I've put a lot of time and effort into this fic recently, trying to update it on a regular basis. I want it to be a success.

We'll see how long that lasts before my depression forces me to slow down again. Wish me luck, I guess?

As usual, I want to thank Raiseth (on SV) and Volossya (on AO3), for beta-reading this for me. Much obliged!

The Lovers

When she reached the top of the stairs, Miridiana Claes called out to her husband, "Luigi, come here! I need you!"

Some of the servants came to investigate the noise, but she turned them away with a glare. All except one: Anne Sherry, Katarina's personal maid, who had an armful of clothes belonging to her young mistress and Miss Sienna, which she had evidently been sorting through.

"You can stay," Miridiana decided, pointing a finger at Anne. "It will save time."

"Yes, your grace," said Anne, bobbing her head. "May I ask what this is about?"

Instead of answering, Miridiana waited until the household guards she had brought with her – trim, well-shaven, and disciplined young men, not at all like the grizzled former bandits that her daughter had persuaded her husband to hire – had guided the two wayward adolescents up onto the landing. There was an almost comical expression of guilt and confusion on Katarina's face. Whereas Keith was… No, she didn't know. She could barely bring herself to look at him.

Anne's eyes widened, but she asked no further questions.

The door to the Duke's study opened. Luigi Claes poked his head out. "Miri? What's the matter?" he asked.

Miridiana wanted to enjoy the moment, to savor the acid in her tone, but it made her feel so sick and dizzy that she couldn't. Like it or not, she was forced to speak quickly and concisely.

"I caught your son–" She pointed at Keith. "–kissing Katarina! As if they were Targaryens!"

"Ah. I see." He frowned. "You'd better come in."

He took a step back and held the door open while his wife, daughter, and adopted son trooped into his study. The two guards were about to follow, but he stopped them, saying, "This is a private family matter. You should wait outside."

"And… what do you want me to do?" asked Anne.

The Duke paused, glanced around, and asked, with a note of apprehension in his voice, "Where is Miss Nelson?"

Anne looked panic-stricken. "I… I don't know."

"I left her outside," said Miridiana, so coldly that it was as if she'd chipped each syllable out of a block of ice. "She told me that she'd kissed Katarina as well. I said that I'd deal with her later."

"Go outside and get her. You need to look after her," said the Duke.

For a moment, Miridiana was unsure if he was talking to her or to Anne, but then the maid curtseyed and scurried off to follow his instructions.

The Duke sighed, took a deep breath, and said, "No matter what she or Keith or Katarina have done, it would be a tragedy if Sienna was to die because of it."

Miridiana thought about arguing: she wanted him to acknowledge that what his son had done was utterly disgusting – he could have dishonored Katarina and ruined her prospects forever – and Sienna was involved as well! But she could see the sense in his words. And her rage, which had been a volcanic eruption, was already beginning to subside, until it was barely more than a distant rumble and the occasional plume of smoke.

"You're right," she admitted. "I should have…"

In that moment, she didn't know what she should have done. Told the guards to bring Sienna as well? Ordered the three adolescents to come with her without bothering to manhandle them? Waited with them outside and told one of the guards to fetch her husband? She couldn't decide. Instead of completing the sentence, she fell silent.

"Never mind that now," said her husband, in a conciliatory tone. "Let's deal with the matter at hand."

He turned to Keith and Katarina, both of whom were standing near the fireplace as if trying to glean a little warmth from its dying embers.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"I've told you what happened!" Miridiana protested. "He was kissing her!"

"I'd like to hear it from them," said her husband. "They should have the chance to explain themselves before we condemn them, don't you think?"

Reluctantly, she nodded.

"Keith, would you care to explain what happened?" asked the Duke.

His son was transfixed by their piercing stares. He moistened his lips, gulped for breath, and managed to say, "We… we were playing a game and… as part of it, Katarina told me to kiss her."

The Duke turned to his daughter. "Is that true?" he asked her.

"Yes, it is," she confirmed.

"I've noticed that you care for each other very much, like a brother and sister should," the Duke continued.

"That's true," said Katarina.

"I'm sure the game you were playing was sweet and innocent, a sign of the affection and regard you hold for one another. However, now that you are approaching adulthood, you must realize that people will be scrutinizing everything you do – and many of them will have much more nefarious intentions than your mother here," said the Duke, indicating Miridiana.

At that, Miridiana wanted to yell that Keith wasn't her son and she'd never acted like a mother to him, but she managed to restrain herself. Her husband was in full flow and she didn't want to interrupt him.

"They will deliberately misinterpret your actions in order to damage your reputation and that of House Claes. If they see you kissing, even if it's only as part of a childish game, they will whisper about adultery and worse: because Katarina's betrothed is a prince of the royal house, they will accuse you of treason. Seeking to advance themselves, they want to see you dishonored and brought low. Therefore, you should never give them an opportunity. Instead, you must be beyond reproach."

A deliberate pause followed his words. Then, he gave his children a significant glance and asked, "Do you understand?"

"I… uh…" Pale and stricken, Keith struggled to speak. "It was a game… It started off as a game, but… I wanted to kiss Katarina because… I love her."

The Duke smiled indulgently. "I should hope so. She is your sister, after all."

Keith shook his head. "No. You misunderstand me," he said. Suddenly, his voice was firm and forceful; he had found his courage, it seemed. "I love her and I want to marry her."

"You can't! She's your sister!" Miridiana erupted. "That's disgusting!"

The Targaryens had married brother to sister for centuries, but their accursed lineage had died out nearly two decades ago. Good riddance. The world was better off without them.

"But… she's not really my sister, is she?" Keith persisted. "Not by blood."

"By royal decree, you are my son," said the Duke, seemingly trying to reassure him. "Never let anyone say that you are not."

"Yes, but… in terms of actual…" Keith fumbled for the right words. He resorted to crudity: "You didn't put your seed in my mother. Viscount Coleman did. I'm his son. At least I was. From when I was born until I was nine years old, I was his bastard." He put on a determined expression. "Katarina and I don't share the same blood, so… if we were to get married, it wouldn't be incest."

"That… is out of the question," said the Duke, heavily, as if he had just suffered a blow. But then he immediately found a way to distract himself: "And anyway, Viscount Coleman is my third cousin, which means that you and Katarina are fourth cousins, so you do share the same blood."

Keith gave a dismissive snort. "There have been plenty of noble marriages between couples who were much more closely related than that."

"Is… it that true, Luigi?" asked Miridiana, shakily. She felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. Out of her head. Out of her world. She leant back against a bookcase, trying to steady herself. Although she wanted to hold onto something solid, she could barely feel it; she was floating in the air, as insubstantial as a cloud.

"Well, it's certainly true that, among the nobility, marriages between first, second, or third cousins are extremely common, so he is technically correct," said Luigi Claes, who had a habit of being annoyingly pedantic at times. "However, in some cultures it is still considered to be–"

But Miridiana was no longer listening to him. Suffused by a strange feeling of weightlessness, she fell sideways. The floor rose up to meet her.

Katarina's eyes pricked with tears when Keith announced his intention to protect her from Jeord by marrying her himself. She marveled at his loyalty and willingness to sacrifice his own future happiness for her sake. Of course, he couldn't possibly love her like she wanted: not like the gallant knights in the soppy romantic ballads she enjoyed so much, who would do anything for the love of their beautiful damsels. But he was her beloved brother and it occurred to her that being married to him would be almost as good as having a husband who truly loved her.

Ever since that fateful day when Maggy the Frog had prophesied that she would be slain by her betrothed, Katarina had firmly believed that she was unworthy of true love. But Keith and Sienna had told her that they loved her and – even if that was only childish puppy love, or the love of siblings for each other – it was more than she deserved. When she thought about them and how much she loved them in return, it was all she could do to restrain herself from weeping.

Then, her mother fell to the floor in a dead faint. Katarina was so surprised by this that her mind went blank. It took her a few moments to react.

Fortunately, no one was relying on her to do anything. "Miri!" cried her father, rushing to his wife's side and crouching down beside her. Then, turning to Keith, he barked an order: "Fetch Maester Pycelle. Quickly!"

Keith gave a nod and then rushed out of the room.

"What's the matter with her?" asked Katarina, fearfully.

"She's not well," said her father, vaguely and uninformatively, as if he didn't want to tell her anything that might later be proved wrong.

"Oh." Katarina dithered, wondering what to do. "Can I help?

With slow, tentative movements, her father checked his wife for obvious injuries and made sure that she was still breathing. He reached for her as if he wanted to pick her up and carry her in his arms, as if he were rehearsing these actions in his mind, but held himself back from actually doing so. "I'm sure I could lift her, but would it be safer if I had someone to help me?" he wondered aloud. "I'll wait for Pycelle to give his approval and then…"

He looked back, glanced at Katarina and said, "Go to one of the guards and explain to him that your mother has taken ill. Bring him here."

"Yes, father," she replied, hastening to follow his instructions.

When Pycelle arrived, he examined the Duchess and pronounced that she was in no real danger. "I will need to speak to her when she wakes up, just to make sure, but she should be fine," he said. "As long as she gets plenty of rest and doesn't do anything strenuous over the next few days, I'm sure she will make a full recovery."

"Can we move her?" the Duke wanted to know. "I'm sure she'd be more comfortable lying in bed instead of on the floor, wouldn't you agree?"

Pycelle blinked as if he was surprised that the question needed to be asked. "Yes, of course. Quite right."

While their father and one of the house guards carried their mother's unconscious body to her bedroom, Katarina and Keith were left alone. An awkward silence had sprung up between them. Every once in a while, they sneaked surreptitious glances at each other, until at last their eyes locked together and Keith was bold enough to ask, "Uh, what did you think of my proposal?"

"It was very generous of you," said Katarina. "Thank you."

Keith stared at her. It seemed that he was waiting for her to say something else.

After a slight pause, Katarina continued, "I am grateful that you've made such a determined effort to save me. You are a wonderful young man and… I am sure that you will be a wonderful husband for some lucky woman, in the fullness of time."

"W-what?" Keith looked as if he were in agony, as if her words had pierced his heart. "W-what about you? Don't you want me?"

"Someday, you will find a woman you love, who loves you in return, as you deserve," said Katarina. "I can't take that away from you."

"But you–"

Katarina pressed on, before her resolve could weaken any further: "Besides, your plan won't save me. I can't marry you without breaking my betrothal to Prince Jeord. If I did that, it would give him a reason to seek revenge against me. And you." She grimaced. "If he feels so humiliated that he is willing to cut my head off, do you imagine that he would do any less to you?"

"I… I would protect you," said Keith, in a hollow, feeble voice. "I am a powerful earth mage. I can protect us both."

"You would try. I know you would. But…" Katarina gave a helpless shrug. How could she convey to him that all the world was leagued against her and that there was nothing either of them could do to withstand such long odds? "I won't let you die for me. I'm not worth that."

"I think you are," said Keith. "And I'm sure Sienna would agree."

"Well, that's kind of you to say, but–I"

"Do you love me?"

Katarina was bemused by this sudden change of subject. "Of course I love you," she said. "You're my brother."

A forlorn expression on his face, Keith stared at her for a while without saying anything. He sighed heavily and shook his head. And then he began to chuckle, which soon became hysterical laughter, clutching his sides and sobbing for breath.

Although she didn't know what had amused him so much, Katarina tried to laugh with him. She was pleased to see him laughing. She wanted him to be happy.

Dinner that night was a subdued affair. Luigi Claes ate little and was lost in thought. Now and then, he glanced at the empty chair next to him; his eyes lingered over the space where his wife was meant to sit. Miridiana's absence filled the room in a way that her presence never had.

His children ate silently and without enthusiasm. Under normal circumstances, their carefree chatter never failed to bring a smile to his face and distract him from his woes, but on this particular night it seemed as if they could scarcely bear to look at one another. They even managed to get through the meal without Sienna nearly choking on something, which would normally be a cause for a minor celebration, but none of them seemed to care.

Everyone at the table was lost in their own gloomy thoughts, it seemed, and nobody made any effort to rouse them. Certainly not Septa Selyse, who kept shooting disapproving looks at Keith and Katarina, which suggested that someone must have informed her of what they'd been getting up to; nor Pycelle, who was so engrossed in the book he was reading that he didn't seem to notice that he kept staining it with droplets of wine and smears of gravy; nor even the minstrel who was paid to be Katarina's music teacher, who looked bewildered, as if she wanted to ask what had happened that afternoon but didn't dare.

When the miserable meal was over, Luigi went over to Pycelle, cleared his throat impressively, and waited for the maester to remember what he'd promised to do.

"Oh… yes, I should check if her grace has awoken and that my earlier assessment was correct," said Pycelle, putting down his book and getting up with some haste.

"See that you do," said Luigi.

Upstairs, he waited outside the bedroom while Pycelle fussed over his wife and asked her a few questions about how she felt and if she was ready to receive visitors, which would have been fine if he hadn't spoken in a cloyingly sentimental tone, as if he were speaking to an infant.

At last, the maester finished his ministrations and left the room. Luigi waited a minute or two – or perhaps three – before he entered.

He saw his wife sitting up in bed, staring at the wall, looking weary and withdrawn. Her hair was mussed and the left side of her face was bruised; there was little to be seen of her usual elegance and carefully maintained beauty, but she was still the woman he loved, always.

"How are you?" he asked, uselessly.

Slowly, she turned to look at him. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I had hoped that you would tell me," he said cautiously.

Her temper flared. "Why should I when you–?!" Abruptly, she cut off mid-sentence, closing her eyes and heaving a disconsolate sigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was wrong of me."

"Under the circumstances, I hardly think you can be blamed. You've been under pressure recently," he replied.

She gave him a firm nod, as if he had said something she very much agreed with. "Yes, but do you understand why?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "Is it because of Katarina and Keith…?"

"To an extent," she began and then changed her mind. "No, I hardly think that they are to blame."

"What then?"

"It's our fault, yours and mine," she said. "We… we need to talk."

He frowned at her, unsure of where this was going. "What do you want to talk about?"

"We need to talk… much more than we do." Miridiana took a deep breath, made a visible effort to steady herself, and continued, "For years, I have been an awful wife to you. I have nagged you, I have yelled at you, and I… I have been mistaken about you. I have no right to expect forgiveness, but… I hope you can understand why I've behaved in this way."

"And why is that?" he asked.

"Because you don't tell me the things I need to know," she replied. "For instance, when you brought Keith into our house and told me that he was your son, what was I supposed to think?!"

"I don't think those were my exact words," he said, but even as he spoke he realized that it was a foolish thing to say. And then he realized something else: "You thought that I had been unfaithful to you?! I would never!"

"How can I know that, when you won't tell me what you're thinking or how you feel?" she asked. "I often feel as if you don't care about me, as if you take me for granted, and I… Occasionally, I wonder if your parents forced you to marry me."

"That's not true," he said, trying to sound firm and resolute. "I love you. Really, I do."

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Miridiana shook her head in exasperation. "Don't you think I would have liked to know that before?"

"I… I thought you knew," he mumbled.

"Obviously, I didn't. I hoped, but I couldn't be sure because… you never told me." She gave a nervous titter. Hurriedly, she continued, "Of course, I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't tell you that I love you too. I think I always have, from the moment we met. Even if you can be infuriating sometimes, you're the only man I want."

There was a pause. She gazed at him expectantly.

"Well then, I should tell you… I fell in love with you soon after we were betrothed to one another," said Luigi, each word like a heavy, ponderous footstep. "Because our parents had arranged it, for the sake of an alliance between our families, I expected nothing but indifference. I hoped we'd be cordially polite to each other, but I didn't dare to hope for anything more than that. And then… You were nothing like I expected. You were so beautiful, quick-witted, and passionate that I couldn't help falling in love with you. I'm sorry if I've never told you that."

"Oh, Luigi," she said, tears in her eyes. "Was that really so difficult?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Earlier, you sounded so wise when you were talking to the children," she said. "Why don't you ever call upon that wisdom when you're talking to me?"

"It's because… you take my breath away," he said, cringing with embarrassment at how mawkishly over-romantic he was being, even if what he was saying was true. "You're so beautiful and I love you so much. Whenever I look at you, I find it difficult to say anything at all, let alone say anything wise."

"When I think of all the time we've wasted…" Miridiana gazed sadly at him. "Can you forgive me after everything I've done?"

"There is nothing to forgive," he told her. "You had every right to be angry with me. I didn't treat you with the care and attention you deserve. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Some of the things I said… I was very unfair to you."

"I don't care about that. But I hope you will be kinder to Keith from now on."

"I will," she promised. "It's too late for me to be a mother to him, but I'll do my best to make him feel welcome."

Luigi didn't tell her that it was probably too late for that as well. Instead, he nodded and said, "That is all I ask."

"Now, come here and kiss me, you wonderful, infuriating man!" cried Miridiana, holding out her arms for him.

He did so. Then, when she tried to pull him in closer, onto the bed, he resisted. "Pycelle said you shouldn't do anything strenuous over the next few days," he warned.

"Well, that's up to you," she said, with a wicked smirk, kissing him again. "Be gentle with me."

The next day, Keith and Katarina were once again called into their father's office. This time, Sienna was invited as well.

Another surprise was that Luigi and Miridiana Claes were standing next to each other, wearing jubilant smiles that seemed inappropriate for what had been expected to be a solemn meeting, and posed in a way that suggested they had been holding hands a few seconds before.

Seeing them like that, Katarina felt uncomfortable, as if she had intruded on a private moment between them – but they had invited her, so it should be fine!

When she and her two friends had shuffled into the room and lined up in front of him, her father cleared his throat and wrestled his face into a semblance of neutrality. "Our meeting yesterday was cut short, before it could reach its conclusion, which is why I've called you back here," he said. "I am not going to stop you from playing together, but… From now on, I must warn you to refrain from public displays of affection that could be misinterpreted by anyone."

"That means no kissing," her mother explained.

"What about hugging?" Katarina wanted to know.

"If you keep it brief, and chaste, and I don't have to hear about it, then I'm sure it will be fine," said her mother, rolling her eyes.

"Your reputations must remain unimpeachable. Let no one doubt your purity and innocence," said Luigi, in a stern and ominous tone. "That goes for all three of you."

Reluctantly, Keith nodded, followed by Sienna a moment later. Katarina was the last to nod; she was very disappointed by her father's ruling.

"Also, I wish that I could give my blessing for the two of you to get married," said Luigi, indicating Katarina and Keith. "It would solve a number of problems and you certainly seem to love each other."

"Yes, I love Keith," Katarina agreed. "He's the best brother I could possibly have!"

She saw Keith wince at that. Before it could occur to her to wonder why, she saw her mother shaking her head at her.

"Honestly, you're just like your father!" cried Miridiana, in exasperation.

"Um. Thank you…?"

"However, it isn't possible at the moment," said Luigi, continuing as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Not while Katarina is betrothed to Prince Jeord. And not until her prophesied death has been averted. It wouldn't be fair to either of you."

In quiet desperation, Keith whispered, "But… if she and Sienna were no longer cursed, what then?"

"When we can be reasonably sure that the three of you will survive to adulthood, then we can decide who will be getting married to whom," said Luigi. "That's soon enough, don't you think?"

Sienna looked quizzical. "Have you spoken to my parents?" she asked. "If not, I'm sure they'll betroth me to someone before long."

"We've already forestalled them by hinting that we will arrange a prestigious marriage match for you," said Miridiana. "And we will keep doing that for as long as we can."

"Thank you," said Sienna, giving her a grateful smile.

"So, unless there's anything else…" Luigi shrugged expansively. "It's a beautiful day. Why don't you run along and play?"

"Or, you could go to your music lesson, Katarina and Sienna," his wife reminded them. "And Keith–"

He nodded. "I know, I have a fencing lesson I need to get to."

"Or you could go to your lessons," Luigi conceded. "That would be best."

Author's Note:
Previously, I have expressed my disdain for the common plotline in HameFura fanfics (and different versions of canon as well, to be honest), in which Miridiana and Luigi are easily able to reconcile as soon as Miridiana learns that Keith is not actually Luigi's son, in spite of all the tears and heartache and everything else that has happened between them. This chapter is my attempt to write a slightly more realistic version of that plotline. I leave it up to you, dear reader, to decide whether or not I have succeeded in that goal.

In this chapter, I have used different descriptors for Luigi and Miridiana depending on whose perspective they are supposed to be seen from. (I.e. parts of the chapter are written from Katarina's POV, but other parts were written from Miridiana's POV and Luigi's POV.) For instance, Kat thinks of Luigi as 'her father' when he's being fatherly and 'the Duke' when he's being stern and authoritative. Please let me know how well (or not) you think this works.