A/N: I had most of this chapter already finished, but with the lack of general updates I've had recently, I pulled myself together long enough to polish this one off.
Rough ages are as follows: Johan at 68, Daniel at 51, Clara at 49, Martha at 46, a new character(!) at 28, Lena at 18, Astra/Tara at 16, Sterling at 12, Maglina/Oriana at 10, and Seren at 5.
Chapter Thirty-One: The First Suitor
It was a couple months after the coming-of-age ceremony of Lady Lena Anthea, Earlessa of Gallifrey and Heir to the March of Kasterborous, and things were much the same as they always were. The daily goings-on helped the young heir distract herself from the inevitable part of her job, the one that she dreaded not because it made her uncomfortable, but because she saw little point in it.
"We already had a ball after my ceremony," she groused as a maid helped her squeeze into a corset. It arrived slightly tighter than she was normally used to, though there was no time to tailor it before the event. The Marchioness stood to the side, watching as her daughter's scowl became increasingly pronounced, there in case Lena sent off the maid and decided to sit out the ball by hiding somewhere in the vast castle corridors.
"That was mainly attended by the local lesser lords and important businessmen," the Marchioness insisted. "This is going to be attended by people from all over the kingdom—think of it as a personal debutante ball."
"That doesn't make it any better, Mama," Lena frowned. The maid finally finished securing the corset and tucked the ends of the ties underneath the garment. "Thank you for helping; these back-tie ones are horrid to put on."
"It's not a problem, milady," the maid curtseyed. "Would you like help with the dress since I'm here?"
"Yes, please. So far you have been the best part about tonight." The maid held back a giggle and assisted her future liege lady in managing the fine fabric, which was a combination of rich blue and deep violet, using the couple extra inches she had over the Earlessa to easily lift it over her head while not ruining her hair in the process. Once the garment was in place to Lena's specifications, the maid left, allowing the mother and daughter some private time before the ball.
"You can't be sour all night," the Marchioness warned. She watched as Lena sat down at her vanity and began applying rouge to her face. "It could be disastrous."
"I know how to hold it in until after the last guest has retired for the night," Lena fired back. She tried to ignore her mother's presence, but that was impossible. "You've taught me well—I don't expect I should cause a kingdom-wide incident simply because I attended a ball."
"That's never stopped you before," the Marchioness scolded, recalling the public birthday ball her daughter threw two years prior. She waited until the teen was done painting her lips before placing her hands on her shoulders, locking eyes via the mirror. Those eyes—heavy-lidded and stormy—were filled with irritation and ire that only the young possessed. "This is your first society function as a full adult and I only want you to be careful. Someone will want to catch you off-guards."
"I know, Mama."
"You've been avoiding the guests that have been staying in the visitors' wing."
"The lands still need governing and I am capable of the work."
"…and being social is still your duty." She pressed a kiss into Lena's hair while squeezing her shoulders gently. "Please, now that there is life in the castle again, don't let your pride ruin it. We all do things we don't want to do, and sometimes they can lead to great happenings."
"I doubt that."
"I know seven young ones who wouldn't exist today had I been given my first choice of husband, and a barony would still be under stewardship." The Marchioness knew her daughter was aware of the details surrounding her parents' early days of marriage, and that she had no room to argue. "Please, for me."
"I shall, Mama," Lena sighed. She leaned back in the chair and looked at herself in the vanity mirror. She could barely recognize her own face, though it was not because of the cosmetics—those she toyed with wearing every once in a while, whether she was going to court or staying in the offices. Lena was about to open her mouth to continue when the door to her room burst open and her youngest brother rushed in, crying about a stubbed finger. The young boy did not know what he had interrupted, and his sister thought that was ultimately for the better.
That night was a whirlwind of introductions and courtesies, all of which were borne with grace by one of the three hosts. The dinner feast, although grand, was simple by the standards of some in attendance, though the dancing portion more than made up for it. Something that no one could dispute was that Kasterborsian musicians were amongst the finest in the kingdom, with the ones in the Marquis and Marchioness's employ regarded highly in turn.
"When did you become used to society functions, Lady Martha?" Lena wondered dully. She sipped her wine as the two watched the bustling hall whist standing to the side.
"I attended a couple parties that weren't 'society' in my youth, but close enough to prepare me for them," the Baroness claimed. "These simply aren't your idea of fun and that's fine."
"Try telling that to Mama."
"Clara knows better than both of us what's important in this stage of things, so I'd rather go with her word over mine." She glanced at the teen before giving her a gentle smile. "To think: the little girl I once met, whom accepted my role in her life immediately and without a second thought, is now a woman grown, standing beside me at a ball."
"Now you're sounding like Mama," Lena smirked. The two shared a laugh before the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill returned with a drink for his wife and a stranger not far behind him.
"Here you are," he said, handing the glass to the Baroness with a peck to her cheek. He then turned towards Lena, a look on his face that said he had been cornered. "This is Lord James Romlan, one of our neighbors' sons. Lady Clara was the one who greeted his family earlier, but he was inquiring about you over by the drinks." His former pupil knew the look on his face was not one he wore with ease, though very few knew how to read the man's metal-studded and loose-skinned expressions.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord James," she said with a slight curtsey. "I'm glad you could make it all this way for the occasion." The guest took her hand, the one not occupied by her wineglass, and kissed it, giving her a cheeky grin.
"It's a pity we had to miss such a precious gem as yourself at the National Ball," he said. Getting a better look at him, Lena could see he was older than her by more than a few years, possibly ten if she stretched it, and he at least appeared to give off the air of being level-headed. "Are you planning on being formally presented next year?"
"I plan to rule come the day my parents step down from their position," she replied icily. It was boring and nearly automatic, replying to such a statement, though the response she received from Lord James wasn't one of disapproval, but one of cheerful bemusement.
"The rumors are true: your mother's charm and your father's steadfastness—the North will be in good hands one day."
"Uh… thanks." Lena's ears began to turn pink, not knowing how to accept the compliment. She was so used to needing to argue her inheritance, yet this man seemed to accept it wholeheartedly.
"Would you care to dance?"
"Yes, please." She allowed him to lead her out to the dance floor, where they cut into the current song with ease. As they danced, she gazed up at his face to see that he was admiring her. "What is it?"
"Merely impressed with the company, is all," he replied. "I hope you weren't waiting for someone else." A pause. "Is there someone else?"
"No, I was not, and no, there is not," she said. "My father made sure I was promised to no one, and few decide to approach me, meaning you're in no danger except when it comes to Papa himself."
"Papas are always like that when it comes to their daughters," he claimed. "Mine will barely let my younger sister out of his sight, the poor thing. It will be a miracle if she marries before the age of thirty."
"If she wants one, I'm sure she'll find a marriage eventually," she replied. Her heart grew fluttery the longer she danced and talked to him. After a few songs, a servant approached them, claiming that it was time for the Romlans' departure. "Do you have to go?"
"Yes, unfortunately," he said, the two walking towards the side of the hall. "We are staying with some family in the area—a serdar on Mama's side—and we leave when they do." He bent and kissed her knuckles again, keeping their gazes locked. "Until we meet again, Earlessa."
"Until we meet again," she echoed. Lena was only able to stay at the ball for another twenty minutes before she retreated up to the family's private wing, so happy that she could barely mask her emotions when she invaded Astra's room, finding her twin sisters chatting over their late-night cuppas, Seren asleep on the couch.
She was in love.
Soon as Lena had been led off to dance, the Baron cursed lowly in the ceremonial tongue. "I was hoping that wouldn't happen."
"She's a smart girl, Daniel," his wife reminded him. "James Romlan isn't even the worst she could do—it's not like he's directly in line for the county, and his brother has sons."
"…and Johan and Clara will never forgive us if she becomes an aunt to children older than Oriana," he defended. "I don't like it."
"Then why'd you bring him over?"
"He wasn't going to leave me alone unless I did, so it was either invite him and save face, or get on the wrong side of the Count and have him push his way in anyhow." He scanned the crowd, attempting to find either the Marquis or Marchioness to warn them.
"Daniel, relax… she'll be fine." The Baroness frowned into her drink as she came to a realization. "You're not going to be this way with our daughter, are you?"
"If we're lucky, Sterling won't let another man come within thirty feet of her the moment she turns eighteen," he said. At least they had the peace-of-mind knowing the sort of boy who already had his respectful and adoring eyes on their only child—Lena's lack of anyone made her a source of worry for him as well as her parents. "They're all like my children, Martha; you know that."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," she assured him. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the tall figure of the Marquis swooping towards them. Dressed in the darkest blue and surest crimson, he was like a walking depiction of the kingdom's night skies.
"Who is that dancing with my daughter?" he hissed, keeping his voice hushed.
"Count Romlan's younger son," the Baron replied. "He forced my hand when it came to introductions, and him charming Lena is the last thing I want, trust me."
The concerned father's face twisted in worry, his eyes bulging and his brows rising, his paternal instinct overtaking any sort of ire he might have had towards his children's tutor. "Why is that? I haven't heard ill of the Romlans, but the younger son…"
"I don't know enough about his personality to say whether or not I like him," the Baron explained.
"He was charming," the Baroness cut in. "I don't think it's an act, not to mention the fact that he has to be on his best behavior here whether he likes it or not." She put a hand on her husband's arm, attempting to settle him down. "Let this be the opportunity to see how the younger Romlan is; none of us know what the future holds when it comes to inheritance."
"I guess…" he muttered. She then turned her attention over to the Marquis.
"You too, Johan; don't make me drag Clara over here."
"Martha, I'm perfectly capable of holding my temper."
"Tell that to your track record," she quipped. "Lena will have to figure him out for herself—she'll be the best judge of whether or not he's a good man or a heap of sludge if given enough time."
"How do you know that?"
"…because I was an eighteen-year-old girl once." The Baroness watched as her husband and friend's faces both fell, knowing full-well she was right. "His name was Michael, and he was my first real paramour after graduating from the College in Gallifrey. We met in the capital and dated all while I was in medical training."
"…what happened?" the Marquis wondered cautiously.
"He wanted to stay in the capital, maybe even move southward, but I wanted to come back here," she said plainly. "Michael was a good man, but, ended up not being the one for me."
"I'm glad for that," the Baron sighed. He kissed the top of his wife's hair and held her close. "Are you sure she'll be fine?"
"Of course; the Romlans' boys are all at least polite and know better than to take advantage of a girl like Lena," the Baroness replied. "She won't be in any danger. If anything, he's a good practice suitor."
"People don't have 'practice suitors'," he said. One glance at his wife's face made him very quickly rethink that statement. "Do they?"
"Depends on the person and their position," she shrugged. "Don't be surprised if you find yourself entertaining the young lord sometime in the near future, Johan."
The Baroness then walked away, beyond amused at the current situation. She watched Lena and her dance partner from afar, as well as her husband and liege lord to make sure they didn't do anything rash. When Lena retired for the evening without so much as a peep from the men, she felt at-ease; now it was time to really watch things unfold.
A month passed and Lena's thoughts were in the clouds, unable to fully part themselves from Lord James Romlan and how charming she found him. While the Marchioness found her eldest daughter's crush to be terribly amusing, the Marquis found it terrible in general—he did not know this young man, nor did the children's tutor despite being his baronial neighbor, and the thought that his daughter was in love scared him. It was bad enough with his eldest son still making bashful eyes at his schoolmate, but Lena was in a position to where she could marry if that was what she wished. To marry one's first suitor without taking time to consider the facts was dangerous, and it was something he fretted over telling her, not quite able to work up the courage to have a talk with her.
It all came crashing down on him, however, when Lena received a letter one morning during breakfast. She blushed as she read it, with her breath almost nonexistent.
"Mama? Papa?" she eventually said. "In about two weeks, Lord James Romlan, the son of one of Sir Daniel and Lady Martha's neighbors, is going to be in Braxos for a meeting with Psi, and he wants to know if he can come here to visit afterwards. Can he?"
"I don't see why not," the Marchioness replied. "I saw you dancing with him at the ball—does this mean you are friends?"
"I'd like to think that," Lena admitted. She placed the letter in her lap and glanced down the table at the Marquis. "Papa? What do you think?"
"Your papa thinks it is a splendid idea," the Marchioness cut in. She held up a hand to silence her husband, whose face began to turn red. "Write him back and say that we'd love to have him for a spell. I'm sure Psi will be more than willing to let him loose a bit early, even."
"Thank you, Mama; I'll go write him now before the day begins," Lena beamed. She took the letter and bolted, leaving the remainder of her family to sit in awkward tension. It wasn't until the Baron walked in did the younger children breathe a sigh of relief, whether they knew why or not, and skittered out of the room.
"What's with them?" he wondered, not yet taking his leave. "Is something wrong?"
"We are going to be hosting the son of one of your neighbors in two weeks," the Marquis bristled. "Daniel, this is precisely what we wanted to avoid."
"Great," the Baron muttered sourly. "It's bad enough she's not been herself since the ball, but if this continues because of that little Cybermat…"
"Boys, please—let Lena spread her wings," the Marchioness insisted. She gently placed a hand on her husband's arm and gently squeezed, forcing him to lock eyes with hers. "She'll do the right thing."
"Daniel's right: our daughter is not herself," the Marquis reasoned. "I want to be there for her, as I always have, and protect her while she is unawares. Is that so wrong?"
"It can be," she frowned. She switched her gaze from her husband to her friend and back. "Now no pressuring her one way or the other; either we will have a wedding on our hands or heartbreak. Whichever way, it should happen naturally."
"I'm still not sure," the Baron said, clearly uncomfortable.
"It is something we all learn, one way or another," the Marchioness said. She kissed her husband at the corner of his whiskers, then stood and kissed the Baron on his cheek. "It might end up messy, but what in this world isn't?" She then left the room, wanting to make sure she had the final word on the matter. They could not truly know the situation as she did—after all, she knew what it was like to be properly courted by a man strange to her father's lands. She only hoped for the best, as any mother would, and went to her office with a light lift in her step.
Weeks went by and soon Lord James Romlan rode into the City of Gallifrey, tall and proud atop his horse. He was greeted by Lena at the stables, a footman having alerted her of his arrival.
"I was warned by Lord Simon that Kasterborsian welcome parties are some of the prettiest in the kingdom," he grinned. The young lord dismounted his horse and approached his hostess, bending down to kiss her knuckles. "Let me shed these travel-stained clothes, after which I would enjoy some fairer company than what I have gotten while on the road."
"I shall be waiting by the pavilion," Lena said, suppressing a giggle. She tried not to rush towards the porch overlooking the gardens and sat down on a stone bench, attempting to be as patient as possible. Time seemed to pass slowly while she waited, until finally Lord Romlan returned to her side. Gone were his traveling clothes and instead he wore a fine jacket of the purest blue, which brought out his eyes all the more intensely.
"May I offer my arm for a walk?" he asked.
Without a word, Lena stood and clung to his outstretched arm. They ambled along in the garden's many paths, wandering only with the aim of conversing.
"I do have to say, milady, that you are one of the most interesting women I've ever met."
"It's Lena, please," she giggled. Clinging to his arm, she rested her head against his shoulder as they walked along the garden path. "You know, you're one of the few men who has given me a second glance as anything other than someone too bold for their station; I cannot express how much I appreciate that."
"I can only imagine," he replied. He cleared his throat and glanced at his companion, blush rising to his face. "Lena… I understand this is very soon, but would you consider possibly allowing me to court you?"
"Court?" she beamed. "I've never been asked, so I can't say for sure…"
"I've thought about it for a while now, and I imagine we could be happy together," he continued. "The rule of Kasterborous and Gallifrey would be yours—I don't want it unless you need to share it—and I will be at your side as counsel and tutor in the ways of people not often contacted by your lord father. It would make the ties between our homes stronger, and my brother shall be more inclined to send support to the border…"
"It sounds like an interesting proposition," Lena said. She breathed slowly, trying to keep her composure. This was a test… one that she was secretly preparing herself for since their meeting. She was about to sputter out an acceptance when Seren crawled out of the hedge and clung to her skirts.
"Hide me!" the boy whimpered. Lord Romlan took a step back from Seren, a disapproving frown on his face.
"…and who is this?" he wondered cautiously.
"My youngest brother, Seren," Lena said. She bent down and looked the boy in the eyes. "What are you hiding from?"
"I don't want to fight swords!" Seren insisted. "Sir Daniel says I have no choice!"
"That's because Sir Daniel's correct on this matter," his sister said. Seren tried to run away, but Lena's grip on his upper arm was too strong. "We all need to know how to fight whether we like it or not."
"I get too tired though!"
"That only means you need to practice, nothing more." It was then that Sterling popped his head around the corner, investigating where Seren had run off to. He was dressed in rough clothes suited for sparring, making it so that it was clear the Baron had been using him as an instructing assistant.
"There he is; thanks for holding onto him," he breathed in relief. Sterling hauled Seren up onto his shoulder to make sure he didn't run away, before turning towards their guest and bowing his head slightly. "Lord Romlan, I presume? I'm Sterling, the elder of Lena's brothers."
"Charmed," Lord Romlan nodded. He watched as the brothers left and waited until they left to make a disapproving face. "A term at my old school would straighten that boy out."
"Seren doesn't need straightening," Lena snickered. "He's barely of schooling age—weren't you and your siblings the same way?"
"Our nannies kept us in line at home and the professors while at school," he replied. "Children need to know their place, after all."
"Their… place…?"
"Of course; staying out of the adults' way and striving to become proper and respectful individuals. Young Lord Sterling looks to be about the age where children start eating with the remainder of the family instead of with the governess, yet he and young Lord Seren seem too comfortable just interrupting us. Do you not do these things in Gallifrey?"
"Mama and Papa have had us all at the table with them for our entire lives, save for large dinner parties when either a maid or our tutor was left in charge of us before I grew old enough to take responsibility." Lena tried to keep herself level, now due to irritation, though she still bristled slightly at the man before her. "If you have it in your head to court me, then you have to give your word that you will respect our traditions, how children behave being one of them."
"You don't follow many actual traditions though, not that I'm aware," the lord justified. He did not seem condescending or cruel, though he did appear to be incredibly confused. "You may follow your lord tutor's traditions in some ways, but I know the man as my neighbor—he is baseborn and makes no apologies for it. I wouldn't be surprised if he was teaching you incorrect policies and protocol, even as an honest mistake. Your parents hold no objections?"
"He has been the only choice for my siblings and me when it comes to our education," she said. Mentioning Tara's move to the Academy would only make things worse at this point. "He may have been born a common man, but great men come from all places. That is why the king makes serdars and serdaressas from any significantly accomplished subject, correct?"
"Correct, though I never said anything about him not being a great man, merely misinformed." The lord began to feel as though he got more than he bargained for when he charmed the pretty young woman with incredible wit, the one who now seemed a completely different person. "My only concern is why two people who were raised in a proper society setting allow the standards to fall for their own children. You are powerful and intelligent, yes, and yet you have little grasp on what makes someone widely respected. I can teach you that, if you wish."
"I won't turn you out on the street, Lord Romlan, but I will suggest that you find alternative lodgings for tomorrow," Lena scowled. "I know what needs to be done in order to gain widespread respect and that is an understanding of and devotion towards the people of the march and earldom. Do not think that because I am of presentation age that means I'm some giggly maid without a brain in my head or a thought of my own. You shall not court me, Lord Romlan; I have better use of my time than listening to you criticize my parents and tutor's method of raising my siblings and me."
"…but…"
"See you at dinner—I requested that the cook prepare something special. I hope it is to your liking." With that she stormed away, leaving the lord to stand there alone in the garden wondering what had just happened.
Later on that night, Lord James Romlan found himself in the rather awkward position of sitting next to a young woman whom was incapable of giving him anything more than a cordial glance. Her father across the way made his thoughts even more evident, his demeanor cold and his glare colder. All around them, however, was chaos as the rambunctious younger children were nearly bouncing off the walls at the very idea there was a visitor for their sister there, not their parents. Lord Romlan fielded questions from the younger ones with a smile forced upon his face; interacting with children was never one of his strong points, and he knew it never would be.
Unbeknownst to most, the Earlessa spent the night in her sister's room, ranting to the twins about the odious way in which the visiting lord commented on their upbringing and how he insinuated they needed fixing of some sort. It ended with the young woman bursting into inconsolable tears, swearing she would never allow her heart to get the best of her again. She vowed never again to idly think of weddings and futures unless it was a sibling that was being wed. Eventually the younger twin went and knocked on their parents' chamber door, summoning their mother to assist in calming the eldest sister. The Marchioness brought the Earlessa back to the latter's bedroom, stroking her hair as they sat and talked. She assured her that things were going to work out for the better, and that swearing off love and want would do neither her nor the marquisate any good in the long run. The sobs eventually subsided and an exhausted teenager was put to bed by her loving mother; no harm was truly done.
The following morning the almost-suitor took his leave of the Earlessa's hospitality and slunk over to his relatives' in the countryside. He now knew to not ignore the words of those who had warned him about her stubbornness and unconventional ways, and would certainly spread the tale himself. She was young though, not yet ready for suitors or a husband, which was the only thing that kept him from speaking the words with any sort of malice. One day she would learn where her duties truly lied and there was nothing wrong with that.