A Refresher Course

He had left her drowsy; she was never a morning person, never had been, never would be. Some of her siblings, sick beasts that they were had loved rising with the last of starfall to watch the break of day, the first rays peeking over the curve of the world to paint in soft strokes, the coming of a new dawn. She thought them mad. Sane people, like her own self, stayed awake past three am, and crawled out of bed at kinder, warmer, hours. None of this trekking about in the half darkness. That was for servants. And cats. Not for rich people... and oh how she valued being rich.

This day had been different though. A letter had come. A letter horrible, and hard to bear, so far away. A part of her yearned to sweep husband and twins up in a carriage and race back to her siblings and mama, to somehow protect them. Somehow. With...paintbrushes and oils? Pastels maybe? She had for the one and only time, ever, envied her brothers their many lessons in the more martial side of things, and wished she had maybe bribed her handsome husband for a few lessons prior to now. She could well imagine it, 'How to Stab Annoyingness to Death, a Class by Artur Cadag'.

She knew him capable.

...For she'd seen him kill.

A sigh. A sweeping forward to the present. A kiss. The gentle heat of sun. Words like candied cherries, sweet and rich, against her ears, sending a little wave of goosebumps to tickle down her arms and spine. A blush to rise along neck and face, sending her skin as scarlet as her gown. Laced with wide black and gold ribbons along her bodice sides, she struggled to catch her breath, the corset's firm grasp not all that made her short of breath, and Artur Cadag well knew it.

"I am yours. Always. As you are mine. Thank yous between us are perfunctory, for how can you thank me for staying nearest to my heart?" It wasn't that simple, he'd know that, too. But she knew, despite that impulse to rush headlong to kin of birth, her place was here, with kin of marriage and her son and daughter. She took a moment more to wipe her eyes, she'd had a bit of a cry before. Another threatened. She was determined though, to NOT cry.

As they rounded the corner, her lips still warm from his, she smiled softly to her good sister, and as Vittoria sat, she reached forth a soft hand, to cup that of the beautiful blonde before her. "I need this today. I have had.." Tears rose, and fell, coating dark lashes, holding, holding there, till hitting the delicate tablecloth. "Bad news. And I need your calm this day. I need to know you're here, for me.."

"I haven't had time even to send our dear brother, the High Laird, the news that I have received, could you be so kind as to have a servant rush this to him?" A letter, sealed with a stamp, was drawn forth from her other hand, and placed on the table. "It explains to him that in their meetings with the much warred with Montefiore, an attack took place. No one knows the attackers or their motives, as both families have suffered."

"Some of my family were hurt, none died, but it was...it was close, it might have been...worse." She sniffed a little, eyes reddening, for unlike some ladies, she wasn't blessed with that oh so fine ability to "cry prettily".

The note would simply relay to the Laird what it was she knew, of the attack, and that one attacker was alive, at least he had been when the letter was sent.

"I am so sorry, you laid out a lovely thing for us.." Tears were dastardly hard to stop once they flowed. "I'm ruining the table with all the..." Her free hand motioned feebly in the air.."the wet."

So much for determination in the face of potential understanding and possible kindness. It would seem even cool and calculating Deliambres could feel, and be playthings for, emotions after all.


@arturcadag / Eirian Connell

Artur felt gratitude and pride at this moment, seeing his younger sister come to the aid of his beloved wife. Vittoria was older than the pair of Cadags and yet, in this moment it was she who was the most in need of comfort. He had taken his seat, leaving the women to be close. He felt a brief surge of possessiveness, even jealousy that Vittoria reached out to his sister as she did, but that emotion was quickly thrust away as he considered what his wife needed most. And perhaps in that, his sweet sister would find she too was needed to live amongst the living, not mourning the dead and gone.

In the brief period where Eirian left them, he slipped from his chair to crouch at Vittoria's side, pressing a hand to her cheek, fingers capturing a tear. He did not like to see her distressed, and certainly not in tears. She was a strong woman, and yet deep within there was a vulnerability, one that was struck at its very core by the attack on her family. His family by extension. He gritted his teeth in frustration, knowing the distance between them so great to become any true assistance at this time. He would keep his wife, his children, and his birth family safe as best he could, but his hands felt tied otherwise.

He offered only quiet words to his wife. "We will see them soon, my love, and you will know them safe. The attack was not meant to kill but alarm them. Do not allow them to succeed in this." He would tell her no differently until he knew the truth behind the attack, but for now he would do all he could to see her fears set aside.

A grateful look was offered to Eirian, his heartfelt thanks given in that moment. He did take his seat once more, and he poured the water for tea while beloved sister discussed the possible change in plans with cherished wife. He held silent for the time being, instead attending to the task of preparing their tea. He knew both women well enough to know their tastes and was not above serving them this once. There were more important things at stake than his manly pride.

He watched Vittoria for her reaction to the thought of an earlier journey. Much would need to be done in a shorter time, but perhaps it would ease both her need to be close to the Deliambres, and give Eirian a cause to stand behind, a feeling of being needed outside these very walls. While she was a valued advisor and assistant to Merthen, much as Artur himself was, she was needed for so much more, not only for others, but for her own wellbeing. He wanted to see her shine, to be as she once was and no longer willing to sit on the side of the ballroom as life danced by.

"Whatever you need, my love." Tea poured, dainty snacks set upon each fragile plate, he awaited the words that would dictate the next days, those days yet to come.

@vittoria / Eirian Connell / @merthencadag

For the three seated in the dappled shade of the garden, family was of ultimate importance. All else could and would be set aside in favor of the protection and promotion of their family, though Eirian did not face the divided loyalty currently affecting Vittoria. Sympathy continued to linger in her eyes as she studied her sister in law, quiet in the face of so unexpected and disheartening a pronouncement. Someone dared to impose an attack on the Deliambres and the Montefiores simultaneously? The audacity to set one's sights on one powerful Archadean family was nearly beyond comprehension for her; that two were affected left her stunned. She could not see this being a mere fluke of an attack either, not now that her analytical thought process was engaged.

Glancing to Vittoria as her sister in law resumed speaking, Eirian listened carefully. Though the words seemed little more than a stream of consciousness without direction or purpose, she took them as Vittoria's method of seeking out answers to the questions undoubtedly arising in her mind, questions she herself would ask in the same position. "It could be any of those, or all of them. I do not think the timing of it to be coincidental, however. Very little in our world happens by sheer chance," or so Eirian discovered. To this day, she clung steadfastly to the belief that her betrothed's death was not happenstance yet done deliberately to undermine the Cadag family. She merely lacked the proof to validate suspicion.

Agreeing with her sister in law's assessment, Eirian shifted her attention to Artur. "Even if I must follow, would it be possible to get both of you prepared to travel as soon as tomorrow? I am at your disposal to do what is necessary to make it so, including persuading Merthen of the wisdom of this course." She hoped that their eldest brother might yet join them in the garden to further discuss the matter but in his absence, she was willing to serve as intermediary.



@arturcadag, @vittoria

It was not often she let others 'care' for her in the sense of fussing over her or consoling her; she was too much a Deliambre, she supposed, given to anger far more than she was given to tears. Today, with it's heavy news, had been the exception. She was thankful, truth be told, that Merthen was nowhere to be even seen. She did not like her tears known to one and all. Artur was a safe haven, and his sisters were gentle keepers of secrets. Her guard down, she thanked the powers that be for the privacy of the moment.

Dabbing away tears and drinking in their words, she nodded a few times, trying to convince herself and the pair watching her that yes, she was better, more stable. In truth, her inner self railed against the universe and whoever it was that had put her family in danger. She wanted to see them dead, hung on Deliambre towers, proof of his or her guilt and the punishment for such.

She wanted blood.

She wanted it bad enough to taste it, salty acrid vengeance. It was perhaps bred in her, to the bone, deep and strong. Deliambres, cold and calculating, still could take offense, and they had the arms and soldiers to back their anger when riled. She feared she might well break a teacup.

Calm. Calm yourself.

Breathe.

I want that person who planned the attack to be found, to suffer, to bleed, to die.

In time, let it go, today is not the day. Antonin reigns. Breathe into that. Artur will hunt. Believe that much, and hold it. One man your sword, the other your shield. They will not be swayed, nor will their worth be found wanting.

She prayed, clung, held to those truths, and squeezed her spouse's hand. Tonight, in the darkness of their chambers she would beckon him to her. She would bid him kneel, and she would take his face lovingly in her hands, and she would have him tell her he would not rest until Antonin and he and her brothers had seen this criminal group brought to the doors of death, and left their to wither, forgotten and failed. She would make him swear it, on her very blood, she'd make him swear. On his knees, she'd bind him to the task.

For now, she must wait, and as her mother's daughter, she looked with soft gaze to the beauty that was Eirian. "Thank you so much. More than you know, thank you. I hope Mer...The Laird.." She corrected herself.."...shall give us leave to hurry to Antonin and my kinfolk as soon a we can."

"But distract me, please, good sister." Distract me from this anger that eats at me.."Was there anything we could do for you?" A well cared for and pretty hand motioned to the table. "Tell me of yourself. tell me every and anything." Save me from my own self, Eirian, save me from the blood that burns like fire, and flows like rivers wild.

Eirian Connell / @arturcadag

He would need to think of a way to thank Eirian later. Most women would delight in a gift of some cloth or bauble, but he thought Eirian needed something more, something of substance and depth that enhanced her mind not just her form. As he refrained from comment on current fashions, preferring to leave that matter to those to whom it mattered, he pondered what he could possibly offer his younger sibling.

Though quiet and seeming deep in thought, he did keep one ear on the pair of ladies in his company, "I doubt you could ever shame us, Eirian." It was all he needed to add for now. He conveyed his support to his wife in the clasping of hands and the slow steady movement of his thumb over her knuckles. Artur would give her the moon and stars and reach for the sun if it made her feel safe and loved. He knew their arrangement was hardly the norm, most husbands and wives barely able to tolerate the presence of the other, but he counted himself lucky in his twenty year declaration that she would be his. He had been a rather brilliant five-year-old.

Thoughts strayed from gifts for sister and desire for wife to practical matters. Artur would need to send ahead to have their townhome readied earlier than originally planned. The house had been a gift upon their marriage from Vittoria's grandmother because it would not do for Vittoria not to have a home of her own in Bordelaix, and it had offered them privacy and a place for Vittoria to reign supreme. White Arden was kept ready should they once more return to court, but he doubted the larders and stores were quite ready to feed the four of them properly as well as any others who joined them. And their townhouse kept them in close proximity to her family, where his wife would surely prefer to be at a time like this.

@vittoria | Eirian Connell