An Introductory Note from the Author: After careful consideration and in response to reader comments, for the sake of clarity I have reverted all characters' names to their cannon versions/spellings regardless of whether that name was historically/geographically common at the time. (For those interested, the originally-conceived tweakings are on my Tumblr account.) The gents tend to refer to one another by surname. Hope this helps!

'Flowers' revealed so far: Iris - Ymir; Peony - Mikasa; Lily - Historia; Poppy - Sasha.

Chapter 6: Names

(Ymir, Mercedes [OC])

Ymir's ministrations to the Earl's son between her legs grew softer as her concentration drifted. She tuned out the table's conversations and her eyes narrowed as she watched the new girl, the new Salome, disappear back down inside the carousel as the lights dimmed and the applause settled. Shortly, she saw the new girl emerge from behind the carousel and meet the stout figure of Master Cyrus, who began to enthusiastically lead her in their direction.

Is there nowhere safe? she groaned inwardly.

If she was honest, Ymir didn't much care, ultimately, about giving up the Salome act – though she did still think it only luck that the girl had been a quick learner. She'd had little interest in anything other than Historia's wellbeing and comfort, even before the two of them had arrived here those two long years ago – her gaze fell on the girl in question, from her vantage point quite easily being able to see down her cleavage. And now…if Lord Stohess was here for a 'final hurrah', as he said, and if Lord Stohess was the one that had treated Historia best, as she said, then Ymir had to do her best to stop the creature approaching them from having first choice. His last night belonged to Historia. If it didn't – Ymir tore her gaze away from the Historia's radiant loveliness and alighted on the distant figure of Annie – how long would it be until Historia was stripped of power, demoted, sidelined?

"Good gentlemen! I certainly hope you enjoyed the show!"

Ymir rolled her eyes at Master Cyrus' voice, but returned her attention to the table. Had this not been important, she would have excused herself under the pretense of refilling their drinks. She eyed the new girl standing beside Master Cyrus, her eyes downcast but her chin high, and had to laugh a little at the way the youngest-looking guest – the small blond – was trying even harder to shift away from her. He'd looked uncomfortable ever since he got here and was no doubt going into sensory overload by now.

"We certainly did," said the tall, ashen-haired young man on Lord Stohess' right.

Lord Stohess looked at him briefly in surprise but agreed, "Very much so. It was a delight of a debut."

Ymir raised an eyebrow – here was an opportunity, perhaps.

Master Cyrus' irritatingly jolly voice continued, "I thought you may like a formal introduction. This is Mercedes."

"Wait, you mean to say you have names other than flowers? They let you keep them?"

The entire table was silenced, and turned to the slighter, also-young-looking brown-haired man with green eyes. His blond friend beside him looked absolutely mortified and Ymir had to admit to being a little insulted herself.

As usual, it was up to Historia to rescue the situation. "You'll need something to summon us by in your dreams, won't you?" she purred. It was much nicer than Ymir's tip-of-tongue retort.

Master Cyrus gave a nervous harrumph and continued despite the awkwardness, "Not only a veritable vestal virgin, but she also does a wonderful trick with champagne!"

Ymir savored the barely-hidden look of angry shame on Mercedes' face.

"I have fond memories of my travels in Spain," Lord Stohess said delicately.

Master Cyrus looked delighted at Smith's recognition of the name's origin, like it was a parlor trick. It only made him look like one of the ridiculously-ruffled elephants Mira once stood atop at the circus and just as she scoffed at that old life, she couldn't help but scoff now. She resumed massaging the Earl's son's shoulders through his warm dinnerjacket but still kept an eye on the proceedings.

"Perhaps a private demonstration of this 'champagne trick'?" Lord Stohess suggested.

Ymir caught the familiar sparkle in his eye that was no doubt seen as uncharacteristic by his companions. She didn't like where this was going. Her glance moved between Lord Stohess, his ashen-haired companion to his right, Mercedes, and Historia, who was doing a mostly-attentive job of toying with the brute of a man she nestled against – was she only pretending to not notice where Lord Stohess' attention was being led? She'd have to do something, and do it quickly. For Historia's sake.

"I must warn you, Smith," Master Cyrus said as he placed a hand on Mercedes' shoulder, "she's one of my prizes. Very expensive," he confided with a half-laugh. He brushed back a stray wave of Mercedes' hair and she bristled.

"I'm sure it will not surprise me," Lord Stohess smiled. "I feel like I've already worked champagne into my budget, lately, after all."

Master Cyrus made a surprised noise, followed swiftly by a knowing chuckle. "I'll…prepare a room then," he gave a toothy grin. "If you'll allow me a few minutes; we weren't expecting such a…an immediate response."

Lord Stohess waved his hand somewhat dismissively, "Whatever time you need, Master Cyrus."

Ymir watched Master Cyrus whisper something to Mercedes before he scuttled off, leaving her behind. Her mind rushed to find some way to stop what was happening. High-tempo percussion-based music began to get louder in the background, encouraging her to think fast.

"Well that settles it, then!" Mira looked in alarm to the voice coming from under and behind Alexandra, across from her. "Seems as though it's time to…'get to know one another better', as you said," he quipped, tipping his empty glass at Historia before setting it down. Sasha giggled and somehow managed to stand up.

There were a few voices of agreement, and most of the group began to draw out of the booth like a tide drawing out of a rockpool, leaving Lord Stohess and the ashen-haired youth still seated. Ymir was obliged to trail behind her 'acquisition', and was grateful for the group's lingering at the mouth of the horseshoe-shaped booth to give her more time. Sasha was already dragging her conquest away; the slight blond and brunette hung about nervously, looking around them, and Historia was talking in sweet tones to the broad-shouldered one she'd been sitting on, pointing at various suites revolving about the edge of the room.

Ymir let the giraffe of an Earl's son escape her clutches briefly. She licked her lips and looked rapidly between the booth and Historia. Mercedes still stood forlornly at the head of the table under the gazes of the two remaining men. It was then that she had an idea.

"One moment," she called behind her at Historia. Without waiting for a response she sidled up behind Mercedes with a smile. She leaned over to rest her chin on the shorter girl's shoulder and said, without lowering her voice, "Thought I'd wish you luck on your big night – but don't you think this is all a little unfair?"

"'Unfair'?" the ashen-haired one queried, as she figured he would.

Ymir looked mock-embarrassed, "Oh, well, I was only referring to her price. I mean… I don't think it fair to charge the price of gold," she flicked one of the coins strung on chains cascading from her brassiere, "when all you're going to get is a painted clod. If it's return on investment you're after, surely it's better to go with what's tried and true," she tipped her head Historia's way as she turned to leave, not needing to see the effect of her words.

"Excuse me?" Mercedes was sneering at her back.

Ymir did not turn back; she felt a body move between her and Mercedes and shortly, the sound of Mikasa's uncharacteristically loud, implicit voice, "More drink, Lord Stohess?"

She could just about hear him clear his throat, and then say, "No. No, my Peony, we were just…"

Ymir smiled to herself as her concentration returned to Historia. She was a little unsettled to find the petite, hourglass-waisted blonde frowning at her as the two tall men stood talking to themselves behind her, eyeing them.

Historia took a step forward to meet her and hissed, "Ymir! What was that about? That's terribly unkind to imply she's spoiled goods. It's not fair to do a thing like that!"

Ymir's smile dropped and she felt something in her give way. She leaned over and whispered, "It was for you. Don't you see? It's his last visit. You should have one last night with him, not with that hungry wolf," she gestured with her eyes to the blond man.

She was surprised to see Historia's face become pained, and even moreso when she surreptitiously grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. Her own eyes darted from side to side and she bit her lip, as if debating her words. Then she intoned, "You are the blind one, Ymir. If I have a chance to be with you – it could be in front of an unwashed stable-muck for all I care – I will gladly take that over ten Lord Stohesses."

The two stared at one another for a long moment. Ymir thought she might crumble to the spot. Historia had never said such things to her – such things…that mirrored her own daily, nightly thoughts so well they may as well have been her own. She wanted to kiss her right then and there but the bulky blond man was calling at them, and Historia was giving her a small, sad, reassuring smile and releasing her hand, turning, reforming her expression into something resembling gentility, and calling back gaily to him. And Ymir, as always, followed, trying to do the same but making poor work of it, reduced to understudy.

Mercedes finally felt Ymir was out of reach and dragged her eyes away to cut a glare at Mikasa, who was clearing away the empty glasses. Seeming to detect her, she looked up and uttered, "Pick your battles, and moreover, the timing of them." She tipped her head almost imperceptibly in the direction of the two remaining men, which made the silver tails of her kanzashi wave and tinkle.

The tray perfectly balanced on her long fingers, she moved away. Mercedes tried to calm herself down, knowing she was right – this was her best opportunity to try to ensnare some poor soul into helping her get out of here – she couldn't waste it. She had to focus. She watched the two slighter young men – the blond and the brunette – moving away, and the brunette split away from and panic his friend to follow Mikasa, and used the observation to take two more calming breaths before returning her attention to the table. Her gaze slid up the length of the table before rising to take in the two men. The slightly younger, ashen-haired one to the left looked somewhat awkward, which didn't surprise her, while Lord Stohess continued to stare at her. She tried not to shift under his gaze.

So, she thought, which of you is it to be?

As if detecting her thoughts, the two men glanced at each other uncomfortably. If she understood what little of the dynamics she'd seen, she was surprised this second man had the gall to still be sitting here when Lord Stohess, of all people, seemed to have picked what he wanted.

It was aggravating her, not having his name, and the silence was beginning to grow oppressive, so she said, "Lord Stohess – I've had the pleasure of hearing your name already," she looked at the second man, "but not that of your companion."

"Excuse my manners, Mercedes," her name rolled and curled on his tongue in a way that couldn't help but please her with its correct pronunciation. He fabricated a smile and sat back in his seat. He gestured with one large hand to his companion, "Mr Kirstein."

She quirked a smile, "Do men not have first names here?" she folded her arms and shifted her weight.

Lord Stohess' expression mirrored hers. "You'll have to earn that."