it was enchanting to meet you

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE VISCOUNT TARAN AND VISCOUNTESS EILONWY OF PRYDAIN ARE PROUD TO PRESENT THEIR CHILD, THE HONOURABLE GWENDOLYN DALLBEN ANDERSEN, FOR THE UPCOMING SOCIAL SEASON. WE HEAR THEY’RE ANALYTICAL AND POISED, BUT CAN ALSO BE OVERBEARING AND PERFECTIONIST. AND IT’S SAID THEY BARE A REMARKABLE RESEMBLANCE TO KAT MCNAMARA, BUT THAT’S MERELY A COINCIDENCE. WE’RE SURE THEY’LL CAUSE QUITE A STIR IN THE TON THIS YEAR, BUT ONLY TIME WILL TELL.

name: Gwendolyn Dallben Andersen

age: 22

parents: Taran and Eilonwy

homeland: Prydain

gender: ciswoman

sexuality: heterosexual, heteromantic

relationship status: married to Lark Andersen

“Quite,” he said in response to her comment on traffic. “This place is just too bloody small for all these people.” The last comment was said in more of a murmur. In Lark’s experience, places and events such as this were prime grounds for thieves and ruffians to play. The soldier in him spent too much time suspiciously watching others than enjoying what was happening around him, a bit of a difference to his wife who seemed to be more apt to take in the sights and festivities around them. In a way his vigilant mind gave him a distraction from the discomfort of their forced interaction. It wouldn’t be right for them to ignore each other when out in public following their wedding… Lark quietly awaited the day that this whole thing was no longer fresh and they didn’t have to keep up the facade too often. How long do newlyweds bask in their nuptials? One month, two? Soon enough they could try and lead a more decently normal life semi separately. Well, sort of… If he succeeded in impregnating Gwendolyn as soon as possible then they would change focus to a child.

Oh Lark desperately hoped that Gwendolyn would be with child soon. It was the one thing they both seemed to be on the same page on — his wife desired a baby and he wanted to be a father sooner rather than later. Perhaps it would be the common ground that could actually unite the pair, or at lease help make sense of their predicament. He wanted desperately to make her happy, even if he was absolutely clumsy at going about it. He didn’t want her to spend a lifetime resenting him for their arrangement. He thought this would be the way, and so he hoped she’d be pregnant soon. It would also mean he didn’t have to awkwardly copulate with her so often, an act that despite being consensual brought him a great amount of shame after.

His mind pulled away from thoughts of small feet pitter pattering upon their townhouse floors towards Lady Andersen as she brought up what she’d desired to do. He had noticed the intricate braided hair many women were sporting at the festival — commonplace here but not in fashion back home. It had not surprised him in the least to hear she wanted to share in the style, it was practically expected of every woman in attendance, and he opened his mouth to agree to her request when she mentioned that she could see to it later. She didn’t want to burden him with waiting on her. Lark frowned at that.

There was a sore point in their relationship, since that first night of their married life, which really stuck out at him. Gwendolyn seemed all too eager at times to please Lark, almost to the point where she seemed upset with him if he in turn made decisions he felt were more to her benefit. He still thought back to their ridiculous argument over who was to bathe first at the inn that first night of their married life. To the subtle hints that Gwendolyn was not fond of him putting her first. He didn’t understand it. He was not a selfish person by nature. Not consciously. There were always others whose needs he put before his own — his parents, his sister, his men, this whole bloody kingdom. He didn’t know how to relent to her wanting to see to his needs first. He didn’t think he’d ever.

Lark gave her a small smile, shaking his head softly. “You forget, my lady, that I grew up with sisters. I’ve spent many a time patiently sitting while a lady prims. It would not bother me in the slightest.” He tried to be agreeable. He tried to be less commanding and more thoughtful. Because that’s what he thought his comment reflected — the ability to see that she desired to do something and he would not stand in her way. But he didn’t want to deny her a chance to be a caretaker, if that’s what she wanted. So he silently thought for a moment before conceding, “But yes, I do find myself a bit peckish. Perhaps I can escort you to the braiders and see to these pastries while they are at work on your hair? Then I can return with refreshment for us both.” It seemed a reasonable compromise, slightly offered because he had the minor inkling that Gwen may desire a moment’s reprieve from his company. “But of course, if you wish to eat first then we can always go together. Whtever you desire,” he added, deciding to give her the chance to choose. Surely she couldn’t be upset with him for being so accommodating…. Right?

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Gwen tried not to allow a frown to cross over her features at his words, instead softly speaking, hoping he would just accept her own opinion and not think she was challenging him in any way. “I think it feels quite cozy, actually. Comfortable even.” She picked up a handmade coin purse from a nearby stall and let her eyes take in the detailed stitching. “And we have had no excuse to see such beautifully crafted work back in the city. I think the festival is quite the treat.” Especially after numerous days hold up in a home with only her new husband and their staff. Gwen was relishing in all the sights, sounds and people. 

As Lark spoke and discussed their possible options, Gwen put the coin purse back down on the table, sent the owner a kind smile, and turned back to her husband. “The first option sounds more reasonable. I can sit and the girls can work on my hair while you search for some food, and hopefully by the time you’ve found your way back to me, they will be almost finished and we can continue to look around.” She wasn’t in dire need for food at the moment, and could certainly wait for Lark to return before eating. Besides, her hair was long and thick and she knew if he waited with her the entire time while they braided, there was no doubt he would grown bored. This was not going to be quick.

When Lark held his arm out for her, Gwen took it with a smile. To any passing person, it might look as if the newly married couple was still navigating the fact that they could now openly talk, touch and be affectionate in public. But instead, it was still just two strangers attempting to play husband and wife. 

The reaction was not at all what he was suspecting. It was normal for people to suggest to Sevastyan to “go somewhere private” to enjoy one another physically. A small part of him thought that his worth practically amounted to that – being a warm body for someone to take pleasure from. Of course he didn’t really mind the idea, he didn’t think himself a very smart or clever man so why be bothered by what was presumably among one of his only talents? With all that in mind, it didn’t seem such a strange concept for him to be sought out strictly for a quick dalliance in a closet. So to say he was shocked by the woman’s near-shout and covering of her face would be an understatement. 

Luckily he was good humored and not easily saddened by rejection. Without meaning to, Sevastyan let out a booming laugh, his body reacting to the hilarity of the moment. He leaned so far back, laughing without abandon, that he’d nearly tripped on a bucket, catching himself on a shelf before he could hurt himself. That wouldn’t do, not when his dick was almost spilling out. “Oh my, forgive me, madame,” he laughed, already moving to refasten the flap on his britches. Nothing naughty had been hanging out, he wasn’t sure why she was so content on covering her face. He wondered if her face were as red as her hair under there. Admittedly he was proud of the moment if just for that cute mental image. “This is highly unusual,” he started, still chuckling though it was much quieter now, “Normally such an invitation comes with the territory. Sincerely, I apologize to your ladyship for misreading.” He was smiling widely, amused clearly. 

All fixed up, he waited until the woman’s eyes were upon him again, registering what she was looking for and her apology. He held up a hand and shook his head with a little tut, “No, no, there is no need to apologize. Life is full of misunderstandings. Trust me, it’s better to just laugh if off and carry on.” He clearly didn’t care anymore, going to open the door and lead the lady out. “Yes, sitting down sounds like a wonderful idea – You look like you could use a glass of water, ma cherie. After you,” he had a puckish grin on his face as he bowed humbly and allowed the woman to pass him. 

It was as they were moving to a seat, Sevastyan waiting until a worker finally showed up and asking for drink for him and the lady. During that moment he finally realized where he recognized her from, and tipped his head with another jovial grin lighting up his face. “Now I know where I’ve seen you – you just got married a fortnight’s past. To that rugged sea captain… Andersen, correct?” He pursed his lips as he attempted to recall her husband’s face, but all he could conjure up was a ridiculously tall figure with dark hair like his own. He couldn’t recall if he found the man handsome himself, perhaps a little too similar in looks to himself to think so.

“It’s very sweet to hear of such a devoted wife, one willing to follow a man she rarely knows to seek out his ‘guidance’, but surely you know that what you sought me out for is still rather unorthodox. What might the captain think of his pretty little darling asking a scoundrel like me for advice? I do hope he doesn’t have a penchant for pistols at dawn, cherie. I quite like my body unscathed and not littered in bullet holes.” He raised a brow at her, flashing a curious little smirk. “Now, right onto the point – Whatever can I help you with, m’lady? What was it you said back there? Oh yes, you wish to… properly please him?” 

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His response was not what she expected, but she supposed she should be thankful that the Prince merely laughed at their mutual confusion. She knew that there were men out there that would not laugh, and she was thankful he was not one of them. “I apologize as well,” she said with her eyes closed. “I should have made my intention clear.” It seems they had both misinterpreted each other and now were in an awkward predicament. Thankfully the Prince collected himself and when he was descent, the two found their way to the dining area of the building.

Taking a seat across from him at the table, Gwen smiled at the waiter who brought over a glass of water for her. She wasted no time picking up the glass with both hands and taking a large sip. Perhaps too unladylike for the general public, but considering what has just transpired in the closet, and what she was about to discuss with the Prince, she was allowed a sip this large.

When he mentioned her recent nuptials, the redhead gave a soft smile and a nod. Setting the glass down on the table, she spoke. “Yes, we just returned from our Honeymoon, you see, and...” she paused, nervous to speak of such things with a stranger (an acquaintance at most). “Forgive me, I do not know how to put this delicately.” She explained, brushing a loose hair out of her face. Looking around the room, making sure they were alone, Gwen took another long drink before continuing. “Prior to my husband I had never... lied with a man before. And that has caused for some awkwardness between the two of us, specifically within our bedroom. My husband is a gentlemen but it seems he’s almost afraid he’ll break me if he touches me, taint me in some way. And the topic is not one that is comforting to speak of, so he educated me as I would have hoped.”

She didn’t know why she was telling him all of this. Perhaps it was because she was nervous and found herself unable to filter through her thoughts properly. Instead, was just letting them all come out. “It feels as if he is going through the motions, both of us are. I want a child desperately, and this feels a means to an end. But instead of getting closer to him, I feel this could be pushing us farther apart.” 

Sevastyan was rarely irritable or moody. It was one of those facts which people seemed to love about the faerie prince. He was more often than not jovial and fun loving and full of mirth. That was the normal Sevastyan, but lately things were a tad different. It was nearly a month and this bitter argument with Silverbell raged on, worsened only by the news of one of their pixies disappearing. He hated that it was leaked to the paper — he was trying to handle it himself, quietly and with great attention as a regent would do. Now it was out there for others to judge him over and he hated how Silver found out that way. Normally she was his closest confidant, first to know anything, but things were all out of sort between them. He despised the growing rift between them but was too stubborn to extend the olive branch, and he was beginning to fear that things would never go back to being the same again.

It was that rather depressing thought which colored his typically happy go lucky spirit, dimming his shimmering aura and causing the prince to mope about. This wouldn’t do — he was at a festival for Gods’ sake. He should be enjoying himself. He wanted to be. So he needed to shake off Silverbell and the memory of their most recent spat. To Sev, there was no better way to forget about the problems with a current lover than falling into the arms of a new one. That was his plan of action when he’d descended upon the festival in the later afternoon, near evening. He was seeking a warm body for his bed, or just some kind of distraction from the ache in his soul. There had to be someone in all of Corona who would fall easily into his arms for stolen moments of pleasure. He was sure of it. So off he went, waltzing through the streets and vendors, hoping to catch the gaze of someone beautiful.

He didn’t get far before he felt a presence approach him. A gentle call of his title caused Sevastyan to turn away from a broad shouldered gentleman selling vaguely phallic looking fruits and vegetables, eyeing each other whilst the merchant stroked a cucumber in a deliciously obscene way, and to turn around towards a petite redhead. Well, this wasn’t a bad distraction either, or so he thought as his gaze took in her pretty little face and flame colored hair. His smile broadened as he tilted his head, humming, “Mademoiselle,” in a greeting before the other spoke. He tried to place the woman when she brought up his party but his memories were vague and admittedly he couldn’t recognize her. There were so many people there, it was hard to distinguish. But she did have a vague air of familiarity to him. He wondered if maybe they slept together before, which wouldn’t be surprising but not great given he couldn’t place her. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, we aim to entertain after all,” he said with a warm smile, hands folding behind his back.

Sevastyan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at her words. It was so soon into their interaction and she was already requesting more privacy? He didn’t even have to waste time flirting. With an easy going smirk, he looked around them momentarily, seeking a place to be alone. His eyes barely skimmed over a swinging sign for an inn a block away and the grin grew. “Yes, I think I can arrange for that. Shall we?” He offered the woman his arm to lead her, catching sight of a wedding band on her dainty hand. Married? Well that would make this extraordinarily exciting.

Quietly he lead her away from the public street to the quiet little inn which was very empty at the moment. Everyone was outside, enjoying the food and festivities elsewhere, not wanting to sit in the dining room of a public house. There wasn’t even a worker around. So Sevastyan didn’t feel terribly bad pushing his way into a small but not overly cramped broom closet, closing the door behind them and turning to the mystery redhead. “I hope you don’t mind close quarters,” he said his hands going to his waist to unfasten the buttons on the top flap of his breeches. Within seconds the flap was hanging down, a hole exposed towards the woman and the prince about to reach inside to grasp his cock. He wasn’t ready for a tryst but he could work up to it. “We can start in here and get a room in a moment, if you’d prefer a bed.” Not even for a second had Sevastyan thought he could have been misreading the situation, so certain this woman wanted him physically. What else could she mean by ‘guidance’?

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The prince seemed kind enough. Perhaps a bit of a flirt, but based on what she had seen at his party, that might just be the way of the fae. That is what Gwen was telling herself as he looked at her. As he began to lead them out of the crowds. When he offered his arm to her, she politely declined, knowing how it would look for a married woman to take the arm of a man that was not her husband. No, she gave him a slight smile and clasped her hands in front of her. “Lead the way, Your Grace.”

She walked a few paces behind him, as not to draw attention. Perhaps to make it seem as they were not together. She knew how it could look, to others. And while she was not doing anything wrong, being alone with a man while married to another would always cause rumors. Which is why, when he led them into a public house and found a quiet, the red head told herself it was so there could be no prying ears or eyes stumbling upon their conversation. That was the only justification. It had to be. So she walked in first, looked around the narrow space and stepped as far away from the mop and bucket as she could. And when she looked back the Prince, she let out a gasp in shock. His pants had been undone, and she did not know whether to scream or run. She did neither, instead she covered her eyes and turned towards the wall, completely.

“You’ve mistaken my intentions, Sir!” She nearly shouted, although she kept her voice on the lower side. Incase there were patrons outside this door. Or workers. “I am a married woman and I am devoted to my husband.” Gwen explained, not removing her hand from blocking her eyes. “So devoted, in fact, I was hoping to get your advice on how to... properly please him.” If she had been embarrassed about bringing up the subject, that had left the second he had almost taken his pants off in front of her. “Please, I ask you to dress yourself in a presentable manner so we can continue our talk. When I asked for guidance, that was exactly what I was looking for.”

Her husband had stepped away to see to his sister, and Gwen let out a small sigh of relief. And seconds later she felt guilty. She shouldn’t feel at ease being alone and away from her husband. That was the opposite of how it should go. But things were still just so tense, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was her fault. Perhaps... perhaps if she learned how to please him, in all matters of the word, he would begin to calm down around her. And in turn, she could do the same. But how... how could she do that? Lark did not speak to her about such things, and it was not like she could ask her friends. She was the first married out of them all, in fact it would be more likely they would come to her. And her mother was out of the question, so who could se turn to?

And then she had a memory. Of that Faerie Bacchanal. Of how they acted in public, no shame in sight. 

As if the Gods themselves were helping her, Gwen suddenly eye the Faerie Prince further own the path. It was as if she had no control, lost all sense of decorum and sanity, and began walking towards him. She was not sure what she was going to say when she was in front of him, but her feet were intent on getting there so she had no turning back.

when: may 26th, first day of coronan lantern festival

It had been nearly two weeks since their wedding and Lord Andersen still wasn’t used to the feeling of his wife’s hand on his arm. It felt like such foreign contact, the weight of her dainty fingers wrapped around his bicep, that Lark was unable to think of anything but it. Involuntarily his shoulders rose and his posture stiffened the moment she took hold of his arm, and he had to fight his body’s awkward reaction to make it all seem so effortless. After all, it was quite normal for husbands to offer their arms to their wives while gallivanting in public. He knew there was an expectation for how they would act and conduct themselves in the aftermath of their union, and Lark knew that he needed to continue giving the firm impression that they were a happily married couple. At least more happy than they were — he didn’t want to say they were miserable, just awkward really.

“It’s rather hot today,” he remarked, breaking a long pause of silence between the two as they walked through the crowded street festival. “Are you okay? You don’t feel faint? I’m sure we can find some refreshment if you’re not feeling well, dearest.” A nickname he’d taken to calling her when they were in the public eye, because married men did not refer to their wives by title and he still felt odd calling her by her given name. He craned his neck to look around, still towering over most of the people gathered there. “I think I see a tea shoppe ahead… would you care to stop in for a drink?” He finally turned his head towards her, looking down at the young lady beside him. The streets were so full of vendors and visitors alike, Gwen was practically being plastered to Lark’s side. Something which made him blush and look away awkwardly. Yes they had been intimate during their time away, but… Well, he still felt awkward around her. He feared he’d always feel uncomfortable near her. “Maybe we should get out of the street. It’s much too crowded here,” he murmured when he got elbowed in the rib by a merchant trying to make his way to his stall.

Lark glared after the retreating figure before turning back to his wife, trying to maneuver them both out of the way of a gaggle of rowdy kids running in their direction. As awkward and strained as things were in their marriage, Lark didn’t want Gwendolyn being knocked into or jostled by the lively crowd. She just seemed so dainty and small on his arm, and he had this natural desire to protect her. “Come,” he said softly, nodding to the side where the buildings cast a shadow and there appeared to be an unoccupied spot on the pavement. “Let’s get out of this sun and rest for a second, we’ll sooner melt at this rate.” It was so damned hot, Lark wanted to blot his own damp forehead with a handkerchief.

He used that commanding stance which he had when dealing with his men on the ship, when he wanted then to part ways for him, standing taller and more intimidating than usual, so he could usher his petite wife through the masses and to a comfortable place in the shade swiftly. If he was uncomfortably hot, maybe she was likewise needing a reprieve? “Goodness, is it always this busy?” he asked Gwendolyn with a furrowed brow. He hadn’t been to a Coronan Lantern Festival since he was seventeen and even then he swore it wasn’t this overwhelming. He couldn’t relax until they were standing in the shade, a protective hand moving to pat the small one holding onto his arm. Yes, he was awkward with her, but… he still cared enough to ensure her comfort when he could. “Is this better for you as well? Let’s take a moment to cool down before we walk more.. unless there is something you wish to see sooner?”

@gwendolynandersen

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If she were being honest, Gwen had been looking forward to attending the Coronan Lantern Festival since they’re second day on their Honeymoon. It was not that she did not like to be around her new husband... it was just, none of this felt natural. When she was a young girl imagining being a new wife, she always assumed every day with her husband would be a gift. In the truest sense. They’d discover new things together, make memories and it would always be a surprise. But one that they could enjoy together, that made her smile with glee. Instead, with Lark, nothing felt natural. It felt stiff and forced and she was constantly second guessing every choice she made. Everything she said. They had not fallen in love, this was no natural marriage. And because of that... well she did not wish to do anything to disappoint him. And surely she could not ask him about it, so she smiled and tried to do what she knew was expected of her.

But being alone in their home together, for weeks, was uncomfortable. She felt as if she were suffocating every day that she woke up. In fact, the only moment of peace she seemed to feel was when she was bathing. So she called for a bath every night now, right before they both retired. So the lantern festival, the idea of being around other people and places and sounds, it was thrilling. She could just enjoy what was in front of her, and for once not thinking too deeply about what she should be doing.

She was currently going to part from her dear husband and look at some of the art the local vendors were selling, when he began to speak. The weather, something simple and easy to converse about. But he seemed to be talking himself in circles. So concerned about the heat and how it might be effecting her that she hadn’t been able to tell him that she was quite comfortable, before he pulled her off into the shade. But she would not complain. Would not frown. No, she was to think of his needs.

“I am sure they see the most traffic this time of year. I expect this is a very profitable event for the city.” She stated, hazel eyes focusing on all that was around them instead of Lark. Lord Andersen. He was not Lark yet, not to her. They might share a bed but, using his name felt too informal. When he asked if there was something she was hoping to do, at first Gwen was going to dismiss her thoughts. She was going to say they could do whatever he wished. But she hadn’t come to the Lantern Festival the year prior, due to growing ill. And she wanted to enjoy this time. So instead, she told him what she wanted in the moment. “Well, I was hoping to perhaps visit the family of hair braiders. I’ve seen some exquisite work just on the streets alone, and I feel it could be so festive. But, I can visit them sometime later. I’m sure you do not want to watch that.”

Clasping her hands in front of her, Gwen began to look around for a potential join activity. “Are you hungry, at all? I’ve heard there are some delicious pastries being sold a few streets down.”

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Emma could not have been more thankful to be called out to tea by Gwen that afternoon.

Things in the Perrault Castle had been tense, at best, over the last few days and Emma was still repeating Baxter’s parting words to herself even though he was long gone. She wasn’t sure when her life had gotten so complicated, but she longed for the days when she and her closest friends would gather for tea and idle chit-chat.

The tea portion had not taken long to accomplish, Emma letting hers sit for a moment or two so as to not be scalding. The chit-chat… well, pleasantries aside, the two had been sitting in comfortable semi-silence as they settled in. Emma was just about to speak up and inquire after Gwen’s family when out of the blue some truly shocking news was delivered, and the girl had to coach her expression into that of surprised-yet-pleased-near-neutrality.

“Wow,” Emma allowed herself to say, remaining silent as Gwen continued yet letting a certain amount of joy for her friend creep into her face.

There was something about Gwen’s wording, however, that was… admittedly concerning.

“Congratulations! Simply name the date, time, and location and I will be in attendance. You know that I would never miss such a momentous occasion for you,” Emma insisted, carefully moving her cup of tea out of the way so that she could take Gwen’s hand from across the table.

The careful drop in volume of her voice that came next underscored a notable shift in the tone of the conversation, but it was slight enough to not draw the attention of any passersby (not even, she hoped, the omniscient Lady Chattermore).

“You know that I want nothing for you but true happiness, and if Lord Andersen is that for you then you have my full support. But Gwen… is he? Are you happy? Is this what you want?”

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Gwen knew it would be hard to convince the Ton that she and Lark were in love, but even harder to convince her close friends. She was a terrible liar, and the one thing she had been told in order to seem as truthful as possible, was to stick to the truth as much as she could. So she plastered a smile on her face and nodded her head. “Very happy.” She brought her cup of tea back to her lips to take another long sip before speaking. 

Stick to the truth. “You know our mothers have been attempting to arrange a union between our families since Lord Andersen and I were young. And for a long time I did not think it was a possiblity... marriage. He was gone for so long and it was hard to differentiate between the boy he was and the man he is. But...” she sighed softly, trying to gather her words, and ignore the truth she felt in the pit of her stomach. 

“We reunited again at your fete. And since then we’ve seemed drawn to each other at every event since. We’ve grown separately, but I think that was necessary for us to get to where we are at now.” Bringing a hand up to lightly brush a red curl away from her face, she didn’t allow herself to hesitate as she answered Emma’s last question. “So yes, this is what I want. I’ve wanted to run my own home for years, to have a family and be a mother. It is something I’ve dreamed of for years, and I am thrilled that it is finally happening.”

Deciding it was best to turn the attention elsewhere, to make sure she would not have to answer any questions that might give away too much information, Gwen brought up the Society Papers. “How are you doing, after the Bacchanal? I saw Lady Chattermore mentioned your name.”

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There was a complex smattering of feelings that Lyra had felt over the last few hours. Anger, sadness, fear - just about anything negative you could name it had probably crossed through her mind and left her in a state. Not only had she found out her brother was to be wed but when she had gone to seek comfort from her best friend over the matter, she had discovered him to be gone. She had done her best to come over to the Dallben’s as presentable as possible. Throughout dinner she had kept silent, answering any questions with a gentle hum or a shake of her head.

Silence, well, silence she understood. Silence was easy. For years it had been her dearest companion, her coping mechanism while the world shifted in ways she did not understand. It was during moments of stress like these that it wrapped it’s comforting embrace around her yet again.

For a moment, she contemplated keeping to her plan, to let Lady Dallben stew in the silence. As much as she did not believe this was Gwen’s fault, her brother was in distress and Lyra would rather choke on one of the delicious little desserts than see him in such pain. She had made a promise, one she intended to keep as difficult as it may prove to be.

“If I may speak out of turn,” Lyra began, “I fear that none of this is going to feel normal. My brother has spoken to me in detail about the rush of your relationship and while I have always stood behind the theory that your union would be beneficial for both parties, the suddenness, as you can imagine, has left me a bit shocked. Your entire union is a forced affair and this is not something I wanted for either of you. The child in me wishes to have seen you fall slowly in love and yet…” She sighed, “Well the ton has been unusually lively this year, hasn’t it?”

“I must confess to you however that if you are here to seek my assistance in any sort of wedding affairs, I know nothing of them. My feminine abilities lay solely in the sound of my voice. I could not use a needle so far as I could throw it.” Lyra paused, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “That was a terrible analogy; I imagine I could throw a needle very far. I hope you understand my point though. The best I can offer you is the same support I give my brother and the promise that if pressured I will stand by the assertion that I knew of your secret courtship.”

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As Lyra started to speak, Gwen felt her stomach fall into a pit of nerves. She and the youngest Andersen had always been cordial, they were a few years off in age and Gwen was much more restrained than the younger girl, but they still had a comfortable relationship. But what if the younger girl did not agree with the rushed marriage. She knew that the Andersen siblings were close and she could only imagine Lyra was protective of her brother, so who is to say she wouldn’t try to sabotage this engagment? Or, would just make it know to all that she was not okay with the pairing?

Gwen was already uncomfortable enough with the entire ordeal, she did not want to feel uncomfortable when around her new family members.

Sighing, the red head closed her eyes and softly wet her lips before speaking. “I am saddened to say, Lyra, I do not believe there was a chance your brother and I would have fallen in love naturally. A union between us would have always been... arranged. And while a part of me had accepted that long ago, another part, a large part, wishes to have found a love match.”

A soft chuckle left Gwen’s lips as Lyra confessed she was not the one to ask for help with wedding preparation, and the older women was glad the other had been so forthcoming. She would not let her near her dress, that was decided. “Well then, perhaps you could sing during our wedding celebration. But I do appreciate your support, it is going to be a comfort going forward.” Standing up to grab her embroidery hoop, she didn’t bother to announce that she would be working on her dress to Lyra. She was sure she could come to that conclusion herself. “Has your brother spoken to you about the marriage? Shared his thoughts? We have not spoken as much as I suspect a normal courtship might.”

~ ♔ ~

Things had been unraveling so quickly, Lark could barely keep up. It wasn’t until he heard Lady Dallben say they could marry in one week that he was suddenly listening again. It was ludicrous, the idea that their nuptials become so rushed in some thinly veiled attempt to pass off their courtship of being something that had been going on in secret for so long. He wanted desperately to protest it, but naturally his own mother was quick to agree to the scheming. Ariel was swiftly working out the plan with Lady Dallben, planning a time to meet and petition for a special license, to talk out things with her own husband after dinner. Lark wouldn’t be surprised if by dinner time Lord Dallben already had the legal papers drawn up and would be ready to present Lark with his bride’s dowry.

It was devastating to think of how fast it was all coming together. If father was here, this wouldn’t be happening, he thought bitterly. If father was here, then I wouldn’t be forced into this. But his father wasn’t there – Eric was far east at sea, checking in on the fleet. Was he even aware of his wife’s scheming? Had she any clue what she was up to? It made him sick to think about. One week. One week and his life as he knew it was long over. His eyes closed at the thought, mournfully thinking of his freedom which would soon evade him. That feeling he had when he arrived at the docks to set off again with his ship; he bottled it up and held it close to his heart, hoping the memory of it wouldn’t leave him now that he would never experience it again, at least not for a long while. That unbridled joy carried on salty winds… His heart broke knowing it would come to an end. 

He had been so absorbed in his thoughts, he had missed it when the women decided to leave the young pair alone “to talk”. He would have objected, found some way to either steal away or prevent their exit, but they were quickly gone. Lark was left alone with Gwendolyn, who he noted for what he thought was the first time was now looking at him. Her words caught him off guard. Truly he wasn’t sure what to say. If Gwen felt as though this were all a shock to her, then surely she should have known how inconvenienced he felt as well. Their feelings likely mirrored each other, except for one thing. Worrying the brim of his hand in his hands, he moved towards one of the windows of the drawing room, looking out it instead of at her, much as she had done during the majority of their time in the room so far. He was silent for a brief moment before he finally spoke up, his voice low and hollow like a broken whisper. Despite his stoic stance, he was very much emotional about the whole thing, likely conveyed through how tired he sounded.

“Were you under the influence of this… bewitched refreshment served at the party last night when we…?” he finally asked after a pause. It was a thought which had been going in his head since reading Chattermore’s exposé on the evening. Faerie trickery. It made sense, given how out of character many had acted, but… Where his time with Gwendolyn was concerned, he had some stupid hope it weren’t so. He could still recall how his heart thrummed in response to her carefree laughter, to her joy, but now he stood there with the likeliness that whatever he was falling for, whatever he’d liked in her, was now some lie. It made him feel a little sick. If it were truly her… Then it wouldn’t be so hard to twist this favorably. Wasn’t it his intention to call upon her and talk about what transpired, to see if there was something more to it? At least he could confess to having grown so fond of her in that damning moment if it weren’t due to sorcery. But with how she was reacting… Likely it was not of her own volition. Likely she wasn’t actually having as much fun with him as his memories recalled of the night before. 

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His tone of voice surprised her. He seemed, he seemed almost like he was grieving. What for, she did not know. Perhaps his freedom, his ability to be a bachelor who did not report to anyone else. But that was the thing. Even when they are married, he can do as he likes. Men can go off for weeks and she would not be expected to ask or act as if anything is wrong. But Gwen? She would be sequestered to their new home, and without someone she loves to share it? Oh how lonely.

At his questions, the girl sighed and looked out the window. Had she been affected by enchanted foods that it had caused her to lose all sense of morals and self? It was the only explanation. Gwen was not a spontaneous person. She analyzed a situation and acted as was expected of her. She did not act out of turn, did not say something incorrect, because she knew how that would look for herself and her family. So what else could explain her sudden change of heart? Why else would she have been shameless watching faerie’s act in a way that should make her blush, or jump into a fountain and pull a man inside. A man she did not know. Of course she knew Lark, had known him for years. But he had been absent for the better part of a decade. He had changed and grown and spent his formative years out at sea. This man, her future husband, could be less a Lord and more a pirate for all she knew.

Taking a breath, she answered his question. “I have no way to be sure, but I suspect I was. It is the only explanation. Otherwise I would not have acted so foolishly.” So unladylike. Her tongue peaked out to swipe and wet her lips before she spoke again. “I understand my behavior is what got us into this situation, and I am sorry for acting in such a way. I wish, deeply, for myself and you, that I could go back in time and stay home. And while I know that is not an option, the only thing I can do is apologize and take responsibility for the position we’re currently in. I promise, I will not allow myself to resemble that girl again.” That girl who for a moment felt so carefree and comfortable. Oh she wished she could be that girl again. But look where that girl had gotten her. “Do you suspect you were under the influence as well?”

the morning was bright, birds chirped. there was a hustle and bustle to nearly every street by the time she had decided to grace it with her presence. her eyes glaring into the daylight for a moment before finally walking the street with her normally timid look on her face. oh, how pretty and beautiful it all was. under her dark bonnet she had the urge to curl her lip in distaste but did not. schooled her features into the very thing the chattermore paper had said she was. so, timid and shy. they couldn’t possibly imagine that she had wanted to do nothing more than to tear the wings from the fae’s back.

would they break or crack before she disconnected them completely? would they bleed like the wings of other animals she had gotten her hands on? would they still create dust without a beating heart connected to them? the questions she had danced around her brain the entire time she watched the daughter of the blue fairy spark and twinkle little bits of magic.

it was those very thoughts that had her picking up some reading material she had found that night before sleep. if what she had, had even been considered sleep. her eyes looking over the words such as stuffing and other various phrasing. there was an art to keeping animals after they sought the afterlife. a way to keep bodies looking somewhat fresh and dare she say, alive. it tantalized her mind.

thinking of the idea that she could mount creatures. ani always offered to get her hearts. perhaps there would be ways for to keep them forever. beautiful and supple. a trick of the eye to think it could still be beating. oh, how lovely that would be. but what really had her thinking were the people that walked by her. how the clothes hung on them. draped and tailored to fight. something mounted would need to match in such a way.

it’s what had her walking into the clothing seller. she knew there was a word for it, but didn’t truly care instead, she looked to the gloves and hates. coats and cravats. the items that one would need to replicate to show real life in the dead. seemed silly and wonderful. her long nailed fingers tracing over stitching ever so slightly. she did not know how to sew, but perhaps she could learn?

her thoughts left her for a moment when the scent of a perfume she had only smelled once before, so closely. something delicate yet bright, to compliment the girl it the scent seemed to follow. ah yes, Gwendolyn. “Ms. Dallben,” she began softly in greeting. her eyes giving the girl a quick once over before she focused on her face. the cut of the dress certainly something she could recreate. “i hadn’t expected to see you here. but i must admit, it is lovely.” @gwendolyndallben​

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Gwen felt as if she had been dragged all throughout the city today. Her mother seemed to know exactly where to go to properly prepare her for her new role as Lady Andersen, but Gwen was surprised as how much she actually had to procure. They had to go get her a trousseau that would house all of her new clothes, shoes, bonnets and gloves. As well as her new jewelry that showcased her status as a Lady.

Her mother also made a comment about speaking with the her ladies maid when she got back to the townhouse. Gwen would want Mary by her side in this new adventure. She had been her maid for as long as she could remember, and it would be the small taste of home that Gwen would need to keep herself grounded. But there were a few other members of staff she’d like to ask to come with to the new home, she just hoped that would be okay with Lark and his own staff.

Sighing softly to herself as she walked through the shop fingering fabric and observing lace, the red head wished she could just close her eyes and be done with all of this. For the prep and planning to be over. 

Her mother had run off with the seamstress to plan the numerous gowns she would need made by the end of the week, and Gwen was just waiting for the appointment to be over so she could go home and lie down. Rest her feet and get to work on her dress. It was the only thing that would help clear her mind in this moment, give her something to focus on. She was looking as some beautiful embroidery floss when she heard her name. Her chest clenched when she realized she would only be Miss Dallben for a few more days.

Turning towards the voice, Gwen was surprised to see Miss Reyes before her. The two had only spoken once before, but things were polite. Polite enough that Gwen could not escape the conversation without seeming rude or as if she were ignoring Miss Reyes. “Oh, hello Miss Reyes.” Turning her gaze back to the embroidery floss, Gwen nodded. “It is, isn’t it? A beautiful color.” Letting her gloved hand drop, Gwen clasped it in her other in front of herself. “What brings you here today, Miss Reyes? Are you looking to order a dress? Or perhaps sew your own?”

Gwen sat at the tea shop with one of her close friends, and took a long sip of her tea before finally speaking. “I am to be married to Lord Andersen.” She did not know how to bring the information forward, but she wanted all of her dearest friends to know. The women who had been by her side for the past few years, trying to find their own true love with the limited options in the Ton. 

“My mother and Lady Andersen are in the process of planning the wedding itself, and my father and Lord Andersen are coming to terms with the paperwork and funds. I went into town yesterday with my mother and picked out a fabric for the gown as well as... an unbelievable amount of new dresses for when I am... Lady Andersen.” The idea in itself was still appalling. That she would be Lady Andersen, Viscountess, one day soon. Shaking her head, she continued. 

“The reason I am telling you this is well, I would love if you were to attend the wedding and the party thereafter. I should like all of you there, my dearest friends. To celebrate my most blissfully happy of days.” She let a wide smile spread on her face and wondered if her friend believed her or not. Was she able to lie about something such as this? If she were unable to convince a close friend, how was she to convince all of Auradon that this was indeed a love match?

@emma-perrault​

This has been the longest day of Gwen’s life, and she wished for nothing more than to lie down in her bed and sleep until she had to wake for this wedding. She wished to skip all the whispers and planning and fear that would surround her in the next days? weeks? she was still unsure of how long it would be. It all depended on if their parents could secure a license from the archbishop, and that alone made left a large weight in her stomach.

Her mother had invited Lark and his family over for dinner that night, and they had of course agreed to finalize any last minute planning or stories. The men had wandered off after dinner, and Gwen found herself alone in the drawing room with Lyra. Her mother had suggested Gwen ask her for help with the embroidery on her future wedding gown, but Gwen would be lying if she said she did not fear others touching her work. She did not know Lyra’s skill with a needle and hoop, and did not want an imperfection on her gown. No, she would make sure that at least was perfect.

So instead, she brought over a tea tray and some sweet desserts and decided the best thing to do would just be to talk to Lyra like any other person. Perhaps see if there was any hobby of her own that she would like to partake in. “I can call for Mary if you’d like anything else to eat,” Gwen spoke, knowing her maid would grab anything the other girl wanted. “I hope dinner was enjoyable for you.” Sitting down, Gwen clasped her hands in front of her, knowing she would fidget otherwise. Such unladylike behavior. “I... I must confess I feel a bit uncomfortable. I do not know how to make any of this feel normal.

@lyra-andersen​

He pulled the brim of his hat down, casting a dark shadow down over his face. The walk between the Andersens’ townhome and the Dallbens’ was short and yet it felt so long. Ariel and Lark had done all they could to divert attention from them as they hurried to the other home, mother and son huddled close together on the narrow paveways. It was still early, not many were out. Of course not, he thought bitterly, not when Lady Chattermore had so many damning things to say. The pamphlet which always mysteriously showed up after society events in the past couple years had been lengthier than recent publications, full of gossip and rumors about everyone who attended the prior evening’s May Day celebrations — specifically the party held by the faerie prince. It seemed everyone had acted a little out of character, and somehow fallen prey to inappropriate behavior. While Lark kept his composure, he was not spared the poison quill. It was that reason alone he scurried to the other home with the Countess of Tirulia nearly pulling him along.

“They’ll be expecting us, we do not want to keep Lady Dallben or her daughter waiting,” Ariel hummed in a low voice as they approached the door. She was already dropping his arm to reach out and delicately knock. Lark had taken the moment to gaze down the empty lane, searching for curious eyes peering out of curtains to watch the pair sneaking in disgrace. He met no one’s eyes, just an empty street and closed windows. Of course they weren’t the only ones dealing with the aftermath of a gossip rag — he figured behind other closed doors there were things being talked about, similar clean up schemes being hatched.

I hope not any quite like this.

“Lark,” Ariel’s voice pulled him from self deprecating thoughts. She quietly nodded towards the now opening door of the Dallben residence, a footman waiting patiently to lead the visitors inside. It looked dark, quiet beyond the threshold — as though no one were home. The perfect environment for scheming. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably but he nodded and crossed the space between them in a couple long strides, meeting his mother and stepping into the home. It was less quiet than he’d expected within. The home was in a flurry, the help moving to and fro, buzzing quietly to one another as they did so. When Ariel and Lark sauntered by, their whispering ceased, and the servants stared pointedly at the pair. Lark could feel a heat rising beneath his collar, blush blossoming on his cheeks and ears turned scarlet. He was never a fan of attention, and it was clear that the servants were aware of what was going on.

Were some of them assessing him as future lord of their household? Wondering who would be hired onto the Viscount’s staff once their young miss was gone to his home? Cooks and maids and butlers that knew the young lady so well that they would have to tend to her even in married life, secretly despising him for putting their darling Miss Dallben in a compromising position and forced union…. He hated the thought. He hated the thought of where this misunderstanding with Chattermore was leading him. Back on the street he was a free and single man, able to make his own decisions. Now? ……he wasn’t quite sure what he was since entering that home. “You mustn’t dally, darling,” his mother whispered behind her shoulder as Lark stayed still and stared back at a couple gossiping maids. He hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped walking. Cursing under his breath, he caught up to her just in time to be lead into a drawing room.

Just a handful of hours before, Lark had intended to come to this very drawing room himself — under slightly different circumstances. Alone, of his own free will, with nothing more than a curiosity. Following that moment in the fountain — Gwendolyn’s carefree laughter, her slender frame in his strong arms, the near kiss that happened between them — he’d been left with many questions. Questions about her. Questions about himself. Questions about them. He wasn’t sure where he’d stood when it came to her anymore. For a moment he’d thought that maybe he was in the throws of passion, falling rapidly in love with the girl he’d sworn to spurn off his whole life. Now with the faerie glamour worn away and the night’s events coming to bite him in the ass… Lark was beginning to lose that spark of intrigue he’d felt the night before. Was it all a trap? Some kind of way to tempt the Viscount into the marriage match his family so desperately wanted for him? He walked into that room today not with the buzz of potential first love… But with a rash of embarrassment and slight animosity.

He had to keep his expression stoic the second his eyes landed upon Eilonwy and Gwendolyn Dallben, ready to receive the pair. Ariel didn’t stay close to the door and unpleasantly distant as her son. As soon as they were in the drawing room and the presence of the ladies of the house, she pulled off her bonnet and crossed the space to warmly greet them. Sometime after the war she’d grown a rapport with the Viscountess of Prydain, a friendship that lead to the scheme to pair their eldest children. Gwendolyn as their only heir was a prime bachelorette in the ton, maybe even well liked and desired by other bachelors for all he knew, but Lark avoided the idea. He didn’t want a wife, he wanted to go back to the navy.

As the women greeted each other, he avoided eye contact with the young lady across the room, embarrassed by the circumstance of the meeting. Instead he was running through any last effort idea he could think of, alternate measures to the one Ariel was about to suggest. Maybe they could convince everyone that it was a heroic deed and not a salacious one — that Gwendolyn had fallen into the fountain by faerie trick and would have drown had he not gotten in and helped her, that the “near kiss” was actually resuscitation. Maybe they could turn this around and not force anyone’s hand. It’s worth a shot. The Lord cleared his throat and opened his mouth, ready to speak his idea.

“Well I believe we all know the reason we are here,” Ariel started, “Best not to dilly dally, there’s little time before Lady Chattermore’s words make their intended effect. As all parties know, something occurred last night between Lark and Gwendolyn which was witnessed and publicized by the society papers. What went on is neither here nor there, our job now is to make sure this does not lead to scandal. I believe there is a very clear solution to this, one that would save the reputation of both houses and come with a truly happy ending.” Ariel turned, smiling brightly to her son and urging him closer. Lark obeyed wordlessly, pulling off his hat and approaching the women, though his shoulders shook from panic.

She had seized the opportunity, left him with no choice but to comply with her swiftly concocted plan. She had chastised him that morning for his actions, told him that while he could get away with it there was little hope for Gwendolyn if he didn’t do right by her. She was doomed and he was safe, a tragic commentary on the way society judged women and men so differently. He could walk away an unscathed bachelor, still beloved by his peers, but she could be doomed to spinsterhood, abandoned and mocked by society. You can save her from ruin. That was her trump card, the words ringing in his head as he turned and bowed humbly to the women. His mother continued her train of thought. “Has it not been our hope that our families be joined? I believe the best option that we have on our hands… Is to commence with a betrothal, one we can convince the public has been intended all along. The love match borne from childhood, as we had tried to design it, kept a sentimental guarded secret as one party made career at sea and the other awaited their return.”

Dread consumed him as his mother spoke, driving home the plan she’d stumbled into the second she read about her son’s activities at the party. Marriage. Should this go as Ariel planned then Lark Andersen, Second Viscount of Atlantica and future Second Earl of Tirulia, would soon be announcing an engagement to the Honourable Gwendolyn Dallben of Prydain…. Just as their mothers had always intended. He swallowed thickly at the thought, blue eyes trained on the floor beneath them. “I think it suits all of us to begin discussing how to proceed in a way that will portray the innocence of the pair, should this be the best course of action in all our eyes,” Ariel concluded, a warm smile on her face despite the decidedly serious topic at hand. “What say you, Lady Dallben?” She addressed the mother, leaving the children to quietly stew in this bargain. @gwendolyndallben

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Gwen had been woken up by a shriek. The sound caused her body to involuntarily bolt up in bed, her heart beating so fast she was terrified something horrible had happened. Had her father mysteriously passed in the night? Had a violent attacker come to rob them, and decided to make an unfortunate example out of her mother for the rest of the the Ton? She did not know, but whatever caused her mother to make such a noise had Gwen leaping from her bed and ran to the drawing room on the first floor. When she threw open the door’s, she was first, surprised to see her mother completely safe and far away from a violent attacker, two, her father completely healthy and standing behind her, three, that the sun had barely started to rise, and four, the society papers between them.

And when they turned to her, the look on their faces, she knew something had transpired the night before. And she knew whatever it was, was a scandal that had to do with her.

Immediately, the red head was trying to think back to the night prior, but everything was a blur. She had just woken up, with a pounding headache, she could barely remember all that transpired the night before. Before she could ask, the butler entered the room with a piece of paper and handed it to her mother. “Lady Andersen and her son will be here shortly.” She explained, and began to gather her things, to get dressed for company, no doubt. Before Gwen could even comment on the hours of the morning and how it was far to early to have guests, her mother thrust Lady Chattermore’s Society Paper’s in her hands. “You have ten minutes, at most, to make yourself look presentable.” And then she left the room.

Gwen’s father followed moments later, shaking his head when she looked at him and giving her a soft pat on the shoulder as he past. She was shocked and confused and the only thought she had was to open up the paper’s and try to understand what was going on. It took her a matter of seconds to find her name, and at first she could not understand how dancing with a close friend of her’s could cause such a reaction. But then she kept reading, and she understood. It all came rushing back. A gasp left her own lips as the memories flooded her. The fountain. Lark’s face so near her own that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheeks. The white fabric of his shirt sheer enough to see his skin, and her dress almost the same. 

What, what had gotten into her the night before to make her act in such a manner. And if this had been reported on, if Lady Chattermore knew about it, then that meant someone had seen. There was no way out of this, no way to claim this was a lie, because someone had been there and seen what had transpired between the two. Gwen did not recognize herself as she crumpled the paper between her hands and let out a cry of anger as she threw it across the room. She knew what would happen next. Why Lark and his mother were coming over. Their mothers would have their way, as they always wished. Lark and Gwen would be betrothed, it was the only way they could spin this, and make sure she reputation was not ruined. Either way, the two would be married, and the love match that Gwen had so desperately wished and hoped for, it would never be.

She allowed herself a minute alone to cry. Hot tears left her eyes before she pulled herself together, wiped away the water form her face, and made her way to her room. She knew there was no way she would be able to pull herself together before Lark and his mother arrived. So she found a long robe and pulled it on over her nightgown. Her hair was dishelved from sleeping on it, and Gwen quickly grabbed a ribbon and began to braid it back. She let out a low yawn, her body now finally registering how early and how tired she was. Her eyes were red and puffy, from the crying or the lack of sleep she did not know, and she felt a deep anxiety settle in her stomach.

Finding her way back to the drawing room, Gwen sat down in a chair closest to the window, and let her gaze move outside. She was thankful moments later when her maid brought her some biscuits and hot milk, and she ate quietly as she tried not to think about her future.

Lark and his mother were there soon after, and after greeting them both with a smile and a quick curtesy, the girl sat back down in her chair. She allowed herself to listen to Ariel for a moment, before she let herself look back out the window. What the woman was saying was nothing new, it was everything she expected, and she did not have to listen to be proven right. Her mother would handle any decisions that were to be made, and by the end of the day Lark and Gwen would be engaged. Her life would no longer be her’s and in a matter of weeks she would be Lady Andersen. It was strange, Gwen had hoped at the beginning of the spring that this would be her last year on the marriage market, but had never expected this would be how things went. She had still been holding out hope to find... her prince in shining armor. Instead, she was getting a navy captain.

Sighing, her lifted her head back towards the rest of the room, having missed most of the conversation, yet still knowing the outcome. “...may take a few weeks to receive a marriage license, but at least what happened last night will be somewhat acceptable behavior for a man and his future wife. Perhaps we can visit the church and ask the archbishop about moving up the wedding date. It will be far move believable that this was already set in motion if the two were to marry next week.” Gwen’s eyes found Lark’s at that moment, and she found herself wanting to scream at him. To ask him to say or do something, to not sit by while their mother’s planned their futures for them. But that would not be acceptable of a young lady, so she turned back to her mother. “Gwen and I will go into town today and begin to gather everything she will need, and we can discuss everything else tonight during dinner. If the Viscount and yourself would join us, afterwards the men can go to the study and we ladies can enjoy some time in here. Gwen, perhaps you and Lyra could work on your gown for the wedding?” Gwen knew what her mother was trying to do. She understood she was trying to get her excited about the match, but she felt nothing but a pain in the back of her throat. “Why don’t we leave these two alone to talk.” 

At that, Gwen turned to her mother, with what she could only assume to be desperation in her eyes. She did not want to be alone with Lark, to speak to him and be pleasant and act as if this were the most joyous day of her life. Because it wasn’t. But the elder women left them, and soon Gwen was alone again with Lark. She took a deep breath before speaking. “Well, do you have anything to say?”

~ ♔ ~

Lark lifted a foot to brace against the ledge of the fountain as Gwen drew nearer to him, making sure he would have purchase to pull her out. Not that he worried – she was a petite thing and he was ridiculously tall and strong from his time at sea. “Of course, it wouldn’t be right to not assist,” he said casually in response to her. The smile which accompanied his words quickly vanished as she continued speaking, confusion coloring his features. As Gwen spoke of enjoying being within the fountain, her hand curled around his which suggested a desire to follow his instruction out. But just as swiftly as she gripped his hand, she began to pull. Caught off guard, the man hadn’t the chance to fight against her tug, stumbling forward over the ledge and into the icy cold water pooling within the stone fountain. He’d lost his footing almost immediately, water splashing around his ankles as he stumbled about. Gwen had quickly released him and waded away, hiding from him it seemed. Rightfully so. 

As Lark tripped forward, he carefully ducked and grasped the intricate stone statue at the center of the pool, from which tiered arching sprays of water fell from. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the stone, narrowly avoiding a collision of his forehead against a spout. Instead he ducked under the spray, water dampening his curls and matting them down flat to his head. He sputtered, spiting out the steady stream of water blinding his vision and funneling into his mouth as he stood beneath it, feeling the water quickly soak through his shirt and waist coat. The soft fabric clung to his skin, Lark going from feeling unbearably hot to freezing cold within the span of half of a minute. Carefully, he stepped back, away from the water, and pushed the curtain of wet hair blocking his eyes. 

Blinking through the water droplets rolling down his face, he stared incredulously at the woman standing at the opposite side of the fountain, a stone blockade between them. Any other lord may have lost their delicately cool facades in a moment like that, enraged to be bested or fooled by a lady and left disheveled. There were many a fop that took great pride in their appearances. Hell, Lark thought he would be irritated given how hastily he was trying to get this young lady away. Yet as Miss Dallben stood there, voice merry and full of mirth, acting so uncharacteristic of her prim and proper self…. He could not bring himself to even so much as pout. His shoulders dropped in a relaxed stance almost instantly, his eyes widening between blinks against the water streaming into them. He was thoroughly shocked…. And perhaps something else, though he couldn’t quite put his feeling on the fluttery sensation spilling into his chest and stomach. Was it…. Enjoyment? That perhaps surprised him more than the fact that she had literally pulled him into a damned fountain. 

Gwendolyn Dallben, of all people, pulled me into a damned fountain…

Smoothing his features, Lark ran a hand over his face, attempting to wipe it clear of the water. His expression was plain, almost emotionless. He clicked his tongue before carefully shrugging off his waist coat, the drenched fabric feeling a little heavy on his shoulders. Carelessly, he tossed the article of clothing aside and laid his hands on his hips as he turned back to face her. “Miss Dallben,” he said, voice dripping in clearly faux irritation. She was right – the water was refreshing, but he was beginning to think there was something else refreshing about this moment. Perhaps it was this playful side of her he couldn’t even recall from when they were children. The idea that a young lady of her status and breeding would be here, kicking around in the fountain and laughing without abandon. It was… Thrilling, to say the least. Lark was pleasantly surprised. Sauntering a bit in her direction, he gazed at her momentarily, a twinkle of mischief evident in his blue eyes. 

“I think you’ll come to regret that,” he finally said after a beat. Without warning, Lark pounced, diving forward. His hands reached out, cupping the water between them and pushing it upwards into an arching splash in her direction. She wanted to play? He could play. “Since you’re so fond of this refreshing water, how about I help you cool off with it?” Lark called out above the sound of water splashing around them, rapidly shoving handfuls of it in her direction as he neared. He heard laughter and couldn’t figure out if it was her, him, or both, but he quickly closed in on her. Lark was half soaked from her little stunt, didn’t seem fair. to leave her unscathed now did it? “Is this helping you at all, Miss Dallben?” A hand swiped at a curtain of water between them, changing the trajectory into her general direction for the briefest of moments. 

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Her laughter rang out through the night air as she watched Lark stand under the spray of the fountain water, clearly shocked at what she had done. But could he truly blame her? He had clearly set her up for such a stunt. How could he thinks he was truly going to leave the cool water on such a hot night, to go back into the party with people she so desperately wanted to escape. It was why she often found herself alone, outside in the garden’s at parties. Because she could be with her thoughts and not have to worry about how other’s perceived her. If she was doing everything correctly and if she was saying the right thing. Somehow those worries had left her mind at this party, and it explained perfectly why she was still in a fountain.

Gwen’s red head turned back in his direction when he spoke her name, almost in an excited expectation for what was to come next. Oh what was he planning on doing? His voice held a sound of mischief and a part of her thought it was ill placed. Yes Lark was a seaman who no doubt spent his nights with rowdy men, but he seemed the picture of a perfect gentlemen as of late. What kind of games could he get up to with all the world watching him? 

It seemed the games he currently wanted to partake in had to do with tossing handfulls of water her way. A squeal left Gwen’s mouth, she had no care for how unlady like it was, or how many people could stop and stare, as she tried to run away from him. “I do believe I am at a perfect temperature Sir!” She shouted towards him, over the sound of the running water and her laughed. “But I appreciate the attempt.” Her hands came up to block her face as a large collection of cold water splashed at her face, and it was then that Gwen knew she would have to fight back. “Helping? Hmm, I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell me?” And she brought her hands down to the water in the fountain and began to toss handfulls towards him. It wasn’t the best method, as the spray was soaking both him and her. But it was fun and she found herself laughing until her lungs hurt. 

~ ♔ ~

It was a pure state of shock which anchored Lark to where he was. He figured there would be awkward pleasantries as they both scrambled to look away from each other, to make sure they were both appropriately dressed, and to float back towards the party where it was suitable for them to talk. Instead he heard a giggle, a sound he didn’t think he’d heard from Gwendolyn Dallben since they were children, and was met with Gwen’s curious eyes. He wasn’t expecting her to look at him like that, in a state of undress unbecoming of a viscount nor a future earl. And yet she did, she actually stared at him. Suddenly he became faintly aware of the skin he was showing. Not that he hadn’t shown skin before — he was a sailor for gods’ sake. Lark was normally bare chested and red from the sun while working on a ship. Yet there under the gaze of a proper young lady, he felt vulnerable and bare. And he still had clothes over his shoulders. It felt oddly intimate, for a young lady of her standing to be looking at him like that, but he did not allow his thoughts to enter such a path. He fought tirelessly against their families’ expectations of the two, and he refused to allow things to evolve in their favor. 

She accepted his apology, and went as far as to say she would join him if she could — a thought he did not wish to entertain — and mentioned her own faintness. Lark was quick, dropping the hands that attempted to quickly fasten his shirt and turning as if to run back into the manor. “I will retrieve you some refreshment,” he began to announce, because his chivalrous ways meant his first instinct was to rush to this lady’s rescue and find her a cool drink to relieve her. But before he could even take a step, she was removing her shoes and announcing her intent to get into the fountain. 

He could not think to stop her before Gwen was stepping inside, her hem dragging in the fresh water. Lark could only stare at the young woman as she walked in the damned fountain, going as far as to invite him to join her. It was ludicrous, surely this was a joke. He began to wonder if Lyra had put her up to this, dared her to go outside and act completely uncharacteristic of her more prim and proper self solely to mess with him. Standing there, looking somewhat disheveled in his semi open shirt and waist coat, blue eyes wide and watching Gwendolyn Dallben wade through the fountain water, he was overcome with a curious feeling bubbling deep in the pit of his stomach. A tender curiosity, a spark of something warm and fuzzy. Was he endearing himself to this free spirited Gwendolyn, surely an imposter sent to torment him? 

Tentatively, and almost involuntarily, Lark took a step forward, coming that much closer to the edge of the fountain. In just a couple short strides he would be in the water with her, but he’d stopped short. “Miss Dallben,” he sputtered, searching for the right words to say. He shook his head, grounding himself again, and realized all too quickly that this was not a very appropriate situation to be in. Squeezing his eyes shut, the red faced man reached out to feel the edge of the fountain and turned his body away, taking a seat on the ledge with his back facing towards her. “This is highly irregular, miss. It is perhaps better for you to get out and put your shoes back on. I… I can fetch you some water if that could help?” He felt an odd mix of embarrassed and yet somewhat excited by this. He was never one to shy from adventure but he knew that there was still a level of decorum that needed to be held. And besides, hopping into a fountain at a society party wasn’t exactly an adventure… But it sure did sound fun. 

He groaned into his palm as he ran a hand down his face. He was hot. Unbearably so, but he though the sudden spike in his body temperature wasn’t just because of the May weather. There was something oddly exciting about this peculiar, and likely drunk, Gwendolyn. And perhaps she was right, perhaps getting in there with her would be better relief than sitting there getting lightly sprayed by the fountain’s water falls. No, it’s not proper, Lark. He sighed, moving to stand and angling his body back towards her but keeping his eyes pointed away from her. Partly because of the irregularity of the situation, but also because he had the smallest inkling that should he look at her so free and fun, he may not want to look away again. “Come, I can help you out, Miss Dallben,” he said kindly, offering a hand should she need it.

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The moment she stepped within the cool water of the fountain, Gwen let out a sigh of relief. The summers often got so dreadfully hot in Auradon City. Unbearable, and the girl often wished to be back home during this time of the year, if only for the cool breeze and rain that frequented Prydain. As she closed her eyes and threw her head backwards, the soft spray coming from the top of the fountain to lightly caress her hair and skin, she let herself believe she was back home. Back home with the cool breeze and the green grass and roaming hills, that could turn from a clear sky to dark clouds in a matter of minutes. Back home where the autumn months were full of warm colors and crisp air.

Of course the moment was broken as Lark Andersen spoke, his voice reminding her that was most definitely not within the roaming hills of her homeland, and instead within a fountain at a fae manor. Opening her eyes, she looked at him with a soft curve of her lips. “I do not need any water at the moment, Mr. Andersen, as the water from the fountain has done quite the job of cooling me off.” And in that moment, an idea sparked. She knew Mr. Andersen felt just as warm and uncomfortable as she had mere moments before. Enough that he had been using the water from the fountain to cool off before she had joined him in the night air. So, why not use that water to continue to do such. As he held out his hand and spoke of helping her out of the fountain, the red head moved to grasp his had in her own “How kind of you to offer to help me out. But I do believe I quite enjoy it in here. It’s refreshing. In fact,” and without warning she stepped back, pulling him forward so he would have to walk within the water with her. “Perhaps you should join me. You look as though you could use some cooling off yourself.”

A loud laugh escaped her lips once he joined her within the fountain, and while it was not large, she quickly let go of his hands and took off to the other side. Her hands grasped the center of the fixture, allowing herself some leverage and momentum to get there faster, just incase he felt like chasing her for her little stunt. “You see, Mr. Andersen, the water is just so refreshing!” Her voice was loud and melodic from the laughter that continued to spill out from it. “I know you will be thanking me momentarily!”