The Thing About Fathers

The thing about fathers was, they were often missed at critical moments.

Take a wedding dress fitting, for example. Normally, one associates that type of bonding activity with a mother, or perhaps a sister or trusted friend. But all Auden felt, in that moment, was an intense desire to hug her father. Sure, the King of Illéa was not the most reliable when it came to silhouettes or necklines, but he would have seen each dress and told Auden she was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

Which was more than she could say for her future mother-in-law.

"Turn around."

The command was short and emotionless. Queen Amantia waved a hand in Auden's direction, waiting for Auden to do her part like a trained monkey.

To keep the peace, Auden did a slow turn in front of the triptych of mirrors. Every angle of the dress was exposed as she moved - from the lace at the hem to the trail of dainty buttons down her spine. It was a little too tight for Auden's taste, a little too stuffy. The high lace collar itched her throat and the sleeves touched her fingertips. Conservative was putting it mildly.

When Auden was back to her original position, she was met with another disdainful scowl.

"No, that won't do."

The Queen's decision was final.

A flurry maids and seamstresses ushered Auden back into the dressing room, working with skillful finesse to remove the layers of silk and lace. As soon as the collar was off, Auden gulped in a breath. Though it was annoying that she could not have opinions about her own wedding dress, she was glad this one was vetoed. It felt more like a prison than anything.

"Try the ballgown," Queen Amantia instructed, her voice carrying loftily over the curtain. "Something with more gravitas."

Auden didn't particularly care for ballgowns, but, then again, this wasn't just her wedding. She had been reminded multiple times that day that she was not her own bride. This wedding was a show for the people of Portugal. This wedding was a symbol of monarchy and diplomacy. Auden was simply a figurehead for something bigger, so she should, in Queen Amantia's words, 'shut up and play her part.'

If there was one good thing about the ballgown, it wasn't suffocating. In fact, it was rather breezy. Nothing wrapped around her neck like a vise, and even if she felt like a cupcake, at least she wasn't in danger of choking.

The curtain pulled back again, and once more Auden was presented to the Queen.

"Hmmm," Queen Amantia leaned back in her chair, assessing. "Appropriate. But we can do better."

Just what every girl wanted to be called on her wedding day: appropriate.

Auden fought the urge to roll her eyes. Before coming here and dealing with her future mother-in-law, she had never felt the urge to be so disrespectful. But there was something about Queen Amantia that pressed every single one of Auden's buttons. That was impressive, given she had grown up with five siblings, one of whom was Delia.

By this point, Auden was exhausted. Her self esteem had taken about as many hits as it could handle. What she wanted most in the world was a hot bath and a good book. And perhaps a quiet moment with Dorian. She missed her fiancé like crazy. It had been days since she'd seen him last, the wedding planning coming between any and all possible time together. She wondered if Dorian had to sit through miserable tuxedo fittings, or if he was spared his mother's overbearing presence.

The next gown was even poofier than the last, if that were even possible. The attendants struggled not to step on the layers of tulle as they maneuvered her out.

Queen Amantia stared at her in perpetual disappointment.

It was as if the Queen were making things as difficult as possible for Auden. Not that she had ever made it easy, but now Queen Amantia took it as her personal challenge to upset Auden in every way possible. As if that would make Auden back off of finding out why she and Governor Ermani wanted her dead. As if that would stop Auden from measuring a heaping amount of distrust every time Queen Amantia opened her mouth.

"Now that I have you here, we may talk about invitations."

"Invitations," Auden repeated dully. Her brain was scattered, far from having the capacity to process hundreds of names.

Queen Amantia didn't seem to care. She started rattling off her list. "Of course, there will be royal families from all over the world coming to attend. Cousins and diplomats, barristers and high ranking church officials."

"Is Governor Ermani going to attend?"

"The Governor is my late husband's family, as well as a lord of the land. His attendance is expected."

Spoken as if Auden could not have asked a stupider questions. Auden bit her tongue, kept her submissive smile in place.

"Of course. I just hope he gets on with my parents. After all, the alliance is not binding until the marriage contract is signed."

Boredom switched to keen interest. For the first time all day, Queen Amanita truly looked at Auden like her prized spaniel had learned how to walk on its hind legs and recite Shakespeare.

"Alliance?"

"Between Illéa and Portugal," Auden clarified, sure she did not need to remind Queen Amantia of something so crucial. She could, quite literally, not afford to be that dumb. "Financial support does not start until the marriage contracts are signed and binding for at least ninety days."

Royal marriage was, after all, a business transaction. Queen Amantia was not wrong about that. What she had forgotten was who held the power of that transaction. Portugal needed Illéa. If that was the only power Auden held, she would keep hold of it for dear life.

"As does use of resources. I am well aware." Queen Amantia pursed her lips, irked but tamed. She reclined in her seat and cocked her head, studying the gown. "I was not aware as to how much your father told you."

"I would be remiss not to read my own marriage contract."

"Hmm." It was hard to tell what the queen was thinking. "Then, there is the matter of your bridal party."

Shifting gears was something Auden was used to; with many sisters, it was keep up or die. If Queen Amantia wanted to avoid the subject, then so be it. Let her be cryptic and sneaky. It wouldn't lower Auden's defenses, nor would it quell any of her suspicions.

"I was thinking of having a small group. I don't have many girl friends."

"Nonsense. A large party is tradition." Queen Amantia waved off Auden's wishes and set upon her own. "We will send formal requests to all the proper families. There are distant cousins to the east who have daughters of presenting age. The Lord Treasurer's niece. And Countess Santiago's daughter, Dona Catarina, will be included."

Tacked on the end. As if Auden wouldn't recognize the name. How could she not, when that horrible girl was the cause of such misery?

"I don't think she likes me much, what, with her under the assumption I stole her husband."

"Ah, Dorian told you about that I see." Queen Amantia rose from her seat and walked to the foot of the stand. The seamstresses and attendants backed away as the queen encroached on Auden's space. She reached out and fixed where the neckline had fallen the slightest bit crooked. "What a shame it did not work. She is a true Portuguese lady. But there is no need for jealousy. You have already won."

Dark eyes fixed on Auden, deep and unreadable. There was a challenge there, one that did not suggest a victory on Auden's behalf, but she did not allow herself to be intimidated. She maintained eye contact until the queen backed away, returning to her seat with an almighty sigh.

"More lace," Queen Amantia instructed the seamstress. "We want her to look like a true, traditional bride."

.o.O.o.

The moment the appointment ended, Auden was up and out of the room. She wanted to be far away from Queen Amantia and her army of puppets ready to poke and prod her with more needles. No definitive decisions had been made on the gown, which meant that more torture was in Auden's future. She would have rather sit on a cactus than put herself through that again.

Thankfully, that was the only thing on the agenda for the day. Auden was free to spend the rest of her time as she liked.

There were so many things she could do: practice dancing, focus on her Portuguese lessons, call Hayden back and leave another five minute voicemail that would never be returned. All of them were about as appealing as the dress fitting.

Turned out she didn't have to choose. Fate had decided to intervene.

"Dorian!"

Her fiancé stood outside her door with a basket in hand: the traditional wicker type that wafted sweet smells Auden's way. He stood with a bashful smile on his face, his other hand raised in a wave. As if she could not see him. Fondness overtook her as she walked his way, joy and light filling up the dark spaces his mother had hollowed out moments before.

"We have not spent time together much," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"No, we haven't."

Which was a shame. Who knew that wedding planning was so exhausting?

"Eat this picnic with me?"

"I would love to."

She laced her arm through his and let him lead the way. There were only so many places on the palace grounds they could go and be undisturbed. Not that the guards present ever made things uncomfortable, but Auden knew they watched her with more than a bit of skepticism. Despite being a resident in their palace for weeks now, and being a target of an assassination attempt, she was still viewed as an outsider - no doubt the Queen's work. It was so much easier to relax without the prying eyes.

Dorian knew this, and took her along the overgrown path to the base of the castle rock. Since the castle itself was built on a large hill, it didn't have any green grounds, not like the palace in Angeles. If they wanted to have a true picnic, they would have to do it a little further away than security would like, but they would have to deal.

It was a lovely day, the perfect day to enjoy a meal outside. The sun was shining, there was a lovely breeze that ruffled Dorian's hair as he laid the blanket down and busied himself sorting through the food. Nothing too fancy: an assortment of cheeses and fruits with a bit of crusty bread and red wine.

"To us," Dorian said as he raised his glass to Auden's. They met in the middle, glasses clinking delicately as not to spill.

"This is nice," Auden said, tipping her head to the sky. "To get away from it all."

"Has it been much to deal with?" Dorian asked.

Whenever he was concerned, an adorable furrow scrunched between his nose where his glasses met. Auden had the most absurd urge to kiss it.

"Nothing more than what you've had to deal with, I'm sure."

Auden was always quick to brush off her own struggles. They seemed so silly in comparison to others. She lived a life of luxury, and she was complaining about a bridal fitting most women would die to have.

"Mother has not involved me much," Dorian said, frowning a bit. "She says it is no place for a man."

"But it's your wedding too," Auden pointed out gently. "Your opinions matter. Is there anything you'd like me to bring up?"

"I will tell you a secret." He leaned over to Auden conspiratorially and lowered his voice until it tickled against her ear. "I do not like the entrée for the dinner."

Auden gasped in mock horror, her smile giving her away. "What!? But the chef spent hours on that menu!"

Dorian laughed along with her, taking a sip of wine. "I know, I know, but I am not fond of the relish."

"You're half German and you don't like pickles?" Auden laughed even harder. "Isn't that a sin?"

"Perhaps," Dorian said, lines crinkling around his eyes as he smiled into his glass. Auden wanted to trace those too. She wanted to touch every inch of his skin and commit it to memory, every adorable dip and valley.

She felt like a little girl with her first crush, writing every inane detail down in her diary with a glitter gel pen. She wanted to lie on her bed at home and write in that diary now, wanted to kick her legs off the edge and twirl her hair, wanted to read every sentence to Hayden when she was done just to say it out loud. They never did that before, but they could do it now. It was never too late to be young and in love.

And perhaps, if Hayden was feeling generous, she would open her diary as well and read out those secret pages that were full of the man she met in secret, the one Auden wasn't supposed to know about but heard her sneak out to meet anyway. All that sneaking wasn't necessary now that Auden was gone, and she wondered if Hayden still felt the thrill of that relationship now that it wasn't as illicit.

It was a stupid thing to wonder, a stupid thing to dwell on. All Auden could do was pick up the phone and hope Hayden answered. They were still in a fight, and while Auden knew it was her fault, she couldn't help but feel anger at her sister for being so short-sighted. They had to grow up and lead different lives at some point. Nothing last forever, not even dreams of slumber parties and giggling over crushes, pizza and ice cream until their stomachs ached while movies rolled on long after they fell asleep.

There were no pictures Auden could send Hayden from the fitting, no proof that she ever tried on a dress, even if it was the one part of wedding planning she promised to let Hayden have a say in. No olive branch to extend. Hayden would have to be as surprised as the rest of the family when Auden walked down the aisle. Hayden was the only one who cared about this kind of thing anyway. No one else had much of an opinion on what she wore. Mom would cry. Dad would say she looked beautiful as he took her arm. Dad, who would stand in such awe, marveling that he made it this long to see one of his children down the aisle.

"I was thinking..." she said aloud, not realizing it until it was too late to take back.

"Yes?"

"That I miss my father." Miss was an understatement. She felt the absence like an ache tugging at her heart. "Normally, girls want their mother to be there when they try on their wedding dress, but all I could think about was having him there."

"I never knew my father. I have wondered what it would be like to have him here, what he would think of our wedding."

"The Queen never told you what he was like?"

Auden couldn't imagine a world where she didn't know her father. She couldn't imagine a world where she could be okay with not knowing him. He was half of her, part of the reason she existed. The curiosity would have eaten her alive.

"My mother does not like to bring up the past. His memory...it hurts her. All I have are pictures. A few documents and letters he wrote during his short rule. They show he was a good man. But as a father...I am not so sure."

Auden snuggled in closer to Dorian, her side pressed along his and her head hooked over his shoulder. She pressed a kiss to that shoulder, lips meeting layers of soft cashmere of his sweater and the scratchy wool of the houndstooth blazer he liked to wear over everything.

"He made you, and you are good. So good, Dorian. That must count for something."

He leaned back into her, absorbing the comfort. He was so warm for someone so thin and bony. All his sharp edges fit to Auden perfectly.

"His birthday is soon. At the end of the month."

"Will you celebrate?"

"No. It is a somber affair. I never dare to bring up his name on that day."

"But you want to."

The longing was clear, written in every yearning line of Dorian's being.

"It matters little what I want," he said, resigned. Already tamping that yearning down into a box in the back of his heart. "It is what my mother needs."

It does matter what you want, Auden wanted to say, but she held her tongue. This boy had spent his whole life bowing down to his mother both literally and figuratively. Clearly, the Queen could not be bothered to show her son the same courtesy despite the fact that he was still grieving.

Well, no more.

Auden made up her mind then and there that she would change things. If Queen Amantia didn't want to acknowledge her husband's birthday, then Auden would. Even if it was something small, something just for Dorian.

"You are the first person I tell this to," he said, taking Auden's hand between his, playing with her fingers. "The first person I trust." He looked into her eyes. "The first person I kiss."

"Truly?" It shouldn't have surprised Auden as much as it did given Dorian's austere mother and the nature of royal life, but it did. "I'm your first? You'd never kissed anyone else?"

He shook his head. Auden could hardly believe it.

"Not even Dona Catarina?"

Dorian made a face of disgust. "Why would I kiss her?"

"She certainly wants you to."

"It makes you jealous," Dorian teased, a smile spreading across his face. "These ladies who want to kiss me."

"I'm not jealous," Auden denied, but she knew it was false. Her stomach turned at the thought of Dorian kissing one of those women, just as it had when she saw them dance. It was so, utterly wrong it made her want to scream. "Well, maybe a little. It's hard not be. Look at your face. Who wouldn't want to kiss you?"

He blushed. Full on blushed, the kind where his cheeks turned red and splotchy, so heated that he had to duck his head out of embarrassment. He was so endearing. Auden could barely stand it.

"Look at you," Auden sighed, running her hands through Dorian's hair. It was stupidly soft and thicker than it had any right to be. "And I thought I was sheltered. You're like a heroine in a Jane Austen novel."

"Does that you make you Mister Wickham, out to seduce me?"

"Excuse you," Auden gasped, playfully pushing at his shoulder. "I'd much rather see myself as the Darcy in this situation. Or perhaps the Bingley, seeing as though you radiate Jane vibes."

"Vibes?"

"Slang. Hayden tells me it's like an aura. A good aura." Truth be told, Auden wasn't too sure. Slang had never been her strong suit, her 'pop culture education' severely lacking compared to her siblings. "I'll have to teach you later, after I master Portuguese."

"Whatever you want, my love."

He said it so casually. As if loving her was as easy as breathing. As if they had exchanged those words a thousand times before.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Love me."

Dorian sat up straighter. Auden was practically in his lap now, straddling him while her skirt puddled up around her. It was terribly unladylike and would have made all her etiquette tutors die of stroke had they see, but it was just them. Just Dorian and Auden looking at each other like no one else in the world existed.

"There is space in my head and in my heart where only you live. All day, it speaks to me," Dorian tried to explain as best he could, frustration building as he lacked the words in English. "I am not sure if this is love, but it could be. I would like it to be."

Auden would too. She would like that very much.

Kissing Dorian was as easy as breathing. Sweet and warm as honey. His lips were pillow soft under hers, easy to part and sink inside. She had never known want before Dorian, never seen herself as the kind of girl who got lost in making out with her boyfriend. But there she was, under the shady trees letting Dorian hold onto her waist and hair, not caring if he messed it up or if anyone saw.

"Do you think we could be like them?" she asked when they pulled apart, still caught up in each other's arms. "Our parents? So happy with each other that it would kill us to be apart?"

"I never wish to know a grief like my mother's, but if it is a shadow of a love just as strong then I could understand why she would suffer through it."

"I don't want you to suffer." She had see enough suffering from her own family. She knew what that looked like, all the manic highs and devastating lows. "I don't want to know what would happen if Dad lost Mom. He's lost so much already...I think he'd break."

"The King of Illéa is strong. God save the King."

"I'd like to think I'm like him, that I got some of my best traits from him: his practicality, his loyalty, his unwavering sense of duty. But if I lost what he lost...if I lived through what he lived through, I don't think I'd be like him at all." She wasn't strong like him. She wasn't tried and tested. She was soft and self-centered, and for so many reasons that made her scared. "I ask myself, would I be a good queen? Would I be able to push through and do what's best for my people?"

"You doubt yourself."

Said like something unthinkable, something silly. Something Dorian never thought to question. The intensity of his trust and devotion hit Auden like a ton of bricks, twisting her stomach and making her eyes water. She wished she could have as much faith in herself as Dorian had in her.

"I'm going to be a queen. You'll be a king. We can't afford to be selfish. Portugal will come first and we'll be second."

The smile never left Dorian's lips, though it was smaller and more subdued now.

"Do you always plan for the worst?"

"I grew up surrounded by ghosts - gaps in the family portraits where my grandparents should have been, cousins that never existed. It was so lonely, Dorian. I don't want to be lonely here."

Dorian knew loneliness, trapped in his giant, lonely castle with all its empty rooms, haunted by the memories of a father he never knew. His mother was the crypt keeper, creeping down the halls in her specter-black gowns. Perhaps they were not suited to Jane Austen and her cheerful pastel pastures. Perhaps they were better suited to Brontë or Poe, to creaking halls and haunted manors and death lurking just around the corner.

They hadn't even married yet and his own mother had already tried to kill them.

There was no guarantee they'd last the year.

Dorian took her face in his hands oh so gently and pushed back her hair. His fingers were soft where they stroked her cheeks. Fingers that had only ever known her skin, no one else's. Like he was made for her, cherishing her with each steady breath.

"We can be lonely together."

He made it sound wonderfully romantic. Who could say no? Auden surely couldn't.

She kissed him again. And again. And again. Until the trees and the birds and the sun all faded into nothing. Her universe narrowed down to the press of Dorian's hand on her spine and his pulse beneath her fingers, to his lips on hers and the breath they shared, already one.

When they pulled apart, there were stars in her eyes.

"In all my plans, I never saw you."

The picnic sat forgotten, the wine abandoned, but it hardly mattered. Auden had all she needed.