Chapter Three: Fall, Fernando
Addison slept soundly the first night. Exhausted. Her belly was full, and her mind was overwhelmed by the hospitality of the people she'd stumbled upon out here in the middle of the woods. It was a far cry from her first bout of time travel, and though she felt herself holding her breath in anticipation of some unspeakable fear that had yet to reveal itself, the first night's rest had been very much needed.
She awoke to the warm voice of the maid who had shown her to her room the night before. Jacqueline. She groaned and rolled over. For a moment, forgetting when and where she was. She knew only that she wished to sleep for much, much longer. And that this maid was making it harder to do. Jacqueline said something else in that odd, almost-familiar language that everyone spoke here. Addison squinted up at her. Watching in sleepy confusion as the linen clad blur set about laying a dress on the chair near the hearth and opening the grate so that she could light a fire. The blur moved closer to Addison and set a goblet of something on the bedside table. Addison sighed and sat up. Flinching away in shock when the busy maid strode over to a pair of curtains and threw them open with resounding purpose. Flooding the room with the blinding light of a brand-new day.
The windows that the curtains had obscured were large and ornate. There were three of them and they looked down upon a vast and forested view. They must be in the mountains, Addison thought to herself in wonder at the sight that lay beyond the tree lined border. Even from the bed she could see the dips and divots in the horizon that made up the hillside landscape of her new temporary home. A vast array of browns and greens, greys and blues littered the hillsides and valleys, and she found that if she lingered on it long enough the sight could easily steal her breath away.
She threw back her covers and turned to clamber clumsily out of her new giant bed, but Jacqueline tsked and appeared by her side, stopping her from putting her feet on the ground.
Addison jerked back; brow furrowed at the maid's unnecessary intervention. But the older girl only smiled at her and grabbed her ankle in her hands. Addison tried to jerk her foot away, but the petite blonde was deceptively strong and held fast. What the hell?
That was when Addison noticed a pair of slippers in her other hand. She watched, fascinated, in complete disbelief as the other woman very efficiently and gently covered her feet in the soft pieces of footwear. Mouth agape at the gesture, Addison shook her head.
Who the hell did they think she was that they were dressing her feet in the softest of silk slippers? Once the maid was satisfied that Addison's bare feet would not touch the cold stone floor, she permitted Addison to leave her bed.
Unable to keep the suspicious look off her face, Addison regarded the maid warily. But Jacqueline only spared her a soft look in return. She did not let the odd display stop her from going to the window though. If Addison had her way, nothing could ever keep her from such a view ever again. Not like hunger and terror had before when she lived and worked at the Castle Sween.
She climbed up onto the bench seat that was tucked up against the large glass windowpane. Addison wrapped her arms around herself to keep out the chill that pierced through the astonishingly clear expanse of glass.
She hadn't seen much glass in her time at the Castle Sween, but what she had found had been rough and hard to see through. This glass, though... this glass was like water. It had been rendered so clear. She marveled at the feat of whoever had installed it, and the pure sum of money it surely had cost the important man downstairs.
The dress that Jacqueline put her in did not fit properly, but it was soft. Softer than any material she'd ever felt before. And she had to wonder once again who the hell these people thought she was. Her chest strained against the fabric in a way that made her nervous to breathe. And the skirts hung too high off the ground to be appropriate.
Jacqueline had regarded her with a practiced eye and shook her head in disapproval before meeting her eyes and offering her a reassuring smile. She said something. And judging by the comforting tone, and optimistic turn of her chin toward the sky, Addison could only guess that she was encouraging her not to worry. But Addison wasn't worried.
Far from it.
She was perplexed. Tired. Reeling. But she wasn't worried. How could she be? They'd brought her breakfast in bed. Offered her a choice of tea that was actually pleasant to drink. They'd dressed her in silk slippers and a soft dress. She'd slept in an astonishingly large bed, under thick cozy blankets, in a room that seemed to have been designed for a queen, not for a... Malvina.
If anything, these first few hours in this new life only confirmed that things were going to be very different for her now that she was someone new. Now that she was Fernanda.
Things would be very different indeed.
The maid led her out of her room with a polite hand on her elbow, down the hall to a small private staircase that climbed to her rooms alone. Down the stairs, into the main corridor which sported several doors that concealed a network of rooms she hadn't yet been through. Her eye caught a brief glimpse of a library through an intricately patterned wrought iron gate, but she was ushered away before she could properly marvel at the sheer number of books and scrolls that were housed there.
Another turn around a corner and they were back in the large entrance hall with its great oak doors and immaculately dressed footmen. She studied them curiously before the maid once again turned her in another direction. This time toward a familiar archway and an already open door.
They ducked into drawing room that she'd been hurried into when she arrived the day before.
Fernando Gonçalves crested the hill at a gallop, straight on to La Ithuriana. He rode with haste. His steed, soaked in sweat. The gelding's breath came heavy under the exertion of a hard day's ride. Hugh's letter had reached him in the dark of the morning, long before the sun was set to grace the sky and he'd departed immediately. Concern twisting in his gut at the odd missive and his mate's urgent tone.
Now, underneath the bright light of the midday sun, he broke the peace of the day with the clatter of hooves on cobblestone. A sea of servants parted around him as he rode past the gates and on to the main entrance of the great house that he and his family called home.
He did not wait for the stable boys to take the reins before he launched himself up the steps two at a time, breezing past the footmen and through the great oak doors that guarded Ithuriana from the rest of the world. He stopped in the entry and listened for signs of trouble. For signs of his mate. Or some sort of news.
But the servants seemed content and happy. The air around the manor house was peaceful. And not a threat anywhere was there to be found. Fernando took a deep unnecessary breath and forced himself to pause. His chest hot with aggravation. Mind reeling in confusion.
Ride through the night, my love. You are needed at home.
Surely there had been a reason for such a statement. Surely there had been a—
Jean Luc appeared through the archway that led to the drawing room. Fernando turned to him with a commanding look in his eye. His mate's squire gave him a shallow bow before moving forward with a goblet of fresh blood extended for Fernando's refreshment. He regarded the blonde man quietly before taking the refreshment and swallowing back a few deep pulls, body humming in gratitude for the much-needed sustenance.
"Lord Hugh is in the drawing room with the young Fernanda," he murmured quietly. "The cobbler should arrive soon."
Fernando, who had turned to find his mate at the other man's words, paused and looked back at Jean Luc just as quickly.
"With whom?"
The manservant's eyes widened just a fraction and he opened his mouth to respond when a footman announced the arrival of the cobbler from the village. A wave of relief washed over the squire's face, and he made his excuses to Fernando before turning and quickly taking his leave.
Quirking an unamused eyebrow, Fernando turned on his heel and stalked suspiciously toward the drawing room door.
The sight that greeted him was a far cry from what he had been prepared for.
A yard of silk caught in the breeze that blew in from the large open windows. It waved out a smooth marigold greeting as he passed through the open door. Hugh stood off to the side observing the ebb and flow of the room with a keen eye and a casual look of approval. Fernando stared at him a moment before turning to take in the chaos his drawing room had become.
Lace covered the surfaces of their best leather chairs. A green velvet cloak hung on a rack in the corner of the room along with another cloak of the softest of black wool. There was a ball of ribbon on the table. And yards and yards of fabric as far as the eye could see. The dressmakers were muttering amongst themselves, holding up different colors and textures before shaking their heads and quickly setting them down.
There was a handful of maids scattered about the place with food and drink, blankets and flowers and other frivolous, feminine things. And there at the very center of it all was a young woman. She couldn't have been older than twenty winters. With wide, owl-like, eyes that turned in his direction the moment he walked through the door. Her hair was dark, and half braided as a maid exasperatedly urged her to keep still. Another maid coated the girl's hands in rose oil, massaging it gently into her skin in a desperate attempt to moisturize the rough patches that seemed permanent there. Another maid occasionally held a grape or a berry up to the girls' lips and urged her to bite. The girl seemed distinctly uncomfortable, wincing with each bite of food she so hesitantly accepted. He couldn't keep his mouth from falling agape at the sight of the pampering. He'd not seen this much excess since they'd hosted Verin the decade before.
This was absurd.
This was— It was— who was this girl?
He turned back to Hugh whose eyes sparkled at the sight of his arrival. His own eyes must have been thoroughly bewildered, his face aghast, because just as quickly the look on Hugh's face dimmed. Taking on a slightly apprehensive stance, Hugh did his best to placate him with his eyes. All too aware that they were not alone, Fernando noted the presence of the Navarrese tradespeople and the Occitan maids, before switching deftly to Portuguese. They always spoke their displeasure in private, but this would have to do for now.
"What's happened? Where is the trouble?"
"How I've missed you," was all Hugh said in return. Speaking in that evasive way he often did when he did not want to be the bearer of less than favorable news.
"If you insist on using that tactic then we'll be here all day, my lord, talking in circles" Fernando arched an eyebrow, leaning on the formality of his husband's title to hint at his rising displeasure.
Hugh's lips twisted into an almost imperceptible smirk at his mate's ire.
"My lord de Clermont," he corrected Fernando, and the man in question felt his chest expand in frustration. He stamped down any amusement his mate's imperious form of wit sparked in him. Or, at least, he tried to.
"But of course." A tired laugh escaped him. "My lord de Clermont," he said.
Fernando gave an exaggerated sniff that brought the flash of a grin across Hugh's face. Then, just as quickly as his good humor came, it faded. Again, he felt the dull pang of wariness settle in his chest.
"So... there is no trouble here?"
He asked this and very obviously swept his eyes over to the young woman who was watching their exchange with wide, unblinking eyes. The maids had moved on to applying white powder to her cheeks and forehead. Fernando grimaced. The color did not complement the girl in the slightest and gave her the complexion of a powdered doll. Hugh followed his gaze and his eyes widened at the sight that met him. He switched back to Occitan and waved his hand dispassionately.
"None of that," he said to the maids. "Remove the powder at once. She's a lady not a courtier."
"Apologies my lord," Jacqueline murmured back to him and smacked away the hands of the maid who had done the initial application. Taking it upon herself to remedy the mistake.
Hugh switched back to Portuguese when he turned back to Fernando.
"We have a guest," he said.
"I can see." Fernando's voice was dry.
"And I thought it best that you meet her now," Hugh said ignoring his mate's tone.
"Oh? And why is that?" Fernando asked.
"Because she is to be your..." Hugh trailed off, suddenly nervous. Looking between Fernando and their guest before stepping away from his perch and taking his mate by the elbow. He led him into the corner and lowered his voice. "She is to be— "
But Fernando knew that tone. He knew that face. He had been in its company many, many times before. And he was not having it. Not this time. He pulled his arm firmly from his lover's grip.
"No. Not my ward. Surely you must be joking."
Hugh's lips thinned and his eyes studied his mate in contemplation. He gave a slight shake of his head.
"No..." he said. "Not your ward."
Fernando regarded him, wary. He was not in the least bit placated or reassured by his lover's choice of words.
"Thank you for coming, old friend," Fernando said, embracing Idir when he entered the drawing room and handed off his cloak.
Idir clapped him on the back and nodded at Hugh who lingered contemplatively by the fire on the other side of the room.
"Your letter said it was urgent," Idir said.
"Urgent indeed," Hugh said in wry voice. Fernando shot him an exasperated look. He turned back to his old comrade and lowered his head in confirmation.
"It appears that I have a daughter."
Idir paused, a goblet of fresh blood half raised to his lips and lowered it again to fix the other man with a look of disbelief.
"A daughter?"
"A daughter."
"You?"
Fernando narrowed his eyes, and Hugh let out a small laugh, wiping his hand down his face tiredly. Fernando's face became just a little graver at the shared disbelief of his mate and his oldest friend.
"Yes," he said. "A daughter. I have a daughter."
"Well," Idir said after a pause. "I suppose I always thought if you were ever to... well... you've always seemed better equipped for a— "
"Son?" Hugh supplied, not bothering to hide his amusement.
"Or a rock— " Idir said haltingly before noting that deepening look of Fernando's consternation. He knew from a life fighting by this man's side that it was a careful mask, put in place to hide the tides of panic rising in the old warrior's mind. He was not the softest of men, Fernando. He'd never showed a desire to start a line of his own, but, well, here they were.
"I suppose I should propose a toast to your successful siring of a— "
"Not a siring," Fernando snapped.
"Pardon?"
"I did not sire a daughter."
"I— " Idir looked blankly between the two men. "I don't believe I follow."
"She's human," Fernando said.
"Human?!"
"Human," Fernando said again.
"Impossible!"
A snort from across the room.
"You have no idea," Hugh said, trying and failing to hide the dark shadow of his glee.
Idir turned back to Fernando who was glowering at his mate.
"You've adopted a human girl?"
"Yes."
"Were you coerced?" Idir asked him, astonished.
"Yes— " Fernando said right as Hugh waved a dismissive hand and said no.
"So," Idir held up a hand. Trying to piece together the little information he had. "The...both of you then? The both of you have adopted her?"
He turned to look at Hugh who winced and shook his head.
"It's...complicated." Fernando supplied before finally gesturing for Idir to take a seat, dropping down tiredly into a chair of his own. Idir ignored his gesture and remained standing. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for someone to begin to clarify. When neither Fernando nor Hugh made to speak, he made an exasperated sound and began his questioning.
"Have you rejected her, Hugh?" He asked, though judging by the attitudes of the two men he knew it would be a stretch. Fernando was far more likely to reject a child. Hugh was far more likely to talk Fernando out of it.
"No one has rejected her," Fernando said.
"Then why— "
"She is Eric's wife," Hugh clarified.
"That's— " Idir laughed. Suddenly delighted. The story had taken many twists and turns thus far and he had not been expected such a fortuitous ending. "That's wonderful. So, the youngling has found his mate, and she has accepted him? Does she know of our kind? Surely, she must if you have agreed to be her sire. What of her human family? Tell me of her. Where is the boy? I thought he was away."
Idir looked around as though waiting for the young de Clermont heir to appear in the doorway, but Eric did not come, and neither of the men seemed eager to celebrate.
"Not exactly."
"Not exactly?" Idir looked to Fernando, scandalized. "That is all you have to say? Not exactly what? This should be a most celebrated occasion. I'd like to meet her. Is she here?"
"We do not know if they are mates. She does not know of our kind. We know not if she will accept him, for he is not here and will not be until the snow falls. She is unaware that he is alive, I presume. We do not know the status of her human family. In absence of anything more to say on the matter..." Fernando trailed off with a disagreeable look on his face.
Idir twisted his lips at Fernando, unamused. He perched himself on the arm of the nearest chair and narrowed his eyes at the pair. Jean Luc appeared and extended a glass of wine out in his direction. He snatched it up and offered the other man his goblet of blood in turn. The squire accepted and took a seat of his own, sipping the dark liquid in grave contemplation. The two traded a look as the mated pair shared a long intimate one of their own.
"She was married to him once," Hugh said quietly. Just barely audible over the crackling of the flame in the hearth behind him. "When he was human."
"Human?" Idir scoffed. "Surely she would be long— "
"Dead," Hugh said with a nod. Fernando leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched Idir as Hugh told him Malvina's impossible tale. At least, her tale as they knew it.
"Malvina, wife of Sorley, was brutalized and murdered by a group of rogue knights in Arregathel, Scotland during the spring of 1171, the night before I met the boy in battle and turned him."
Idir leaned back in his seat. He regarded Hugh with a long, considering look. After a pause, Hugh continued.
"Then, one week ago today, a girl — a human girl — fell from the sky and landed in our courtyard. And I know her face as any sire would know the face that haunted the human memories of his son. Malvina is alive. She is neither witch nor vampire. I would suspect her of flight, or of time spinning, but for the fact that she has not an ounce of magic in her blood. And now, with no way of knowing who she is or where she truly hails from, Fernando has agreed to take her in as his own. Thus, securing her position in our family, and our world, until such time as the truth reveals itself and makes itself clear."
Another long moment's silence.
"I'm afraid I don't know what to say," Idir shook his head.
"I don't believe anyone does, my friend," Fernando said. His face was grim, his voice solemn. "Idir— Brother... I'm afraid that I have need of your assistance— "
"We have need of your assistance," Hugh said in a small demonstration of solidarity with his mate.
"— she is unique," Fernando continued. "Malvina... Fernanda... she is different than other girls her age, and I am..." Fernando clasped his hands together in front of him. Openly uncertain of himself for the first time this evening. "Well, as you so eloquently put it. I am much more suited to sire a rock than act as a father to a human girl."
The old Berber warrior looked between the two men for a long moment. Letting the situation in all its absurdity wash over him anew. He looked from Fernando and Hugh to Jean Luc who raised his goblet up to him in solidarity. The squire had undoubtedly been roped into this as well. Just these three men, a youngling vampire who was still yet unawares, and a young girl with a mysterious background. It was quite the circumstance, and one he'd not heard of in any of the lifetimes he had lived before. Idir shook his head and huffed out a disbelieving laugh.
"But of course," he said. "I'd have been offended if you hadn't called on me for aid."
Fernando studied him long and hard, with the abundance of familiarity that came from centuries of living and fighting by someone else's side. His shoulders lost their hard edge at Idir's easy acceptance of his growing burdens. Fernando bowed his head. There were no words sufficient enough to express his gratitude.
"Does she know of the two of you?" Idir asked.
Silence had settled long amongst them. The shadows of night had grown and passed them by in a slow fade that spoke of the coming morning.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Fernando exclaimed, standing up and out of his seat.
His hair, which was usually a mess of tight curls, now stuck out in every direction. A victim of hours spent with hands raking through it in random bouts of nervous aggravation.
"Why would we tell her that? How would you suggest we— " he cut himself off. Chest heaving with the state of his overwhelm, he swung his wild eyes first to Hugh and then to Idir. "She is a child."
"And you are a mated pair."
"We are men."
"Astute observation, I've spent all this time wondering if you knew." Idir smirked.
"This is not a moment for jest, Idir. How would you suggest I even begin to explain such a— " He shook his head. "No. What could I possibly tell her? Hmm? Hello child, I am your new father. I am hundreds of years old. I drink blood. And I know that you have suffered a terrible ordeal, but might I interest you in the sordid details of my intimate relations with another man?"
He turned on the spot. Raked his hands agitatedly through his hair once again and strode with purpose over to the window. He threw it open with force, and the glass cracked on impact with the stone wall outside. Fernando winced. Hugh hummed in sympathy, standing much more slowly and making his way over to his mate.
Idir was torn between amusement and sympathy. Surely, if that was his friend's approach, the girl would not even hear the admission of his marriage to another man over the sound of him saying that he drinks blood to survive.
"Not to mention the fact— " Fernando snapped, shaking off Hugh's supportive hand. "That the man I share a bed with is the father of your almost eighty-year-old husband who, by the way, may accidentally kill you in a childish act of passion when he discovers you are alive. Not to worry though, I'll be sure to keep an eye on him on the off chance his mating instincts and prey drive are thusly confused. Even if he bites you, child, I'll be sure to stop him before he finishes the job!"
Fernando sneered in a rare moment of self-loathing, and even Hugh couldn't stop himself from raising his eyebrows in shock at the other man's ire.
"Perhaps it's time we call it a night," said the de Clermont and Idir silently agreed.
"I'm hardly tired," Fernando waved him off before striding over to his vacated seat and dropping himself down once again. "I— no. No. She is just a girl. She need not be any the wiser to such things. She is far too young," he shook his head, eyes glazed over in thought. "Far too young."
Hugh, exasperated, rested a hand on his mate's shoulder while the other man muttered and shook his aggrieved head.
"I agree, my love. We need not scandalize her," he said. The matter was laid quickly to rest.
Later, as the men exited the drawing room, each intent on carrying out his respective daily duties, Idir gave another pause.
"Does she know that she is to be your daughter?" He asked Fernando.
The other man stopped in his tracks. Turned back to Idir with a pained look on his face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as though he did not quite know what to say.
It was Hugh who patted Idir on the shoulder before he walked out the door.
"It will all work out," he said. And he waved his hand as though to close the matter. His flippant tone once again reminding the gathered men that, more than a friend, they were in the company of Philippe de Clermont's eldest son. "Don't concern yourself with such trivialities."
Idir sent a wide-eyed look to Fernando. His oldest friend glowered but said nothing more.
The maids were everywhere. She wondered idly if this is how it felt to Lord and Lady Suidhne, as terrible as they had been, to have her and the other maids underfoot. It was awkward. She thought she liked Jacqueline, the bright-eyed maid that was always there to wake her. The maid she saw most often in a single day. But she couldn't shake the oddness of having traded places with her. It was just six months ago, that Addison was Jacqueline. And it made her uncomfortable. Especially as she bathed her and fed her, woke her and dressed her and tucked her resolutely into bed. It was... well it would have been infantilizing if she hadn't been so pleasantly surprised by her good fortune during this second bout of time travel. This was a far cry from a hovel at the edge of the woods, and a fur mat covered in vermin.
The comfort she had been afforded thus far had staved off the panic, but she could feel it rising still. Gradually. Higher and higher each day. The uncertainty grew, and soon, despite the detached way she floated through each day, it would overcome her and render her useless once again. Sleepless. Hungry. On the brink of security once more. It was inevitable that this good fortune would not last.
At night, after Jaqueline had banked the fire, and tucked her snugly into bed, the maid would leave her to sleep. Addison would wait quietly for her footsteps to fade before throwing back the covers and hopping out of bed. Then she would get down on her belly and crawl under the bed, dragging a letter opener from the bedside table down with her.
The walls of the mountain home were a mix of rich grey and brown stonework, and warm wooden wainscoting. The hardwood panels were obscured from view where the furniture pressed against them, and the bed was sturdy enough that she did not expect anyone to come along to move it anytime soon. It was there that she kept a small, but significant, tally carved right there into the wall.
Last night had been her seventh night in this new temporary home. Seven nights. Today was her eighth day.
Jacqueline greeted her this morning as she had done every morning since Addison arrived. With a bright voice, a wide smile, and breakfast in bed.
She threw open the curtains with flourish. Flooded the room with speckled, tree filtered light. Eight days. Addison took a deep breath of cool morning air, and once again allowed herself to be delicately handled by the determined little maid.
Jacqueline clad Addison's cold feet in soft slippers. Slipped a thick dressing gown over her bare arms. Combed her fingers through her tangled hair. And in every way prepared the younger girl for another peaceful if overwhelming day.
They led her on a stroll through the garden. The important man — Hugh de Clermont — and the one who always appeared less than pleased, Fernando. They had spent an inordinate amount of time in her company when she wasn't being transferred carefully from maid to maid.
Addison had taken to calling Fernando 'the angry one' quietly in her mind. His black eyebrows were always furrowed in consternation, and she often caught him staring at her with a look that suggested she'd just dragged his favorite pair of shoes through a pile of manure. She tried to avoid him, but it was hard when Hugh insisted on herding them together at every turn, like a lion methodically leading sheep to slaughter.
He was odd. Hugh de Clermont. He seemed flighty and though he often sat unnaturally still for long periods of time, Addison got the impression that he was constantly in motion. Even if that motion happened primarily in his mind.
She was between them now. Her hand was tucked into Hugh's elbow, his hand rested gently over hers. Fernando was on her other side. Silent and brooding as he always seemed to be. The day before, they had showed her the orchard. Today, they toured the immaculately maintained flower beds.
Yesterday, they had strolled more freely. There had been less tension. Hugh had often dropped Addison's hand to pluck an apple and extend it her way, or to show her a blossom or butterfly that caught his eye. Fernando had seemed frustrated, but far more indulgent of the other man's company then.
Today though... Well, Addison felt distinctly as though she was being used as a physical buffer between them. Hugh held her close to his side. Fernando kept pace with them, shoulders rigid, back unbending. She had no way to confirm her suspicions, but in her gut she knew.
They were speaking rapidly again, in that language that sounded so oddly like Spanish but didn't at the same time. The language that reminded her vaguely of French but didn't really sound much like that language either. It was perplexing and she felt her mind ricocheting back and forth between them as both men shot off their retorts to each other over her head. Voices laced with a sort of false sweetness. The kind of sweetness that suggested they were lightening their tones for her sake alone. Like they were having a conversation she should not be present for, but they were insisting they have it in her company anyway.
It was unsettling. It was fascinating. It was—
"Are you speaking Spanish?" She suddenly asked them, demonstrating that she was fluent in the language in question.
The men froze. Feet grinding to a halt. Silence. On the dirt path that connected the rose beds with the lilies, Addison had not expected the abrupt halt. She grunted and felt herself jerked backward, still caught in Hugh's grip.
He hastily released her and helped her regain her balance before turning her around to face him and Fernando.
Fernando's eyebrows were raised up high in his hairline. Hugh's had furrowed down very low. And both men studied her in absolute, uninhibited fascination and alarm.
"You speak Castilian?" Fernando barked at her, grunting when Hugh landed an elbow in his ribs at his rough tone. He winced and looked back down at her in what she thought was his attempt at an apology.
"I— " Addison grimaced and shrugged. "I speak... Spanish."
"Spanish...?" Hugh turned the word over in his mouth a few times, the end of the word lilting up in question, but it seemed more of a contemplative gesture. His eyes taking on that far away look they sometimes got when he was thinking about something intriguing and new.
"Yes...Spanish. The language we are speaking," Addison said and looked nervously between the two men.
"What an odd way of phrasing it— " Hugh said but Fernando cut him off.
"Do you hail from the Kingdom of Castile?" He asked.
Wide eyed and uncertain, she shook her head. "No."
"But you speak— " Fernando started but Hugh barked out a fascinated laugh and beamed down at her.
"This is a most fortuitous discovery," he said and once again reached for her hand. "Come," he said. "Let us discuss this in the privacy of my study. Hmm?"
He turned and led her back toward the main house, leaving Fernando standing behind in the garden, raking a frustrated hand through his already disheveled hair.
"Come, Fernando," he called back to his mate who grumbled something impolite in return. Hugh cast a disapproving look over his shoulder though he had spoken too low for Fernanda to hear and silently insisted that he follow. Fernando rolled his eyes and did as his mate bade him, unsure what to make of this odd new discovery.
They began in Hugh's study, but as his fascination grew, the older man migrated their small group into the drawing room. There, the conversation was cut short by the arrival of Jean Luc. Addison had seen him quite a bit in passing, and he always spared her a warm greeting and a low bow. She had tried at one point to make him stop. Bowing, that is. But he had only smiled at her and nodded in parting acknowledgement. The next time she saw him, the man had bowed again as though their previous exchange had never happened at all.
"My lords," he said in perfect Castilian, and then turned to Addison. "My lady."
The teasing grin on his face suggested her expression read discomfort at yet another ridiculous bow. And she had to wonder how it is he knew which language they had previously been speaking behind the closed doors of the drawing room.
"Sir Idir has arrived."
Fernando and Hugh both stood from their seats, but waved Addison back into her chair when she made to follow. Hugh rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and Fernando moved forward to greet their new guest.
The man was tall. With a prominent nose and black eyes that lit up when they landed on Fernando. He clasped the man's forearm in his grip in a familiar greeting before sweeping his eyes about the room. Addison near jumped out of her skin when his gaze finally settled on her. His smile was wide. He released Fernando and stepped forward, bowing down to her level and extending his hand. She looked from him to Hugh who smiled wanly and nodded. Resisting the urge to clear her throat uncomfortably, Addison extended her hand out to him and blushed straight to her roots when he placed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
"I have heard much about you, young lady," he said to her as he pulled himself back up to his significant height. "It is an honor to meet you."
"I— " Addison started but was unsure what to say. She had never heard of this man before. And she had no idea how he had heard of her. Her head swiveled from him to Hugh and then reluctantly to Fernando who seemed to be the closest to this stranger. Fernando regarded her with his same old guarded eyes.
It was Hugh who showed her blessed mercy.
"I'm afraid she has not yet heard of you, Idir," he said in a good-natured tone. His hand gave another quick squeeze to her shoulder before he released her and gestured for their new guest to take a seat. "Fernanda was just demonstrating to us her near perfect command of the Castilian language, and we had yet to inform her that you would be dining with us this evening."
"I see," Idir said and gladly sat down in the seat across from her. He folded his arms in front of him in an easy posture and relaxed into the fine leather of his chosen seat. Fernando stood off to the side, pouring out a glass of dark red wine. "Well, never mind then."
He came to join them and passed off the glass to Idir who smiled his thanks.
"This is my very old friend, Sir Idir," Fernando said to her. "We served alongside each other for many years when we were young."
Addison thought that this was the most Fernando had said to her in all her time staying in his home, and she found herself at a loss for what to say. So, she offered him a timid smile and nodded her understanding. They didn't seem particularly old, she thought, so whenever they had served together couldn't have been very long ago. She wondered if there was a war somewhere that they had recently fought in but thought it better not to ask. She didn't know if she really wanted to be aware if violence was somewhere on the edge of the peaceful world she'd stumbled into.
Idir seemed to notice that her mind was spinning and decided to show her a bit of mercy.
"I had hoped to stay for a while," he said, turning to Hugh. "If you have room to spare?"
Hugh waved him off and assured him that they did, in fact, have room and Addison had the distinct feeling that there was more at work in their conversation than any of the men let on. It felt stilted. Scripted. And she felt distinctly awkward.
She was blessedly saved by the arrival of the steward who announced imperiously that dinner was served.
The men stood and waited for Addison to stand as well before the four of them made their way into the great dining hall.
They sat at the far end of an expansive table, fit for a party far larger than only their small group.
Hugh was at the head of the table. Fernando joined him there, seated to his right. Idir and Addison sat across from each other on either end.
A series of servers marched in, carrying porcelain serving dishes and large silver trays. Someone poured her wine. Someone else offered her a warm serving of roasted duck. Another leaned down with a helping of fingerling potatoes. Someone else with a tray of fruit. Addison helped herself readily, forgetting the awkwardness from before, at the display of this abundance of food.
She would never tire of food.
Ever.
She was halfway through her second helping of duck when she looked up to find her three companions regarding her amusedly.
She swallowed slowly and set down her fork. Reaching for her wine, she winced at the flavor, but took a long, embarrassed pull.
Hugh raised his glass as well, but she still caught the barest hint of a smirk before he skillfully covered it.
"Sorry," she said and sat back, tense against her high-backed chair. Ashamed by her display, she couldn't look anyone in the eye.
She was startled out of her embarrassment by a bark of laughter that rapidly devolved into peels. Idir, shoulders shaking, wiped emphatically at the corners of his eyes and shook his head at her. Fernando ducked his head to hide his shared amusement, coughing to cover up a laugh of his own.
"My lady," Idir said. "Never apologize for such a display. I have never seen such a passionate appreciation for food in my entire life."
He chuckled again and Addison prayed to God that she'd lost the last remnants of her blush. He popped a berry into his mouth and pointed his fork at her good naturedly.
"I admire your enthusiasm, child," he said.
And the matter simply closed. Addison went back to her meal, doing her best to pace herself this time. And the conversation resumed around her when she did.
She liked Idir. He found her in the days following his arrival. Stole her away from awkward moments with Fernando and the flighty whims of Hugh. He was... well... he was medieval, but he was also blessedly normal. And he loved to talk.
He regaled her with stories of his travels through North Africa and the southern half of the Iberian Peninsula. Detailing to her the magnificence of the Califate of Cordoba in its glory days, as well as stories of the various sea monsters that haunted the ships who crossed the Maḍīq Jabal Ṭāriq. She could only assume from her limited knowledge that he must have been talking of the Strait of Gibraltar. She didn't believe the tall tales, of course, but Addison found them far too entertaining to tell Idir as much. And she had a hunch he knew she was onto him anyway.
A week into his stay, she found him in the entrance hall. Addison had inexplicably found herself alone for just about the first time in two weeks. Idir appeared to have been coming in from a morning ride she supposed, and when he noticed her, he quickly asked her to join him for a stroll along the grounds. With no one around to carefully curate her day, she shot him a grateful grin and allowed him to lead her back out the way he came.
There was a path from the side of the house that led through the woods. It was carefully maintained and obviously well-traveled. Here, with Idir by her side, she lost herself in the trees and listened as he talked of his travels to Egypt once when he was a young boy.
She kept her lips tightly sealed when he told her of marvels beyond the likes of which she could hardly believe. A secret smile crossed her face as he described the pyramids to her, having no way of knowing she'd learned of such things in school years ago when she was a child in a different world.
They were almost to the river when Addison heard the most terrible sound. A loud, desperate squeal broke the peace of the morning and sent birds scattering from the trees.
Addison stopped.
Body, frozen.
Heart pounding.
Her mind flashed back to the boar in the woods from before. From the last time she'd traveled through time. And once again she thought of Sorley. The squealing got louder and more violent before finally there was a loud snap. The sound stopped. She whipped her head around, looking for the source of the noise in the trees, but was unable to find one. She brought her arms up to wrap snugly around her abdomen, suddenly wondering at her own stupidity for thinking she was safe.
This world was a dangerous place. Violent and dangerous and she didn't know what was out there in the woods, but she knew it was there. Her breath came in short gasps and Addison startled when a large hand came down to rest on her elbow.
"Peace, Fernanda," Idir's voice was low as he hovered by her side.
She turned back to him. Embarrassed by her reaction, but unable to hide her terror. Her mistake. This was a mistake. She shouldn't be here.
She should be home.
Not at the manor house.
Not at this place in the middle of the woods.
Not in the Kingdom of Navarre.
She needed to go home. Lala needed her at home. Her herb garden needed her at home. Her forget-me-nots.
Sorley.
Like she was waking from a dream, Addison remembered Sorley. The gentle giant who had been so kind and compassionate. The man she had married. The man she left behind.
She didn't know when she had known him. Had never learned the year. And she didn't know if he was alive or dead now. That thought sucked the breath from her lungs and sent her reeling.
She couldn't breathe.
A hand came down to rub at her back, but she stepped away from it. She didn't want to be touched. Her skin felt wrong. Her— why was she wearing this dress. It was— it was too expensive. It was too soft. She craved the rough scratch of itchy wool.
Her hands had gotten too soft in the last weeks of frivolity. With all the pampering and care. She— she needed to do something. She needed to clean. She needed—
Two strong hands came down on her shoulders and a shadow fell in front of her eyes.
Someone was speaking but they sounded as though they were underwater. She couldn't make out what it was that they said. One of the hands came up to rub at her cheek, offering one slight tap. Not a slap like Lorna had once doled out.
"Look at me, child. Open your eyes."
It was only then that she realized she had closed them. Addison opened her eyes and was startled to see that Fernando kneeled before her. His dark eyes were narrowed in concern, eyebrows furrowed as he took her in. He nodded when she listened.
"Good," he said and offered her the barest of smiles. The first she'd ever received from him. "Now, let's take a couple deep breaths. Hmm?"
She continued to struggle with her breathing and he tsked at her calmly, shaking his head.
"Slowly, Fernanda," he said. "Like this." And then he guided her through a couple calming breaths.
She felt the panic slowly fade, felt the tension leave her. Her body was abuzz with surplus energy. And her bones were suddenly very tired.
"There," he said. "Better?"
She swallowed and nodded back at him. Suddenly self-conscious.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what—"
"You have no need to apologize," he said before he stood back up and adopted that same old disagreeable look he always had on his face. His eyes moved from her to someone behind her, and only then did Addison remember Idir.
She whirled around. Head spinning a bit at the motion and looked apologetically up at the other man.
"I'm— " She started but didn't know what to say.
He smiled sympathetically down at her.
"It was but an injured pig," he said. "Got away from it's pen. They've gone ahead and put it out of its misery."
She felt a wave of nausea at the thought but nodded her understanding and turned back toward the path that would lead them out of the woods. Idir offered her his arm, and the group turned to make their way back up to the manor at the top of the hill.
Fernando murmured quietly that she should perhaps spend the rest of the afternoon taking her rest in bed or perhaps lounging on the settee in the drawing room. So preoccupied with getting back to the safety of the house, she did not notice the grim look Idir sent to Fernando over her head and the displeased set of the other man's shoulders. His friend silently confirmed the answer to a question that had been left unsaid in her presence.
Vampires were not meant to hunt on the grounds of La Ithuriana when humans were around. It put the entire community at risk. Someone had been hunting out of bounds.
He found her perched on the bench of a large picture window, in the corridor that housed the library and the stairwell that led to her private chambers. She tilted her head just slightly in his direction, a small acknowledgement of his presence, but otherwise remained quiet, distant.
She watched the world outside the glass paned window with a far off look in her eye. And he, not for the first time, quietly marveled at the composure he found in her. Even in the wake of her previous terror, Fernanda seemed to him a small island standing, somehow, amidst the great waves of a vast and terrible sea.
"I was wondering if I might have a word," Fernando said. Stopping a good distance away, he found himself uncharacteristically uncertain in her presence.
She looked up at his request. Her eyes both curious and wary.
He had not made the best impression on her these last couple of weeks, and he knew not how to move forward.
She turned, dropping her feet from her seat, letting them dangle a few inches above the ground. Her hand patted the bench next to her, before finding its way safely back into her lap. His eyes followed the gesture instinctively. Accepting her invitation, Fernando took his seat doing his best to turn and face her without crowding her or taking up too much room.
Perhaps he should have invited her to his study, or the drawing room. Somewhere more comfortable, and less... cramped. She stared steadfastly down at her new shoes. He found a spot on the wall above her head, unable to keep the pained expression from creeping onto his face. This was... not how he imagined their conversation going.
As though sensing his discomfort and physically reacting to the tension in the air, Fernanda let out a great huff and jumped up from the bench seat. She turned back to him, fidgeting back and forth on both of her feet with an overabundance of nervous energy.
"Do you mind if we..." she gestured over her shoulder, down the hall, toward somewhere. Somewhere other than where they were.
His shoulders sagged in relief, and he sent her a grateful smile.
"I think that would be for the best," he agreed and gestured for her to lead the way.
In the drawing room, they both situated themselves far more comfortably on a small sofa that sat adjacent to the hearth. The sun was setting on the mountain, and the light that filtered through the windows was of a soft orange and pink hue. Upon finding her seat, Fernanda tugged on the small throw that was draped over the arm of her seat. Wrapping herself up in the soft fabric; guarding herself from the evening chill.
She turned to him, waiting patiently for him to say whatever it was he needed to say.
"I was hoping— he cleared his throat. "That is — I was wondering if you could tell me about your family."
A wall slammed down in her expressive eyes, and Fernando had a feeling some of his suspicions would be confirmed.
"My...family?"
"Yes," he said. "Do you — well — do you have any to speak of?"
"I—"
He watched as she bit down on the inside of her cheek. What Fernando couldn't possibly know, is that Fernanda did in fact have a family. She had explained to him and Hugh days ago that she did not hail from the Castile, and that she could not explain how she knew the language of that realm. Only that she did. If it were anyone else in the world, they would have found her odd tale suspicious. Her lack of explanation, cause for further interrogation. But a vampire could smell a lie from a thousand leagues away. And the girl had no manner of subtlety or nuance to speak of. Her face was an open book of thought and emotion. It was disconcerting how easy she was to read. She telegraphed everything, every moment of every day.
She told them what she could, and shrugged away what she couldn't, and they believed her. They believed her and that was disconcerting in and of itself.
"I had a family," she said and averted her eyes. He smelled the telltale scent of salt on the air, and he observed as she very quietly tried to wipe away a stray tear.
"I see," he said. It was as he thought.
"And they hailed from—"
"Far away from here," she said, sniffing, unable to look him in the eye.
"Does this far away place have a name?"
She glanced at him, and he saw her eyes shutter defensively. She shook her head.
"You wouldn't know it," Fernanda said. And he had to bite down on his urge to chuckle at that. He had walked all corners of the civilized world; the child had no idea how wrong she most likely was. But he let her dismissal slide. Fernando nodded his head in understanding, hoping she would take it as the gesture of good will he meant it to be.
"Very well," he said.
She was watching him out of the corner of her eye.
"I wanted to extend you an offer," he said. "Hugh and I have spoken at length since your arrival, and, while at first we had not a way to inform you of our plans, now that we have a common tongue between us... I wanted to speak with you on the matter and gauge your thoughts."
She turned her head a little more in his direction, shoulders tight still and defensive, but otherwise she was curious.
"I would like to adopt you into my family," he said. "As my daughter."
Addison didn't know what she had expected 'the angry one' to say, but she hadn't expected that. Her jaw actually dropped before she popped her mouth closed again abruptly. She didn't know what to— he couldn't be serious. Him?
He must have read it on her face because he closed his eyes and let out a small, knowing laugh. Apparently, he understood how absurd that idea sounded coming from his lips. Did he even like her? If he did, he had a hell of a way of showing it.
"You? Why?" She said sharply and slapped her hand over her mouth in surprise. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.
Fernando for his part looked ridiculously amused. This perplexed her. He never looked amused; he always had a stick up his ass about something when he was around her.
"Well," he said. "I suppose it's because I have the means to provide a comfortable and safe life for you. And seeing as you have no family to speak of..." he trailed off and looked at her, waiting for her to suddenly remember some long-lost family member she was keeping to herself that she could go to instead.
Addison's mind once again flashed to Lala, alone at Meadowbrook, with no one but the nurses to keep her company. No. Addison didn't have anyone looking for her, and no one to go to while she was here.
Sorley's face flashed through her mind, but she kept him quietly to herself. She didn't even know where to begin trying to explain that one to the man in front of her. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap. He held her gaze. She looked away.
"Since you have no family," he continued. "And since you are here, already in my care— "
"Your care?" she asked, skeptically, before once again cringing at the lack of filter she seemed to have on her mouth.
He didn't seem to take offense, though he did let out an exasperated breath. "And Hugh's," he conceded. His voice easy.
She nodded and sent him an apologetic look.
"We thought it best to secure your position here," he said. "It is, unfortunately, a dangerous world for a young woman who is on her own."
He looked regretful at having to tell her so, but Addison already knew. She thought it laughable that they thought her ignorant to the bad things that happened in the world. Laughable, and kind of sweet.
"I know that I am not... much in the way of..." he paused and looked awkwardly away from her. "I know that I am not the warmest of men, and that Hugh tends to be a bit more..."
"Yes," she said with a small teasing smile. "He really is."
Fernando shot her a grin. Glad to be on the same page for once.
"But he is not able to take you on at the moment, and I am," he shrugged.
Addison supposed that really was fair enough. It was odd, though. She had spent weeks here now. And she was still waiting with bated breath for that other terrible shoe to drop and take the pleasant glow of her new home away.
It was dangerous, really, the way she had been feeling as of late. Unsettling that she'd found sleep in a comfortable bed. That she'd found safe company in this odd little group of men. They contradicted everything she thought she knew about this world, and now they were doing it again.
Fernando wanted her to be his daughter.
The pair fell into a long, contemplative silence. Fernando waiting nervously for her response, and Addison unsure of what that response was supposed to be. In the absence of a way to move comfortably forward, they stayed that way, frozen for some time.
"I've never had a father before," she told him after an awkward stretch of silence.
She said it easily. With a shrug. It was not a particularly sad statement coming from her mouth, but something twisted in him all the same. He stamped the feeling down and brought his mind more firmly back to the matter at hand.
This was his duty.
Nothing more.
He need not give way to any unnecessary affection. There was no room in this exchange for sentimentality of any sort. Such things were far too messy, and his new daughter... if she agreed... well...she was far too much of a mystery for him to grow attached so soon.
Fernanda opened her mouth and closed it again. Glancing at him nervously and bringing her arms up to wrap protectively around her abdomen.
"What— " she grimaced and fell silent. After an extended pause she tried again. "What exactly does that mean...here?"
"What?" he asked.
"You being my...father," she said. "I don't know what that means for me here. What does that entail?"
Fernando was taken aback. He studied her. He supposed he didn't really have a good reason for his surprise. It was a fair question — a vulnerable one. He was struck suddenly — in the way that sometimes happened to those cursed with long life — by how truly uncertain the world could be. For the first time in a very long time, he was forced to adopt a view of the world that was not his own. A view that was not so old.
In the little time he'd known the girl he'd found himself slowly beginning to take on a younger view of the world. Begrudgingly possessed of the desire to see things through her eyes, he quickly realized he did not like what he saw.
The world was a terrifying place for someone such as she. With no power of her own, but that which other people granted her. No power, but that which he granted her. Or so that seemed to be the way of things now.
A weight settled in his chest, and he had a great and terrible fear that it would remain there for the rest of his days. It would last for as long as he was tied to Fernanda. And it only grew each time he realized anew the precarious foothold she had here in this life.
She seemed to shrink beneath his consideration, and he thought quietly to himself that simply would not do.
""I suppose it means that I promise myself to your wellbeing," he said. "Perhaps even to your happiness— " he sent her a small teasing smile as he watched her process his words. "If I must promise myself to that too..."
Her eyes were shrewd as she regarded him. Searching carefully for any signs of manipulation. He did his best to show that she would find none here. Not from him. When she did speak, he was pleasantly surprised to find that there was bite to the girl that he and Hugh had yet to discover.
"And to marry me off to some old man with a lot of money or land, so I can bear him horrible little children and die young while I give birth to number eleven or twelve?"
Though her voice was quiet, the words themselves were spiteful things. He watched her cast her eyes down to hide her unease at being so bold in front of him. But he felt something lighten inside of him. Fascinating, he thought. She was a fascinating and courageous little thing. Her fear did not undercut the other aspects of her being, as fear sometimes had the ability to do.
She jutted her chin to suggest that she didn't care how he reacted to her insolence. But her body tilted imperceptibly away from him, and he wondered if she thought he'd strike her. He shook his head. She studied him suspiciously and Fernando did his best to hide his growing smile.
He admired her candor. And he worried, too, that it might get her into trouble someday. Or perhaps, even, that it already had. He made a mental note to secure her a tutor, and perhaps teach her a lesson or two in the art of self-censure.
He waved his hand as though to wave away her concerns about marriage. He was hardly one to preach the values of traditional courtship. Not that she knew that. He grimaced.
"If I tell you something in confidence, will you swear to never repeat it?" He asked her and her eyes snapped up to his. Curious despite her fear.
She nodded slowly.
"You do not yet know the world we are offering to bring you into," he said. "But your standing in it is potentially a great one. You would be neither princess nor peasant. As my daughter, and as someone in possession of Hugh's good favor, you have at your feet more power than you could possibly imagine. More than you would even know what to do with."
He shook his head, unable to find the words to properly convey a very complicated matter to her.
"The world will never know how it parts for you, but you may rest assured that it would. You need never marry for shelter or for food. And I will never force you into a marriage, political or otherwise. That is not how we operate in this family. My sole interest is to see you well and to see you happy. And if you choose never to marry, to never have children, to never commit yourself to a traditional, domestic life, then you will still live well. You would be my only child. The only child I intend to have in this world. And if I so say, you would want for nothing. You would want for nothing while I live and breathe, and you would want for nothing long after I am gone."
She stared up at him, owl eyed and frozen. Fernando wondered, not for the first time, if he had taken too stern a tone with her. Or if he had said too much. He was a warrior. A commander of men. Not... whatever it was she needed him to be.
Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of having the child launch herself into his arms. He had lived whole lifetimes as many different types of men, but none of those lifetimes had prepared him for this. Nothing could have prepared him for the scent of his child's hair when he tucked her head beneath his chin. Or the soft way a small murmur of gratitude could wash over him and make him falter.
She gave her trust easily. For all she knew, his words could have been a lie.
Who was he to be trusted by the likes of her?
He knew not whether it was the fear or the exhaustion or the injury she most certainly had suffered to her head when she landed here weeks ago, but she chose to take him at his word alone. She chose to believe him. And now he was holding her as though he had done it a million times before.
Well then, he cleared his throat feeling suddenly awkward, he'd have to do her mistrusting for her as well. If she was going to go around throwing herself into the arms of every man who showed her even an ounce of kindness.
He shuddered to entertain the thought. There were far too many questionable men in the world. And he had a feeling Fernanda drew those less than favorable characters to her like moths to a bright flame.
Hugh appeared in the doorway with a silent question in his eyes. Checking to make sure all was going well. Fernando supposed his own face reflected back a growing wave of horror, but he nodded at his mate in his best attempt at reassurance.
He would be alright.
They would both be.
Hugh's eyes warmed and softened as he took in the sight before him. He murmured a quiet word of encouragement, too low for Fernanda to hear, and quietly backed away. Hugh did not acknowledge Fernando's whispered thanks, but he knew the other man heard him, nonetheless.
Hugging the girl a little closer, Fernando forced himself to part with his rising dread.
All would be well.
They just needed a bit of time.