Another Betrothal feast a few months after the Blackhold fiasco, this one at Harkon Hall, celebrating the eminent union of their only son and heir to Miss Dalla Flint. Of course the happy couple is bound to be upstaged by the groom-to-be's younger twin sisters.

It was an absolutely unforgivable insult. Everyone said so. House Blackwell had declined the invitation to attend the betrothal feast for the heir to House Harkon and the celebration of the twins' twelfth birthday that was to be held as part of the festivities.

Of course they had an excuse. Miara Skelda-Blackwell, Trevon's new bride and the subject of so much gossip and scandal at that couple's betrothal feast a few months before, was expected to deliver her first born child any day now. Of course she couldn't travel the short journey to Harkon Hall in such a condition, but it seemed that her confinement affected every other member of the family as well. They hadn't even offered to send an emissary and word was that their younger son was being punished for something he'd done at his brother's feast. He wasn't allowed to attend the party either.

It didn't sound like much of a punishment to Sanya. Jamos Blackwell had been sent away on a long sea journey as midshipman of one of their family's fleet, patrolling the far, boring reaches of their supposed domain.

"I would gladly trade places with you, mate," she whispered to her bedroom window as she looked out at the arrival of the ships of every other family in the north.

It would only have been fair. After all if he was being punished for starting that knife throwing competition, that was really her fault. She would without hesitation have stepped up and taken responsibility. But no. How could a sweet little lady be blamed for such a farce? Surely someone tricked her into it and taken advantage of her delicate nature. It had to be a wild fish tale that she was involved in the event at all.

"Who are you talking to?" Talya asked, entering the room from their shared fresher.

"Oh, no one." Sanya sighed.

"Come and I'll do up your hair."

Talya had already braided her own shining red tresses into a single loose plait that lay luxuriously over her shoulder. She of course would never do anything so rowdy as to let a single strand fall out of place.

Sanya's wild mop on the other hand was more often than not wrangled into two tight buns on either side of her head to try to contain it when she invariably challenged the boys to feats of skill or threw herself into the north sea for a swim or went swinging through the rigging of one of the ships in their family's harbor. There was very little chance she would have the opportunity to do any of those things on this occasion however since there would be so many bannermen and women not letting her out of their sight.

She might still be able to have a little fun, however. "Lya, what if we did my hair more like yours tonight?"

Her sister gave her a disbelieving frown.

"No really. I mean it. It will inspire me to act more… like you." Sanya gave her twin her most innocent and sincere smile. "I know this an important day for Herron and mother and Papa want you and I to make a good impression as well."

If possible Talya's expression became even more incredulous.

"I promise. I will be on my best behavior. They won't even be able to tell us apart."

…

To the family's astonishment and everyone else's delight at seeing the identical little ladies paraded before their guests, Sanya was true to her word. She dressed exactly like her sister. She spoke exactly like her sister. She was even the perfect mixture of humble nobility and sparkling hostess, exactly like her sister.

Even when their Grandmother Harkon brought up the stories about when they were babies… "The only way we could tell them apart was the birthmark on Sanya's bum."

"Grandmother!" the girls cried in synchronized embarrassment.

Everyone laughed and the twins blushed prettily while their grandmother went on to tell everyone that said birthmark was curiously in the shape of Blackhold Isle. "It was an omen, I told them," said the old woman.

"Perhaps," Lord Bralykburn called out. He had already been at the open bar and was no longer quite as able to hold his tongue. "But ye don't see any Blackwells here to verify the fact and claim the lass, do you?" He laughed long and loud and there were several others who joined him.

Sanya noticed however that Yutton Bralykburn, sitting beside his father, was not laughing. He looked disgusted with the turn the conversation had taken. He kept throwing looks at the twins as if attempting to figure out which was the one who had beaten him so resoundingly at the knife throwing competition. She was not about to give him even the slightest hint. She didn't even use her knife at dinner any more than absolutely necessary.

One thing was certain, most of the guests had almost completely forgotten about the Harkon brother's part of the celebration. Fourteen year old Herron sat next to his sixteen year old bride-to-be, Dalla Flint, as somber as the salt god's halls. Once mother encouraged him to say something to the girl. He asked if she wanted him to pass the vegetables. She said no. That was the extent of their conversation.

The only topic that seemed to matter in anyone's estimation was when the next betrothal feast would take place and who the lucky groom would be to snatch up one of the lovely birthday girls at the head table. Not that most of them cared which of the twins they were bidding for at this point. Well a couple of them were still snickering behind their hands about how it might be to see if it was true about that birthmark.

After supper there was more mingling, drinking, dancing. The twins mostly attempted to stay together. Talya whispered to her sister how proud she was that she had stepped up to the challenge and held her tongue and her temper. Sanya squeezed her sisters hand, "It's easy when I have such a wonderful model to pattern myself after."

Talya smiled.

"It is a bit tiring though, keeping it up for so long. I think I might like to find a quiet place to sit down and rest," Sanya admitted.

"If you're tired you can go back to your room. I'll make your apologies." Talya offered compassionately.

"Thank you, sister."

They kissed each others cheek and Sanya slipped away. She didn't really have an idea of what she might do with this new found anonymity. She wasn't really tired. Well, maybe of pretending for so long and keeping perfect posture and not adding all the things she would have liked to add to the talk and entertainment of the evening.

Before she had gotten more than a few steps out of the great hall however someone stopped her.

"Talya?"

She turned to see Yutton standing there looking curiously at her. Oh this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Aye," she said shyly, glancing back at the door as if worried about being alone with him.

"I didn't wish to make you uncomfortable," he said gently, keeping his distance.

"You… haven't." She gave him half a smile.

"I'm glad it's you," He sighed with relief. "I've been hoping to talk… I met your sister before."

"She told me." Sanya tried to look apologetic for the treatment he had received at the hand of her... sister.

"Everyone seems to think that she and I…" He scowled. "Well, after the thing at the Hold I never expected that she could clean up as well as she did for this feast. I almost wondered if you actually had another sister and had hidden Sanya away somewhere." He laughed hesitantly as if hoping she would join him in the joke.

She hid a smile primly behind her hand and said softly. "What if I told you we had?"

He relaxed a bit and his smile warmed. "Y'see?" he went on bolstered by her affability. "Everyone thinks that since you're the older… that you should be given to the lords of the north, even though Jamos is a second son…"

She lowered her gaze, acting shy again at his words.

"The Blackwells, they aren't what they used to be. Everyone knows it. Maybe it's time for another family to take the lead." his volume decreased by levels as he spoke. And well it should. He couldn't go around saying things like that. It was borderline treason. Even if it were true.

Sanya let a bit of shock widen her eyes but she didn't speak.

"You deserve better than that." He took a step towards her and she took a step back even if punching the creepy bastard seemed like a better idea.

"I know it's not your choice exactly." His scowl returned knowing he had gone too far.

It wasn't her choice at all. Neither of the twins would have any say in the betrothal negotiations.

"But if you spoke to your parents perhaps they'd take it into consideration."

She wanted to tell him to take his consideration and shove it but she was saved from the trouble. At that moment the real Talya Harkon stepped out of the great hall. "Oh, there you are, Nya. I was hoping I wouldn't have to all the way back to the bedroom to find you. Mother and Papa want us both in the hall when they give the toast for Herron and Dalla."

"Nya?" Yutton looked back and forth between them.

"Lord Bralykburn!" Talya didn't have to pretend her meekness and surprise. "I didn't see you there."

Sanya rolled her eyes and sighed at the discovery. "Do we have to?" She complained.

Yutton balked. "You mean I've been talking to…"

"It's alright." Sanya smirked. "I'm glad to know you think I clean up well when I'm trying ." She took Talya's hand and led her back into the hall before the young lord could respond. As they went she removed the clasp and shook her thick red hair out of its braid. Before the twins stood again at the head table, the messy dalgo tail marked emphatically which one was better known as 'the knife'.

...

In the morning Sanya sat for a while and watched the boats go out just as she had watched them come in on the previous day. As always when she watched that sort of processional she wished she could be on one of them headed out on a long sea voyage. However, she remembered, that quite a few of those particular boats carried suitors who were vying for either her hand or her sister's. If being aboard one of those ships meant sailing to a life of being some lord's lady in a stuffy old keep she was quite glad to see them go.

She wondered if anything had been settled on that front. She knew that Papa had been up late into the night chatting with the other nobles. She didn't think they were just congratulating him on the fine match he had found for his son. And she didn't like to think that they had been laying out she and Talya's future in the state of drunkenness that she had witnessed before she and her sister were sent from the great hall and off to bed.

At least it seemed they wouldn't be sent right away. Sanya hadn't been told to pack and she could hear Talya in the adjoining room performing her regular morning routine.

There was only one thing for it. She would go and ask Papa himself. She hastily pulled on a simple everyday skirt and shirt, pulled back her hair with a tie without bothering to brush it and skipped down the stairs to the dining room.

"Good morning, Papa." She bounded to his place at the table and bent to kiss his cheek.

He did her the courtesy of giving her a second glance so that he could discern which of his daughters he was addressing. "Sanya, my dear, I was meaning to tell you how grateful I am for your… behavior at the gathering last evening."

She grabbed a piece of toast but didn't take a seat. "The whole crew has to pull together in a storm, aye Papa?"

"Aye? Er… yes, yes." His attention had returned to the papers before him. His breakfast was also going uneaten.

Sanya tilted her head to get a better look at what had her father so enthralled. "What are you working on?" It didn't seem to be betrothal documents so she was glad of that. They looked more like blueprints.

"A new ship we've been commissioned." He was glad he had one of his children to share his passion with. It was a pity Sanya hadn't been born a son.

He began to point out the masts and the set of the rigging. He heard her grunt a sound of derision and looked up. "You see a problem?"

She held out her hand for his stylus, "May I?"

He passed it to her, intrigued.

She took the utensil and made a slight change. "The aft mast should be placed a little further back to balance out the bowsprit."

He looked again. "I do believe you are correct!" He took back the stylus and made the alteration following up with the other changes that needed to be made to compensate.

"There now. What do you think?" He held it out for her approval.

"Aye!" Sanya grinned. "It's perfect! She's going to be beautiful! Who is she for?" She couldn't help but get her hopes up that he might have changed his mind and would consider letting her have her own ship.

The design he was working on now was exactly what she would have liked sleek and trim and ready for the sort of adventures she had always wanted to experience.

"It was commissioned by the Blackwells," he told her distractly, dashing all of her hopes.

"The Blackwells?"

"Aye," his tone brooked no argument but that didn't mean much when it was Sanya he was trying to convince. "They are still the Lords of the North."

"But Papa," she protested. "They have insulted this family. They didn't even bother to come to Herron's betrothal feast."

"The Lord and Lady had their reasons for declining to attend." He rolled up the sketches of that beautiful craft.

"They could have sent a representative," she pouted.

"Their oldest son is about to welcome his heir into the world and their younger…"

"Was already out sailing and could have easily made a detour to the Hall."

He frowned at her. "Sanya, you don't know that and you don't know what other forces are at work here. Besides the new ship is supposed to be a surprise for the younger boy. They couldn't have him finding out about it in advance."

Her mouth fell open in shock and anger. "You are going to build that ship," She jabbed her finger at the rolled up plans. "For that… that…" She couldn't think of a title nasty enough for him.

The word she ultimately chose unfortunately came out of her mouth at the same moment that her mother entered the dining room.

"Young Lady!" her mother started into what would surely have been a grand tirade but Lord Harkon raised his hand before she could really get going.

Sanya however wasn't quite finished. "Are you planning on shipping Talya off to the Blackwell whelp too?"

She heard a gasp. She hadn't noticed that her twin was standing wide eyed behind their mother.

"Sanya…" her father sighed and then beaconed to his other daughter, "Talya."

She stepped out from behind their mother obediently and went to stand beside Sanya and took her twin's hand.

"Girls, I must admit that I sent our guests away from the party last night disappointed."

They glanced at each other with confusion at their father's words.

"I did not sign a betrothal agreement with any of them for either of my daughters."

Sanya uttered a cry of joy and started to thank him but again the patriarch raised his hand.

"I realize that someday I must come to terms with giving away both my girls in marriage to the best men I can find to deserve them. However, I feel that the two of you are now too young to even consider such a thing. And when the time comes I hope you will be happy in the situation your mother and I arrange for each of you."

Talya thanked their parents but in her relief Sanya began to run off at the mouth again, "I spoke with Yutton Bralykburn last night. He said Lya should never be married to a Blackwell because of all the scandal with Trevon and the Shechels and everything and that all they have is a second son and they don't even deserve to be lords of the north anymore. But I think that saying that makes Yutton a traitor so he shouldn't be considered as a suitor either."

Lord Harkon pulled both his daughters towards himself and wrapped an arm around each one of them in a hug. "Thank you for your input, Sanya. You do know that your mother and I have your best interest in mind, do you not?"

"Aye, Papa." the twins chorused.