A/N: The following is a starlet/OC-heavy chapter, and I do apologize for the lack of our fave Marquis and Marchioness. They shall return shortly.

Chapter Thirty: The Accountant and the Merchant (II)

Morning broke and Astra rose to a dark, bleak, drafty world. She put a couple logs in the fire, watching it flare up as she dressed herself and washed her face. By the time she was eating her breakfast of dried fruit, salted bacon, and bread left to sit atop the stove to soften, the room had become warm enough that she was loathe to leave it. She dawdled as much as she could before wrapping herself up in her shawl and heading over towards the office she was leant.

Looking out over the atrium of the guild hall, Astra could see how desolate and empty it was compared to the day before. Not a single soul was down there, not even one that was cleaning up while the snows kept people away, and the pure silence that accompanied that was odd. Even when there was "no one" around in the castle, there was always someone wandering about and making noise, no matter how quietly. Astra felt as though she was going to get a vast amount of work done now that there was nothing to bother her.

The morning passed with little incidence. She stayed in her borrowed office nearly the entire time, only going into the chilly main of the building to fetch new records to comb through. It was almost time for her normal lunch break when there was a shy knock on the door, making her jump in surprise.

"Stars in the sky! Who is it?!" she snapped. Astra bent down, raising her skirt to finger the hilt of the knife strapped to her calf, though straightened when she heard the voice.

"I come in peace," Olivier said. He opened the door and poked his head in, holding up a cloth-wrapped parcel within her line of vision. "I thought you'd like company after a morning alone."

"Thank the gods," she breathed. "Come on in—I was just thinking about lunch." Astra stood and stoked the fire that was crackling happily in the room's stove. Almost all the individual rooms had one, thank goodness, making it so that she didn't have to bring her blankets and cloak down with her while she worked. When she turned around, she saw that Olivier had brought a couple of steaming meat pies, along with two stoneware mugs and a container of tea. "Oh, wow… you shouldn't have…"

"I insist," he said. "It's not like I have much to do anyhow; I woke up this morning to find the place deserted and Totter's Pass blocked. I'm stranded until the snows stop long enough to dig a trench."

"That's awful—at least you weren't in the pass when it began snowing," she replied. As he talked, she had brushed her mind up against his; he was telling the truth, just as he was the night before. Reading certain things, such as truthfulness and sincerity, didn't take much probing when it came to most minds, and his being from Rhylls made it highly unlikely he knew how to mislead one of the Ancient Gallifreyan gifts she possessed. She took a sip of the tea, surprised at the flavor. "This is the Marchioness's tea!"

"The woman at the shop said it worked best with the pies' flavor," he claimed. "Is it true that the Marquis blended this for her?"

"Yes, and there is a blend she created for him that's rather strong and spiced. That was about… nine years ago now, if I remember correctly." She thought about how old Seren was, since it was around their mid-teens when Lena, Tara, and herself had pieced everything together, a thought that made her shudder internally every time it came to mind. "They're very popular around here. Some even take the blends with them during travels as gifts or because they like it that much."

"They sound like a lovely pair to be governed by, that Marquis and Marchioness," Olivier nodded. He took a sip of his own tea and seemed to understand the emotion put into the flavor. "We have a council of serdars looking after Rhylls, and none of them can claim something as fanciful as this."

"You think it's fanciful?" she giggled.

"Fanciful and utterly romantic, now that I taste it," he laughed. "Now I'm glad I caught you going into your office when I came downstairs to inquire about the state of the roads, or else I wouldn't know that's the truth. I trust you, Astra—you've grown up close to the finer things, but obviously don't crave them. How many people can say that?"

"…and how can you tell?" She let out another snicker, hoping he would give some silly answer. The one he gave instead surprised her.

"You're an accountant."

She blinked, slightly taken aback. "…what's that supposed to mean?"

"Not many accountants I know got into the profession because they were searching for honor, glory, and praise," Olivier elaborated. "People do it because they're good at it, and sometimes in order to help others. You don't seem like the kind of person to manipulate books for their own gain, so I find the fact you're shaping your life to help out others very humbling. Now you can't tell me that humble people crave fancy things."

"You're right—they don't," Astra replied. She felt her face turn warm as blush rose up from her neck. It was true that what she was doing was all to help her parents and sister, though he couldn't know that. Not yet, anyhow.

"May I ask a question?" he wondered. She nodded. "Is it alright if I stay with you? You know, here, in the office, during the day while waiting for the pass to clear? I have a couple books with me, and I can do things like keep the fire going and get dinner."

"I do have an allowance, you know…"

"Yes, but it saves you time and keeps me busy—I say it's a win-win. Besides, I have to take this stuff back to the tavern anyhow, since it's only on-loan."

She thought about that for a moment. "The tavern's a couple blocks away—the snow hasn't made it difficult to get to, has it?"

"No more difficult than in Karass, and that's much further south than this," he shrugged. "I was told it will get worse before it lets up though."

"That's also true." Astra gently probed his emotions; there was nothing there that was cause for alarm, so she relented. "I don't mind if you stay—the lack of noise has been maddening."

"A castle never really sleeps, does it?"

"Not in the slightest." It took until he began walking towards the door so he could get his books before she spoke up again. "I… um… just so that you know… being employed directly by the Marquis and Marchioness means I need to abide by a Lady's rules. If someone walks in…"

"…they'll find that we're behaving, don't worry," he finished. Olivier left with a wink, causing Astra to blush even more.

It was a good thing she was alone, because that meant no one was there to watch as she shrunk down into her chair in complete, utter embarrassment.

Lena snapped her fingers, bringing the Marquis's thoughts back to the office. He had been staring out the window, down upon the city below, frowning as he fretted over his unaccounted-for daughter.

"Papa—the schematics are in here, not carved into the snow," the Earlessa said. Her father's attention span was restored, his thoughts somewhat returning to the room.

"My apologies, starlet—I was lost in thought."

"She's fine, Papa; Astra will return to the castle after the snows let up. She still has plenty to go through, after all."

"Am I really that obvious?" he wondered.

"Yes, you are," his eldest deadpanned. "How come you don't worry about Tara, but you worry about Astra?"

"They are very different people for being twins…"

"You're not correct, but you're not incorrect either," Lena said. "If it wasn't for the fact that Tara keeps her hair short now, you would still need to keep track of them using their dress colors despite them acting different as can be."

The Marquis grunted, his feathers having been absurdly ruffled. "Who ever put such an idea in your head?! I can tell my starlets apart from one another and I always have!"

"Now that is a bald-faced lie—get back to work, Papa, or you're going to drive yourself mad."

Night fell and Astra and Olivier were sitting on the floor of her office, having just finished their dinner. Backs propped up against the wall, they laughed as they exchanged stories, having a grand time.

"Okay, now your turn," Olivier said.

"Oh, I can't," Astra blushed. "It's too embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? Something is more embarrassing than being forced to sail to the Gelth Islands starkers?" he snarked. She elbowed him lightly in retaliation.

"That's simply absurd," she defended. "I just don't think I have anything that comes even close to that. Most of my life has been spent in Castle Gallifrey, you know."

"You've been on holiday—you've told me as much."

"True, though…" She trailed off, attempting to recall something. "Oh! There's the time there was a visitor in the castle from… gosh, I can't remember… and our family met him, and the way my baby brother was clinging to my elder sister made him assume that he was her child, not our parents'!"

"Wait… I thought you said that there wasn't that much of an age difference between them!"

"Thirteen years, but I guess my sister looked to be older than she was at the time," she said. "He danced around the subject all night until finally right before dinner my brother referred to Mama as such and the look on his face said it all! I don't think he's returned since then."

"How did your sister take it?"

"She was furious." Astra giggled, remembering the man in great detail. He had been mortified when he had finally realized how old the siblings were, let alone that they were siblings, that he was still avoiding them at the capital, or at least that's what Lena claimed. She then looked over at the remains of their dinner and sighed. "I guess it's time to clean up and get to bed."

"I think we can handle that," Olivier replied. He helped her stand and they picked up the room until it was neat and tidy again. They both carried their things up to where the rooms were, with Astra thinking to herself all the while.

'Olivier has been so nice to me… I wonder how I can make it up to him,' she mused. An idea quickly came to her head and it spilled out before she could think about reconsidering. "Hey Olivier? The room I was put in ended up having two beds—save on fuel and take the other one; I've got space enough."

"You sure?" he wondered. "There's nothing in the rules against being roommates, is there?"

"If there is, I will have to mention all the times I had to share with my brothers, along with the fact I've got a mean right hook."

"Alright, you win." He chuckled, placing his hand on the door to his room. "I'll be over in around ten, okay?"

"Sounds good," she agreed, making sure he saw which room she entered.

Working quickly, she changed into her nightdress and put more logs in the stove, which was crackling happily by the time she pulled back the bedding on her mattress and crawled in, covering herself up to help preserve her modesty. There was a knock on the door just as she was reaching underneath the bedframe to get a book. She picked it up and laid down, the only parts of her sticking out from under the blanket being her head and hands.

"Come in!" she said. Olivier cautiously entered the room, his bag slung over his shoulder and blanket roll under his arm. Sure enough, there were two single beds in the room, on opposite walls, while a fire roared happily in the stove on the wall across from the door. A changing screen, a privy screen, a desk and chair, and even sidetables for each bed; it was definitely one of the nicer rooms he'd seen.

"You weren't kidding when you said you had the room," he marveled, closing the door behind him. He laid out his bedroll on the empty mattress and flopped down. "These must be the rooms that always get snatched up before my uncle and I can even think about them. Most of the time we have to share one large, lumpy bed."

"Really?" Astra wondered. "That doesn't seem very fair."

"Fair or not, it's just the way it is," he shrugged. "Remember you're talking about cheap lodging provided by a guild—businessmen can be a stingy bunch."

"Well, either way, I'm glad to help out a friend," she said. "Maybe you and your uncle will have a change in luck."

"Maybe… oh, and Astra?"

"Yeah?"

"It's 'Olly'; my friends call me 'Olly'."

She smiled at that, her heart skipping a beat as she repeated his request. "Alright… Olly…" She brushed her mind against his once again, picking up on something almost shy and self-conscious. It was a comfort as she hunkered back down with her book—this was definitely the right decision.

As the night wore on, the winds and snow grew fiercer. The stove's fire began to die and cold started to seep in through the wood and plaster of the building level. Olivier laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling while contemplating the young woman whom he was currently rooming with. Astra was a kind person, one of the kindest he had ever known, and that wasn't her only good quality. He felt incredibly fortunate, and he hoped that it wasn't just a fluke.

Noticing that the stove was nearly down to embers, Olivier left his bed and went to go remedy the problem. He opened the metal door and took a couple logs from the container nearby, putting them in one at a time and poking what was left of the fire in order to stoke it. The new logs caught and soon the stove was warming the room properly again. He was about to go back to bed when he saw Astra out of the corner of his eye, curled up into a tight ball and visibly shivering underneath her blanket. Grabbing his blanket, he went to her side and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Astra, you awake?"

"Sorry—am I being loud?" she asked sleepily.

"No… just… straighten your legs and move a little closer to the wall."

"Hmm…?" She did so, although it was clear she wasn't sure as to why. He then spread his blanket over her and laid down under it, edging up behind her in order to share warmth. When her body began to tense as he put an arm around her, he grabbed a fistful of her blanket, making it clear that it was between them.

"Buildings made of stone react to winter differently than those made of wood and plaster," he explained quietly. "Guild lodging gets draft easily; it's not surprising you're over here freezing your toes off if you've never had to deal with something like this before."

She didn't answer, but she also did not try to push him away. Eventually she stopped shivering and rolled over to face him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Impulsively, Olivier went and shifted in the bed, gently rolling Astra on her back and situating himself over her. He then leaned down and kissed her tenderly, exploring her mouth when her lips parted for him. When her chest began to press against his he stopped, realizing she was completely out of breath despite the kiss not being that intense. She was staring at him, her eyes wide as she tried to normalize her breathing again.

"Wait a moment, you've never been kissed before, have you?" he realized. She shook her head silently, expression more confused than anything. He pressed a kiss to her forehead in an apology before laying down to the side, resting his head on her shoulder. A sharp pain in the front of his brain made him wince, though it left just as suddenly as it came and he quickly forgot about it. "Here I thought there would have been a young footman or gardener that would have caught your eye before now, but I should have asked. I'm sorry—that was selfish."

"There's been no one, but I don't mind. It just took me by surprise." She leaned into him as she felt his fingers curve around her waist, holding her close. "This would definitely make Papa throw a fit."

"Fathers tend to do that when it comes to their children," Olivier agreed. "Then again, Uncle Antoine would probably be right beside him. He wants me to marry well, but I decided long ago who to look for."

"…and who might that be?"

"A kind woman… one who is intelligent and interesting, and reminds me of Mum in all the right ways." Astra snickered at that, unsure what to make of the statement.

"You want a younger version of your mum?" she laughed. When she saw his eyes grow wide as he stared at her, she quickly covered it up. "I know wanting someone like a parent is different than wanting that specific parent, but why? Everyone has a different reason."

"Mum's a strong woman, and she raised me by herself after Dad left," he admitted. "Uncle Antoine helped a bit, since she's his sister, but it was nothing compared to what she did." He blushed slightly, embarrassed that he was even still talking, yet went on. "I admire her, and if I marry, I want it to be to a woman who is strong enough to stand on her own, because I will have to travel… and traveling can be dangerous." He rested his forehead on her shoulder, hiding his face. "Dad showed me what not to do, and I don't want to screw it up."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," she assured. Stroking his hair, Astra craned her neck forward and kissed the top of his head. "Why is this all coming out now?"

"…because I'm really hoping this isn't snow fever," he answered, voice barely above a whisper. "As a disease of the brain, it's quick and unforgiving—just like my want to be with you."

"That's alright," she said. Shimmying down, she made sure to look Olivier in the eyes while she gently held his face so that he could not look away. "Can I just ask what about me reminds you so much of someone obviously very important to you?"

"You're both accountants," he replied simply.

At that she kissed him, and although it didn't get further than their lips, she wouldn't have argued if it had.