Private A Return

[Marina Thornton]

Marina took George's arm, her fingers curling into the crook of his elbow like they were made for the space, as they emerged out into the gardens. "You're among our most famous sons," Marina explained the cause of her nerves. That was certainly part of it, of course. Was it the whole reason? "Even before the occupation both sides of your family were quite famous. The Vitalises, a great house among great houses. The Fortans -- well, I'm sure I don't need to tell you when you're here, surrounded by all the history. And now, prince and heir of a whole different country, spanning multiple planets. Surely you must realize how daunting that can be to provincials like us here on Galidraan."

The tone was light, but there was weight behind it. Galidraan could be considered provincial. Its history had been proud once, but occupation and infighting and recriminations had brought it low. Now it sat, unremarked, as a holding of a Mandalorian power. Neither oppressed nor oppressing, neither colonized nor colonizing.

"It seems so many of us have decamped to the Renascent Heirate. Those old guard who are still alive taking up offices and titles in your new worlds. I can't say I blame them," she confessed thoughtfully as they strolled along the broad path between two low hedges, each surrounded by segmented flower beds. Beauty in straight lines and clear delineations. Could there be anything more like a Fortan? "At least the people who bought this place didn't let the garden go to pot," Marina said quietly, releasing George's arm for a moment to crouch down, cupping a vivid pink bloom to her face. She inhaled its scent. It smelled of cool summers and garden parties and freshly laundered linen and expectations.

"The question is whether that future is here, or elsewhere," Marina ventured, glancing up at him as she took his arm once more, resuming the stroll. "You'll have duties on Aegis, of course. What does that mean for Herevan Hold?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Marina Thornton

"And you? Are you decamping there or are you aiming to stay here?" Before they could move on, he plucked one of the flowers she had been watching, and gently tucked it behind her ear. "Pretty as a rose." George murmured softly, with a little bit of a mischievous glint in his eye, before allowing them to move on in their journey.

"I believe I have neglected my duties here. While I cannot shirk my duties to Aegis, I aim to spend more time here and on my other estates, to show the people that I have not forgotten them and my duties to them."

It wasn't like he could just pluck them up and carry them to Aegis.

And it shouldn't be like that anyway. These people were born here (as was he) and they loved this world (as did he). It didn't matter that now his prime title was elsewhere.

His heart would always belong to this planet and these estates. That much he knew for a fact.

 

[Marina Thornton]

Marina smiled faintly. Nearby a pair of lightning bugs lit up in sequence, one after the other, making a sort of lazy spiral over the gardens. "I don't know," she confessed in response to his question about staying here. "There's not much left for me here. The estates have gone. My family... well, it's just Aristé and me now."

She didn't need to tell George Vitalis that without estates, the money would dry up. Of course, Marina had powerful and wealthy friends who would not let her fall into poverty, but the Prince didn't need to know all that.

"Meanwhile, Aegis has become a center of culture for people like us," Marina went on, her eyes lingering on the haphazard spiral. "People for whom nobility means more than just fancy titles and big houses. Galidraan is not what it once was where that is concerned." A wistful sigh. "It is too bad, I suppose, that Galidraan is so far removed from the Renascent Heirate. One wonders what might have happened if your mother were able to add Galidraan as a jewel to her crown."

Unlike Aristé, there was no external barb there as she spoke of Natasi Fortan. Her hands went behind her back, fingers from her left hand circling her right wrist so firmly that her knuckles went white and her flesh might have bruised. "The best of both worlds, perhaps?" A polite smile.

"I'm sure Galidraan will see all the benefit of your interest. I hear Southport has become rather en vogue for wintering, so that must be a boon." She smiled faintly. "As for me? I'll be there for the Season, at any rate. The Stuyvesants have very generously offered to host us." Marina cast a glance back toward the house. "I hope my cousin's... impropriety ...won't blot all our copybooks by extension."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

"There's not much left for me here. The estates have gone. My family... well, it's just Aristé and me now."

A soft blink there and gently patting her hand in sympathy.

"I am sorry to hear that, my Lady." It also colored Aristé's reaction in a different shade. Still rude, still unacceptable, but you couldn't help but feel sympathy for someone that had lost it all. Not everyone could be graceful under those circumstances. Marina Thornton seemed like a rare pearl in that regard, perfect pose irrespective of her position.

"You bear it well, I would have had no idea if you hadn't said so. Is there anything I can do for you and your cousin? If it is within my power, I will do my best to grant it."

The latter part giving himself a slight out if any request was too ridiculous.

"It is too bad, I suppose, that Galidraan is so far removed from the Renascent Heirate. One wonders what might have happened if your mother were able to add Galidraan as a jewel to her crown."

"It is a fine question. I am unsure. It would benefit Galidraan, certainly, to be part of a larger whole. More protection and wealth. I suppose the Sith have shown that it can be done. What with their claim over their Holy Worlds while ruling on the other side of the Galaxy. But I am unsure if we would wish to follow that sort of trajectory."

The Sith... George had none of the approval the old Tionese families had for them. Something about Tion being burned to a crisp and other past indiscretions had a way to sour an opinion.

"I will make sure it doesn't. Your cousin is clearly in pain, some measure of leeway is afforded to that... but you should talk to her. Not everyone will be as understanding as I am. Which reminds me, perhaps we should return. My sister is someone who certainly is less understanding than me if any slights are pointed her way."

 

[Marina Thornton]

"There's nothing," Marina said, her voice gentle but the words firm, unyielding. She hesitated a moment, then added: "I would never doubt your influence but Galidraan is a puzzle these days. And it would be unfair, I think, for whoever has ended up with our holdings to have them confiscated. It's ancient history, now, at any rate. And it would be... complicated, I think, if strings were seen to be pulled on our account."

It was more convenient for everyone to think of the Royal House of Dalterra to be fully extinct. It helped that Marina and Aristé bore the names of their grandfather, and not their royal grandmother. It allowed the aristocracy to move from Sith Empire to the Galidraani Free State to the New Empire to the Mandalorian Empire without having to look too deeply into the well that was their history, to think on their sins.

Doubly so for the Fortans.

"Best to let sleeping dogs lie, I think," said Marina quietly, her voice faraway. Not that she had any intention of letting sleeping dogs lie. Oh, no. She had plans. She remained silent until George suggested they return.

"It's a good idea," said the onetime princess as she agreed. "The auction is likely to begin shortly, at any rate, and I should hate to have the festivities marred by wigs on the green. Or worse, blood." Marina offered the Prince a faint smile, her eyelids fluttering, as if the idea was too terrible to even consider.

As it turns out they needn't have worried. When they re-entered they would find Aristé and Reima occupying two chairs -- Reima in the front row, but turned toward Aristé in the second row -- locked in what appeared to be an intimate and animated conversation. "They look thick as thieves," Marina told George as they entered from the drawing room. "Do you think we should be worried?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Marina Thornton

George simply inclined his head and allowed Marina to keep her dignity.

It was a shame, he certainly thought and would have helped her, but sometimes you did more damage by pushing. Maybe if they grew their relationship she'd be more amenable to it.

"Oh, dear." George glanced from Reima Vitalis to Aristé Thornton and back again. "I do believe that they might be plotting. Either against our mother," Meaning Reima and his mother. "-or alternatively against us." But George checked her hip lightly, in good nature and humor. "Make sure to check the cushion before you sit down."

He leaned in there a bit conspiratorially.

"It could be needles or air balloons, either way, our dignity would not survive an impact like that."

After that George would offer his elbow to escort Marina back. He'd situate her carefully next to her cousin, who received a slow inclination of his head, but George didn't bother addressing her again.

She had made quite clear where she stood with him.

Instead George settled down next to Reima... of course, first checking his own seat cushion, and only then sitting down. "You two looked quite pleased with yourself. Should I be worried about a new alliance brooding, dear sister?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima half-turned when she sensed her brother re-entering the room, watching him with the statuesque blonde. Were they flirting? Her eyes narrowed a little as the two put their heads together. Reima couldn't make out the words, but she got the distinct impression that her brother was flirting with this woman!

"My cousin isn't known to travel light, but I don't remember seeing her pack any needles," Marina told George with an indulgent glint in her eyes. "But I would put nothing past her." She took his arm again and allowed him to escort her to her seat near Aristé Thornton . A brief squeeze there of his forearm. "Thank you, Your Highness. I hope we will meet again soon." A fond smile as she settled in next to her cousin. Aristé examined her cousin briefly, apparently disgusted by Marina's shy, charmed smile, and turned away.

"Aristé is certainly a pistol," Reima said, sotto voce, a smirk playing across her lips. "You'd like her if you let yourself. I suspect she has no warm feelings toward us, though. Don't you know who they are?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

He settled in next to Reima after taking care with Marina Thornton and eyebrows raised at Reima's description of Aristé Thornton .

"A loaded pistol, I assume, which she is pointing at your back and that's why you are being so generous about her." George finally teased with a bump of his elbow into her side. "She was extremely rude, but dear miss Thornton explained part of it. No, however, I have no idea who they are besides landed nobility that lost a lot since the conflicts."

That piqued his interest though and George glanced back towards the pair, who seemed to be in discussion about something.

"Who are they? And what did you two discuss, plotting something, dear sister?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima regarded her brother with equal parts affection and good-natured exasperation. "My darling," she muttered, shaking her head. "I could well take you to the Dower House in the village and show it to you in your very own copy of Ditton's, but in the absence of the opportunity..." She leaned closer so they would not be overheard. "Marina's mother -- Aristé's aunt -- was Jezarelle Thornton. The Duchess of Tadreixra and before that she was Jezarelle Dalterra. Granddaughter of Ian Dalterra, the last legitimate King of Galidraan."

She gazed at her brother impassively, dark eyes searching for the flicker of understanding that would surely come when he realized that their uncle had deposed the great-grandfather of the two girls in front of them. Public understanding of the events of the establishment of the Unified Galidraani Council by their uncle and the Foxfield Accord coming so closely on its heels had linked them inextricably. In the eyes of Thornton girls, and indeed much of the Galidraani public, they were two sides of one coin.

The Vitalises and Fortans using their connection to the Sith Imperials to secure power for themselves.

"I don't know what she said to you, but whatever it is I rather doubt it came close to the damage our family has inflicted on hers. Uncle Thad was not especially gentle with the Dalterras before the Occupation, and the Sith Imperials were worse." She frowned as the auctioneer approached the podium. "And things have been no better since the Occupation ended. There is no appetite to return the Dalterras -- the Thorntons, now, as the Dalterra line is extinct in the male line -- to the positions they held before the war."

The auctioneer began to expound on the story of Herevan Hold -- its evolution from house to mansion, mansion for manor, manor to fortress, along with the evolution of the Fortan family from prosperous merchants with military ties to indispensable servants to the Galidraani crown. The auctioneer delicately avoided recent history in teeing up the sale. "Shall we begin the bidding at -- one million credits?"

Reima lifted her paddle.

"One million to the Lady Reima Vitalis. Do I see one million two hundred fifty thousand?"

Reima was as surprised as anyone to see Aristé Thornton's paddle raise.

George Vitalis | Aristé Thornton | Marina Thornton​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

A soft ah.

That certainly explained the animosity, especially toward Natasi Fortan . Fair or not, earned or unearned, some blamed Natasi personally for the cooperation with the Sith. Utterly ridiculous, of course. If it hadn't been the Lady Fortan, there would have been other nobles who would step into the brink and if there hadn't been? Tion was a good example of a world stepping out of line and paying the price for it. When you dealt with the Sith, you either needed a very big stick or you needed the social grace to accept when you were dealing with something out of your league.

Back then Galidraan certainly didn't have a huge fleet to defend itself and even then, the Tionese society was entwined with the Sith culture. Younger sons and daughters were often send to either serve in the Empire's armies or to study as Sith, to bring back glory and power to their old families. It was just the way things were back then.

But now suddenly they wanted to tut-tut about it, George's teeth itched from it.

"Well, maybe I will have another chat with her after the auction, offer her some more grace. That is the least I could do." He finally admitted there, trying to be better than his baser instincts.

Naturally that didn't last. Not when the first bid came from his sister and then immediately afterwards Aristé Thornton upped the bid. George's eyebrows raised up and he glanced towards Reima.

"What did you say about a pistol?" He muttered softly. "She must be bluffing, if her family suffered so deeply, then where is she getting the funds to blow on an estate that means nothing to her?"

All only for Reima's ears, of course.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"Perhaps she's saved up her pin money," Reima murmured to her brother quietly, glancing at Aristé with a sly smirk. She had to admit that the girl was magnificent; the younger Vitalis had to concede that sometimes a bit of rebellion was the only thing for it. But the golden-haired cousin was hissing waspishly to the raven-haired one. "I suspect the Princess is giving her a ticking off about antagonizing you. That little spin in the garden might have saved us a few hundred thousand credits."

She lifted her paddle. "Two million to Lady Reima Vit -- " but before he could finish he altered course " -- and that's two and a quarter to the lady in front."

Reima distinctly heard Marina Thornton threaten to stick that paddle somewhere you won't like.

"Dysfunctional," Reima whispered to her brother, who no doubt had also heard Marina's aside. "Just like us. Perhaps we were meant to be royal after all."

"Do I see two and a half? Thank you, Lady Reima. Do I see two and three quarters? Ah, the gentleman in the back."

Reima glanced over her shoulder; she didn't recognize the man with the raised paddle. "I do hope this doesn't get out of hand," Reima said through gritted teeth to George as she flicked her paddle up again.

"Three million to Lady Reima," the auctioneer called. "Do I have three and a quarter?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

George did hear it all- the hushed back and forth behind them chief of all. He reminded himself that he'd have to truly take Marina Thornton out for lunch or dinner, to thank her for being the sole reasonable one in that duo. Still, George wondered just where that money was coming from for Aristé Thornton to throw it around so easily.

Unless the idea was to just force the matter and make Reima and him pay more.

"Remind me to politely suggest for the auction house to check her credit line." George whispered softly, much more low, only audible for his sister's ears in the moment. "It wouldn't do if she is throwing around non-existent money just to stick it to us."

Something that George wouldn't rule out when it came to a harpy like that.

"She will be fine." Before Reima could argue. "If she is lying, then she will just receive a fine." The fact that said fine could be debilitating to someone who didn't have their kind of money didn't even enter George's mind. He was a good soul, usually, but there were moments... when it came out just how affected he had been by his upbringing.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"We're still boatloads under what I got for the place when I sold it to -- whatshisname," Reima whispered back to her brother. "Calm down. If she sees you getting flustered it's just going to give her the satisfaction."

"And -- four million to the gentleman in the back," the auctioneer said, his tone reedy and genteel. "Do I hear four and a quarter? Lady Reima?" Reima kept her paddle down, and kept her gaze on the auctioneer, looking pensive, as if she couldn't decide. But really, she was waiting for Aristé to make her move. So far, her paddle stayed down, too. "Four and a quarter, lady in the front?" the auctioneer said. "Going once. Going twice? And -- four and a quarter to the Lady Reima Vitalis."

Aristé glanced over her shoulder at her and Reima could see her shoulders flex. She was trying to lift the paddle, but she needn't have bothered.

"Four and a half to the gentleman in the back," said the auctioneer, "who we now understand to be bidding on behalf of Lord Killian Arnithor, Earl of Windmarsh."

Reima glanced at her brother, eyebrow arching curiously. "What does Arnithor want with Herevan Hold?" she hissed under her breath. The family was an old one, almost as ancient as the Fortans, but their county was on another continent. She tried to cast her mind back in her memory. "The Arnithors -- in -- damn, what was it?" She snapped her fingers. "Windmarsh Tower? No, that -- " Her eyes closed as she seized on the memory and the little color in her face drained away. She looked to George and leaned closer. "The Tower was destroyed during the Occupation. Can they really blame us -- well, mother -- for that? Enough to want to steal our house?"

Reima lifted her paddle. Damned if she was going to give it up now.

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

George scowled, or began to, before princely reflexes took over and cleaned his expression of emotion.

"Arnithor will have more to worry about than a wrecked Tower if he doesn't back down." This was starting to get on his nerves. These... nobles were playing at a game, nursing their little filthy grievances like children in a playpen. They were insects, really, who believed that their little pricks could hurt them when the sheer magnitude of power between the two parties were astronomical.

What did Arnithor have besides some windswept county a continent away while their mother ruled a nation that spanned planets? It would take one call, just one, to smash any remnants of his estate into pieces.

He brought up his datapad and connected himself to Arnithor directly.

Several seasons ago George had negotiated a small land concession between the Earl and some of the local counts. They'd get an investment and the Earl would get an interest if the mining site took off. The sheer cheek to try and buy Herevan from under them, perhaps even fueled by some of the profits of that mining site.

If Reima tried to look at what George was typing, he'd hide the screen, it was best if she didn't know.

However... the result came almost immediately. The gentleman at the back got a ping of his own and it arrested his paddle going upwards to bid again against Reima and him.

It took a moment.

Then the auctioneer spoke up again: Five to her Ladyship Reima Fortan. Going once... going twice...

George's nails were biting into his palm. If anyone brought up their paddle again, he'd shove it up somewhere discreet.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima watched the two girls in front of her, Aristé and Marina, their heads still moving in short little movements, indicating an animated conversation. She willed it to stop there; George was nearly radiating heat in his outrage and Reima herself was getting a little steamed. But then the movement stopped, and the auctioneer glanced between them before finally bringing the hammer down.

"And -- sold to the Lady Reima Vitalis for five million credits. Thank you, milady. If you will join us here to process some paperwork -- that will conclude our auction."

That was a polite way of telling the losers to see themselves out. Reima turned to George and took his hand. "Well. That's one wrong righted. One down, many left to go." She stood and leaned down between the two Thornton girls. "Good show, ladies. If you're ever in New Sterandel, come to me for tea. I'd love to know you both." She deposited her card in Aristé's hand and then proceeded up the aisle, skirt swishing.

"Congratulations, Lady Reima," said the auctioneer. "You'll join us in the study?"

"Yes, but -- " She half-turned and beckoned to George. " -- the estate will be titled to my brother, the Earl of Herevan."

* * * * *

Two hours later, the Vitalis siblings were alone at last, enjoying a celebratory drink in what had been the library when they they'd owned it, but was currently being used to display what appeared to Reima's cursory examination to be a collection of holoball cards in little plastic cubes. A very bulky keyring, populated by dozens of metal keys, ranging from old fashioned, ornately scrollworked keys that were five centuries old to smaller ones only a few decades old, to electronic ones.

"Signed, sealed, delivered," Reima said, examining the deed she had signed to hand the whole works over to George. "It's yours. How do you feel? Mummy will -- well, she will think how clever and dedicated you are. You must faithfully promise you won't tell her I was involved. I'll denounce you as a liar if I must."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

His eyes were steady but clearly it bothered him what had happened to the former library.

Holoball cards, how gauche. It only confirmed to him that the commoner mind couldn't handle these sort of places, the responsibilities behind it and the privileges that came with it too.

Utterly disgusting.

"I am glad we got this place back. The idea it was in the hands of that-" George paused himself there and breathed out.

It would be in bad taste considering who Reima had decided to date.

"Well, no matter. And no, I will tell mother that you were an integral part of this operation. Come now, Reima, we did this together and you put up most of the money even. She should know that you did your best here."

Reaching out to squeeze her hand.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima slapped the back of her brother's hand like they were playing slap-hands as children. "If you know what's good for you, you'll leave my name out of it. If I'm involved, it won't be a triumph for either one of us. It will simply be me -- the black sheep, oppositionally defiant barely-a-spare -- doing the absolute very bare minimum to right the wrong that she carelessly -- or was it cruelly? It's been some time since I heard that particular diatribe from dear mama -- wrought in the first place."

"But if you do it -- you were clever enough to save your baby sister's bacon. Forget that I -- " She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose and waved away what she was going to say (an exegesis on how if not for Reima's actions at Coruscant, it was possible that Natasi wouldn't be around to cast asperions) and fell silent. Reima dug in her pocket, fumbling with a pack of cigarettes -- Foxfield Golds, naturally -- and a lighter. She set them on the table and then reached into her pocket again. "Before I forget. The key to the Dower House in the village." She slapped one key down on teh table, then another. "And a key to the storage warehouse in the village. Between the two of them, all the original furniture is there. I organized it by room, you're welcome, because I always knew you'd be back here, you're welcome again."

She turned and walked towards the French window looking out over the gardens before quickly turning. "You know -- I wonder -- do you remember that secret compartment? Where was it? Between the third and fourth shelves on the left from the fireplace?" She counter along the wall and crouched down, examining the intricate carving. She touched one of acorns carved there and there was a faint click. She pulled the newly-released panel open and reached inside.

"I don't believe it. Nearly a decade later and it's still here." She held out a bottle of brandy. "Shall we crack it open to celebrate? And then you can tell me what blondie wanted with you out in the garden."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

He accepted the keys with a sheepish smile.

"Yes, thank you, but dear? I never had any doubts in you." That was probably not true. The direct aftermath of being back in the land of the living and finding out his ancestral home was sold were a bit... vague to him now. He might have yelled, might have screamed, or he might not have said anything at all.

George couldn't remember.

The farther he got from the time in the Netherworld, the more vague things were becoming about the time there and the days of being brought back to life.

"Anyway, I don't care what mother says or thinks." Abject lie. If there was ever a mother's boy, it was George, but at the very least he ought to be given a few points for making the attempt. "I will not take sole credit, because I was not solely involved. And mother needs to know that you are doing everything you can, Reim."

Getting up there as she showed the brandy and a wicked smile appeared.

"Oh, yes, for the prize of that? I will tell you all the gossip." His thoughts went briefly to Marina Thornton and the smile turned a bit softer. "She is a delight, you know. Much more gentle than her cousin. I think you will like her too, even if you took a liking to Aristé Thornton ."

He got out the glasses and stood next to her.

"I am serious, Reima. She needs to know you are trying. And you need to know that she is trying too. Speaking of... Life Day. We will spend it all together, right? Hell, we can spend it together here, wouldn't that be a delight? Seeing the surprise in her face when we unveil what we have done here."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima gave her brother a waspish look. "Not for nothing, darling, but you must know by now that it is possible to be too noble. Don't you?" This, she said while she was trying to tug the cork out of the bottle. The sucker was quite stuck. She turned from him and stooped to pull off a shoe. Half-hobbled from having one heel on and one heel off, she went to the fireplace, crouched down, and then wedged the bottle into the shoe. She gave the heel of the shoe a few light whacks against the brick inside until she saw the cork had come a little loose.

Brilliant, she thought with some satisfaction.

Straightening, and with effortless balance, she lifted her leg to her rear and slipped her shoe back on before taking the bottle back to George. She poured a measure into each glass he offered and then set the glass on the table between them.

"Chin-chin," she said and touched her glass to George's briefly.

Reima considered her brother's assessment of the Thornton girls, smirking over the rim of her glass as she raised it for a sniff. It smelled like kerosene. "I've seen Star Destroyers that are more gentle than Lady Aristé Thornton but yes, I see your point," Reima said. She took a sip of the brandy.

It tasted like kerosene, too.

"So what are you going to do with the place? Put everything back the way it was, or try your own thing?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

"No such thing, darling sister. I am just noble enough to do us proud and not an inch more."

He gently ticked his glass right back to her and chuckled.

Yes, Aristé was fierce and maybe part of George was a bit intrigued by it. Not enough to look past the comments she had made to disparage their mother, but still.

Fascinating really.

"I... Didn't get that far yet." Glancing to Reima with a but of interest.

"What do you think? My instinct is to restore it back exactly how it was before." But maybe that was a bit much?

Could there be such a thing as trying too hard to cling to the past?

"Could do something a bit more modern but in a tasteful way instead of a gauche way."