Private In The Bleak Midwinter | Invite Only

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis Natasi Fortan

He accepted the coat nonplussed and was about to clarify, but it was certainly too late for that when a vision swept into the scene.

Dorian had met Natasi a handful of times, but he was never not impressed by her presence. Somehow she was able to combine authority, grace and elegance in one go without skipping a beat.

"We shall foment, my Princess, I promise." Dorian assured her as he finished putting the coat around him. Then she went past Natasi and Dorian approached, calmly, respectfully. Giving the Sovereign her due with another deep bow. "My Sovereign, the Princess Reima was nothing if not welcoming and graceful in putting up with my moping, I promise."

A glance towards the retreating back of Reima before returning to Natasi.

An elbow offered without hesitation. "It is cold, my Lady, let me escort you back, had I known that my absence would cause such a fuss I would have stayed inside. The last thing I wish to be is a bother to you and your lovely family."

The Duke was always polite, but especially with the people dearest to George, he wished to be on his best behavior.

Cigar offerings aside.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"Nonsense," Natasi told the Duke, her smile genuine. "It's no bother at all. I was born in Herevan, so the cold hardly bothers me anymore. But that also means we don't skimp on the tea." She followed them in and allowed another footman to gather her coat from her shoulders. Her cheeks were kissed by the cold, pink and healthy looking. "And do please stop bowing. We're on neutral ground, as far as the monarchy is concerned, and you are hardly my subject." She smiled fondly all the same, and resisted the urge to pat him on the cheek by instead clapping him on the shoulder.

The footmen busied themselves collecting coats and gloves and whatnot. When it was all settled, Natasi led them into the library where tea was set up exactly in its place, on a broad table up against one of the windows. "Your brother has everything just as it was," Natasi told her daughter over her shoulder with the kind of enthusiasm she typically reserved for signing advantageous trade and diplomatic agreements. "It's -- it's really the most terrific surprise."

She reached over and clutched Reima's upper arm in a gentle squeeze, as if to say, Don't you worry, darling, all is forgiven. Your brother made it all right again.

Reima smiled over at her, returning her concern. "I was ever so relieved to learn he was able to swing it," she said, perfectly content to be erased from the narrative of Herevan's return. "Thank God for George." This was only slightly passive-aggressive, given that Reima -- although she did not have strong faith one way or another -- rejected her mother's faith of the Enlightened Balance as a matter of course, embracing instead the casual monotheism of her father's faith.

"Quite," Natasi said. She didn't flinch at the statement. Not quite. She gestured toward the tea table. "Shall I be mother?"

"No, let me," Reima insisted. "Need to warm my hands anyway. How do you take your tea, Your Grace, black or white?"

Dorian Rothmere | Reima Vitalis | George Vitalis​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Natasi Fortan

"I was taught from a young age that I must respect both women as well as monarchs, my Sovereign, you coincidentally fit both those bills at once." Dorian said with a smile, making it clear that he wasn't taking this extremely serious. "So you must forgive my body for simply bowing every time we meet again, it has little choice in the matter, my mind has its own will in that regard."

While the women (Natasi and Reima Vitalis ) shared a moment, Dorian joined George at the fire.

"What are they talking about?" Dorian asked quietly as he waved his hand, bringing his friend back down to the chair.

George glanced towards the pair and then to Dorian.

His expression became unreadable. The way a noble could without even trying. Helpful for when playing poker or when trying to keep a secret.

"Just discussing... My acquisition of the estate."

George had been planning on telling their mother that they had done it together. That most of the resources came from Reima. But in the end his sister won, as she often did, pushing the matter until her older brother agreed to keep it quiet.

To take full credit for it, even though George was loathe to do so.

Dorian was about to respond but Reima drew his attention.

"Black tea is just fine, my Princess. Thank you very much."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima turned with a black tea and saw the Duke speaking with her brother, whom she hadn't noticed at the fireplace. "George, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," she said as she approached the boys. She offered the tea to Dorian, then let her hand linger on her brother's sleeve a moment as she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Would you be a darling and have your footmen get my things from the ship? I couldn't carry it all myself, as I'm sure you can imagine."

She made a few more trips to the tea table, fixing a cup for Natasi and one for George before she made one for herself, stirring sugar and a splash of milk before helping herself to a few finger sandwiches and sitting in an armchair next to where Natasi sat.

Reima half-expected George to try to course-correct and force some of the credit onto Reima, but she was pleased that he didn't. It would be better for them in the long run, she thought. In any event it was better for Natasi who was, for better or for worse, the central figure in this whole system. The rest of them were all outsiders looking in without truly belonging, no matter the space that Natasi tried and struggled and bled to create for them -- including George, including Reima, including Dyrn.

They all were. Everyone in the system was, in reality, irrelevant. Did not belong. Superfluous to requirements until they weren't. Everyone except for the one person that mattered to it. Natasi was that central figure, the pillar that kept the roof up, the oxygen that fed the flames of a nation. The essence of George's duty, Reima's, Dyrn's.

It was a terrible thing to inflict on people, to say nothing of a family. But it was the system. The only one they had.

Reima took a deep breath and looked across the little table at her mother. "I hope George hasn't been running you ragged, mother. That you've found some time to relax." It was the holiday, after all. "I imagine he's had you approving menus and all sorts. That makes sense to a certain extent, I suppose. He's never had to run a house like this before, and there's no Countess to handle the -- feminine things -- like menus."

 

[George Vitalis]

"Hardly an issue, dear sister, I was tucked away in the comfortable chair and a book. I can't imagine being outside right now." A meaningful look at Dorian Rothmere before kissing her other cheek in return.

He was about to say more but then Reima asked for his assistance.

"Certainly, what brother would I be, if I made you carry all your luggage yourself?" George didn't say the other part. What kind of fiance didn't come with you and help you carry them himself? He didn't want to cause a fight, not here, not now. Not when they were all together. That was all that really mattered to George.

He stood up, squeezing her shoulder in support instead of giving a lecture.

"Valecrest, you mind adding a few more logs to the fire, while I get my footmen into action?"

Dorian nodded as he watched that little silent exchange between brother and sister. Then as George walked away he got up himself, adding some logs as requested.

Before George could walk out of the room to get his men into action, he did hear those false accusations from Reima.

"Hardly, I have been letting her rest! Mother just keeps trying to help." A wink at Natasi with a cheeky grin before finally popping out. To make sure that Reima's things were placed in the suite she had requested for herself.

Dorian looked on with amusement.

"He is a handful, isn't he?" Smirking himself a little as he picked up his cup and took a sip.

Reima Vitalis Natasi Fortan

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi reached over and patted the back of Reima's hand lightly. "It's just this once," said Natasi, giving her son a mild look. "So he can learn how to do Life Day properly here at Herevan. We never had the chance when you were small. I couldn't get away from Number 10 -- except one year I think I could stretch to Herevan Place, but it was -- admittedly -- a poor substitute for home." Her heart gave a little painful squeeze at the memory of those times. It had been a dreadful time, to be sure, with Galidraan under Sith Imperial rule and Talbot dead in the war, but it hadn't been all bad. Natasi could well remember the electricity that had coursed through her in those days.

Undisputedly the most powerful woman in the known galaxy, she had helmed -- in partnership with the Supreme Leader -- a galactic superpower which had carved a civilization from the unknown regions, turned the backwater of Dosuun into a galactic capital, rivaling Coruscant in its influence. The empire she ruled had been responsible for trillions of being. The Star Destroyers at her disposal had rivaled the stars visible in the skies of Dosuun, the stormtroopers that gave her the salute at the conclusion of the war had numbered in their tens of thousands, marching through the capital she had built through willpower and good taste, discipline and logistics and sheer competence.

Now, she was Sovereign of a new country, without influence, with perhaps a million subjects on a good day.

She tried not to let it make her feel lesser. Many things were a lot better now than they were then. She was happily married. Her children were grown and alive and healthy. Maybe not exactly happy but she hoped they were at the very least not unhappy. She looked into her teacup for a moment and tried to remember that all things came in their seasons. And if all she could hope to achieve for the remainder of her life was some flavor of this -- quiet duty and domestic tranquility and, perhaps someday, the pitter-patter of little grandchildren's feet -- that was more happiness than she felt entitled to, and much more than some people would ever have a chance to enjoy.

Her hand found Reima's hand and squeezed it warmly. "And of course, you -- the most imperious little princess, even before I wore a crown -- screamed blue murder every time someone had the audacity to try put you down, which made things quite a handful that -- last -- Lifeday." Her voice creaked around a sudden lump in her throat. She could remember it like it was yesterday. "It was tradition in those days -- George, darling, are you taking notes? -- that the staff were given Life Day off and we had to fend for ourselves. That year, all Reima wanted was for me to hold her. Luckily there was an Atrisian takeaway restaurant that delivered. We will not be making that a tradition, I hope."

She favored the Duke with a genuine smile and said, "He is, rather, but he does it so well. Tell me -- do you have any special Life Day traditions?"

George Vitalis | Dorian Rothmere | Reima Vitalis | Dyrn Grav​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan Reima Vitalis

George stuck his head back into the room.

"Yes, mother, I am taking notes. Mental ones. However, we have invented something called 'overtime' these days." The tone teasing to the extreme. Usually George was more solemn than this. But perhaps it was the eggnogg or perhaps it was the spirit of the holidays. "So I assure you that the staff on hand are only people who hate their families and love the extra money I am paying them. Isn't that right, Stanislas?"

Another voice popped up, answering the prince, as cheerful as could be.

"No, sir, I love my family, sir."

George blinked and looked back at the frontman. "Oh, jolly man, if you preferred to stay home today?"

Stanislas shook his head quickly. "No, sir, thank you sir. The missus and me love each other dearly and we have come up with the perfect system to keep our marriage as happy as it can be." The footman, a thick-set man with an even thicker mustache, didn't seem to continue and elaborate what exactly that system was after George paused to give him the room.

So he coughed lightly.

"Well, out with it, man. Perhaps this is important for mother and Dyrn." A glance back to his family, grinning a little.

"Ah, of course, sir. Well, it is rather simple. We have come up with a system that ensures we remain happy at all times. In essence, we have coordinates our time-schedule to perfection." George blinked there, slowly, glancing back at Stanislas. Clearly not seeing where this was going, so the footman continued on.

"You see, we have found that if I go to bed when she wakes up, and she goes to bed when I wake up, we never fight. It's a jolly good system."

George rubbed his chin, wondering if Stanislas was pulling his leg.

"But Stan, I have seen pictures of your children?"

Stanislas looked slowly at him. "Yes, sir?"

Somehow George knew that this was not the time to be asking more questions. "Well, good for you, man. I am not sure that this system would work well for mother, but I am glad you have found something that works for you and the missus!" After that and before he would feel like reality was slipping out of his hands George finished his instructions and allowed the footmen to go and fetch Reima's bags.

Dorian on the other hand was sipping his tea, but smiled charmingly at Natasi when she asked him.

"Oh, no, ma'am. Not as such. My father was often at court, even throughout the celebrations, mother was often away at business. So I more often than not had to fend for myself during the celebrations." Then a soft shrug. "So I bullied the staff into allowing me to cook my own dinner, just that once a year, and that was quite fun. I made a whole mess, poor Chef..."

Shaking his head there before finishing his tea.

"At any rate, I believe in looking forward, not back. Easiest that way." Inclining his head to Reima... as it fit the themes they had spoken of previously.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi watched the exchange between George and Stanislas, her face impassive as if she were negotiating a diplomatic summit.

She glanced at Dorian with a self-deprecating smile. "The lengths my children will go to to avoid eating my cooking," she said dryly. "Granted, they're not wrong. I can scramble an egg -- and there was a time I could just about manage not to overcook a roast. It has been a few years, though, so perhaps they are right to be cautious."

She uncrossed her ankles and crossed them the opposite way under her chair, shifting her weight. Natasi's attention turned back to George.

"Such a system would not, in fact, work for your step-father and me," Natasi confirmed, watching the retreating back of Stanislas. "But if Stanislas is happy, and Mrs. Stanislas is happy, then who are we to argue?"

Natasi turned back to the Duke. "I know the feeling. Mrs Emberle -- she used to be the cook here -- always swore up and down it wasn't a problem, but there was something in that little sinking of her shoulders that gave her defeat away." She chuckled and shook her head, glancing at Reima, the second woman of that name to rest her head in this building. A future. "It feels like ever such a long time ago now. But -- yes. Looking forward, Your Grace, always forward." She stood up. "Freshen that tea for you?"

George Vitalis | Dorian Rothmere | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Natasi Fortan

"Mm, yes, I think the best servants have a similar disposition. They wish to please us even if it means us doing the work ourselves, but perhaps secretly they wished we didn't cause them more work in turn as a result."

He gratefully nodded and offered his cup to her for it to be refilled.

"Tell me, your Highness, what do you think of the Heirate as it is right now?" His eyes, sharp and curious, on Natasi. Leaning in a bit, because this was an opportunity to hear it from the chief herself.

"It must be a strange transition from being the Supreme Leader to being the Sovereign. Suddenly you have so many more ties that bind you. Is it... satisfying, are you happy with the way the nation is going forward?"

It was a rather forward question, but Dorian was rather desperate to get away from the subject of his childhood or the ways they had. That... inevitably would return to them to the elephant in the room again. Then it would be an awkward silence, people trying to put him at ease. But this... this was a big topic.

One that you couldn't just dodge away.

"I hope I am not too forward. I just had the privilege of watching my cousin, the King, govern as well. I always found it... perplexing that people would choose to do it, you know?"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi rose and took the teacup, carrying it over to the side table to refill it. She placed a few biscuits on the saucer; he didn't ask for them, but Natasi believed that the holidays were a time for biscuits. And candy. Desserts. Big roast dinners. Natasi was usually at the very bottom of the weight class for her height, so putting on a few pounds at Life Day was not such a big deal. But it was especially true for young people enduring crisis. A little comfort would go a long way.

She returned to the seat and handed the cup and saucer back to the Duke.

"The Heirate?" she echoed quietly. Odd that he would ask, given the timing of things, so close to her reflections on the change in her position. "Oh, it's... coming along, I think. We are in something of a delicate position, without the bulwark of the Galactic Alliance to protect us -- not that, as it turns out, they would or could have, but that's another discussion. If we militarize too rapidly, we make ourselves a threat -- to the Galactic Empire, to the Sith lunatics rising up on all sides, to the Black Sun Syndicate. They thought nothing of demanding the Hapes Cluster from the Alliance; we are much less impressive militarily, so I would not put it past them."

She sighed softly, sipped her tea, set it back in the saucer. "And yet if we do not militarize -- and soon -- then we look like a nice, soft-bellied, easy target. Unfortunately, we are of no use -- strategic or otherwise -- to the High Republic so there is no interest in coming under their protection. The Galactic Empire seems to be failing. So it is looking rather like the Black Sun is our biggest threat. And I am concerned, deeply, at the notion of putting my people under the thumb of criminals."

Her fingers traced a non-existent bit of dust away from the edge of the table.

"I used to think that way, too," Natasi said to the Duke solemnly. "But what I understand now -- what your cousin may have come to understand -- is that leadership is not a choice. If you are the one that can do it, who has been called upon to do it?" Her eyes flicked past Dorian's shoulder to where George was standing near the mantlepiece. "You simply do it."

Or you move out of the way for someone who can, she added silently. Not that that was an option for her. For Natasi, the job was for life. Or, she supposed, lives.

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

It were concerning things that the Sovereign spoke of and Dorian's brows furrowed in thought there.

He knew the situation was not stellar, but he did not realize that it had penetrated so deeply up above. George himself refused to talk about it in any meaningful manner. Something about bringing negativity into the subject matter, which would influence their decision making. He wasn't so sure about that, it seemed more like wishful thinking... yet his brother-in-arms had always been made of stern stuff.

Surprisingly so considering everything he had been through.

"Maybe so, my Lady, but even a giant will look twice at attempting to eat a steel porcupine." Dorian said meaningfully, his eyes on hers. He did not know the plans perse. That was above his payscale and again, George refused to elaborate, he could be a right prick when it came to keeping his vows of silence and confidence.

But he had seen some of the movements happening.

He had to, while figuring out the logistics of arming rebel groups through the Empire from this region of space.

"You simply do it."

His eyes followed hers, towards George, who seemed amicably talking to Reima now while they were busy.

Was that... a tiara? It seemed old, wooden, badly carved.

Eyes met Natasi's again, brows going up a touch.

"Well, he knows the way to his sister's heart, I suppose?" Bemused there a touch, not knowing the backstory of that carved tiara and the history that came with it.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"It's easier said than done, I'm afraid," Natasi mused quietly. "With the wars in the core, the materials needed to build robust defenses has been all but impossible to find, and what we do find we pay a king's ransom. Forget the taxes we paid to the Alliance that we'll never see. Balance only knows what became of it as bits of the fleet were commandeered and disappeared. It's shameful."

She sighed and shook her head, touching her temple as if to stave off a headache that was burgeoning beneath her brow.

"We'll make it, somehow," Natasi said, her voice confident, as if she was convincing herself more than anyone else. "There is simply no alternative."

Her dark eyes followed Dorian's to her children, where her eyes settled on the object in George's hand. It took her a few moments to recognize what it was -- some kind of fairytale tiara if it was carved by a small child. Which, she realized due to its size, it must have been. "George, what on earth is that?" she called. "Did you make that?"

George Vitalis | Dorian Rothmere | Reima Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan Reima Vitalis

George looked as if he got caught with something, but as any good Lord would do, he simply straightened his back out and looked imperiously at his mother.

"It is a wooden tiara if you must know, mother." Saying it so haughtily it would be terrifying, if it wasn't so funny with him holding the smol crown in his large hands. Then he grinned, shrugging lightly as he glanced towards Reima. "I made it for Rei when we were little. She was so small, but so aggressively confident in her ability to command everyone in sight."

He offered it to her again.

"I just knew she needed a regal tiara to finish the assemble of her scowl and furrowed brow. Do you remember it, Reima? I thought you might find it a funny little gift."

Though now that everyone's eyes was on him, George's own brows furrowed.

"Or maybe this wasn't the right gift..."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima gave the broad, toothy, un-self-conscious grin that nobody present had seen on her in years, the one that wasn't concerned about looking sophisticated or grown-up. It was impish in its way but genuine. "He knew that I was born to be a princess before you ever dreamed of sitting the throne, mother," Reima said. "The little coronets Auntie Petra and Grandmother Vitalis wore to dinner weren't sufficiently grand, even if I was allowed to wear them, which I wasn't. George solved the problem."

She set aside her teacup and moved closer to George, leaning forward a little. "Well, are you going to stand there or are you going to crown me?"

Reima waited until her brother placed the little roughly-carved wooden tiara on her hair. It was designed for a much smaller head, of course, but Reima still beamed as she straightened, regardless of how ridiculous she must have looked.

"My first official act as princess is -- I'd rather like a cucumber sandwich," Reima declared regally before turning and striding over to the tea table, helping herself to a cucumber finger sandwich, and an egg-and-cress one, too, just for good measure. The tiara was small and light enough that it didn't move a lot, and Reima's textured curls provided just enough support for it to sit where it was placed.

"How old were we when you made this?" Reima asked George as she returned, sitting on the edge of the coffee table near him. "Little, right? I must have been five or six. It was before they sent you off to boarding school." She reached up absent-mindedly and touched the tiara, smiling faintly. "Do you remember what I gave you that year? I think it was a rock." She glanced over at the Duke and her mother. "In my defense, it was a very nice rock, and I didn't start getting an allowance until I was ten."

George Vitalis | Natasi Fortan | Dorian Rothmere​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

He watched Reima fondly before inclining his head and quickly crowning his sister as requested.

Their age... was a complication.

He could still remember it when she was his baby sister. And then the Netherworld happened and suddenly his little sister had grown into a young woman with trauma of her own. But also with so much potential, grace and elegance. It was nice to see her light up like that, George couldn't remember the last time she smiled like that.

"I was very young, yes." Nodding there, knuckles gently brushing her cheek, before letting her go to fix herself that sandwich. Sitting down in the deep leather chair instead, next to the coffee table.

"But you were even younger, so small, but such a fierce little goblin even then." But spoken with affection, a glance exchanging between himself and Natasi Fortan .

A laugh there, the Duke laughing with him there.

"He knows what rock you are talking about. I had it with me during my first deployment, you know." George confided to Reima. "I never let it out of my sight, it was the cutest gift."

Until he lost it.

Somewhere in the Netherworld? George wasn't sure. His eyes grew distant and Dorian looked a bit concerned, so he decided to speak up. "I, any other rocks that you gifted his Lordship, Reima?" Unsure how to bring his friend back from wherever he had just gone to.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"Goblin," Reima repeated on an exaggeratedly wounded gasp. "I, a goblin? Not even on my worst days. I was -- precocious. Grandmother Vitalis always said so. That's not the same thing as a goblin." She paused a beat and turned back to the room with her spoils before crossing back to settle on the sofa.

"Granted, Grandmother Vitalis always believed it was you who put a hole in the conservatory window and burned the curtain in the small library at Foxfield Park. Rambunctious little boys, she always said -- " Reima adopting a shockingly good mimicry of their grandmother, much like she had done of Natasi back when they first bought Herevan back. " -- ought to be taken in hand, but your uncle seems to encourage it. Something about shaking loose some of the Fortan gravitas. He says it's an inherently feminine trait."

Reima glanced at her mother to see how she might react to that -- as far as she knew, a criticism that Grandmother Vitalis never leveled to Natasi's face -- but Natasi had busied herself sipping her tea and looked as if she intentionally did not hear it. Her gaze went to the Duke instead.

"No, I think I switched to more practical things once I started getting an allowance. Mostly I sent him his favorite things from the bakeries and confectioners in Southport because he always looked so skinny and worn out when he came back from school for visits. Ah -- I tell a lie -- last year I gave him a rather smart set of cufflinks, each with an emerald stud. Emeralds count as rocks, don't they? They must."

Natasi Fortan | Dorian Rothmere | George Vitalis​