Aoife Malconaire

it's unfortunate that sebastian had to go and embroil himself in scandal w a ~middle daughter when eithne was literally right!!!! there!!!!! but alas here we are ldskjfalksdjfjf no but aurelian is def taking the tack that THIS DIDNT HAPPEN (he doesn't care if it really did and aoife actually ~is carrying his great`grandchild bc it aint a good look for the House™ so like...who cares) and he thinks aoife and her sisters should be sent off somewhere far away conveniently for ~at least nine months~ and then return when rumors have settled down/their figures have returned alkdjflkdsjfsdfj childless families are always happy to take in foundlings and part of cassimir's job should be to ensure those children are cared for and no one else ever has to remember they exist, if they ~are real! also that awful valentina woman needs to shut her mouth!!!!! (finally a plan ~everyone can get on board with...)

it feels like aurelian might be on team Finn/Aoife engagement along with @forgottencormac ? (i still love that both of them kind of have NO idea that is actually going on and being discussed, haha!) which basically no one else is on!! especially aoife!

i feel like aoife is maybe going to try to put some distance between herself and the varmonts after all these rumors about herself and sebastian-- tbh i don't know how well that's really going to work bc i do think she finds herself wanting to be around @forgottensebastian more and more SO i don't know if she and aurelian cross paths bc of that??

"How're we so calm about it? Well, I confess," retorted Rosie, sarcastically. "I never imagined motherhood would feel so much like maidenhood!"

Valentina was in the midst of telling oof the two younger girls off, two days after the Malconaire fete had had its disastrous ruin and Rosie, for one was tired of it. Catching Aoife's hand in hers, and casting a defiant look towards their stepmother, Rosie marched out into the woods, dragging her sister behind her. Valentina would not follow them into the Old Forest, and Rosie for one was much in need of a little respite.

Pulling her sister down onto a fallen log like a bench, its body covered over in cozy moss, she huffed loudly, still not releasing her sister's hand. "And that woman calls herself a mother! Did Cassimir ever stand a chance?" She often thought he must have, because Sonya had turned out so differently, yet at the moment, she couldn't imagine how any of them could have possibly gotten their heads on straight with Valentina there to chew them off again.

"Our mother, no less," she muttered, irritably flicking an acorn, only to watch if go shooting away and bounce into the green verdure. "Eugh!"

Maybe I just planted a tree, she thought, pressing her eyes closed and exhaling a long breath. Maybe it will grow and grow, and when all the other trees that stood here during our lifetimes, proud and true, are gone, it will stand just as they did to remember us all.

Rosie had had a difficult fortnight, and she had not patience left for Valentina's incisive jabs or cold humors. So much that was happened, so much that had happened, she wished she could just wash away. Wake up, and start anew. But that tale was told and stale, now, and she hated it. She wished she could wash it away, tell something different in its place, like the ever-changing walls of her tiny chamber, but that was just fantasy. And this was cruel reality.

"I can't believe anyone believes this...this rubbish about us," she muttered, darkly, finally releasing Aoife's hand, and rising again, to pace in front of her. It was a mortifying spectacle, and her cheeks were hot just thinking of it, of people imagining all sorts of salacious things about her whole family, only to judge them for it. This was yet another terrible innovation brought them by their overlords. Astaira had never been so. In Astaira, a woman could try out a marriage for a year, then walk away if she so chose. The Varmonts' people prized only maidenhood in a woman.

"She's Papa's second wife-- not our mother."

Aoife was silent as her sister paced back and forth in front of her, wishing there was something she could do to help ease Rosie's mind. She knew very well her sister was struggling and now knew why-- knew what Edmund had done. She'd known for months now it was one of the princes leading the charge at Malconaire but Aoife somehow knew the it would have been more of a blow to Rosie than to Eithne or even Aoife herself. It wasn't because her youngest sister was weak or naive or foolish but because she put all her emotions into so much of her life. Aoife hoped this wasn't the the thing that would stop Rosie from always doing just that...

"Would you really want to go?" Aoife asked her sister, "Leave... Astaira? I just... I don't want you to go," Aoife said quickly, grabbing Rosie's hand and squeezing it.

"But Sebastian... I know, " Aoife said quickly when Rosie heard her mention the name of a Varmont. "I know... everything about them is... is difficult. But Sebastian, he is close with his uncle and, perhaps..." Aoife paused, shook her head.

"You're going to think I"m mad but perhaps he might find you-- any of us, really-- a decent match with someone who might take us away from here. I.. I know..." Aoife paused, chewed on her lip for a moment. "It feels like giving up. But I don't know how much longer any of us can keep fighting. And I don't know if it will ever be over."

Eithne had proven reasonable to treat with and, having heard -- to his wroth -- Valentina's unseemly delcarations at the Malconaire Ball the other night, Roderick was determined that his conversations with her sisters should go just as smoothly.

Roderick had arrived early in the morning, not much past the dawn, and found to his astonishment only one rough-tongued young man present to take his horse. Lady Valentina must have given her servants leave to take the morning off after last night's festivities, he thought. And clearly her foolish help knew not to whom they spoke, or else he had little doubt that uncivil boy would have kept a quiet tongue in his head. Still, he'd cooled his wrath. He was here for a purpose and did not mean to be recognized, and it better suited him that the household should not be roused.

"Where might I find Lady Aoife?"

"What do you want with my lady?" demanded the swain.

"Nevermind what I want with your lady, where is she?"

It had taken some doing to wrest any information from the youth and he'd not gotten her location, but thrusting his reins roughly into the peasant's mongrel hand, Roderick had strode off into the woods, himself.

It was an unquiet wood. Above, gusts of wind struck the sentinel trees till their boughs groaned and creaked, emmitting low ghastly moans. But worse was the leering silence that came later. Light was dim, flickering eerily through the crags in the leaves, till he found himself caught in a murky gloaming twilight, queer at the dawning of day. Branches seemed to crouch low, sightless eyes turned to stare. Leaf-less branches clawed skyward, raking the air with skeletal fingers and tore at his clothing. The air was musty and close. The trees closed in.

This is an ungodly place, he thought, unconsciously pulling his cloak tighter as if against a chill he did not feel.

"AOIFE!" he bellowed.

Alarmed, a songbird shrieked. Roderick pulled back. With a puff of green feathers, the bird escaped skyward.

A voice. Roderick gasped, turned quickly. A pale face loomed from beyond the wind-swept trees. The sounds of birds and squirrels and deer resumed. Light, real daylight, filtered through the trees and cheerily dappled the forest floor below. The wood was an ordinary wood, again.

Swallowing hard, Roderick shook himself and approached the girl. "Forgive my...abrupt appearance," began the Emperor, taking her by the arm and beginning to guide her from the too-close trees. An open field would do just as well, he thought, suppressing a shudder, as the screeching woods.

"After the night's...festivities, I wished to speak with you." He paused. "It has become clear to me, after all, how much my son...values your...friendship, and I wish to give a gesture of..." he glanced away. How to be delicate in such suggestions. "Is it so that you are soon to be betrothed, Lady Aoife?"

She wasn't sure how long she'd managed to sleep before the sun began streaming in through her bedroom windows but, despite not feeling like she had rested nearly enough, she found herself restless. Thankfully it seemed as if her stepfamily was sleeping in after the festivities as the main level of the house was silent as she headed out through the back door and made her way into the forest.

The woods were a comfort to Aoife, as she knew they were to all of her sisters. She loved the sounds the forest made, the chittering of creatures back and forth, the bird songs, the rustling of the leaves. It was like the forest had its own language in all of those sounds and only those who dwelled beneath the canopy of leaves would ever learn to speak it, too.

"AOIFE!" Her name came through the trees at such a volume it seemed to shake the whole woods, Aoife herself feeling as if she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden noise. Some instinct told her to turn back towards the house and as she did, she found the source of the shout.

It was the Emperor.

"Yo-your Imperial Majesty?" Aoife questioned as if she might be seeing some sort of spectre. He turned immediately, eyes wide as he saw her. This was no spectre, this man was of flesh and blood... and he was looking for her.

Aoife made to curtsey to the Emperor but he was grabbing her by the arm and walking her out of the forest. Aoife hadn't realized until she stood this close to Roderick Varmont that they met eye to eye. It felt strange to see him this close, when he often seemed to tower over everyone in a crowded room.

Aoife hadn't been sure how to respond to the Emperor's mention of Sebastian-- she did value Sebastian's friendship as well. He understood her in a way others did not-- that had been made clear when he'd given her time to process the revelation about one of the prince's being the cause of her father's death. But even before then, she knew-- she'd known when he'd just chosen to sit with her quietly or walk through the fields without needing to carry on a long conversation.

The abrupt change in conversation topics, however, was not what she'd expected to hear.

"Am I-- am I to be betrothed?" Aoife repeated, slightly confused why the Emperor of the Twelve Kingdoms would come on his own to find Aoife and ask her that. She could never have imagined Cormac's chatterings had taken on some actual ground and it was getting about that she was potentially to marry Finn Calleary.

Hi! I just realized I'm not sure we talked about these two directly, at all?? (just goes to show what an a+++ match Cormac has made alsjdflsdjf)

I feel like, out of all of the Malconaires, Aoife is the one he always knew the ~least?? And he probably wanted to keep it that way tbh? Not that he doesn't like her, I just feel like he'd feel awkward and not know what to say because he knows she's quiet and shy and he is also self aware enough that he can be A Lot at times and he also just isn't sure what they would talk about since his life is just drinking/partying/gambling and the only thing they have in common is their love for Saoirse, which Finn is definitely NOT bringing up ;DDD

Also, to start, Finn probably takes the engagement the least seriously out of anyone? Like this literally came from Cormac it's a joke, right??? I think he probably forgot about it like .25 seconds after he was informed about it, which also makes him the worst fiancé!!

tbh it def makes sense that finn would know aoife the least! i def think she was spending the most time with aine out of all the callearys considering they have similar temperaments! but laughing at some awkward convo where aoife and finn are trying to converse and he tells her some wild story from the night before at the tavern and aoife just sort of stares, not sure how to reply. for real tho i could see though where aoife has spent time just listening when finn's around and then hearing some of his stories i would imagine might have earned a small grin from aoife

i definitely think aoife would have considered it more of a joke than its turning out to be EXCEPT she had (currently having!) the most unhinged conversation with @forgottencormac about engagements and he seems SO focused on this she's a little concerned about it... i def didn't think it was going to go as far as it seems to have tbh but... cormac seems to have a way of creating ~scenarios aklshdasfsdif

so fun fact, [ roderick thinks bar and aoife look cute together ] ;D lkajdsfkjdsf unfortunately for valentina, tho, bar is NOT looking to move in on @forgottensebastian 's not!gf alkjsdfjdsf that being said, tho, bar sadly does NOT ship it, bc he knows that ~seb is actually the rightful third heir, not arthur, as roderick's firstborn son and yeahh lakjsfkjdsf so seb's gonna need like a princess or a queen or smth sorry aoife!! but also he ~is a fan of romance so he hopes these two have a good time together but frankly he doesn't think it'll last for frankly a lot of reasons and isn't worried abt breaking them up or anything bc that'll probs just happen naturally right! kajsdkfljsdf so yeah like...he is rooting for them, but also not laksjdfkljsjf

but yes, despite roderick's considerations, he frankly is NOT considering aoife for himself!! esp bc she and seb are still v much a thing even if the other malconaire/varmont alliances are fraying etc lakjdsfkjsdf

as i said...ig in @forgotteneithne 's thread, i do think there may have been a time when bar was considering eithne for eoin but since both are now engaged elsewhere, i think he's given up on that but should either party become free again, he'd def consider it afresh

anyway, as i also mentioned in eithne's bit, he'd also want aoife's opoinon on the lorcan conroversy, and whether she thinks rian, cassimir, or peadar is, as part lorcan herself, who she'd rather guide her maternal home into its next chapter!!

also poor bar having no idea that @forgottensebastian nearly proposed to aoife already! asdlsflsdfhou i'm pretty sure that relationship is NOT petering out the way he thinks its going to!!

do you think bar puts any stock in the post tourney rumors that've been going around re: sebastian & aoife?

A housemaid had been hired.

It was a bit of a shock that Cassimir continued to prove good to his word, but a few weeks after kitchen staff had been brought in to relieve Eithne of her duties in the kitchen, a housemaid was suddenly announced so that Aoife might no longer be spending her days scrubbing floors.

It wasn't exactly surprising that Aoife was the first sister after Cassimir's own fiancee to no longer be acting as a servant within their own house. Aoife was, clearly, the least objectionable of the younger three in their step brother's eyes.

This did not mean, however, that Aoife was relieved of her duties involving her step mother. Valentina was still resistant to the idea of moving to the dower house, often prone to wailing when anyone mentioned moving any of the household furniture to the house in preparation for her own move (which a date had yet been set).

Cillian and Aoife had taken making interior design decisions of their own, moving some of Valentina's more gaudy decor or furniture that was clearly not of Malconaire down to the Dower home themselves. No longer needing to focus on the cleaning of the main house, Aoife had turned to cleaning her step mother's future home instead.

Cillian had, rather unceremoniously, dropped a box of dishes at the house which Aoife had set about unpacking. She did like the quiet, but the time to think also weighed on her mind. She had spent many nights up with Brigit and Roisin trying to figure out any way their elder sister might be spared the fate of marrying Cassimir, but nothing beyond kidnapping her and whisking her off to hide in the woods seemed plausible.

Aoife was so focused on her thoughts and wiping down the dishes (which, luckily, hadn't broken in transit despite Cillian's best efforts!) that it almost didn't register when she glanced up towards the window that there was a face staring in the window at her.

Aoife's eyes shot back up and she found herself staring into a familiar face. It was a smiling face. It was Kale's face.

Aoife quickly hurried to unlock the window, pulling it open.

"Someone is going to see you!" Aoife exclaimed, gesturing wildly towards the kitchen door at the far end of the house. "Go, go! I'll unlock the door."

Pulling the window shut, Aoife hurried through the half empty home and, unlatching the old wooden door, opening to find Kale on the other side.

"My step mother has not forgotten what you did! If she found you here, she'd have you arrested in a second!" Aoife scolded as he made his way inside the house. When they were safely inside, Aoife immediately felt more at ease.

This wasn't entirely true.

Kale hadn't given up on convincing Eithne to rethink her decision (there would be another way to save Malconaire that did not include sacrificing herself. Kale just hadn't happened to have thought it through, just yet), nor was this particular meeting with Aoife simply by chance. It seemed that Eithne was not the only Malconaire lady who had taken up with suspicious company.

And Kale meant to get to the bottom of whatever had transpired between Aoife and Sebastian Varmont. He had been spotted more than once in her company and Kale did not like the looks of what he had seen.

That, however, could wait. It had been too long since they had seen each other.

“Valentina tried that one already,” Kale said cheerfully and with an easy confidence that made it sound as though she couldn't ever try to have him arrested again. “Didn’t take, apparently. They say I’ve got a gift for slipping away from things that don’t suit me.” He winked, leaning against the table as he lowered his voice. “Besides, I doubt very much that Valentina would be caught dead in a kitchen. It is, I suspect, a rather convenient way for me to hide in plain sight. I ought to have just stayed in the kitchens at Malconaire, just to see how long I could have gotten away with it."

It pleased him to think of Valentina living here (even as he was fighting the very decision that had led to this outcome). While he was certain that she would still live in relative ease and comfort, this move could not have been easy for her. "Is the mistress happy about her new home?" Kale asked, knowing full well what the answer must be (he rather liked the idea of discussing his former mistresses displeasure too much not to ask the question).

"Passing through?" she questioned. "There are much safer paths to take that don't lead you by the lord's house! After the... the stunt of entering the tournament-- don't try to deny it, I know it was you!-- its almost as if you wish to be caught!"

Part of Aoife wished the entire tournament had never happened. She had been a nervous wreck knowing that Kale, Ronan, and Cillian walked among the dangerous Varmont court and the aftermath, the rumors Saoirse had told her were being spread.... it was enough to make her wish to never leave the borders of Malconaire again.

"My step mother despises the thought of living here... Quite frankly, I think the idea of it might have driven her to temporary madness, Kale. When we first came here..." Aoife paused, remembering how Valentina had raved at her that day. "She demanded I bring Mama's portrait here to hang in the house-- not Papa's portrait, just Mama's..."

"Eithne had it packed away and taken to Lorcan when I told her of it," Aoife continued, let out a small sigh. "And, what with that awful party she hosted at the end of the Emperor's tournament, she seems to have either forgotten or found something more important to focus on. But she will not come here, no, not without a fight."

A pause.

"Did Cillian tell you he carried her down here himself after she refused to set foot here after Cassimir told her she must leave the manor?" a small grin crept onto Aoife's face. Kale and Cillian had been partners in crime when they'd both been employed at Malconaire so Aoife could only assume that if Kale was lurking about the county, he would have undoubtedly crossed paths with Cillian as well.

"I cannot imagine he would not have told you of it first thing. He was exceedingly proud of himself."

Another pause.

"Aoife!" hissed Saoirse, poking her head out a nearby window of Castle Lorcan. She'd spotted the blonde walking below and had, right off, recognized her from above.

In truth, Saoirse had been eager to see her friend again, for personal reasons, but these had become even more pronounced with the revelation of a certain rumor which had reached her ears. Saoirse didn't wish to jump to any conclusions, but she did wish to get to the truth and quickly -- before Ronan heard it and formed opinions of his own.

"Aoife! Wait there! I'm coming down!"

Trundling down the winding steps as fast as her legs would carry her (which was remarkably fast, really, for circular stairs as Saoirse had a great deal of experience chasing her mischievous little charges up and down it when an escape attempt was occasionally made), she half-flew to the base and flung herself out the nearest postern door, by Aoife's side, huffing and puffing slightly.

"Aoife!" A long pause as she drew her breath and, laughing, drew her into a wide hug. "Oh, I'm--" heavy breathing -- "So glad to--to see you. Oof! I'm going to have to look out next time your littlest--littlest cousin goes running away!"

Finally recovering her breath, she laughed, pressing her palm flat against her stomach. "Now, come along, as much as I want to do the usual catching up, I'm loathe to say that I have heard a...a rumor about you...and your sisters and," she took Aoife's hand in both hers. "I want to say that, whatever the truth, I love you very much, and I am here for you, I do not judge you, and I shall help you in every way that I can, and any way that you wish, but..." she bit her lip. "Is it true?"

She paused, seeing confusion dawning across Aoife's face, and realized she'd not heard. "Oh, Aoife, I'm so, so sorry to be the one to tell you, but...There's a rumor that...that you and...Sebastian Varmont were..." she flushed. "Were caught...you know....together...in...in public? I mean!" she added, hurriedly, knowing how profoundly humiliated Aoife must even now be feeling, and squeezing her hand reassuringly. "I'm sure, as is everyone who knows either of you, that there's a misunderstanding, that's hardly...in character, is it? I just meant...Is it based on anything at all, or is it all just...malicious gossip? Only...I see the way he looks at you...and its not as if his brothers haven't each been known to entertain your sisters, so I wouldn't blame you if there were some truth to it."

Her eyes widened as she realized how that might sound. "Not that you were publically, um, exploring those feelings! But that maybe..." She exhaled slowly, pinched her nose. "Aoife, is there an understanding between the two of you? I just -- I want to be sure that the truth gets out there."

To Ronan, specifically, she thought. Before he finds Sebastian somewhere and tries to kill him!

Luckily she passed a cart on that was making its way up the mountain and offered to let Aoife ride along. Soon a couple hours trip turned much quicker and Aoife already felt her day was looking up.

It occurred to Aoife, as she approached Castle Lorcan, she had thought that perhaps it wasn't the best idea to show up unannounced now that Lorcan was in the care of Rían Stafford. It had been different when Cousin Padraig was the Lord-- he was family and they'd always been back and forth between the two counties.

But then she heard her name being called and, looking straight up, saw Saoirse danging out one of the windows. Aoife broke into a smile, seeing her dear friend. Yes, today was already shaping up to be a good day.

Not necessarily ready to potentially face Cormac Calleary, Aoife was happy to linger alongside the castle walls waiting for Saoirse to appear. She grinned when her chipper friend came hurrying out of the castle, wrapping her arms around Saoirse in greeting.

What Aoife hadn't be expecting what Saoirse to suddenly start chattering away about rumors. Aoife couldn't begin to understand what she was talking about and wondered if this was some sort of joke she'd thought up with Cillian to tease her.

But then Saoirse mentioned Sebastian and, suddenly, Aoife’s head was spinning. Saoirse was saying so many things so quickly but all Aoife could think of was how stupid she'd been at the tournament.

“I kissed him," Aoife whispered when Saoirse finally stopped to take a breath. "No, no!” Aoife held up her hand to stop her friend before she could jump to any conclusions. “It was nothing! Just a kiss on the cheek to wish him good luck, before the archery tournament! Just as innocent as one I would give your brothers."

Aoife brought her hands up to cover her face, shaking her head. This couldn't be happening-- it just couldn't! Anyone who had seen it-- and Aoife had made absolutely sure no one had been around!-- would have known it was just a simple moment between friends.

Suddenly she dropped her hands and looked directly at Saoirse. "What do you mean you've seen the way he looks at me?"

But Saoirse had continued and Aoife's face fell further, if that were even possible. “More?” Aoife stared at Saoirse.

Of all the things Saoirse had expected Aoife to say to her, just now, that had not been one. Eyes widening, Saoirse found she was speechless. Cillian had spoken (and Ronan raved) about the troubling devotion that seemed to pour both ways between the Houses of Malconaire and Varmont, but in truth Saoirse had dismissed it all as foolishness.

"Uh...oh," she murmured, attempting futilely to disguise her astonishment. She flushed, certainly imagining -- given the nature of the rumors -- that this kiss had been far less chaste than a quick peck on the cheek. "That's..." But urgency reclaimed her tone. She knew well this must prove fuel to the fire, should it get out. "Oh, Aoife, have you told anyone?"

Relief, at once, at the sound of Aoife's explanation. "Oh, Eefie, I'm so glad! Not that I should judge you, whatever might have happened, but it is an easier position from which to give defence against such outlandish rumors!"

Her face went blank at that question and, despite herself, Saoirse laughed. "Oh, Eef...don't tell me you haven't noticed? Eef, he looks at you like...he looks at you the way your lord father looked at your lady mother; the way my brothers say my da looked at my mam. He looks at you the way every young girl wants some handsome young knight to look at her." She shrugged, suppressing a surprised little laugh despite herself and despite herself uable to resist a soft tease, of it, hoping to lighten the mood. "Have you really not noticed? I think if a boy were ever to look at me like that I might just dare all respectablility and kiss him in public -- and more than a quick peck on the cheek for luck, too," she teased.

Aoife stopped mid sentence, her eyes focusing on something in the distance. She couldn't say it meant nothing because that was a lie. It meant something... but Aoife wasn't sure what it meant.

Aoife was silent at Saoirse's explanation, her mind turning over her friend's words while also thinking back to her time spent with Sebastian. Her mind landed, suddenly, on the music box that was safely hidden away in her room from Valentina. She'd never come across a music box that played her favorite song... yet one appeared on her their doorstep a few weeks after she remembered singing a bit of it for Sebastian when he'd told her that he'd never heard the old Astairan tune.

"I'm such a fool..." Aoife whispered, turning her gaze to her friend. She didn't know what to say-- she still didn't know what the kiss she'd given Sebastian at the tournament meant

"He's a prince... I'm just...," Aoife's voice trailed off. She was just Aoife. She wasn't meant to be romancing princes.

"The gifts... the gifts I'd find at the kitchen door, do you remember when I told you of those? I thought-- I thought they were from Ronan but, Saoirse... I think they were from Sebastian. I think... I..." she stopped. "I... I don't know what to think."

Aoife processed what Saoirse had told her next for nearly a full minute in silence. "But... why? Wh--why would anyone think something like that?" Aoife asked. "Why... why would anyone say something like that? Where did..." Aoife stopped, dropped her eyes to the ground trying to make sense of anything she was hearing. "... where did you hear this? Who told you? Do... do people think its true?"

Aoife froze as a thought entered her head.

Valentina had sat Aoife next to Arthur for dinner during her celebratory gathering at Malconaire.

Though Eithne had never spoken of it, it was assumed by all that Arthur’s visits to Malconaire had ended due to her engagement to Cassimir. After the Ice Ball and Cillian’s discovery, Aoife hadn’t particularly wanted and of the Varmonts at the home, so the only thing she concerned herself with how Eithne might feel.

Now, however, her home was full of Varmonts and Valentina was now attempting to force Aoife on Arthur, though the two could not have been any less suited for each other if they tried.

The sounds of conversation filled the hall but Aoife said little to anyone. She was reaching for her goblet when Aoife caught sight of her step mother a few seats down the table somewhat unsubtly jabbing her fork in the direction of Arthur while mouthing something that appeared to be ‘speak to him!’

“I.. I saw you speaking with the Prin— Lady Aria during the archery event,” Aoife turned her head and spoke to him, only, finally. Out of her peripheral she saw her step mother, thankfully, cease wielding her fork in their direction.

“It is probably much too presumptuous of me, but, might I beg your assistance with a task? Ar—Lady Aria is one of my oldest friends and with… everything…” Aoife stopped momentarily upon referencing the riots then.

“… I have missed her feast day this year.”

In truth she had missed multiple since Roderick seized their country, but Aoife knew better than to mention this.

“I have a gift for her… just a small trinket I found from a merchant passing through the village,” Aoife held up her hands to indicate the size the item— a miniature painting depicting a brilliant green meadow along a river bank. It had reminded Aoife of Malconaire and she had through that should Aria not be permitted to come here herself, Aoife might send a small bit of Malconaire to her friend.

And, if these things had not proven enough to put a damper on all, no sooner had he returned from the tournament to dress for Malconaire than he had run into Aria in the tower and learned that she was unwell, and he could not even do anything other than send his own personal physician to attend her. She'd feared she'd be a bother, and something about that had got under his skin, too. She mattered, she mattered, she mattered, but he didn't know how to tell her. And he could no more cure her of whatever ailed her than he could say those words.

For Guinevere and Eoin, too, there was nothing at all, and prince or not, Arthur felt powerless. The next morning, he could approach their father, but not now. Now the Emperor must bask in his success.

Arthur stabbed at his plate, bitterly.

Before the disastrous events of the evening, Arthur's intent had been twfold: first, to make amends with Eithne which, thankfully, he had begun, but secondly, to help Sebastian further his pursuit of Aoife. It was obvious to him how much his brother fancied the lady, and he suspected that she could not help but be moved bu his charms, but Arthur also had come to see that they would get no further than simple friendship if someone did not help...push them along.

Unfortunately, he feared his presence had proven more a hindergance even to that goal than a help as, no sooner had Valentina witnessed Arthur once more pass through her door than she had launched Aoife at him like a prize mare, a fact which very obviously made her uncomfortable, and would have done so for him as well, were he not by now too accustomed to such things. Wherever single ladies found themselves in his companionship, their eager mamas proved a touch too desperate.

"I...I saw you speaking with the Prin— Lady Aria during the archery event," began Aoife.

"What?" Arthur coughed, shook himself. He'd been somewhat lost in his thoughts, specifically returning to his thoughts of Aria, when the sound of her name at his ear somewhat rattled him. Frowning deeply, he took a long draw of his cup, giving himself time to process her words.

"I--yes, well, she and I...We--" He was about to claim they were friends. But were they? He was her friend, at least, but was she his? He wasn't so sure, and he couldn't blame her. "We...live together," he said, lamely, frowning. He swallowed and quickly proceeded. "We're often thrown together."

Yet, any worries flew away as she requested his assistance. Smiling with gentle reassurance, he inclined his head. "Of course," he replied, softly. "You have all always shown me only the greatest friendship here at Malconaire. I am eager to perform any likekind service I might.

He nodded softly, suddenly interest kindling in his eye. "Ahh, yes, and...Lady Aoife, when is the Lady Aria's name--feast day?"

Hearing her request, Arthur smiled softly. "Of course," he replied softly. He would have been happy to perform the service for her, had it been for someone else, but it being something which might please Lady Aria made him all the prouder to perform the errand. "I should be delighted to do so. But, please, there is no debt or--" he shook his head, an idea occurring to him.

"If there is, then, might I ask that my lady speak to my brother, Prince Sebastian, tonight? I believe he is quite exhausted from his exertions in the tournament, and I know that your kindness would see to his comfort in moments. There is no one better to distract him. He speaks so highly of your kindness, you know. Would you mind doing that for me?"

But now it was Arthur that Aoife was observing and he seemed a bit caught off guard when the former Princess's name had been mentioned. The moment was fleeting, however, as Prince Arthur smiled kindly and agreed to her request Aoife felt sad, suddenly, when Arthur asked when Aria's feast day fell. She knew Aria would never have wished for any sort of celebration to take place under the eye of Roderick Varmont, but thinking of her old friend trapped in the place she'd once called home... alone on her own feast day, not surrounded by her friends. At lease Aria had her sister there with her.

"Here, in Astaira, her feast was on the holiday we called Yule... I think you-- your family, I mean-- may celebrate the same day? The longest night in winter? There was always a large celebration at the Stafford Citadel for Yule, and Ar-- Lady Aria... she never wanted much fuss made on her behalf."

Aoife, herself, felt the same during her own feast day in the late months of summer, but it had always been for all the years she could remember being friends with Aria that they'd always fond little trinkets for one another to celebrate their day. "I...," Aoife paused to think of how best to phrase her next words. "The Staffords were never much for personal celebrations."

Aoife was a bit surprised by Arthur's request at a way she might repay his favor. Her eyes drifted from Arthur down the table where Sebastian had been seated at quite a distance from the rest of his family. It seemed very odd that a Prince, even not one of the potential heirs to the throne, be say quite so far from the head of the table. Sebastian, of course, did not seem to mind.

"Of course," Aoife turned her gaze back to Arthur. "Though I hardly would consider that returning the favor as I do always enjoy speaking with your brother..." Aoife's gaze turned down to her plate then, feeling that her face might be flushing slightly. She wondered, then, if Sebastian might have told his brother is was Aoife who'd given him her favor before the archery tournament. She, herself, had not told her sisters-- though all of them had been pre-occupied throughout the tournament and something as trivial as a ribbon seemed very unimportant.

Almost as if Arthur might be able to know her thoughts, he brought up the tournament then. Aoife looked up again, smiling slightly. "Yes-- yes, I do agree, Your Highness. I will confess that I, myself, may not be the most knowledgable about what makes one a great warrior but..."

"He beat Kale," Aoife thought to herself, thinking back to the archery tournament. Aoife could not mention this, of course-- it hadn't been Kale Brennan competing in the tournament that day.

Aoife sat on a carved stone bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap, the soft blue of her gown making her look like something from a painting. Sebastian paced a few steps away, his cloak shifting with each turn. His movements seemed tempered and careful, as though he was afraid of disturbing the calm that seemed to follow her.

“You said yesterday you had something you wished to ask me,” Aoife said, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was quiet, but it carried enough warmth to make his chest ache. “What was it?”

Sebastian stopped pacing, meeting her eyes. For a moment, he saw it all—the words he had been rehearsing for months, the way her hand might feel in his, the life he could imagine if she said yes. All thoughts of how his father might react to it, tucked too far away to consider.

But then he saw the trust in her gaze, the ease of her company, and the terrible thought struck him: if he asked, and if she didn’t feel the same, he might lose this friendship that had become the brightest part of his days. He swallowed, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It was… nothing urgent. A matter for another time.”

Her brows knit in gentle confusion. “You seemed quite serious about it.”

“I was,” he admitted. “But I realized it could wait.” He glanced away toward the trellises, pretending to study the roses. “You’ve enough to think about without my… questions.”

Aoife rose from the bench, stepping closer so that her skirts brushed against his boots. “You know you can tell me anything ... especially if something is troubling you.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice betraying the weight of what he wasn’t saying.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Sebastian cleared his throat and offered her his arm. “Shall we go in? It’s getting cold.”

She hesitated before taking it, a faint, puzzled smile on her lips.

As they walked back towards the house, Sebastian felt the question burning on his tongue—but he bit it back, telling himself there would be another moment. Another evening. Another chance.

so kate the great and i went kinda nuts in disco and i thought i should record it here to make it searchable for when we inevitably are scratching our heads tryna remember what we said...

note (smth i meant to say at the time and just realized while posting this that i ~didn't say): re godfrey's interest in uncle lonan, i think its partially bc of his seemingly addled state??? like, if he asked ~brigit for example 'hey what'll happen if i incite the apocalypse?' or whatever she'd be able to be like 'yo this guy's thinking abt inciting the apocalypse' whereas lonan is more likely to try to warn ppl saying smth like 'lo! the moon shall devour the earth as the forsaken spring from their prison' or whatever and sure that's godfrey's sigil ~and plan but like????? itll certainly take a lot more time for ppl to puzzle out the intricacies of ~that one than brigit's alksdjfkdsf also also ngl i like the opportunity for godfrey to ~get advice he misinterprets MUAHAHAHAHAA

(esp bc she does ~know and ~trust most of the resistance members ~anyway...)

ive hit the ~only 30 images allowed per post thing right as ive come to the end of what we said!

kate aa:

Oh ngl I defffff had it on my head that she was!!!! And like she’d pick foggy days so they’re hidden and have rebels climb the trees and shriek and moan and hurl things etc to spook any varmont troops who might be nearby and like circulate villagers to send their best storyteller to hang out to the tavern where the most varmonts hang out and tell the scariest stories ~abt the guardians and witches — she has a v ‘if they fear us, let them. We’ll make the most of it’ kinda pov I think after all that. So spin the ghastliest takes from of old and tell some new ones too as if they’re real, really stoke their fears. Use props and effects just like she used to on Cassimir for effect like Blackbeard using smoke and fires to create an image that ppl still fear today. I also think she probs believes she’s the last living malconaire and she’s def like ‘of us all — why me??’ But she takes her duty srsly so she’s gonna use everything she’s got and I def don’t think she has a ~ton in common w commander Lorcan but the ability to use perception abd the unexpected to her advantage? She’s got that in spades!

anyway i ~did look up 'child of oak' according to goggle translate its "leanbh darach" and according to google ai its either '"leanbh darach" or or "cailleach na dealrach" (male or female)' both being worrying sources...who can say lakjsdfkjlsdf

so here's what we get when i used the advanced search feature in behind the name searching for any irish tree/oak/woods related names:

Darach m Irish Means "of oak" in Irish, from the genitive case of dair.

Daragh m Irish Anglicized form of Dáire or Darach.

Darragh m Irish Anglicized form of Dáire or Darach.

Eoghan m Irish, Irish Mythology Possibly means "born from the yew tree", from Old Irish eó "yew" and the suffix gan "born". Alternatively, it might be derived from the Latin name Eugenius. It was borne by several legendary or semi-legendary Irish figures, including a son of the king Niall of the Nine Hostages.

Íomhar m Irish Irish form of Ivor.

Ivor m Irish, Scottish, Welsh, English (British) From the Old Norse name Ívarr, which was probably derived from the elements ýr "yew tree, bow" and herr "army, warrior". During the Middle Ages it was brought to Britain by Scandinavian settlers and invaders, and it was adopted in Ireland (Irish Íomhar), Scotland (Scottish Gaelic Iomhar) and Wales (Welsh Ifor).

Macdara m Irish, Old Irish Means "son of oak" in Irish. This was the name of a 6th-century saint from Connemara.

Owen 2 m Irish Anglicized form of Eoghan.

Rowan m & f Irish, English (Modern) Anglicized form of the Irish name Ruadhán. As an English name, it can also be derived from the surname Rowan, itself derived from the Irish given name. It could also be given in reference to the rowan tree, a word of Old Norse origin (coincidentally sharing the same Indo-European root meaning "red" with the Irish name).

EDIT (accidentally hit post smdh)

ronan, after seeing him w aoife: sebastian! your days are numbered!!

roderick: *slaps sebastian the next day*

ronan: am i witch? did i curse him????

jk jk but yeah frankly ronan ~does have it out for him now alkjsdfkjsdjfk