A/N: The following is what is going on elsewhere during ch. 51, meaning that this is central to OC!kids and their parents play little part whatsoever. If this is not your bag, then I do apologize… but at least I gave fair warning.
Rough ages are as follows: Sterling at 18, Maglina a young 16, and Oriana solidly 16.
Chapter Fifty-Three: Balls, Bullies, and the Best of Friends
It was nearly dark as the small group of travelers made their way through the streets of the capitol. Sterling listened to his younger sister and their friend as they rode in the back of the cart he drove, glad for the opportunity that the three of them had been given. Having never been so far from home without any of their parents, it was a new experience for the teens right on the cusp of their final summer together before adulthood. Dressed in plain traveling clothes and having slept under the stars the entire journey, they all appeared to have any sort of society function far from their minds, yet that was precisely what was the topic of conversation.
"How many people replied again?" Oriana wondered aloud.
"Close to forty, though Mama said that we should be prepared for up to sixty based on who it was who did not yet respond," Maglina replied. She seemed to be preparing a mental checklist as they went along. "The only reason I can't expect the full seventy is because of the ten that said they couldn't come."
"They might show up anyhow, just for laughs," Sterling chuckled. His sister shot him a glare that he could feel without turning to see. "I'm still not sure why you're hosting this party, Maggie."
"…because we have to build relationships with our peers throughout the kingdom," she replied matter-of-factly. "Yes it not a full-society event, but it's still the first I've planned all by myself, and if you're not careful, I'm going to make sure that Netta will have your arm the entire night."
"You're cruel," he muttered. While the only child and heir to their southern Braxosi neighbor was a sweet girl and not dull by any means, she also had a tendency to cling to Sterling's side, claiming him as her own since they were in the nursery, and he did not want to deal with such things while on this excursion.
"This isn't just for Maggie's birthday—it is like a going-away party for you," Oriana reminded him. "We can't just let you go off to visit with Mum and Tara all the time without giving you any sort of send-off. That would be mean."
"I don't know how it's a going-away party if I've never met most of these people," he shrugged. "All Maggie did was steal Mama's address book and find those with children our age. It's not like you've met all of these people either."
"…and what better way to get to know them by inviting them to a party!" Maglina insisted. They were now within sight of their capitol house—modest compared to some other lavish residences of those who stayed in the city more often, yet still grand by the overall scheme of things—and excitement was now officially here to stay. "Oh! Lovely! I wonder if I can get a chance to go over the itinerary with staff before we go to bed!"
Sterling rolled his eyes and kept going towards the house while tuning out the two in the back of the cart. If he was to survive this party, then that was all he could do.
The next few days were a flurry of details going this way and that. Maglina, not wanting her first function to be a bust, fussed and fumbled over everything that she could, which helped and amused the staff in equal parts. The day of the party came before any of the teens realized it, spooking the young hostess most of all.
"Please promise me something Ori," Maggie frowned as she stared at her dress in the mirror. It was early in the afternoon as they were preparing for the night ahead. Her best friend popped her head out from behind the dressing screen, quirking her brow inquisitively.
"As long as it doesn't decide babysitting Netta—that's what her dad's for."
"If I need to vomit from nerves, or pass out, or have a mental breakdown, please take my place as hostess." She smoothed out the front of the dress with her hands, attempting to determine if she needed a maid to help with a quick fix. "I feel like I'm about to fall over."
"Once people start coming, you'll be in your element—trust me," Oriana assured her before going back behind the screen. "Don't you go and help your mama and Lena and Astra? As in all the time?"
"Yeah, I help them, but it's not the same as it all riding on me," Maglina exhaled sourly. "I'm starting to regret this—I'm going to die."
"You won't die because of this," Oriana sighed. "You should have seen me at my birthday party last year—at least you had control over who you invited; I could barely get anyone under the age of thirty to show up, and that was only because our lands butt up to one another."
"That's not a party—that's gathering of stuffy old windbags who think that it doesn't stink when they make wind."
"It's still what I had before we had our cupcakes at Castle Gallifrey." Oriana, now fully dressed, came from behind the screen to see that Maglina was now laying face-down on the bed. "If you insist on being like that, I'm going to write your parents and your sisters, so that they nag you for three weeks after getting back home."
Maglina cursed in the ceremonial tongue, which made Oriana laugh before dragging her friend off the bed. They were met by Sterling in the corridor, and after a thorough teasing over his formal Border Forces uniform, the three all went downstairs to begin the last preparations before the party began.
Before they realized it, the first guest and her mother-chaperone had arrived. Sterling and Maglina went to the foyer to begin the long process of receiving guests, while Oriana went into the hall where the festivities were going to be held. She helped to coordinate the servants until Maglina was able to relieve her. The hall was filled with people by then—people mostly her age, at that!—and it was so terribly exciting that she could not stop smiling.
Flutes of punch, dancing with Netta and Maglina, scores of introductions, and many platters of nibbles came and went; for Oriana, the night felt perfect as it went along. She watched from afar as Maglina flourished in her hostess's role, glad for her friend that the nerves that plagued her earlier had vanished. A servant offered her the last nibble from his tray, which she happily took and ate without question. By the time she had swallowed the food, she noticed one of the young men she had not yet been introduced to standing a few feet away, watching her critically.
"Yes? May I help you?"
"Look at you," the young man sneered. "It baffles me that a marquis's daughter and marchioness's sister has referred to you as not only a lady but her dearest friend. Your breeding is so clear that it almost pains me to look at you."
"…and what is that supposed to mean?" Oriana asked, being careful to sound less offended than she actually was. Just because he was short on manners did not mean she could idly toss hers aside. "I wasn't aware someone could pin-point another's 'breeding' on-sight; if I were to say, then we nearly look as though we could be cousins." Her conversation partner snorted at that, obviously finding her reply humorous.
"You have poor posture and callouses on your hands; you don't know how to conduct a courtly conversation, let alone how to act during one; your ignorance of the latest proper dress codes are apparent by those rags you're wearing, and you are so horrid at the simple act of eating the nibbles that it's a wonder that Coal-on-the-Hill isn't in a constant state of revolt."
"Rude!" she frowned. "What gives you the right to judge me for being myself?! You don't even know me!"
"I don't have to know you—it's plain as the dress you wear," he replied. The young man took a flute of punch from a passing servant and gave Oriana a half-smirk. "I know that you and your parents and our esteemed hostess like to play pretend every once in a while, but it's time to give this little game up: you are nothing—never were and never will be."
"That is a lie," she snapped. "My parents earned the respect that people give them; what did yours do?"
"Oh, pity—you think I'm talking about something that can be earned? Bought? Bestowed?" He took a sip of his drink before letting out a slight chuckle. "You are the child of foot-soldiers, of an orphan, of someone who makes a living ripping apart people, of a filthy Cyberan castaway, too useless for even them to bother with. There was never any doubt that you would be nothing from the moment you were born, no matter what lies they tell you in that desolate wasteland of a march."
"Take that back," Oriana hissed. She clenched her fists as her body began to shake. "You are wrong. Apologize, now."
"Apologize to what? Coal-on-the-Hill for their dismissed steward?"
"You are cruel." She blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks. "I am the next Baroness Coal-on-the-Hill because of my parents' merits and the wisdom they passed down to me. My breeding is stellar, and it's not my fault you ca—." Her voice began to crack, preventing her from continuing.
"I think we have a word for people like you where I come from," the young man sneered. His teeth glistened in the lamplight, nearly predatory, as he let the silent tension build. Oriana glanced around and saw that there was a circle around them, with people staring, watching, wondering what was going to happen. Even the adults gathered in the corner of the room had their attention trained on her and the lordling. "It's—"
Suddenly, the young man was cut off by a fist slamming into his face. He fell to the ground, dropping his drink and letting the flute shatter. Oriana jumped and gasped in fright, only to realize that it was Sterling who now stood between her and the snide lordling—there was a fire in his eyes she could recall having seen only once before, in a memory so faint it might have been a dream. It had been a few years ago then, and a newly-hired servant had attempted to coax her from the castle grounds, possibly succeeding had Sterling not stepped in. Now his face—having lost any lingering softness from childhood—was the sharp image of his father's, should the decades of scowling be erased, terrifying her beyond anything she knew.
Not only did one of her best friends just punch a stranger hard enough to make him crumple to the ground, but it happened because of her. She had gotten into an argument, made a scene, and could not handle it to the point someone else had to step in for her. After failing to defend her family and herself, she had to be rescued, heaping shame onto her.
It was her fault.
At this, Oriana turned on her heel and ran. Her feet led her up the stairs and into the room she was sharing with Maglina, only stopping once the door was shut against her back. Everything was dark and silent—far away from what remained of the party—as she let herself breathe once again whilst shivering beside cold, lacquered wood.
She was done.
From the moment people began to filter through the front door, Sterling found himself increasingly caught up in a flurry of nerves. He was discovering a new depth to his shyness, finding that his voice was retreating further into his throat the more guests he and Maglina greeted. While his sister remained poised and collected the entire time, he felt grossly out of place, finally able to excuse himself when he saw Psi, Earl Braxos walk in, pulling the man aside as his daughter Netta chatted excitedly with Maglina.
"This was a mistake," the teen squeaked while they walked through the house to the ballroom. "Everyone my age seems too giggly or sour, and it feels like every single one of the chaperones have been sizing me up. I'm about to run upstairs and not come down until tomorrow."
"It gets easier as you keep at it," Psi said, hiding his chuckle poorly. "If I recall my papa's stories correctly, then your papa had a rough time of it when he started going to parties as well, but does he seem bothered by them now?"
"Depends on what you mean by 'bothered'," Sterling grimaced. A servant came by and offered them both punch, as well as taking a flask from his inner jacket pocket that he said was available for the esteemed chaperones' glasses only, if desired. The earl gladly took some in his drink and clinked his glass with Sterling's.
"This was your father's doing; I'll have to write him in thanks," Psi grinned.
"Better write it in duplicate and address the other to Lena," Sterling said. "She was the one who instructed the head-of-house to make it a thing. They deserve equal credit."
"I always knew I appreciated your family, and I discover more as to why with each passing year," Psi nodded. "At least we know that we suffer together."
Sterling agreed and the two began their night of survival amongst those who had answered Maglina's blind invitation. Some were cordial enough, and some were uneasy as Sterling, yet there were still those in the crowd that were there purely to see how much trouble they could cause. It was the price they were paying for building the bases of possible alliances later on in life, and that was what counted.
At what was supposed to be partway through the night, however, something pulled at the back of Sterling's mind, telling him that not all was well. He knew that nibbles had been served, drinks refilled, and songs were being danced to, meaning that whatever was disturbing the festivities was something that needed attention. Glancing around, he saw a small crowd gathering on the other side of the room, prompting him to unload his drink on a nearby tray.
"Looks like someone needs a scolding," Sterling grumbled to Psi. The older man gave him an understanding nod and let him leave without a fuss. He edged his way through the guests until he could see what was happening.
It was one of the young men who had arrived without a chaperone, looking absolutely disgusted at his conversation partner… Oriana.
"You are the child of foot-soldiers, of an orphan, of someone who makes a living ripping apart people, of a filthy Cyberan castaway, too useless for even them to bother with," the lad said, voice full of gleeful spite. "There was never any doubt that you would be nothing from the moment you were born, no matter what lies they tell you in that desolate wasteland of a march."
A spark lit low in Sterling's gut as he took in the face of the ignorant pot-stirrer who dared question not only the Pink-Joneses as a whole, but Oriana's legitimacy especially. Although he could still see, his hearing left him as blood pounded in his ears in his building rage. How did any person decide to attend his sister's peaceful, fun-spirited party, only to spoil their hospitality by humiliating other guests? What made him believe that he was entitled to pass such harsh judgement on someone he barely knew anything about? Did he even give a single thought towards the implications and long-term effects of his words?
Oriana turned to glance about and Sterling saw tears streaming down her face—she was panicking, distressed, and worst of all: terrified.
Sterling thought nothing as he parted the crowd before him until he entered the circle surrounding Oriana and the rude guest. He didn't care anymore and recalled sparring lessons last given long before, balling his right hand into a fist and landing a solid punch on the other lad's face. The young man fell to the floor, his disgraceful act sputtering to a halt.
"Are you alright, Ori?" Sterling asked. He turned to look, only to find that she was already running off. He saw Maglina standing by the door to the hall, looking a veritable mix of confused and concerned. Psi appeared by her side within seconds, clearly there to keep her calm, which meant that Sterling was able to turn his attention back to the matter at-hand.
"I don't understand why you waste your ti—" The lordling began to stand as he spoke, yet Sterling rammed his knee into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and his rear back on the floor. He wheezed and sputtered as his attacker grabbed him by the collar and dragged him one-handed across the polished floors, through the house until they were in the foyer.
"Door," was all Sterling said. One of the footmen standing guard opened the front door, allowing their young lord to reach the top step of the outside stairs and toss him down towards the drive without breaking his pace.
Turning around, Sterling found that most of the party-goers had followed him, now all staring from a safe distance. He took a deep breath and set his glare; there would be no standing down from this. There were only two choices: own his actions or run from them.
Now was not the time to run.
"I am the eldest family member here from the Household of Lady Marchioness Lena Anthea of Kasterborous and Gallifrey," he announced gravely, "and that makes me this house's current master. A slight on my guests is a slight towards me… not to mention a slight towards my eldest sister, which is something none of your parents wish to experience if, or when, retribution is paid. Let this be a warning to anyone else with the mind to further spoil our hospitality." When no one moved in any way, he clicked his heels together and gave a shallow, curt bow. "If you will pardon me, I have other matters that need attending. Goodnight."
Sterling did not wait for a reaction and immediately went for the staircase on the foyer's edge. From there he bounded up the steps and went directly to Maglina and Oriana's room. He quietly opened the door and poked his head in, not wanting to spook the young lady of his affections. She was sitting on the floor in the corner, a blanket tossed over her and sobbing so loudly he could hear it from the door. He entered and left the door slightly ajar, joining her in the darkness.
"He's gone," he announced. A few small sniffles and she quieted long enough to poke her head out the blanket cocoon.
"What do you mean…?"
"I am the master of the house right now, since I'm the eldest member of the family present, and I found his behavior enough reason to kick him out." Sterling decided it was safer to not say anything about why his fist was throbbing or that he entire party had come to a crashing halt as he made an example of the offender. "You can return to the party whenever you wish."
"Th-thank you, but I don't think I'm going back," she replied quietly.
The embarrassment and sadness in her voice broke his heart, making up his mind for him. He took off his jacket and draped it on the desk chair before sitting down to pull off his boots.
"What are you doing?" she wondered.
"The last thing you need right now is to be alone," she explained. Once his boots were off, he helped her stand and led her to her bed. They sat down on the duvet side-by-side, with Oriana still wrapped up in her blanket and Sterling putting his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and exhaled heavily, her breath still wobbly.
"Why are people like that?" she mused. "I've barely seen that boy in my life, but he acted like I was a piece of garbage who has been haunting him since birth."
"Some people don't know how to act when in the presence of someone truly genuine and fortunate, and take out their own insecurities on others. He is nothing more than a bully and bullies will find anything to latch onto. If they are told one thing is off-limits, they will only find another; ignore him."
"…but is it obvious that Mum and Dad weren't originally highborn by looking at me…?"
"I don't think so," he said. "Just think back to our history lessons: immigration older than the kingdom itself, the granting of serdarships, and a variety of strategic marriages has given us highborn people from the palest pinks and yellows to the deepest reds and browns, and everything in-between. We have sturdiness and frailty, thick and thin, all sorts of faces and hair types and bodies… any one of us has an echo outside of high society, and not on accident either."
Sterling paused for a moment, before his brow rose in realization. "Stars… just look at Olly—his father was a footman and now he will end up a serdar… not to mention how independently of that, he is married to a former marquis's daughter and a current marchioness's sister. Very few treat him different, and that's because he merely is confident in himself and doesn't take anything bullies throw at him. If someone says that they can tell your parents weren't highborn just by looking at you, then they are lying."
"He still made me feel like a fool." She tried to settle in closer to him, glad for the comfort his presence gave. "I had to be rescued as though I cannot defend myself; how is that going to make Coal-on-the-Hill look? How Mum and Dad look?"
"There's nothing wrong with needing rescuing sometimes," he replied. "Anyone who would think that is a sign of weakness or unworthiness wouldn't know real strength if it punched them across the face." He then grimaced slightly at that, realizing the comparison too late. "Still, you were faced with a situation you were not ready for; Papa says failure to understand those situations early leads to learning how to handle them later."
"…just like if I had to cover for Maggie tonight because she was overcome by nerves…?"
"Precisely." He tucked her crown beneath his chin and gently put his free hand on her closest forearm. "Just rest now; no one can harm you here. I swear on it."
"Thank you."
Staying still, Sterling kept Oriana in his arms as they remained silent. He brushed the very edges of his mind against hers, as his twin sisters had taught them both, and could feel her calm and grow at-ease once again. Neither were entirely certain how much time had went by, though they were eventually joined by a flustered Maglina who was surprised to see them both.
"Oh!" she marveled, stopping a few steps into the room. "Did I interrupt something, or…?"
"The opposite, actually," Sterling said. He and Oriana stood, stretching some of the oncoming sleep from their limbs. "I had wanted to make sure all was well with our most important guest; we'd be terrible hosts if the one person we have stay with us wasn't properly cared for during her stay."
"That's true," Maglina agreed. "I'm just mortified that someone decided to be that rude to you, Ori. I know Sterling took care of it all, but trust me when I say I saw the whole thing. The rest of the guests didn't last much longer because of it, though it was purely because of that jerk trying to make himself look better. It only made him look worse than he already was."
"I don't know what I did to deserve such great friends," Oriana sniffled. She allowed the blanket to drop to the floor as she hugged first Maglina, then Sterling, attempting to keep herself steady. It hurt to remember the harsh words from earlier, though they seemed to matter much less now. "You're not just great friends—you're both my best friends… the best friends a girl can have. I love you both so much…"
Watching as his sister and their friend hugged again while crying, Sterling took the moment as his opportunity to step out of the room. He had the love that was Oriana's friendship, and although it was not the sort of love he desired to share with her one day, it was a sort that he was more than content to live with. A maid came in as he opened the door, giving him a quick curtsey before she entered to begin shuffling around and preparing the room for sleeping.
"Sterling?"
He turned back around in the doorway, cautiously glancing towards his sister. "Yeah?"
"Can you please stay with us tonight? Like when we were little?"
"Beg your pardon, milady, but is that appropriate…?" the maid asked shyly from the drapes. Maglina nodded kindly.
"He's my brother—and a good man like our father—if I say it is appropriate, then it is."
"Let me change and I'll be back," Sterling nodded. He went to his room across the corridor and did just that, changing into a nightdress and robe before putting on slippers and returning to Maglina's room for the night. She and Oriana had both just finished preparing for bed themselves, the maid having already left. "Alright; how are we to do this?"
"Sleep here," Maglina ordered, patting one side of the bed. Her brother did as he was told, taking off his robe and slippers, sliding beneath the bedding. He had just lain facing the mattress's edge when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him.
"Until morning," Oriana murmured into his neck. Sterling gulped silently as she cuddled him from behind, feeling his sister's hands as she lay on the other side of their friend to continue the chain.
"Until morning," he whispered back.
A/N: With Oriana being a blend of Martha and Danny, it's kind of a mixed bag when it comes to figuring out when her mother's confidence shines through and her father's inner uncertainty comes into play. The lordling's aggressive nature won out this time, but this is also one of Oriana's first dealings with someone who really does not like her.
Also, please, don't punch people unless you really, really need to, because it hurts… as in your hand. Yeah the other person ends up hurting too, but please keep your hands not-injured and your overall self safe and free of situations where punching may arise.