spit, he would be a part of a worthy cause- like the Otterguard or Sword... Well, never mind Sword. It got swallowed by vermin," he chuckled dryly.

My father breezed through the ugly statement with a lazy wave of his paw. "We lowborns have thick skin when it comes to insults," he smiled. "The one good thing about us is that we can always take honest conversations. Please, don't hold back on this discussion for my sake."

Corinne, however, would have none of it. "If I were you, I would try to consider him a highborn hero, Lord Stalwart," she said. "It would make your two defeats sound a little more admirable." There was an angry sort of patience to her tone, like fury wrapped underneath a glass shield.

"So!" My father gave the table two quick raps. "I hope everybeast's looking forward to our dessert. Eh..." He leaned back and turned his head to one of the waiting servants. "And what's for dessert today, Ambro?"

"Strawberry shortcake with a tint of mint cream," the hedgehog announced with a bow. It was simple. Too simple. I could not blame the kitchen staff, though. They only had a few hours to prepare and they would be scraping the bottoms of barrels by the end of it.

"Our cook makes the best desserts," Gavin chirped, working with Father to salvage the good cheer.

My father's interruption signaled a cease talks of Oriel. The conversations trickled afterwards, rotating around the table while we switched topics, each of us deciding when and where to hop to a different debate. When one group swelled too much, beasts abandoned ship and started their own private island of discussion until others joined in.

It was exhausting.

But, the dinner soon waned to dessert, and we began to leave the table for the servants to pick after.

"My, this was a pleasant get-together," said my mother to the guests. "But it is getting late and I'm sure that you all have a busy day ahead of you." The suitors understood the cue to leave and began to depart for the night. Some went to the door while others retreated up the stairs and towards the guest chambers. Myself? I began to approach my father, but that loathsome Egan cut in front of me, smirking over his shoulder as he began to shower praises around the room. It was only for a few more days that Egan would stay, but he could not leave soon enough.

I caught my wife by her elbow and walked beside her for a brief moment. "Ayda," I whispered. "Would you be so kind as to show Lord Stalwart a few of my family's paintings and exotic vases? He seems so interested in the Swalestrom residence, it would only be right that he should see it in its full majesty... or at least, as much as you can stomach."

"I can stomach plenty," she shrugged, flashing her teeth at me as she did so. "I'm married to you, after all."

I wrinkled my nose slightly. "It was a sincere request."

"Fine, fine," she sighed, breaking away from me to cajole the obnoxious suitor. It took a bit of persuading even for Ayda to peel Egan off of my father, but she managed, as she always did. I walked up from behind and took up stride by my father's side.

"Ah, I was wonderin' when you'd show up," he said before dropping his voice. "I don't know about the Trielians, but I can tell when somebeast's puckering up to my lordy bum."

"Wonderful imagery," I said with stiff sarcasm. "Now please, can you explain to me what happened at the tournament? From what I gather, there is a new law in Southsward?"

My father glanced over at the rest of the family. My mother had Gavin and Corinne by the castle exit so that they could exchange parting words with some of the suitors. She, much like her husband, was in the habit of stalling the upcoming verbal battle. Both of my siblings were quite calm, but underneath Corinne's smile, I could feel her anxiety and rising contempt. As for Ayda, she kept Egan at her side as she showed him my mother's spoon collection. I almost felt a stab of sympathy for the 'lucky' guest.

"Your sister," my father began in a low tone, "is still adamant on keeping Oriel's identity a secret. He is foiling our plans for a good match with the young Lord Stalwart."

"Even you must be somewhat relieved that a competent figher is defending her," I said. "If it is not meant to be, then it is not meant to be. The Fates have a way of dealing with such things."

He shook his head. "Southsward has much to gain from this union, Keetch."

"There must some other Trielian suitor out there," I implored. "Somebeast not as boorish and brutal as Egan."

"Tch! You'd say the same thing if a brilliant knight in shining armor came for Corinne."

"Yes," I admitted. "But be that as it may, even you find serious fault in his character."

"Nothing specific I've picked out yet," he replied while he gauged our distance from the rest of the group. A serving maid bustled past us and we stepped aside so that we would be out of the way. "And I know that Corinne hates his guts. But she's a stubborn girl. Give her an idea, and she'll hate it with all her might." He gave a deep and weary sigh. "Daughters are hard, Keetch. Sweet when they're babies until they get t' this age. Treasure Arlie while she's still little."

"May we please stick to the original topic at paw?" I asked.

"Fire away," he chuckled, evasive as ever. "I do miss the little seaspray, though. Ayda was telling me that she taught you how to burp the babe."

"This is a serious matter," I said tersely. "Why did you not include me in your private holdings with the other lords? Of all things to exclude me from..." I stuttered a few syllables before I settled on "Why?"

He deflated a little and shook his head.

"Was it for my interference during that council meeting?" I wheedled. "The one with the ferret in the council?"

The greying otter scratched his cheek. "You're just too outspoken sometimes," he said gently. "I've always known that you were pooling for Corinne t'get off the hook on this whole Egan thing."

"And so you thought that I would speak against you," I finished for him.

"I'm sorry, son." He put a warm paw on my shoulder. "I should've included ya, but we needed to be as persuasive as we could be. Hard t'do with you nipping at our heels... especially when the king holds you with such high regard."

I felt my anger melt slightly. "I would not have gone against you," I told him, almost in an apologetic sort of fashion. "I could never betray you."

"And then you would've betrayed your sister," he said. In his own way, my father was being merciful all along, hurtful as his actions had been. "And the new law didn't seem to put a dent in it, anyways," he sighed. "Oriel slipped away, damn him."

His volume trailed away as his eyes fixated upon an object over my shoulder. I turned around to see Corinne; though her height barely reached the level of my chest, the look on her face was compensation enough.

"Why are you doing this?" she snapped.

"Corinne, Lord Stalwart is still somewhere on this level," my mother said as she rushed up beside her. "You cannot speak like this anywhere near him. It's-"

"-unladylike. Yes," she flared. "Well I hope he likes hearing an honest piece of mind, because if he's to be my future husband, it's all he's going to get an earful."

"Corinne, not so loud," ordered my father. I looked behind me and, thankfully, Egan was nowhere to be found. Ayda was smart enough to give the family a wide berth.

My sister shook her head, looked down, and tapped her index and middle claw to the center of her forehead in mock contemplation. "You're right. I should be quiet about things- quiet like you were when you stabbed me in the back."

"It's for the good of the kingdom," my father defended. "You'll understand when you're older."

"It was bad enough you made a match of me like that." Tears swelled up in her eyes while her fists trembled. "Wanting to send me away from my home without giving me any choice."

"There was a choice," Gavin reminded gently. He laid a paw on her shoulder. "You have the tournament."

"It's not a choice anymore!" She shrugged his paw off of her. "He's taken that from me too!" The ottermaid shook her head and took another step forward, wiping away at the moisture spilling down her cheeks.

My father heaved a deep and regretful sigh. "Corinne." He reached a paw down to brush her tears when she slapped his wrist aside.

"No!" she barked. "No! After you nearly ruined Oriel, you had the brilliant idea of parading me around in front of the suitors? Think that I'd play nice after all you've done? Ha!" She took a step back and smiled at some cruel mental joke.

"You were quiet enough during the feast," I retorted. She shot a glare in my direction.

"And I wish I wasn't." She took a step back and smiled as though somebeast had whispered a secret joke in her ear.

"Look everyone!" The ottermaid raised her arms in the air and waved them at some invisible crowd while she mimicked my father's deep voice. "Look at my obedient little daughter! Well she's all yours if you want her because..." Her voice quivered and relapsed into a childish note. "Because I don't want her."

"You know that's not true," my mother cooed as she moved in for an embrace. It was a moment for mother and daughter, and we males were wise to stay out of it. After all, my mother was in a similar situation when she was Corinne's age. Only, she was fortunate in that she had a reputable champion and that a noble victor had beat the odds.

"But it is," Corinne sobbed, smothering her face with her sleeves and ruining her white dress. "I'm just a trade to him. The otter twenty-some seasons ago would've never agreed to this." She uncupped her face and looked at Father. "You were a champion too. You and General Dirk. Both of you loved Mother and wanted to protect her interests. Even when you won, you still gave Mother a choice of whether she'd marry you for love."

"Corinne." My father wanted to be stern, but he also ached to see her that way. "Stop this. Please stop. Just tell us where to find Oriel. I don't know why you're stubborn about it. It's for the best of the kingdom, so just please cooperate."

"Kingdom, kingdom, kingdom," she mewled in mockery.

"Keetch wants what's best for the kingdom, but even he wants to protect me. Why can't you feel the same?" Her tone was strong at first, but it had slowly dwindled off into something hopeless and hollow. Some servants bumbled into the scene but had the sense to flee from the situation. A pity that option was closed to me.

My father stood there, tormented and torn between love and duty. "I do care, Corinne. I do want to protect you. But my order to apprehend Oriel was from the king."

"Liar!" she countered. "Liar! King Darian wouldn't even blow his nose unless an adviser advised him to. You were a part of those private meetings. I know you were. And it doesn't matter if Oriel's a lowborn or not - he's still doing his job just fine. Once he wins all five tourneys, he's gone, so why should it be any skin off your nose what his origins are? You just want him out of the way because you're a sore loser."

"That's not true," he insisted. "Can't you see this is also for your own good? To become a Stalwart means a life of luxury. You can live your whole life on a mound o' silk pillows for all you want."

"But it's Egan."

"You don't have to see him every day," my father said gently. "Just give him a son and he can't ask for much more than your duty."

Corinne moved to the side, prying herself away from Mother's embrace. "Family and duty, family and duty. A fat load of good it does to anybeast. A real father wouldn't doom his daughter this way. A real father would support me. General Dirk has got stakes in this whole Southward-Triel alliance, and he's rooting for me."

"General Dirk?" my father asked incredulously.

"Yes." And then the thought dawned on her to give my father the worst wound she could possibly give. "I wish he wasn't so noble back then. He just stood back while you pressured Mother to marry you in front of the entire stadium. I wish he was my father." My mother moved in to grab her about her shoulders, but she spun away and bolted up the stairs at a speed that rivaled Oriel's.

A thunderous silence followed, and my father shook his head in defeat and tucked his paws in his pockets. "Proper mess this is."

My mother sighed and cupped her chin with a paw. "You should just leave Oriel be." He didn't say anything. He just stayed fixed in his piteous position, waiting for a sign that he was not in the wrong. Soon enough, my mother drifted to his side, slipping one arm through the hollow between his elbow and rib.

"It's normal," she assured him as she pressed her ear against his upper arm. "Young bride-to-be's are always nervous and scared about leaving their families."

"She didn't mean it," Gavin agreed softly.

My father didn't look half convinced. I pursed my lips and looked aimlessly about. There was nothing more to be said or done. The damage had taken its toll and though I had a vermin refugee to bring to my father's attention, it simply was not the time. He had too many responsibilities to deal with and, to be quite frank, I dreaded his verdict on the situation. Some things, I supposed, should be done on my own. Corinne had complicated things by taking matters into her own paws, but I was sure to be careful.

C/N: *sigh* Such is the state of my family. My sister is too stubborn to submit to my father's well-being, and my father obstructs her anger with smiles and soirees. Usually most of her anger has melted by the time she can confront him; this time, however, things took a turn for the worse.

For Miss TeaLeaf, this chapter was a rather difficult one. The argument between Corinne and my father would have been more believable if we were able to show a growing tension in previous chapters. In "The Chains That Bind Us," the problem lay in the fact that she had wallowed too much on character exposition. "The Blood Between Us," however, has improved on driving the story but has been lacking in secondary character development. Waycaster mostly communicates with his superior, Cousin Miria is too self-centered, and I am far too busy in matters both family and public duty. As you can see, while first-person narrative has its charms, it certainly has its limitations. As my father would say, "You choose some, you lose some."

To be fair, though there was less build-up to the confrontation, it did unravel a bit more to the backstory behind my father's ascension to nobility and his competition between General Dirk.

Now, if you would please send a review, Miss TeaLeaf would greatly appreciate it.