Private In The Bleak Midwinter | Invite Only

[Natasi Fortan]

RSV HELION DAWN
GALIDRAAN SPACE
[MOOD]
​

Natasi realized she was reading the same paragraph of the cabinet minutes for the third time and, rather than persisting, she sighed and put the datapad down on her desk. She stood, stretched, and surveyed the room. It was surprisingly spacious for being shipboard -- not quite as large as her quarters aboard the FNV Concordia, but just as well-appointed. The Renascent State Vessel was nimble. comfortable, and very well defended, but entirely unarmed. It wouldn't do, after all, to bring an armed vessel into foreign territory. There had been quite a cabinet row over the matter, with the General Staff insisting on a RAF escort in neutral territory, and a fast sublight engine and heavy defenses for foreign travel.

Natasi felt comfortable enough in its design and construction, and in the disinterest of the Mandalorians, to authorize the trip to Galidraan with limited fanfare.

The mottle of hyperspace cast a kind of serene blue-white light, almost like being underwater, through the wide viewport. No telling how long left to Galidraan. The thought of returning home felt vaguely dangerous. Not just with the war on -- though that was certainly part of it. The last time her feet had been on Galidraan she had been staggering away from Herevan Hold, George Vitalis 's hateful words ringing in her ears, kept barely erect by Dyrn Grav and his strength and steadfastness. The sting of that exchange had long since faded, but not the worry about him -- for all of them. All four of them -- 'us four' as Natasi had started to think of them, more than the Firm, more than the Royal Family -- had been touched by the Nether.

But it was unsuitable to dwell on such things at the holiday. Natasi tried to put it out of her mind, but managed only to push it into a disused closet in her head -- not quite gone, but not front and center. She leaned over and touched the control on her desk communicator. The voice of a Royal Navy steward came through. "Your Majesty?"

"Good -- ah, morning, I think." Natasi glanced at her wristwatch and shook her head. "Might I have some coffee, please? For three. In the observation lounge."

"Good morning, ma'am, yes, of course," the steward said. "Would you care for something to eat?"

Natasi considered a moment. Dyrn and George were growing boys who seldom passed up the chance for a snack, and Natasi was feeling a bit peckish now. "That would be nice. Something sweet, if it's handy?"

"Of course, ma'am. For your situational awareness, ma'am, we'll be reverting to realspace in approximately twenty minutes."

Natasi thanked the steward and released the button. She picked up the datapad, glanced at it once more, and decided that she would be better equipped to deal with the ins and outs of supply challenges at the Tregessar Naval Shipyard holding up the next phase of the Renascent Navy's deployment once she was settled at Foxfield Park. She tucked it into the biolocking red government box, shut the lid, and then locked it, then went in search of her traveling companions. She found George in the observation lounge, looking rather studious about something. She hesitated in the doorway before entering. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to the armchair adjacent to the sofa on which he was sitting. No sooner had she sat down than a steward appeared with a broad tray bearing coffee and some pastries.

"I thought we could use a pick-me-up," Natasi confessed to her son as she poured a cup of coffee for him and another for her. A third sat at the ready for Dyrn. "Would you find the Duke of Suffolk and let him know there's coffee and food?" she asked the Steward, who immediately agreed and made his exit. Natasi turned her attention back to her son. "I can hardly remember the last time I was on Galidraan for Life Day. I think your father was still alive. I remember your grandmother getting very cross with Pierce about his inviting -- " she hesitated, not wanting to use the term the Dirty Duchess in front of her son, no matter how accurate the sentiment was. " -- an unexpected guest. But it was a lovely time. I wish you could have seen what things were like back then. Before the War and the Occupation. It was really lovely. But listen to me nattering on like senile old woman." A faint smile over the rim of her coffee cup as she lifted it to her lips for a sip. "Have you heard from your sister? Is she still planning to make it in time for dinner tomorrow?"

Dyrn Grav | George Vitalis | Reima Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan | Dyrn Grav

He was sitting in one of the chairs and pouring over some of the projections coming back from Noema Kintar . After George had delivered her onto the Hidden Path, they decided to stay in touch. She would never share anything that put the operations of the Hidden Path in jeopardy, but gave enough information that they had at least an idea how the struggle against the Empire was going.

In return George was able to fast-track the release of certain goods where need be. More auridium, if they needed the bribes and other less hard currencies.

The arrival of Natasi made him look up and then smile softly.

"Hello mother. Of course, make yourself comfortable." Accepting one of the cups gratefully and taking a pastry as well, thanking the steward quietly before his focus shifting back to the Sovereign.

"Hardly old and you are still as sharp as you always were." George teased her lightly before taking a sip himself. The mention of Reima Vitalis made his brows furrow. The last time they had been here... things turned complicated. Briefly his mind went to Marina Thornton and Aristé Thornton , the Thornton ladies had been... difficult, but in the end George thought he forged a nice enough relationship with Marina at least.

It was her assistance that cowed Aristé enough to relent on the bidding war at least.

"She said she would, yes, apparently there were some... complications." George said as gentle and diplomatic as possible. It was not his place to interfere with Reima's household. She had it well in-hand, fierce, strong, if she could handle their mother she could handle anyone.

"But by the looks of it, she might be coming to us alone." His thumb nervously ran along the rim of the cup before shrugging. "At any rate, thank you again for allowing my friend to join us for the celebrations. I am not sure if you remember him, but he oft came to visit us whenever his Papa was on Galidraan for the state visits. We reconnected again a few years ago... but..."

George grimaced there.

"He lost everyone, mother. Apparently their estate was caught up in the first wave of the Empire's assault. And I just couldn't in good conscious allow him to spend the first Life Day since alone, you know?"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi took a palmier from the tray and took a bite, then placed the rest on her saucer as she chewed and swallowed. "Complications?" Natasi echoed, her eyebrow lifting dangerously. "She told me she had double-booked a holiday reception for the Crown Sentinels." She frowned thoughtfully and sipped her coffee. "I thought -- or, perhaps, naively hoped -- we were past deceptions." Natasi studied the surface of her coffee, then carefully set it down on the coffee table. "No. No, I must keep an open mind. If she felt the need to keep whatever these complications are from me, it must be because I'm not to be trusted to react appropriately."

The words were there. The feeling, too. And yet, Natasi searched her memory for instances she had been -- to coin a phrase -- not chill. She had made great efforts to balance Reima's needs -- her needs to be included and on side and part of the team with the need for absolute independence and freedom. It was a damned better deal than George ever got, that was for sure. She had welcomed Reima's boyfriend, whose spectacular crashout in a public Senate hearing had been so damaging that not event he queen of spin herself -- that's Natasi, for those of you keeping score at home -- could salvage his commission, into their home for Life Day last year. Had she not done everything that was expected?

Her jaw set and she had to force herself not to be cross with her daughter. "As long as she comes. It is important that we're together, the four of us, for Life Day. We have a lifetime of happy memories to be making up for, and damn it, we will, hell or high water."

As if to punctuate the statement, Natasi took another snapping bite of her palmier as her son took her through his decision to invite an outsider. "Darling," she prefaced her comments. "I suppose it is pointless to remind you that we are going to your house. You are the host of the holiday, and I am -- quite happily, I might emphasize -- your guest. You may invite whomever you like and for whatever reason. But it is very thoughtful of you to give him somewhere to be for the holidays. Will he stay for the servants' ball and New Year? I do worry about all that banging, with his recent tragedy. Well if you need it, I can take into town that day, away from all the guns."

George Vitalis | Dyrn Grav | Reima Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

"She assured me she'd come, mother, think nothing of it." George said confidentially, reaching out to squeeze her hand briefly, because he very well understood her concerns. They were some of the same concerns he had. But George didn't feel it was his place to elaborate on the complications that Reima Vitalis was currently dealing with.

His sister deserved to try and figure it out on her own time without him interfering in it directly or indirectly.

"It will be splendid, I am sure." A bit of a smirk there, which was a rare event from someone as buttoned-up and serious as George. As if he had a secret that he wasn't sharing with anyone else.

Which... was indeed the fact, Natasi would find out soon enough.

"I am not quite sure yet, I am trying to give him some space. The Duke will be here for the Life Day Events and then..." He shrugged lightly. "Perhaps he will decide to stay, perhaps he will decide to go back to his estate. I can only offer him a seat, it will be up to him to take it or leave it, as the kids say these days."

A bit of a tease there, as if he knew exactly where his mother's thoughts were.

He blinked at her question and shook his head.

"You don't have to go in. I am sure you are looking forward for at least a few days of peace, no?" Then a smile. "Well, the gala I have planned for the New Year festivities is going to blow your socks off, I imagine, but you can be there for it as much or as little as you'd like. Has Dyrn had a chance to explore the city? I know the last time he was here... it was not quite the pleasant occasion." Tone a bit more quiet there, since it had been his words that had cast Natasi back, even if it had been influenced by the Netherworld.

That didn't erase the shame.

Dyrn Grav

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"That's very wise," Natasi said in agreement with the plan George laid out. "In these situations it can be possible to push too hard. All we can do is give him a warm house and the option for company." She took another sip of her coffee and set it down on the table between them. "I hope you've sent word ahead to Foxfield's housekeeper to work in some things that he likes on the menus. That can be a comfort in moments like these."

She leaned back in the chair in an almost un-Natasi-like recline. Here was the Sovereign, seen to advantage, easing into a holiday. "I am, rather," she said pleasantly. "There will be the red boxes, of course. We'll never get away from those. But the Prime Minister, I'm sure, will try to keep things manageable for me. Speaking of, there are some things I'd like to get your opinion on once we get settled. It's not urgent, but whenever we have a moment."

"I'm sure whatever you have planned will be lovely," Natasi said. "One can usually trust your instincts as these things go." She gave him a little wink before retrieving her coffee cup and sitting up again. "If I know your stepfather, he will have performed a very thorough security audit of the city the same day he learned we were having Life Day at Foxfield, but I'm sure that's not what you meant. I believe it is his preference that I not linger in Southport. Something about it being impossible to land enough troops on foreign soil to secure it to his satisfaction without triggering a galactic war." Natasi offered a self-satisfied smile that belied something more: deep affection and pride. "My diplomatic nature is rubbing off on him, I'm pleased to say. But I digress. There's no reason he shouldn't be able to explore on his own. Or maybe you can show him around. You know the city better than I do, anyway. He likes a good pub lunch, you know. Our first... well I guess date is the only word -- however much that makes me sound like a foolish schoolgirl -- was to the Dog and Duck in Herevan Village. He received quite an education on Galidraani cuisine that night. Have you ever tried to explain toad in a hole to someone who's not one of us?"

George Vitalis | Dyrn Grav | Reima Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

"Yes, I have send word." The wording was quite deliberate since he hadn't, in fact, sent word to the Foxfield housekeeper. They weren't going to Foxfield, but that was the surprise. The one George and Reima Vitalis were keeping very close to their chests. He wondered how Natasi would react, once she found out that her children had bought back Herevan Hold and in the last few months were busy renovating it. After the purchase the noveau riche had certainly let it fall in disuse.

But one couldn't expect better from commoners. They didn't understand what it took to maintain an estate and even if they did, they would never understand why it was worth putting the wealth into it.

Compared to buying yet another expensive shuttle or speeder.

He nodded there. "We can discuss anything you'd like and yes, I will talk Rothmere about it. I am sure he'd willing to accompany you. He has been raised with service in his backbone, that is why he went straight into the military service when he was old enough to." A soft smile there. "Truly caused his old man a heart attack, but you can't tell a boy his whole childhood there was nothing better than serving your country and be surprised when the young man goes and picks up a rifle for country and motherland."

The visual of his mother on a first date was... amusing to say the least. Somehow he had a difficult time picturing the stately and poised sovereign of the nation having a toad in the hole with anyone.

"Perhaps, but I do believe you should carve out some time to spend with Dyrn in town. Especially if you are rubbing off on him diplomacy wise. I think you are correct that we would cause untold headaches to the town gendarmerie, if we tried to land too much security, but some tasteful and appropriate cooperation with the local security forces will not raise eyebrows. I can show him around, yes, but I also know your schedule and his preclude you two from spending as much time with each other as you'd like."

He patted her hand softly.

"You should take the opportunity."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi regarded her son curiously. "You know, I sometimes forget that as Duke of Foxfield, you also own much of Southport, and I'm sure you would have an influence over the gendarmerie -- which is a fabulous word that I think we should use more often, incidentally -- so an argument could be made that the city will be quite safe enough for us to visit. Besides, if -- as you suggest -- I'm with Dyrn, then I will have all the security I need." Natasi took up her coffee again, took another sip.

"Although at first I was furious -- I mean furious -- with the Prime Minister when she demanded I resign my seat in the Senate," Natasi said thoughtfully, the coffee cup trembling slightly as her hand shook with barely-repressed anger. "I have to admit it's been lovely being able to spend more time with Dyrn. And with you, of course. Don't tell Renata. She already knows she was right, and it is my Sovereign's prerogative that that is quite enough satisfaction for her to be getting on with at present."

She lifted her coffee to her lips, but if he listened carefully George might hear his mother muttering under her breath about constitutional crisis for no reason before she took a sip. When she lowered it again, the Sovereign was once again the picture of serenity and constitutional silence.

"It's settled, then," Natasi said pleasantly. She finished her palmier and dabbed her lips with a linen napkin. "One other thing, George -- I might -- well. I would like to visit the church in Herevan Village on Life Day Eve for the candlelight service. You ought to come -- as the Earl -- but I won't insist on it. Apparently my authority as Sovereign does not extend beyond the Heirate's borders. But I'd like to go. Will that interfere with your plans?"

George Vitalis | Dyrn Grav | Reima Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

"Oh, yes, I quite enjoy the word as well. Gendarmerie." George repeated with a smile. "It rolls nicely off the tongue. Perhaps we should take a look if we can adopt it back home?"

Home being their new nation. It still felt odd to him at times, that it was no longer de facto Galidraan, but that was simply how it was.

"We have our own security forces, of course, but perhaps we can highlight it with a rebrand. That might also inspire the citizenry and give them increased confidence when everything is so... chaotic with the fall of the Alliance." Such was a simple matter, but those couldn't be looked down upon either.

Small things could have big impacts.

George chuckled softly. "Fret not, mother, your secret is safe with me. If Renata Westaway ever asks about it, I will be certain to disavow any knowledge of the subject."

Not that the Crown Prince thought it was likely that Westaway would. She was a consumate professional in George's experience.

The question returned to Herevan and George smiled, quietly, trying to remain neutral and poised. It was hard not to burst into spontaneous dance, knowing the surprise he had in store for Natasi. But it would land better by the time they landed, he thought. When they walked down the ramp and Natasi would realize... that they weren't at Foxfield.

No, they were home.

"Oh, I do believe I can make that happen, I wouldn't wish to disappoint you. Let's finish our tea? I suspect we will be landing soon."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"I'm also partial to constabulary," Natasi said. "In case you were wondering."

She finished her palmier and brushed a few crumbs into the saucer. She noticed something, some shadow, cross his face at the mention of home. She felt it, too. Galidraan was home, even Dosuun was home. But so was Aegis, now. It was beautiful, and it was charming, and it was safe, and it was prosperous, but it felt too new. They were doing their best to make it a cohesive home for themselves and the others that depended on them.

"It will come," Natasi said gently, reaching over to lay a hand on his briefly. She glanced at her watch and saw that the timeframe provided by the steward was approaching its end, and just like that Natasi felt the the ship shudder out of hyperspace into realspace. "Poor Dyrn has missed out on his coffee. Well, it'll be here if he wants it quickly before we disembark. I ought to put on a coat. So should you, for that matter."

She finished her coffee, set the cup and saucer on the coffee table, and rose with all the elegance of a Galidraani grand dame, smoothing her skirt before turning. "Meet you downstairs."

Natasi was in no hurry, particularly because as she passed viewports she could see Galidraan growing closer in the distance. It looked like Foxfield and its neighboring county of Herevan were enjoying the attention of a winter snowstorm, from the thick white clouds that enveloped the region. That would be lovely, she thought. She met her ladies maid, Banks, in her room. Banks helped her into a deep blue coat with tawny fir trim and a suede hat.

"The snow might be accumulating, so do wear boots with some tread," Natasi told Banks as the maid fussed with the buttoning drop waist. "The marble stairs at Foxfield are murder in the best of times."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Banks. "Do you want the buff gloves or the blue?"

Natasi glanced at herself in the mirror, reaching up to touch the brim of her hat briefly. "Buff. Don't you think?"

"Very good, ma'am."

Thus attired, the Supreme Leader departed as she felt the ship slip into Galidraan's gravity, streaking through the white chill toward the continent below. She arrived to find the men gathered in the landing bay. She kissed them in turn, each on the cheek. "I'm so happy we're together here." Natasi took George's hand in her left hand and Dyrn's in her right, gathering them close as the ramp lowered. "Shall we?"

It took her a few moments to understand what she was seeing. Rather than the officious, symmetrical, tidy castle at Foxfield Park, there was the blocky, asymmetrical, sprawling, dear Herevan Hold, rising from the blanket of snow in the middle distance, straddling the great river that rushed to a waterfall nearby. "What -- I did tell the captain Foxfield, didn't I?"

George Vitalis | Dyrn Grav | Reima Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

George had been waiting for this from the moment that Reima and him had managed to purchase the estate. It had taken a whole bidding war, but in the end they were triumphant.

Maybe it shouldn't have been such a nail-biter. After all, they had the resources of a whole nation behind them and all those Galidraani nobles had were some sad estates. George knew he shouldn't think too badly of them. They had lost a lot in the past and they blamed their family, no matter if it was fair or not.

But he couldn't help but be smug and satisfied, seeing their faces turn ashen when they lost the bidding war.

"Yes, you did, mother." George said with a smile as he stepped up next to her. Looking over Herevan Hold in the distance. A smug self-satisfied expression on his face. "But I requested the captain to take a slight... detour, I hope you don't mind."

Offering his hand to Natasi, palm upward.

"May I welcome you to Herevan Hold, mother? Once again property of our family, repurchased and restored to us as is proper... Reima and me thought it would be a nice Life Day present."

George searched her expression there.

"I... do you like it?" Tone a bit uncertain there. "If you'd prefer we spend our time at Foxfield... we can, of course."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi released George's hand and Dyrn's hand and walked out onto the landing field. Snow was falling, falling, in the most beautiful and idyllic scene she could remember. It was perfection. She could hear the river, its rush dampened by the snow drifts. If she closed her eyes and strained, she could almost hear her teenaged self, a lifetime ago, shouting at Pierce and Mathes as their toboggan rushed down the frozen surface of the river. The two boys would have plummeted to their deaths if not for the safety netting installed to prevent fish and vegetation from getting into the hydroelectric plant.

The whacking about the head and shoulders they had received from their mothers was almost as bad.

She could imagine the smell of roasting pheasants and potatoes, and brandy-soaked pudding, and eggnog, and new books, and her school trunk, and Mathes' cologne, and the particular scent of the laundry at Herevan. When she turned back to George, she was smiling, and happy tears had frozen like little crystals on eyelashes.

"Like it?" she echoed incredulously as she walked back toward him, feet tramping through the snow. "My darling boy." It was quite uncharacteristic of Natasi Fortan to display affection in broad daylight, so the embrace that she folded him into -- still, somehow managing the task despite that he was a man grown and now taller than she -- was a gift in and of itself. "I couldn't be happier. It's only right. You are Earl of Herevan. You belong here."

She brushed his cheek with a gloved hand and beamed over his shoulder at Dyrn. "I ought to be worried at how well you two -- and Reima -- can keep a secret from me. But -- just this once..."

She tucked her arm through George's. "Foxfield is... lovely," Natasi said diplomatically. "But I can't help but feel your grandmother's eyes are following me around the place from every painting." Jessamine had never really forgiven her for Talbot spending the last years of his life on Dosuun rather than Galidraan, though she had thawed a little after Natasi gave Reima Eleanor as a middle name, after Jessamine's mother. "Of course, your other grandmother's eyes used to follow one around from every painting here, too, but -- well, she didn't share the Dowager Duchess' glacial demeanor."

Natasi gestured toward the Hold. "Should we go in?"

George Vitalis | Dyrn Grav | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

TWO DAYS AFTER THE FAMILY'S ARRIVAL
​

Ultimately, Reima had come alone.

She was resolved not to discuss it. Not until there was something to discuss. She doubted sincerely whether her mother and her brother would be resolved not to ask about it, but that was a bridge to burn once she got to it. She didn't bother with luggage; a steady snowfall had buried the path and everything around it in a thick layer of snow, so she would request that it be retrieved later by a footman. She half-expected George, at least, and perhaps a footman or two to be waiting for her at the base of the ramp, but no such luck.

Naturally, with Her Worshipfulness in attendance, George would be much too busy eating out of her hand.

It suited Reima. She tugged her gloves on -- green, to match her coat -- and descended the ramp, walking alone up the broad path. Herevan Hold was tall and imposing, lights shining from each window, smoke pouring from each chimney. She was tempted to make a direct route, but there were important matters to attend first. She took a right at a snow-covered cone, which Reima knew to be a topiary, then took another right a hundred or so feet down the path. A left at a small stone stairway, down three steps -- this, she remembered -- to the entrance to the Fortan family mausoleum.

It was locked.

She nudged around with her toe until she found a stone at the right of the door, knocked it aside with her boot, then knelt to collect the key, which she then used to open the iron gate and let herself in. The vault was much as Reima remembered it: dim, cheerless, and cold. The final resting place of the Fortans. "It's not much to look forward to," she muttered as she pulled the gate shut behind her. She took a breath, rubbed her arms to get a little more warmth, and began the familiar circuit. The front half of the mausoleum was empty, with spots for the vaults of all the Fortan generations that would never come. The name had gone extinct with her uncle Mathes. Natasi's children would not bear her name.

Idly she wondered whether Gravs would follow. Or even Dyrn. Or would he be buried on Aegis? Would they have to divide up Mother and Dyrn and George and, she supposed, herself into different urns to be sure each place that was entitled to them -- Aegis and Herevan and Foxfield and Balance knew where else -- got what they were due? Like what they had done to Talbot?

Half of her father's ashes were here in Herevan's mausoleum. A gesture of respect, Reima supposed, or a shuttlecock in the power struggles that had once gone on between her mother and Uncle Thaddeus. That was her first stop. The man that time and tide forgot, the man that Natasi seemed content to erase, the father Reima had never seen except in pictures. Her hand went to the bronze plate at the foot of the stone coffin wherein his urn was interred, brushed at a cobweb.

Reima didn't say anything. There was nothing to say, really. He was dead. He'd been dead before she was born. He wouldn't hear her, so anything she said would be for her own benefit, and that was selfish. But it was important to come, to recognize him, to pay her respects.

Next to Talbot was the empty coffin interred for Natasi after the sack of Dosuun. Of course, she had been vaporized, so the whole folderol had been around an empty coffin, which Reima thought made rather a mockery of the state funeral held for Natasi in Calavar -- the first for a non-royal in nine centuries, it was said -- with the empty vessel lying in state at the Blue Palace and at Parliament, at the First Order embassy and at the Temple of the Balance just a few steps away in Herevan Village. Reima had been too young to attend, but she had seen videos. Reima brushed past; Natasi was alive, so there was no need to revisit the grief of her childhood today.

Next to Natasi's empty coffin was Uncle Mathes'. Another man she did not know, but whose life and death had impacted her life in ways that no one could have predicted. She brushed a cobweb from his bronze plaque too, then the next one which read Pierce Fortan III. Mother's cousin, but more of an uncle to Reima and George than a distant relation. She just about remembered his face -- that impish grin, his crooked spectacles. Mostly she remembered the namana candy he had saved for her that Life Day after Mother died, in the hidden saferoom under the Esperell Plantations on Bakura. A little treat, something sweet to distract from Natasi's absence, from the fear of the Ssi-Ruuk patrols. There had been no roast that year, no Life Day crackers with paper crowns and prizes, no fire, no stockings, no presents.

Just one namana candy for each of them.

She cursed herself as a tear spilled down her porcelain cheek. Don't be stupid. It's ancient history. She brushed her cheek with her gloved hand and moved on. Auntie Hyacinth was there, too, next to Pierce. His death had knocked the stuffing out of the glamorous, chain-smoking old woman. She had gone on another two or three years, but Reima wouldn't have called it living. The last two whose plaques she brushed were Frejrik and Reima, laying in repose in places of honor above Natasi and Mathes' tombs. The last proper Earl and Countess of Herevan, one way or another the namesake of both herself and her brother.

The pair that had raised Natasi Fortan. So really, they were to blame for all of this mess. She knew them only from stories Natasi and Pierce and Hyacinth used to tell, and from the stern gazes from portraits that dotted Herevan Hold and one or two in the royal apartments at Cerulean Gate Palace. She paused there, her head slightly bowed, before she straightened and turned back to the gate. She let herself out and locked up behind her, replacing the key and then the rock atop it, and retraced her steps back to the main path.

A man she didn't recognize was sitting in the covered portico. The snow was melted around the area, thanks to a heat lamp stationed strategically near the benches. And yet, no George. No Natasi. Not even the butler to greet her. She had radioed ahead for clearance to land. This was the limit. With a little huff, she marched across the gravel drive and up to the portico. "Good afternoon," she said curtly to the man sitting there. "Don't tell me the Earl has kept you waiting outside in this weather. Earl of Herevan or not, I will give him such a talking to. Come inside, for heaven's sake," she said impatiently.

George Vitalis | Natasi Fortan | Dyrn Grav | Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

Dorian had come out after a positively rambunctious warm welcome and continued attempts to keep him engaged. Which... he appreciated, truly, but a man had his limits before reality settled in.

The reality in this case was that a bit of silence could only be helpful.

Then, of course, someone else came on the scene. Dorian blinked as a sheer force of nature came his way. It was enough to make lean back just a little bit, out of an abundance of caution. What if she wished to swish her way into slapping him in sheer indignation? It was too much to consider but before he could greet her, Reima already did.

"A pleasure making your acquaintance, my Lady." Dorian said politely as he got up, dusting his hat off and bringing it to his chest, as he bowed to her in perfect fashion. "No, his Earlship was very kind, one might say excessively kind... and I felt like I was part of a pantomime show for more than my own benefit."

"I am Dorian Rothmere, Duke of Valecrest, and an acquaintance of his Earlship." Lightly glancing up from his bow with a smile. "And you are?"

Dorian made no attempt to go inside just yet.

The description of what was happening inside would have to be its own rationale.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima studied the man briefly, frowning a moment. "Ah. A guest of the Earl. Well, I'm pleased to see that he hasn't forgotten his obligations as regards to hospitality. Rothmere, did you say?" The Princess smiled at the recognition of the name. "Of course. You went to school with George, if I recall." She looked up at him momentarily before looking back toward the door.

"Me?" she echoed. It was the second time in as many weeks someone had been unclear as to her identity in a setting where it should have been obvious. She didn't mind, but it was odd that it had happened twice in so short a time. "I'm also an acquaintance, you might say, of -- his Earlship." At this she gave an enigmatic smile. Deep down, Reima hoped against hope that he would repeat that phrase in front of her mother. Natasi would short-circuit.

"I'm Reima," she said after another moment. "George's sister." She looked around, then moved to sit on the bench opposite from him. It would do her some good to let her temper cool a little before going inside. She pressed her gloved hands between her knees to keep them warm and looked curiously across at Rothmere. "What are you doing out here, all by yourself?"

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

His eyes widened a fraction.

"Oh... oh dear me, my apologies, Princess." Bowing again and this time deeper. More appropriate towards someone who was his social better, which did not occur as often as you'd think. "Clearly I was born with a foot in my mouth, I will do my best to dislodge it for the next time we meet." But instead of moving inside and leaving him, Reima decided to stay.

That made him blink in surprise but then a soft smile appeared.

"I... it's so busy there and George is doing all the things a mate is supposed to do when his friend is sad. But he is doing a bit too much of it." A light shrug of it.

"It makes me think of it too much, even though he has enough class not to mention it. I guess I am weird like that." Inclining his head to Reima. "If you'd prefer to go inside, please go ahead, I will join all of you in a bit. I wouldn't want you to catch a cold on my behalf. Your mother might kill me if that happened."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima waved a dismissive hand at his apologies. "Please, we are en famille," she said generously. "Call me Reima. Call me anything, really, but Rei-Rei." She paused a moment and cleared her throat against the encroaching chill. "We try to keep things informal here. A bunch of provincials at heart, really."

She studied him a moment at his reference to being sad, and being reminded of it. His admonition that she should go inside if she wanted to be comfortable. Reima waited a moment, then pulled her handbag onto her lap. "Actually I'm dying for a cigarette, and mother hates my smoking, especially in the house. Do you mind?" She had been digging in the bag to find her platinum cigarette case, but paused in case he would object.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to be a little awkward here," she said when things had been settled and she had either lit up Schroedinger's cigarette or tucked the case away. "Because while I hate to make you think of it, I feel quite unable not to inquire about it. What's the matter? Is there anything we can help with? Other than -- whatever George is doing, which he is apparently doing wrong." Reima smiled a brittle smile, her breath freezing between them.

Dorian Rothmere​