A/N: The following chapter is a mess but I don't care because I've been trying to finalize this chapter for a while (and still just really love this AU).

Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Imaginary Friend

Lady Oriana Adeola Pink—or just Ori, as she preferred—sprung awake ready to start the new day. She made her bed and put on her dress, since her Dad told her that she was a big girl and big girls were only allowed to need help with their hair or party clothes, and went downstairs to get some breakfast. It was still a mystery why her parents wanted to live in a cottage on the castle grounds instead of in the castle itself, but it was times like this where she enjoyed living where they did because it meant that she could do things herself and not worry about getting in other people's way as they worked. She went to get some dried apples and raisins for breakfast when she noticed something very interesting that distracted her from everything else.

Sitting by the doorway was a pair of extra boots and a large rucksack—her mother was home.

Running up the stairs, Oriana went straight into her parents' bedroom and climbed up into their bed. Her mother was there, sure enough, despite the fact she had not arrived home yet when she had gone to sleep, and this excited the young girl beyond measure.

"Mum! Mum! You're back!" she cheered. She hugged both her parents at once, which was easy to do since they were cuddled together underneath the blankets. "Why didn't you wake me up?!"

"We wanted it to be a surprise," the Baroness chuckled sleepily. Keeping the blanket wrapped around her to combat the Autumn air, she sat up and kissed her daughter on the brow, for her husband was not yet conscious enough to do anything. "Is it a nice surprise?"

"Yeah! Put some clothes on and we can have breakfast! I have lots to tell you and you said last time that you can't hear stories while you aren't wearing clothes!"

"Okay, dear. Get the kettle ready for tea, but don't light the stove." The Baroness watched her daughter scurry out of the room before nudging her husband awake. "Good thing we got in what we wanted to last night."

"I told you she'd be excited to see you," the Baron murmured. He gently brushed his metal-capped knuckles across his wife's back, feeling the pleasant shudder that went through her. "Not excited like her old Dad, but excited just the same."

"Let's get downstairs before we have to explain why we're still very much in bed and still very, very naked," she smirked. The couple pecked one another on the lips and proceeded to prepare themselves for the day. Once dressed, they found their daughter in the kitchen, standing on her tiptoes attempting to reach tea on a high shelf with help of a chair. The Baron picked her up by the sides and let her grab the tin herself, the little girl giggling as she did so.

"Do you want to watch me light the fire?" he asked.

"Yes!" she grinned.

Oriana put the tea on the table and watched her father as he loaded the hearth with small logs, straw, and bark shavings, and put a spark in the stove with help of a flint stone. She watched as the fire caught and was soon crackling, doing its job to warm the stove, albeit slowly. It was one of the interesting things about living in their cottage, the girl decided, and it was definitely something she did not often see in Castle Gallifrey.

"Can Maggie's papa do that?" she wondered.

"Lord Johan can, yes, though he rarely does," the Baroness explained. She measured leaves for their morning tea and placed them in the pot. "He has servants to do so, just as we do at Hill House."

"Why don't we have servants here except for help with parties and when we cleaned in Spring?"

"Dad and I find it easier," she said. The Baroness sat down and allowed her daughter to climb into her lap, the girl snuggling close to her body. "Granddad and Gran often couldn't afford hiring servants, and Dad grew up in the Gloucester Academy, where kids have to do everything themselves. We wouldn't know what to do with ourselves if we didn't have to worry about things like tending the fire and cooking breakfast."

"That would get boring," Oriana agreed. She watched as her father began to cook eggs and bacon for their breakfast, with fried, chopped potatoes mixed with onions and wilted greens. It was a long-standing tradition for the Baron to cook breakfast for his family the morning after the Baroness returned from her duty at the front, one that he was certain would eventually turn into him and his daughter cooking as time went on. For the time being, however…

"Oriana, set the table please," he ordered gently.

"Okay, Dad!" She slid off her mother's lap and went into the low cupboard where metal plates sat. The girl put three on the table, as well as forks and butter knives, and carefully brought three mugs over to their spots, moving slowly as to not drop them.

"Oh, you are getting to be such a responsible young lady," the Baroness beamed. Oriana climbed back into her lap, holding up a ribbon she had taken from her pocket.

"...but can you still do my hair, Mum?" she pleaded. "I want a nice braid today and the metal on Dad's hands catches my hair sometimes."

"Alright," her mother said. After combing through Oriana's hair with her fingers, the Baroness began to braid her hair, attempting to be gentle as she tamed her daughter's many curls into the desired shape. "You said you wanted to tell me about what happened while I was gone?"

"Oh yeah! I do! Maggie and I have been having lots of fun! We play with Sterling when he's not in lessons and sometimes Lena and Astra, but some of the best times are when we get to stay with Lord Johan and Lady Clara… or even Dad!"

"That sounds nice," the Baroness nodded. "No one else?"

"Well, there is Maggie's new imaginary friend, but I don't know about him." Oriana frowned slightly and turned towards her mother. "Why don't I feel good about Maggie having an imaginary friend?"

"It's called jealousy, is all, and it is perfectly normal," the Baroness said. "You don't have to share her with very many people right now, so you have to be careful when you feel jealous like that. Sometimes jealousy can make people do very mean things by accident—things that they normally wouldn't do—which makes it a tricky thing to deal with."

"It's true Maggie's my friend, but I still don't really know about her new friend," Oriana said. "She says he's her grandpapa—her grandpapa is in Blackpoole! Why does she need another grandpapa?"

"People normally have two sets of grandparents," the Baron mentioned. He took careful note of the conversation, making sure that he kept it in mind for if either girl was acting odd within the coming days. "You only have Mum's parents and Maglina has Lord and Lady Blackpoole, but Lord Johan and I had parents as well. Maglina's not the first child to imagine what kind of people came before her in her family, and I'm sure she will not be the last."

"What… um… were Gran and Granddad Pink like…?" the girl wondered quietly. She took one of the raisins she had brought out earlier and nibbled on it pensively.

"Gran was a very sweet and kind lady who died of sickness when I was younger than you," the Baron explained. "Granddad never talked about her much, but he was a soldier in the Gloucester Guards and was usually very tired when he'd come home. He died suddenly when I was eight; there was a fire in the munitions shack and it exploded while he was attempting to put the flames out. That's why I grew up in the Academy."

"Oh… what were Maggie's other grandpapa and grandmamma like? The ones not from Blackpoole? Do you remember them too?"

"No," the Baroness said. "When they died, Dad was in Gloucester and I wasn't even born. You would have to ask Lord Johan, or one of the older servants at Castle Gallifrey." She stroked her daughter's hair and held her close. "Next time you and Maglina go down to the kitchens, how about if you ask the cook? I know she was in her first job as a scullery maid when His Late Lordship took the coronet's responsibility, so she should remember him well. What do you say?"

"Yes, Mum," she mumbled. Oriana clutched her mother's dress, embarrassed and confused. She still was not comfortable with her best friend having a completely different friend that she could not even see, let alone the fact she claimed it was someone long-dead. "Can I ask Lord Johan today? You know, about his mama and papa?"

"We'll see," the Baroness cooed. She then noticed that her husband was finished with cooking, now shoving food from the frying pans onto plates. "Look: Dad's done. Let's eat."

Oriana poked her food and tried not to sigh; it still didn't feel right.

The day had already begun for the Marquis and Marchioness as they sat up in their office, going over the proposals, property surveys, and potential minutes for the afternoon's session of court. With their eldest four in lessons, the only one of their children in the room with them was their youngest, seated in the corner as she played with her stuffed bunny.

"Hehehe, that was funny," Maglina giggled quietly. She poured water out of her toy teapot into a cup sitting in front of the toy and nodded almost sagely. "Yes, it is intermesting. I think it's neat, too."

"Clara," the Marquis muttered, still pretending to loom over the map spread across the table. "Something's not right with our daughter."

"She's just getting more vocal," the Marchioness replied. She grabbed a magnifying glass and used it to examine a corner of the map. "All our children have excellent vocal skills and large vocabularies for their ages—why should Maglina be any different?"

"…because there's something about what she's doing that does not sit well with me," he replied.

"Playing tea party?"

"No… talking to that rabbit… because I doubt that she's talking to only the rabbit..."

"You're growing paranoid in your old age," she teased. "She's talking with Malcolm."

"Clara…!"

"You were the one who gave her that thing, and you're going to have to be the one who suffers because of it," the Marchioness scolded. "Don't make a fuss or her feelings will be hurt."

The Marquis groused quietly as he pretended to go back to his work. Whilst his wife ignored their daughter in her play area, he watched carefully despite pretending otherwise. He saw her glance up and grin sunnily—if that was directed towards a toy bunny, then he was mad.

"Maglina, starlet, come over here," he requested. The girl set down her teapot and bounced over.

"Yes, Papa?"

"What are you doing over there?"

"Oh, just playing!"

"Johan," the Marchioness hissed. She jabbed him with her elbow. "What did I just say?!"

"Hold on, Clara." He then turned to their daughter, who now was beginning to look less cheery and more confused than anything. "What are you playing?"

"Tea party… why? Did you want to play with me, Papa?"

"I was only curious. It is just you and Malcolm over there?" He tried to hide his concern when she shrank back. "Well…?"

"For stars' sake, Johan, be reasonable!" the Marchioness snapped. "Maglina, darling, it seems that Papa has been old for so long that he has forgotten what it is like to have an imaginary friend. Is that who you're talking to instead of your bunny?"

The girl paused for a moment, then nodded.

"He's imaginary because only I can see him, right?"

"That's right," the Marchioness affirmed. "Now ignore Papa and continue with your tea party."

"Okay…" Maglina stared at her parents before heading back to her corner. She looked at them once more before picking up the teapot and pretending to pour more water in Malcolm's cup.

"You are incorrigible," the Marchioness frowned, glaring at her husband.

"It still feels as though something is not right," the Marquis fired back stiffly. He bristled as he attempted to concentrate on the map before them, the strategy not working. Before long he stormed from the room, cape billowing behind him, which only served to make Maglina sniffle with tears.

"Mama, why is Papa cross with me?" the girl whimpered, going to hide in her mother's skirts. "Did I do something bad?"

"No, you were doing perfectly fine," her mother said. She stroked her hair in an effort to ease her tears. "As I said: Papa has been old for so long that he doesn't understand imaginary friends anymore. He's the one acting like he has a brain of pudding."

"Are you sure, Mama?"

"Yes, because I've known Papa for a long time, and I am very good at telling when he is being a silly pudding-brain and when he has a point. Let's just not talk about your imaginary friend for a while, alright?" She waited for her daughter to answer, surprised by the fact that it was a weak giggle. The Marchioness herself smiled at that, as it was a sign that Maglina was already recovering from the fright, one step closer to forgetting the entire thing ever happened. "What? Are you laughing at Papa?"

"No…" She peeked over towards her play table and hid in the Marchioness's skirts again, squeaking happily. Her mother glanced over towards corner, devoid of anyone other than the girl's stuffed bunny, and shook her head. It was nothing.

"Then how about if we go find him before lunch and try to cheer him up?" the Marchioness offered. "We can remind him that we still love him, despite his insistence on being a pudding brain sometimes. He needs to be told that every once in a while, after all."

"Why?"

"…because sometimes papas are like that, come on." The Marchioness offered her hand to her youngest daughter, who took it and followed her dutifully out of the room. She did not see her daughter's gaze linger on the play table as they left the room, nor did she notice the tiny cup as it lifted itself of its own accord.

Only Maglina saw, and it made the child's heart sink a little bit.

It was after lunch and with their husbands deciding to get straight back to work and the school-aged children occupied, the Marchioness and Baroness both decided to spend the afternoon together visiting. They did not often have the opportunity to do so in a quiet setting—just the two of them and their young daughters—and they were going to take advantage of it while they could.

"I've been debating on whether or not I want another one," the Baroness said as they watched their daughters play on the other side of the room with some dolls. "Oriana is happy though, and is so close to your children that it's almost as though she already has siblings."

"They are, aren't they?" the Marchioness agreed. "Then again, if you have another child now, then I don't think you'll be able to pull yourself back to the front and I doubt you want to retire just yet."

"Stars—I have at least another ten years on me!" the Baroness laughed. "I just know that if I'm going to have another child, it might as well be now while Ori is so young…"

"I don't know how you can leave behind such a darling to start—two might be the tipping point."

"Mum! Mum! Mum!"

"…and it starts," the Baroness sighed. She turned towards her daughter as she ran up to them, appearing rather distressed. "What is it, dear?"

"Maggie won't stop talking about her imaginary friend!"

"Is this a bad thing?"

"Yes! It's rude to talk about someone to people who don't know them! You said so yourself!"

"Is she not allowed to talk about other friends?" the Baroness asked. She quickly glanced over at the Marchioness, who appeared to be preparing to repeat herself on the matter.

"No, but…!"

"But what?"

"It's still mean!"

"Aren't you allowed to talk about your cousin, despite Maggie not having any?"

"Yeah, but… she's real! Maggie's just making up a pretend grandpapa! Why does she have to do that?!"

"Maglina…?" the Marchioness said sternly. She watched as her daughter approached them, almost bashful in her demeanor. "Is Ori telling us the truth?"

"…about what?" She tried to hide her trepidation behind a smile, though her mother saw directly through the ruse.

"…about your imaginary friend." Maglina's face went pink and she glanced away. "I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about him for a little bit, to be nice to everyone else."

"You said we shouldn't talk about my imaginary friend to Papa because his brain is like pudding—Ori's still a kid like me, and she doesn't have a pudding brain."

"It's still not nice," the Marchioness warned. "You know Oriana can't see your imaginary friend."

"…but Mama…!"

"No buts, young lady; apologize."

"Mama!"

"Maglina Diantha…"

Maglina turned towards her friend and grumbled, "I'm sorry."

"Good, now go play, both of you," the Marchioness ordered. Oriana left, though Maglina stayed behind, looking sheepish. "Yes…?"

"I'm going back to the nursery," she muttered. "I don't feel well."

"Do you need me to come with you?"

"No—I can go myself," she replied. At that, the little girl left, just barely able to dodge the maid who was bringing in some tea.

"I thought Tara was supposed to be your difficult one," the Baroness frowned.

"This is the point where we go and blame Johan's side of the family," the Marchioness said, exhaling heavily. She winced as she heard the door slam and they both looked—Oriana had run off as well.

"…and that was Danny's side," the Baroness said, shaking her head. "What are we going to do when they hit puberty and become even more ridiculous?"

"Hide."

Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, Maglina ran into the nursery and crashed dramatically onto the pile of cushions in the corner. She stared out the window, gazing upwards at the brilliant blue sky above the castle.

"What's wrong?" a voice asked. "This sort of behavior is not like you, Maggie."

"Ori and I fought," Maglina grumbled. She sat up and saw the image of her grandpapa sitting scrunched up in a play chair, pretending to sip some tea from a cup. "I don't like fighting with Ori."

"What did you fight about?"

"You."

"Ah." He placed the cup down and shook his head. "You are a special girl, Maglina Diantha. Not many can see the likes of me anymore and understand what is happening. You cannot fault people for what they cannot possess."

"I know, but it's just…" Maglina rolled towards the play table and looked up at both the ceiling and her grandfather. "Why can't they see you? Is there a secret? A trick?"

"The only trick is being born with it, I'm afraid," her grandfather tutted. "Even those who might possibly be born with the gift don't know how to use it as you do—it is a lost art."

"…but Grandpapa! It shouldn't have to be! Why does it feel lonely?"

"It feels lonely because we have fun, and you are a good girl who wants to share her fun," her grandfather said. "Don't linger on me for too long, my dear. I've already had my adventures, while yours are just beginning."

"I don't want people to think you're a story I made up!"

"We're all stories in the end—don't worry." He opened his arms and let the child hug him; the only of his grandchildren with his eyes and, from what it looked like, his gift as well. "You and Oriana are too good of friends to let something as simple as a story get in the way of things. Just promise me something, yeah?"

"Yes!"

"Make your story a good one," he requested.

"Maggie…?" Maglina looked towards the nursery door and saw Oriana standing there, holding both their dolls. "Are we still arguing?"

"No. I guess not." She turned her head back towards her grandfather and saw that he was gone—another time, then. "Want to play tea party?"