A/N: The hardest thing about writing this story is not the emotional moments, the writers block, or deciding which character to kill off next (jk jk...maybe), it is figuring out in which order the chapters should go. To catch everyone up to speed, this chapter concludes the end of the fourth "cycle" through each of the children. For reference, this story will have at least nine "cycles" and that is not including all the interludes and extras I want to add. I may, just maybe, have bitten off more than I can chew. Lord give me strength. That being said, please enjoy Auden's installment!
The Thing About Suspicion
The thing about suspicion was, it eventually crept into everything, even the best of things.
Auden actively tried not to be suspicious in the days following the parade. She tried not to be suspicious when Queen Amantia didn't bother to check on Auden or her son. She tried not to be suspicious when no one brought it up, brushed the fact that there was a gun aimed at her head under the rug. Unfortunately, she was hardwired to ask questions and collect data. Even more unfortunate was every servant in the place seemed to be under an NDA and gave her glassy-eyed stares every time she asked a question about that day. It was frustrating to say the least.
Auden tried to smile and move on to the next thing like everyone else, but said next thing was a state dinner for Governor Ermani, and the whole thing was such an asinine waste of resources that Auden had to excuse herself from her morning meeting lest she say something she'd regret. So, she channeled that frustration into something productive: learning her future family. Because if no one would answer her questions, she would have to dig the answers up herself.
As tight-lipped as everyone was, they did very little to restrict Auden's access to records, almost like they didn't expect her to take such an interest. Now that Auden thought about it, everyone was surprised at everything Auden did. What did they expect, an airhead? A porcelain doll? Instead they got Auden, and never before now would she have called herself someone who liked to stir the pot.
Auden made her home in the library, taking up one of the massive, long tables wedged between two stacks of books and towering piles of photographs. Auden prided herself on having a photographic memory, of having the highest marks of any of her siblings, but even this level of research was making her head spin. Turns out, Dorian had a very vast and rich history. She had been digging through yellowed pages since the sun rose that morning. Now, it was well past noon and a couple of the maids who acknowledged her existence had been by countless times to top off her coffee or bring her snacks.
They probably didn't want her to get trapped and suffocate under a mountain of books, though Queen Amantia might like that.
No bitter thoughts, she told herself as she took another sip of her bitter coffee. It was too early to poison that well, no matter how hard the older woman might have tried.
A drop of coffee spilled onto the table, staining the corner of an old photograph. It was taken in a mirror, an artistic choice Auden did not expect amongst the severe, practically Victorian portraits. Queen Amantia, much younger yet still very recognizable, stood in front, her hand placed on her shoulder, while a man Auden could only assume was the King bent down behind her, his head very nearly on her shoulder. He was young and handsome, questionable mustache aside, and he made Amantia smile. Auden had never seen the queen smile, didn't think her capable of it. Even though the photo was in black and white, Auden was pretty sure Queen Amantia was wearing something other than black. This was taken in a more colorful time. A happier time.
"What are you doing with all these old pictures?"
Dorian's voice startled Auden so badly, she dropped the picture. It rejoined the collection on the table, half-hidden under years of history.
She shouldn't have been so surprised to see him there. The library was one of Dorian's favorite places; she spent so many hours perusing the shelves, finding new poetry to read to her or excerpts from his favorite classics. It would not shock her to learn if he had read every volume on every shelf. Yet still, it was a pleasant surprise to see him walk her way, tweed jacket open and the first two buttons of his shirt popped to expose his collarbones. She wondered if he did that on purpose.
"If I am going to be your wife, and a Princess of Portugal, I thought I should get to know the history of the line I'm joining." She rifled around the sepia tones of military men with large sideburns and stately potbellies. Something had been bothering her, something she could not unsee now that she recognized it. "All these men in your family...you don't look like them."
Dorian cast his gaze to the table, zeroing in on the picture of his parents and looking at it with a mix of fondness and criticism. Auden knew now that Dorian never got the chance to know his father, that the young king died when Dorian was a baby. She wondered what it was like for him to stare at a photo and see not a familiar face of comfort, but a total stranger.
"Mama always told me I look very much like her family. Strong German genes," he said as he rubbed his jaw, perhaps wondering what it would feel like to grow a beard as impressive as his great-great grandfather's.
"Should I be studying them as well?" Auden asked, part tease and part honest inquiry.
Until this moment, she didn't know that Queen Amantia was German. Though they chose not to reinstate the monarchy after World War IV, the German Federation still had prominent families, families rich and powerful enough to be worthy of royal marriage, especially to smaller, less influential countries. Even if Queen Amantia refused to budge on the matter, it wouldn't be hard to do some digging in the archives and find which family, exactly, she came from...if her curiosity resorted to such deception.
"No use. Mama does not speak to her family. To marry my father, she was a rebel in the eyes of her people. They have made no contact with her since she left home, and I have never met them."
"Oh, Dorian, I'm so sorry," Auden said, reaching out to touch him. Her heart ached for him, for the family he did not get the opportunity to meet and the lonely life he must have lived with his mother. Just the two of them, year after year. Alone.
"Do not be sad," he assured, taking Auden's hand and removing it from his face, giving it a kiss as he did so. "I do not miss what I do not know."
There was no tear in his eye, no sign of distress. He truly was not bothered about missing so much of his heritage. Auden wished she could be so content with not knowing. She didn't understand how it did not drive him crazy, how he was not offended that he had so much more family than his mother only a few hours away, and they had not even bothered to know him. Dorian was wonderful, so kind and compassionate. They were fools not to seize the chance to experience him, appreciate him. But if Dorian was not angry, it was not Auden's place to be angry, either.
"So you are Portuguese and you are German. Both are languages I am absolutely terrible at," Auden said, trying to lighten the mood with humor. "Perhaps I should get a tutor."
"I know a few words."
"Oh?" Auden asked, a playful smile on her lips as she watched Dorian's cheeks flush. "Like?"
"Ummmm..." Dorian scanned the table, looking for something to latch onto. "Karte," he said as he gently pulled at the edge of a map of the Portuguese coastal waterways.
The word was all harsh syllables and guttural sounds, exactly what she expected the language to do to such a simple word.
"Stuhl." He took hold of the back of one of the chairs around the table. "Gedicht," he said as he waved the book of poetry under his arm around. The words were random and not at all useful, but Auden could not help but laugh. Then, he took her left hand and ran his fingers over the ridge of her knuckles, played with the ring that sparkled in the chandelier light. "Liebling."
He offered no translation for that one, but the change in tone was gentle, reverent. Auden's heart skipped a beat. "What does that mean?"
"Darling."
Dorian was close now, so close that all it took to remove the space between them was a push up to her tip toes.
A maid dropped something rather loudly. The commotion caused the two of them to break apart, remembering exactly where they were and who they were. Auden turned away to face the table, her gaze focused pointedly on the photos of dead ancestors and not Dorian's lips, his flushed cheeks. Nope. Absolutely not.
"You know so much about me now." Dorian said. He leaned one hip against the table and adjusted his glasses from where they had slid down his nose. "Should I study your family? That way we may be on even footing, yes?"
"If you want. My family is much larger than yours. It would take much more studying."
"You are worth every hour, every footnote," Dorian replied. He had definitely been perusing the poetry section of the library, Auden thought with a smile.
She rifled through a neat stack of photos on the other side of the table, pushing the Portuguese family photos out of the way to make room for her own royal family tree. There were newer photos, most in vivid technicolor, some scans of oil pastels or renditions drawn from descriptions in diary entries. The early Illéas were a secretive, reclusive bunch. There were no known photos of Gregory Illéa, nor his wife, Bethany. Only the official royal portraits existed of the First Family of Illéa, though those were thought to be exaggerated depictions illustrated by bribed artists. The first real photograph was of Justin and Abby Illéa, still caught up in the throes of a whirlwind romance. A year from when that photo was taken, Justin would be dead, his wife and murderer would marry his cousin, and the first Schreave would take the throne, changing the course of the country forever.
They would get there, Auden thought. A little too complicated for introductions. To start, they would take it from the beginning. Her beginning.
"You have already met my mother, Queen Finnley," she said, pointing to her mother's bright, sunshiny face and trailing her finger across to another, greyer one. "Her husband, my father, King Kaden." Further down the tree to each spreading branch. "My siblings: Crown Princess Elodie - the Heir - Prince Kasey, Princess Cordelia, Princess Gabrielle, and my twin...Princess Hayden."
"Yes, I remember her as well. So feisty." Yes, Hayden was definitely that and then some. So bullheaded, so stubborn, so many memories of Hayden always pitching a fit and getting her way. The corners of Auden's lips curled; she thought she was smiling, but Dorian's face contorted into concern "What is the matter? Did I say something wrong?"
"No, nothing wrong," Auden was quick to assure. She hated bringing up family drama. It never looked good for her family to look anything less than ideal. But Dorian...Dorian was her family now. She didn't have to always be so composed around him. "Hayden and I had a fight. We never fight. I'm not sure what it means."
It wasn't an exaggeration. Hayden had never raised her voice to Auden like that, not since they were kids and never over anything serious. To hear Hayden like that over the phone, her voice strung out and high pitched and absolutely devastated...it made Auden want to crawl on her knees all the way back to Illéa and curl up in her sister's bed while she brushed her hair and they cried together.
"I do not know what it is like to have a sibling, but I do know family. You two love each other, yes?" Dorian asked, and Auden nodded automatically. There wasn't a doubt in the world about how much she loved her sister. "Then you will find a way to fix what is broken."
Broken. Not in a million years would Auden have guessed that word would be used to describe what used to be the most stable, intrinsic relationship in her life. The thought made her sad, so she deflected.
"Governor Ermani...he's on your father's side of the family?"
Dorian hummed his confirmation. "My father had no siblings but my grandfather had two: a brother and a sister. The brother died in a hunting accident and my great aunt, the Grand Duchess Vanessa, went on to marry and have many children, one of whom is the Governor."
"What do you know about him?" Auden asked, unable to curb her curiosity. "Are you two close?"
"Not particularly." Dorian furrowed his brow in that adorable way that pushed his glasses down his nose. "Why?"
She couldn't tell him her crazy theory, not without looking like a total psycho and throwing out wild accusations with the power to ruin their chance at a happy marriage. Better to make Dorian think it was nerves...at least until more data presented itself. "I'm worried about this dinner your mother wants to throw for him. I want it to go well."
"The Governor is a good man. He will have no reason not to adore you."
"Someone almost shot him trying to get to us. That's not exactly a good first impression."
So many things about that first impression were terrible, gunfire the least of it. There was the demeaning way Queen Amantia had introduced her, the way she was practically ignored as the two talked amongst themselves, she and Dorian side figures to their grander conversation. Auden wasn't stupid; she spent her life around politics long enough to know when someone was scheming. It bothered her that such a major player had escaped her radar, which made all this attention surrounding the Governor even more suspicious...
"There are no worries, liebling." Dorian sounded so steady, so sure. "My mother will handle the politics. All we have to do is smile and dance."
"Dance?" Somehow, between all the studying and worrying, that had slipped Auden's mind. "I'm not a very good dancer."
"Then I will have to teach you."
He offered his hand and Auden did not hesitate to let him lead her five steps further into the room, enough space so that they would not run into the table. There was no music to move to, no grand band or string quartet, but that did not stop Dorian from placing one hand on Auden's waist and the other in her hand. She reached out to touch his shoulder, waiting a moment, then two, before Dorian slowly but surely took the lead.
A very, very terrible lead.
"Some teacher," Auden said as she immediately stepped on Dorian's toes. It wasn't her fault, not entirely, not when Dorian had forgotten to move his feet in the first place.
"I never said I was very good either."
Together they stumbled and laughed through a few more steps, until the whole thing fell apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Both Auden and Dorian looked up to find Queen Amantia staring at them, her lips pressed into a firm, disapproving line.
"Your Majesty," Auden said and immediately dipped into a curtsey.
The Queen did not reply. She turned her attention to Dorian and softened her expression a fraction. "The Royal Curator is here for your meeting. I assured him that only your passion for literature would keep you from greeting him in person."
Dorian ducked his head and nodded, embarrassed that he forgot something so important. Any other time and Auden would have been flattered to be such a distraction. Under Queen Amantia's scrutinizing, disappointed gaze, Auden felt shame crawl up her throat. She couldn't imagine how Dorian felt. He said a quick goodbye with a kiss to her cheek and disappeared down the hall.
That left Auden alone with the most hostile future mother-in-law in the world.
"It appears as though you have bewitched my son," Queen Amantia said, her tone short and clipped. "Before you arrived, he never would have forsaken his studies."
If Auden were a pettier person, she would have accused the queen of being jealous. Instead, she focused on maintaining civility. "He was teaching me how to dance for the state dinner."
"Is that what that was, dancing?" Her tone soured on the word dancing, like it was something dirty. "We put much more space between partners back in my day. Though, I doubt your generation cares much for modesty."
Slut-shaming? For dancing a waltz? Was she serious right now? Auden knew that laughing was a terrible move, that she would only further Queen Amantia's poor opinion of her, but the absurdity was nothing short of comical.
"Contrary to what you may think, I do value modesty, but I place a much higher value in transparency."
"Transparency?"
"You never specified why we're holding this dinner. Surely having an active assassin at a royal parade is enough motivation to cut back on excessive spending, unless there is sufficient reason otherwise," Auden said, knowing she was fifty different shades of insubordinate and out of line, but so was Queen Amantia. Maybe all it took to get some answers was confronting the Queen of Portugal herself. "The Governor wanted you to sign something that day. What was it?"
There was no way to prove that public displeasure in the monarchy was the reason for the attempted assassination, but it was a hell of a good one. It was one the media was running with. It was one founded in uprisings going back centuries. Auden had a secondary theory, one that sounded even crazier and would surely get her arrested if she voiced it, but her suspicion that Governor Ermani - miraculously unharmed and unknowledgeable of a massive home/government property invasion - was involved grew with each chilly inch of Queen Amantia's RBF.
"I do not need to justify any decision of mine to the likes of you," she replied, her tone cold enough to freeze Hell. And in that iceberg she wrapped around herself like armor, Auden sensed a thread of something much deeper, much more hostile than disapproval.
Auden stiffened and pulled up armor of her own. "Do you have something you would like to say to me?"
Apparently not. Queen Amantia turned on her heel and walked away. Conversation over. Auden had never been so rudely dismissed in her life! She expected this behavior from Essie, a literal child, not from a fully grown queen.
"I don't want to sit and play a passive role as queen," Auden shouted after Amantia, far from done. Thankfully, Auden didn't have to chase the woman far. She stopped in her short tracks, back to Auden as she continued, "I won't sit back and let things happen. I want to help my husband rule, like my mother has for my father."
"How novel you have all these aspirations for what a queen should be," Queen Amantia replied, crisp and cool as she turned back around, her face a mask of platitude and annoyance. "But my son is not looking for a partner. He is looking for someone to be his cornerstone. A voice away from politics. A retreat. It is the queen's duty to support the king, not his country."
"A voice away from politics?" Auden repeated, incredulous. "How can he have a voice away from politics when he has no voice at all? Judging from what I've seen, I doubt you've let him handle anything more complicated than overdue bus fare."
Disgust curled Queen Amantia's lip. "Just like your people to judge, to look down on traditions and expectations different than your own."
"How can Dorian uphold these traditions and expectations if he doesn't know what they are?" Auden countered, begging this woman to see sense. Couldn't she see that sheltering her son would only harm everyone in the long run? Couldn't she see how selfish that was? "I am afraid for the future of your country. I am afraid for your son."
"I fear for him as well. I fear what poison you will put into his head, or into his cup."
That hurt as sharp and sudden as a slap. Did she really think Auden was capable of something so evil? She couldn't think...she couldn't think that Auden was responsible for what happened at the parade...could she? She knew Queen Amantia was overbearing and neurotic, suspicious in her own right, but this? This crossed so many lines.
"I would never - " Auden swallowed down hurt and embarrassment, her hands shaking at her sides with anger and upset. "If you are so convinced I am bad for Dorian, then why let me marry him?"
For the second time, Queen Amantia turned on her heel and walked away. Unlike before, Auden didn't call her back. Instead, she watched any hope of a good relationship with her future mother-in-law disappear.