Chapter 5: My lovely Siblings

A few of Zola's visits later, I finally convinced Jenna to duel me. The stakes? If I win, she has to ask Merce if she can call her "elder sister." By now, I'm pretty sure that's what Merce wants, and Jenna too, judging by her straighter than usual posture and her fidgeting. She raises an eyebrow, "Do you realize what you're asking? Lady Merce doesn't exactly welcome that kind of thing."
"That's exactly why," I reply, spinning my wooden sword. "If it's coming from you, maybe she'll accept."

Jenna huffs, crossing her arms but keeping her tone measured. "And what do I get if I win?" "Nothing." I say with a smirk, already stepping into position. Her lips twitch, like she's fighting the urge to smile. "We'll see about that."

The duel begins, but unlike before, Jenna doesn't rush in swinging. She's learned to keep her movements controlled, testing my defenses instead of wasting energy. Her focus has improved, but she's still too predictable. I bait her into overcommitting on a strike, slipping past her guard with a light tap to her shoulder.

"Point to me."
Jenna glares, her jaw tightening. "Fine. I'll do it. But if she throws a fit, you're explaining why I broke tradition."

Later that afternoon, Jenna stands outside Merce's room, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. I hide behind a corner, peeking just enough to see her.

"Lady Merce," she says, stepping into the room with a shallow bow.
Merce lounges near the window, idly inspecting her nails. She's dressed as if she's expecting company, even though we host no guests.
"Jenna," she says, her tone light but dismissive. "What is it?" Jenna hesitates before squaring her shoulders. "I was wondering… if it would be alright to address you as 'elder sister.'"

Merce blinks, her head tilting slightly, and I can see the faintest flicker of surprise. "Elder sister?" she repeats, her voice carefully neutral. "... Yes? Lady Merce…"
Merce is silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on Jenna. Finally, she leans back. "If it pleases you, I won't object," she says, as though granting a favor she finds amusing.

Jenna bows her head slightly. "Thank you… elder sister."
Merce doesn't respond immediately. When she does, her tone is softer, nearly smiling. "You're welcome. I suppose there are worse things to be called."

From my hiding spot, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Jenna leaves the room quickly, her steps brisk and deliberate. Thank the saintess I was right.

It wasn't long after that when Finnley and I followed Jenna's lead. Finnley, of course, was the first to jump in. "Elder sister Merce," she said one morning as Merce passed by the garden. "Can Leon and I join you today?" Merce stops mid-step, her gaze narrowing slightly. "Join me?" "For whatever you're doing," Finnley clarified cheerfully. "If it's not too much trouble, I mean."

Merce's eyes flicked between us, her expression questioning. Then, with a slight tilt of her chin, she nodded. "If you're serious about behaving properly, I don't see why not."
What followed surprises me. Rather than brushing us off, Merce started including us in her activities: Etiquette drills, posture training, even tea parties where she insisted on absolute formality.

To my surprise, I didn't mind. The tea parties, in particular, were enjoyable in a way I hadn't felt in years. There's something comforting about the structure, the precision, the ritual of it all. Soon, I was hosting tea parties even when Merce wasn't visiting, using them as an excuse to bring the family together.

Zola, of course, noticed eventually. One afternoon, she appeared unannounced at one of our tea parties, her sharp voice cutting through the air with disapproval. Merce smiled, her tone as smooth as silk. "They're my playthings, Mother. If I'm to civilize them, I must start somewhere."
I won't forget that sentence for a while.
Zola didn't press further. Merce had her approval—though she lost Finnley's. Who sat stiffly, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly holding back tears. After Zola left, Finnley excused herself, her exterior cracking as she turned her back to us.

It was tough for Jenna and me to calm Finnley down afterward. Explaining the situation didn't help. Finnley refused to be in the same room as Merce, going out of her way to avoid her entirely.
Merce seemed anxious in the days that followed, pacing when she thought no one was watching. For someone raised to never consider the feelings of others, that's probably a new experience.

Two days later, Merce approached Jenna, her movements hesitant. I just happened to be nearby, thinking about how I could help solve this.

"Do you ever feel... responsible," Merce began, her voice quiet, "when someone is upset because of you?" Jenna looked up from her seat, surprised. She set her book down, studying Merce. "It depends," she said after a pause. "Did you mean to upset them?"

Merce hesitated, fidgeting. "No," she admitted shyly. "But it happened anyway." "Then you're feeling guilty about it," Jenna replied plainly. "Guilty" she repeated, as though testing the word's weight. "How do you make it... stop?"

"You don't," Jenna said with a shrug. "Not until you fix the issue that caused it."

Merce didn't respond immediately. She stood there for a moment, her expression unreadable, before nodding curtly and leaving.

A few moments later, when I entered the room I was welcomed by Jenna, "You should really stop spying all the time. It's a bad habit of yours." Shit, I wasn't even trying this time.

The next morning, Merce found Finnley in the garden, tending to the flowers. I watched from afar as Merce approached, still hesitant.
"I wanted to apologize," Merce said, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Finnley didn't look up, her hands busy with the flowers. "I don't want to talk to you." Her tone was sharp and unforgiving.

Merce lingered for a moment longer, her face now angry, before walking away, with loud steps. Being raised to believe in her own superiority, that seemed to cut her deep. The next day, before leaving, Merce was quieter than usual, her movements less confident.

It wasn't until Zola's next visit that things changed. Finnley, perhaps calmed by the time, approached us after a tea party.

"You said sorry before," Finnley began hesitantly. "Do you really mean it?" Merce straightened, meeting Finnley's gaze. "I do," she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.
Finnley studied her for a moment before nodding. "Okay." She reached out and tugged at Merce's sleeve. "Can we play now?" Merce blinked, clearly caught off guard, but she recovered quickly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "If you'd like."

I couldn't do anything this time. Just marvel at them walking off together. Merce, for all her pride, seemed to genuinely care about Finnley in her own way.

Rutart didn't take his sisters' new titles well. Every time Finnley or I called Merce "elder sister," his expression tightened, jealousy flickering across his face despite his attempts to hide it. He hated the reverence we gave Merce, his frustration showing in little ways—a sharp word here, an overly hard swing during training there.

Still, I can't deny that things between us have improved. Rutart isn't just bossing us around like he used to. Sometimes, after training, he'd puff out his chest and declare, "If you two keep this up, I'll make you my knights when I inherit!"
I smile, but the words always leave a sour taste in my mouth. He doesn't know he isn't Dad's son, and I hate the thought of taking anything away from him, but I can't let him inherit the Bartfort family, either. Thinking about it makes my chest feel heavy, so let's shove this thought aside.

Jenna, in contrast, seems to be adjusting to Merce's new role nicely. She'd always admired 'Lady Merce', but she also kept a careful distance, as to not get scorned. I think Jenna is now getting closer to Merce than she ever thought possible.
Finnley on the other hand only really took to Merce after the tea parties started, but once she did, she latched on with her usual enthusiasm. Seeing her beam whenever Merce calls her "little sister" is proof enough that the rough start doesn't matter any more.

Reflecting on it all, I find myself wondering how Rutart and Merce might turn out this time around. They are already different in ways I hadn't expected, but Zola… she'd always be Zola. Every attempt I made to help her ended the same way—with me punished and her completely unchanged. Adults are stubborn like that.
*sigh* For now, it was easier to focus on the family I could actually reach.

On the bright side, Colin recently started playing games with us—tag, hide-and-seek, that sort of thing. We'd always spent time with him before, but it's different now that he's starting to understand the rules, even if it takes him a few tries. Watching him stumble through the learning process is endearing.

Finnley, however, wasn't thrilled at first. She's so used to being the one everyone doted on. Colin getting attention felt like competition. There were tears—more than a few—but she's handling it better now. These days, she tries to act like a "cool and reliable older sister," though she doesn't always pull it off.

Jenna's been changing, too, though it took much longer. Thinking about my past life, I can't recall her ever helping with housework, but now she's started pitching in. Finnley never stopped this time, so having Jenna join her feels like a victory. I remember how Jenna used to just watch us work—silent, distant, always on the outside looking in.

I think that's part of why Nicks has finally started to make up with her. He hated her pride, the way she stayed in the mansion while we toiled outside. That resentment festered for years in my past life, but this time, things are shifting.

With Rutart and Merce he isn't as far alone on the path of reconciliation. Colin took to calling them "brother" and "sister" right from the start. It's all he's ever known. So Nicks is the only one stubbornly refusing them.

Looking at my family now, it's hard not to feel a flicker of hope. Even my step-siblings have found their place. Rutart and Nicks still butt heads, their relationship more rivalry than camaraderie, and Merce doesn't really interact with my parents. But there's something here—something closer to a real family than I ever expected.

It's strange how much has changed just because I tried. Instead of fighting all the time, I made an effort, and for once, it feels like it's paying off.

A/N

23.12.24 - Minimal changes, adding more of Leon's thoughts.

So chapters 3 to 5 used to be one chapter with ~1500 words.
But while reworking the ballooned into ~6000. Not all at once, but still...

When I worked on the start of chapter 3 (Now chapter 3) I just added more plots and elaborated on them. When I saw the word count, I cut it, thinking I'd make another chapter out of the rest.
Then it happened again... And I nearly split the remnant again today. The whole elder sister plot was originally only 4 lines long into ~1200 words, but I managed to hold back for the rest.

Still, is that a writer's disease?

And why restrict my self to such short chapters? Because I can't handle waiting so long between uploads. I need my fix, seeing my published work accumulate.

Enough whining, please comment if there is anything on your mind. All non shitposts are appreciated.