1805
As the youngest, Elena does find it quite aggravating to be treated like one of those porcelain dolls Kat treasures so much – treated with utmost concern as if she'll rupture under the faintest touch.
And unlike her older twin sisters, Tatia and Katerina, Elena absolutely detests attention. She does not wish upon the scrutiny of adults, appraising her and making comments about how she'll make a fine young lady in subsequent seasons. Tia and Kat evidently flush under their compliment; Elena politely acknowledges their praise but shares none of her sister's enthusiasm over the subject.
Elena wants to have fun. Not to think about boys and marriages and babies.
She wanders about the large estate of the Pejačević family, finding the host's children – twins, Nikolai and Nikola carrying themselves in feigned elegance. Elena smothers a giggle upon seeing the male twin stumbling upon Lady Tsvetoslava's long dress.
"Nicely done, Nikolai," Elena remarks, barely hiding her smile once Nikola manages to chase away the Lady (and her anger).
The crooked grin plastered across his face warns Elena that he intends to redeem his dignity by using her. "Elena. It has been ages since I saw you last. Will you please save me a dance?"
Later, once Elena has had her fill of her mother's approving look and her older twin sisters' jealous gaze, she stomps on her friend's feet multiple times to make a point of not utilizing her to cover up his mistakes.
Elena does try to make it up to her sisters– they are all that she has and she loves them both– she tells them that she only considers Nikolai as a friend and that she finds him utterly unattractive. Finding nothing suspicious about her claim, they relax and goes on – excited to ask about what Nikolai likes in a woman.
And the next morning, the Petrova triplets find their father crumbling on the floor, a letter clenched in his hand as devastating news comes out from him in short, erratic bursts.
Uncle Grayson and his wife are dead. They must depart urgently to London to take care of young Jeremy Gilbert– a cousin! They travel to London as swift as they can, albeit Tatia and Katerina's reluctance to leave their summery home.
They are fascinated by the elegance of London by the time their carriage gallops to the town square. There are women in wonderfully colored gowns traipsing in and out of the streets, parasols over their heads and hands clasped tight around dashing men. Although their father is still mourning, he grins at the wonder permeating their twinkling eyes.
They eventually reach the Gilbert house. Elena looks out the window to see a hunched boy waiting for them by the gates. John goes down first, assisting Isobel and then Tatia, Katerina, and her.
Jeremy cowers underneath their curious and sorrowful gazes, awfully uncomfortable at greeting new and unfamiliar relatives while in mourning. John trudges to meet him in a tight hug and Elena sees Jeremy fall apart, his anguish rolling in tough waves that she finds herself shedding a few tears, joining in their embrace.
When Elena first heard of a boy cousin, she expected a younger Nikolai– vexing and capricious– but Jeremy is quiet and speaks only when spoken to that it's hard to communicate with him sometimes. Her sisters are proving to also be a hindrance to her goal of befriending Jeremy, always occupying her with playing house and idle talks of their future suitors.
(Once, she asks them what they think of Jeremy. Tatia tells him that he's a poor boy and that she can't think of their parents dying and actually having to live without them and Katerina brands him a bore.)
Elena manages to break away from her sister's invitation of another tea time with nothing but her horse soft toy in her hands, running out of the estate and into the backyard. There, she finds Jeremy reading a book underneath the shade of a tree. Elena takes the seat beside him, surprised he hasn't rushed away from her.
"What are you reading?" She asks curiously, playing with the ears of her toy.
"Father's journals. He always keeps them."
"Can I read too?"
He gives her a long contemplating look before breaking into a toothy grin. She mirrors his smile back, scooting closer and starting to read enthusiastically about Grayson Gilbert's occupation as a physician.
Her readings with Jeremy increase frequently that even Tatia and Katerina notice her absence. They are wary of the development between her and Jeremy, knowing extremely nothing of their cousin, thus giving an opportunity for Elena to finally introduce him to her sisters.
Yet in their time, Jeremy is silent. He hardly spares Tatia nor Katerina a glance, sticking close to Elena like a cub to his mother. Tatia makes an effort to converse with Jeremy– they are family after all– but Katerina completely ignores him, opting to address her two sisters.
Elena argues with Katerina that night. She wants her to be understanding of Jeremy's reserved nature that he is still mourning, that he is trying to get out of his shell but Katerina is having none of it. Kat tires of her incessant talk, slamming the door in her face.
"I'm sorry about Kat, Jeremy."
He shrugs, passing another one of his father's journals to her. "It's okay. I like you better than her anyway, sister."
She beams widely her cheeks hurt before turning her attention to the journal.
Her parents does express their concern over Elena breaking away from her sisters. Their children were thick as thieves and seeing the hurt in Elena's eyes, Katerina's stubborn silence, and Tatia being completely in the middle – they both decide to intervene.
"Elena?"
"Come in, Papa!"
He shuts the door behind him, watching Elena's hands disappear under her pillow. John takes a seat at the end of her bed, mulling over his words.
"Did something happen?"
Elena twists her fingers together. "Kat doesn't like Jeremy, Papa. I just want them to get along but Kat doesn't want to."
Sighing, John promises to speak to her sister. He convenes with Isobel who tells him that Katerina hates Jeremy for taking Elena away from her, for making them leave Bulgaria. He knew it wasn't easy to be uprooted from their home, from their life– but his nephew needed him and John needed his brother too. Isobel comforts him that she made sure Katerina understood the situation. Jeremy didn't ask for his parents to die. He needs his family and they're all that he's got.
The next morning, Elena almost chokes on her cold milk upon seeing Katerina with Jeremy outside, enjoying a lovely cup of tea.
The mourning passes relatively fast with Jeremy keeping her company, allowing their family to accept invitations from several noble ladies. Her father accepts one from Lady Hansdottir and then they set off to the large estate, riding with John and Jeremy, hands clasped tight around her cousin– her brother.
"Jonathan Gilbert! My, my!" A beautiful lady stops them in their tracks as she grins up at her father.
"Lady Hansdottir. It has been a while. This is my wife, Isobel Petrova-Gilbert, and my daughters– Tatia, Katerina, and Elena. You have known Jeremy."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hansdottir. Thank you for extending us an invitation." Elena curtsies, tugging on Jeremy's sleeve to do the very same.
"You take after your father, child." Lady Hansdottir deduces, her eyes crinkling.
However, before Elena could express a reply, a blonde woman interrupts their conversation, frazzled eyes grabbing the attention of the host. The lady excuses herself politely, hoping to speak to their mother, and then she proceeds to follow the woman in hurried strides.
"Who's that?" She asks Jeremy.
"That is the Duchess. She is Lady Hansdottir's sister."
Elena catches blonde curls amidst the golden lights and a flash of blue eyes.
Naturally, as new addition to London society, its members are bound to get to know them better. The Petrova family is quite a renowned family back in Bulgaria– her great-grandfather was the Grand Duke, a distant relative of Bulgaria's Imperial family. Several noblemen and their wives clamored for her parent's attention.
Jeremy asks her to dance (they made a mess out of themselves for a few seconds) and they join their family shortly after. This time, her father is rather occupied with another prominent family, the Lockwoods.
She finds Carol profoundly unpleasant when she makes a comment about her being meant for Jeremy. Her son Tyler goes ghostly pale and then apologises to her a moment later. She makes a friend out of him, Jeremy as well.
Elena meets Caroline Forbes at a fête hosted by the Lockwoods. She has ner nose buried in a book, isolated from other young girls enjoying the ball. Elena approaches her, flanked by both Jeremy and Tyler (with an unusual redness to his cheeks).
"Good Evening."
She jumps in fright, almost toppling the vase next to her. Blue eyes blink back at her before she proceeds to greet her in the same elegant fashion.
"Good Evening Miss…"
"I'm Elena Petrova-Gilbert."
"Caroline Forbes."
Elena asks her about her absence in Lady Hansdottir's fête. Caroline chews on her bottom lip, telling her that she had suffered from a fall from riding with her father on horseback that she couldn't walk for days.
Once the trio part from Caroline, Elena addresses the elephant in the room.
"You like her don't you?"
Her lips curl in satisfaction when Tyler sputters an excuse.
Apart from handling the estate and claiming the temporary title as the Viscount, John reveals that Lady Hansdottir employed him to tutor her nephew. Her father departs after lunch, returning just in time for dinner – sometimes late at night.
Elena convinces her mother to serve tea for her father in his study. She is usually accompanied by Jeremy, helping him sort out a few issues concerning the estate and their finances. Occasionally, her father would tell them stories of his student– of the boy's intelligence and brilliance in fencing– confident that Niklaus will make a fine Duke in the future.
But the young Duke and his mother leave London, thus ending the arrangement between Lady Hansdottir and her father.
John starts Jeremy's lessons as the Viscount's heir as the years pass. Jeremy tells her about his studies and the difficult training with Alaric. She feels at ease that Tyler trains with him, as they both share the same mentor. The stories they tell her inspires curiosity and Elena wonders why she can't join them.
"Father, will you please let me watch Jeremy train?" John stops mid-way from writing as Elena slides inside the room, peering through the tall desk with her doe eyes. Behind her, Isobel watches, transfixed at how Elena has her father wrapped tightly around her finger.
"Of course my dearest. Do be careful, alright?" Elena beams, as bright as the morning sun. nodding, she hops on his lap to press a kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you, father!"
Not a week later, she comes back, this time with Jeremy in tow. John leans back in his seat.
"Elena? Jeremy? to what do I owe the pleasure of having you both here?"
Elena glances at Jeremy, nudging him forward with her elbow. The boy sputters under the adult's curious gaze and turns back to Elena who simply chews her bottom lip in apprehension.
"Jeremy? What is it that you wish to say?"
Steeling his nerves, Jeremy steps forward with Elena following suit, their movement like soldiers marching into battle.
"I wish to have Elena train with me."
John blinks. "I beg your pardon?"
Jeremy clears his throat. "Ele—" she gives him a look. He re-clears his throat. "I implore you as the Lord of this house to allow my sister to train alongside me."
When Isobel passes by her husband's study, she finds him hunched over the window, nursing a glass of scotch. looking from behind his shoulder, Isobel gasps as Elena falls over her own two feet, clearly underestimating the weight of the sword in her palms.
"Have you gone mad, Jonathan?"
Her husband simply shrugs. not tearing his gaze from the fierce determination blazing in his daughter's eyes. "Elena would make a fine fighter. I don't see why I should stop her from doing what she wants." John was known to be stubborn. As soon as he sets his mind on something, he will never fail and surrender. It's one of the many reasons why she had fallen in love with him. Isobel only wished that Elena should not have inherited this trait of her father as her own.
"I do hope you are right, John." She murmurs, tidying up his workspace.
"Think of this as a benefit, Isobel. I would rather she scare the men away than she were to be frightened of them."
"John, no one will ever lay a hand on our daughters—"
He shivers at the lecherous gaze of Vanbutchell, a bachelor close to John's age. "I cannot bear to think of my daughters leaving us, Isobel. They are still young, they have their whole lives ahead of them! Surely you understand my sentiments."
"I do, my love. The thought of sending them away pains me. However, we cannot ignore that a woman's destiny is always and ever will be tied to her husband. It is a woman's duty to marry, to bear children, learn the pianoforte, master the art of sewing, to just look pretty at every social event so they may catch the eye of a suitor. This is not the life I want for our daughters, but this is what society dictates for a proper woman. I am thankful to have you in my life, that you understand I want more; knowledge and theories of the world. I want to converse with other men about politics— about economy, to attend the Academy— I... but I cannot. I am simply a woman. And nothing more."
Too absorbed in the situation, Isobel fails to see her daughters Katerina and Tatia lingering behind the study's doors, doe eyes brimming with tears that will soon harden into ice, transitioning into women who will prove society wrong— it is society's price to pay for hurting their mother of a woman's expectation.
Katerina pulls Elena away from Jeremy. It's been hard to even catch a glimpse of her youngest sister. She's been spending so much time with him, (even though she accompanies Jeremy at times, Katerina finds it hard to completely bond with him) training with sharp-pointed swords and fighting like savages.
"Elena, listen to me!"
"You are disrupting my training, sister. I will not tolerate such childish pranks from you." Elena stands tall, even barefooted, toes curling under the grass. Elena's gained a healthy color to her cheeks, a slight flush from this morning's sparring with Alaric. Her shoulder heaving in extreme effort to take in the air, to produce more oxygen in her blood to keep the blood running for her body to function.
She never tells Elena anything anymore. Not since she preferred Jeremy's presence over her sisters. Speaking in hushed whispers of the nostalgia Bulgaria brings, of the warm summer breeze that tickled their cheeks before departing to London where their father will be taking care of a young relative. Katerina and Tatia loathed London, and pined over Bulgaria. Abhorred their youngest sister's notable change over the years, moreso under the caress of England's sun.
They hate London for it had been the change that condemned their family into ruins— At least it did in their young eyes.
1813
"Elena!" Katerina shrieks, barrelling through her sister's door, only to find it empty. She should've known. "Mother, Elena's training again!"
The door to Jeremy's room blows open, revealing the missing Petrova sister. There are obvious signs of conducting physical activities in her body. Elena's hair is curled at the ends, indicating she'd tied it in a high bun so she could avoid eating at her hair during an intense regime. There is also a very noticeable bruise peeking out from her collarbone.
"Mother!"
"You are screwed." Jeremy laughs, only to wince a moment later when Elena harshly applies ointment to the cut on his back; a result of trying to get under Alaric's skin for teasing him endlessly about their mentor's apparent fondness for Jeremy's Aunt Jenna.
Elena lets her older sister tattle on to their mother about her extracurricular activities, jumping on Jeremy's big bed, her cheeks puffed, lips sulky.
"I am content on skipping this season," Elena tells herself— convinces Jeremy, not that his opinion really matters, but if she were to have him on her side, she may yet succeed in not marrying. Hopefully, her older sister's indecisive nature in choosing a partner will hold off until Spring next year, just enough for her to finish studying and training under Jeremy and Alaric's guidance.
Katerina and Tatia had been going through the list of bachelors in England, moving back and forth, tossing men unworthy of their attention and sinking their fangs deep in those with immense beauty and power. In her sister's game of cat and mouse and knowing they cannot be satisfied by merely a handsome face and a considerable amount of wealth, Tatia and Katerina will keep entertaining the idea of having alternatives lest there may not be any visit from the Queen's nephews, (Princes!) who were rumored to stay the season with the Queen.
"You say that but Aunt Isobel will be furious—"
The doors clutter open, and, true to his word, a rather furious Isobel Petrova takes the room by a storm, "Elena Petrova-Gilbert! What is the meaning of this?!" The lady of the house means well, that Jeremy is sure. She is nothing but kind in all of the years he'd spent with his relatives. Quite soft-spoken and intelligent as well.
But he'd rather not be at the receiving end of her ire.
"Mother, please. I have no desire to marry—"
"You have to. That is all that you have."
"I have Jeremy." Elena shuffles closer to the young heir, weaving their hands together. He assures her by squeezing her clammy hands, although they are clearly treading on thin ice and Jeremy does not know if Isobel's kindness still extends to his blatant support over Elena's hesitance to marry. "And father, you, Tia, and Kat. Is that not enough?" The rest of the Petrova-Gilbert ensemble fills the room. Elena hopes her father would see reason behind her reluctance to participate. He'd been so supportive of her, allowing her to learn fencing and martial arts secretly in her time in London whilst whiling away reading some of Jeremy's books, and of course, forcing the younger Gilbert to parrot his lessons from her father.
John may have been convinced by her mother because he approaches her, hands closing in on her own. "Elena, the Queen has called upon you three. It is improper to ignore Her Majesty's invitation." Then he frowns at the dark bruise peeking from her white training shirt.
Isobel merely waves a hand to dismiss his concern. It's easy to swaddle their youngest in their finest purple silk and no one will even bat an eye. The head of the family has spoken, leaving no more words to discuss. John smiles softly, rubbing her hand before taking Isobel in his arms.
Katerina smirks, seeing the defeat in Elena's eyes. She spins away, a delicate flower in Spring. Tatia lingered by the doorjamb with apologetic eyes, shakes her head— in disappointment or understanding, Elena will never know. Tatia rarely confides in her.
"You should probably dress up now, 'Lena." Jeremy ushers her out of the room, "I'll see you later."
Sighing, Elena motions for Anna to come and fetch her water for her bath, as well as the necessary items needed to prepare for the Royal court. She hates dressing up, but there are eyes watching, more so the queen, Elena learns she has no choice but to sit, nod, smile, and agree to anything that passes through the maid's mouth.
Several moments later, she's bundled up in heaps of fabric, a white fox's fur wrapped around her neck to make certain the darkening bruise marring her skin would be covered from prying eyes. Elena waddles down the flight of stairs, noticing neither Katerina nor Tatia by the door, still getting ready— touched up to perfection to impress the Queen, no doubt.
Elena elbows Jeremy's rib the moment he tucks her arm under his elbow.
"You look like a peafowl, dear sister." Jeremy flicks the horrid white feather dangling from her head. What an atrocious accessory indeed. He steers her inside the drawing room, knowing the other two will be taking so long. Both her sisters have been waiting for this very moment to arrive. This is what they were born to do— the very peak of their existence matters at this very moment. Should they fail, well, they shall be ruined for this season, and perhaps the next and so forth.
"Whatever is the significance of this event, brother? Is it not shallow to judge others? Why should the conceived perception of a woman— the Queen matter?"
Jeremy smiles at her sadly. He hoped he knew the answer to somehow alleviate her tense being. He wishes to be her shelter, a comfort from the chaos— just as she provided him the same seasons ago. She was his rock, his anchor. Feels indebted to her kindness that changed him, shaped him, and empowered him to do better for her.
"Elena," Her father whisks her away from Jeremy's side, twirling her around the white walls, the fluttering of her skirts casting a cool lilac glow. "Oh, my have you grown into such a fine young woman indeed." John pauses to look at her, sees a glimpse of Isobel's determination in her jaw. "How time flies. I recall nursing you in my arms while you were still a babe."
Elena groans once a tear escapes his eye. "Stop being dramatic, Papa. I'm still your little girl. I will always be your little girl."
A knock reverberates through the occupied drawing-room. Matt steps inside announcing the carriages are ready and so are the two ladies with their mother. The trio departs from the quiet and into the bustling town square. Her eyes follow the Forbes departing from their house. Elena waves a gloved hand to Caroline who quickly responds with a frantic smile.
Matt opens the carriage door for her. Jeremy hoists himself up in his horse, Maximus, if she remembers correctly, the name of the mare. Hushed, excited whispers echo from behind her, and there stood Katerina and Tatia, a permanent fixture of excitement in their features, wrapped in blue and green ball gowns— their signature colors establishing the difference between each Petrova-Gilbert triplet.
It's frustrating to be mistaken as either Tatia or Katerina but she cannot fault others when she so clearly share the same face with them.
"Sisters, you look lovely." Elena greets them once inside the carriage. Isobel looks at her daughters wistfully, a hand over her heart as the carriage moves forward, galloping through the square with only one destination in mind: to the royal castle to meet the Queen.
.
.
Today is a most important day and for some, a terrifying one
For today is the day London's marriage-minded misses are presented to Her Majesty, The Queen.
May God have mercy on their souls.
.
.
"Miss Tatia Gilbert, Miss Katerina Gilbert, and Miss Elena Gilbert. Presented by their Mother, The Right Honorable Lady Isobel Petrova-Gilbert."
The hall fills with anticipation. Of men dying to have a glimpse of the lovely ladies; and wives speculating which lucky debutante will call upon the Queen's interest– and it is most certainly one from each Petrova sister. Or two, maybe even three, should the youngest possess her older sister's elegance.
Seated by the end of the hall, Queen Qetsiyah straightens from her seat with the regal bearing of someone established to such a title. The older woman's eyes are heavy – ruminating and evaluating the young ladies as if they are raw meat to be handed out. Elena does not conform to her mother, nor to anyone else. She cranes her neck and finds Jeremy's ill-concealed hysterical giggles beside her father's assuring gaze.
"You are ruining our reputation," Katerina comments through gritted teeth, a soft smile adorning her features but words a deadly poison.
"Do not fret, sister." Elena meets the Queen's gaze. "I assure you that even without Her Majesty's assessment, men are still eager to wed you. As well as you are, Tatia."
"You don't know that!" Admonishes Tatia.
Elena bites her tongue once they have reached within the Queen's close scrutiny. The three sisters simultaneously lower their knees, perfectly bent at the same heights as practiced. The sound of rustling fabrics amidst the hushed nobles is deafening to her ears.
"You may rise." Qetsiyah remains stiff a few feet away from them, approval behind her eyes. She advances to the eldest, pressing a chaste kiss to Tatia's forehead, a symbol of her worth. Followed by Katerina, her chest heaving in extreme effort. Cheeks stretched to accommodate her exuberant smile.
And it does not surprise her when the Queen steps back, not giving her so much as a glance.
"Flawless, my dears."
.
.
It is only the Queen's eye that matter today.
But not all eyes recognize the truth.
Especially in the presence of such remarkably uniformed faces.
.
.