it’s not a lake—it’s an ocean

Marian had never been to a party she hadn’t liked…until now.

It wasn’t the sort of party where everyone guzzled liquor until they entered a maddened frenzy, which Marian had never been to, but suspected she would not be comfortable at. It wasn’t a grand ball, with all the highest-ranking people in the land in attendance wearing their finest garb; that could have its pitfalls, but Marian’s parents had taught her how to avoid those pitfalls, and so Marian usually quite enjoyed the finery, feasting, and dancing. This was just a dinner party, hosted by her father-in-law, Alvin Mercer, for his mother, his sisters, and their families, as well as his own immediate family. However…how to put this politely…

However, it was a dinner “party” only in name. “Dinner battle royale” felt like a more apt term.

No one was physically fighting. No one was even verbally arguing. Nevertheless, the feeling of a battle was still there, as the family (particularly the older generation- Alvin, his sisters Margaret and Cordelia, and their mother Mara) took turns boasting about their lives and taking digs at each other, while still maintaining a polite facade. It had been instigated by sister Margaret- or rather, Aunt Margaret, as she’d so sweetly told Marian to call her at the wedding (right before heavily implying that she was doing Marian a favor, by being so warm and accepting of a foreigner; apparently, Marian’s brother Micheal wasn’t the only one who had trouble accepting that Estelmar was a part of  Soltera, even though it had been so for longer than anyone in the world had been alive). As the first course was served (floating in on golden plates, enchanted to start levitating as soon as Alvin clapped), Aunt Margaret had purred, “Oh, how adorable! Are those a Frimeur creation?” 

“They are from an up-and-coming enchanter in Terdaurum, actually,” Alvin had replied, his tone that of someone barely restraining their smug pride, and his eyes those of someone barely restraining their homicidal urges. 

“Ahhh, up-and-coming. Yes, that is your usual crowd, isn’t it? People of their own invention. You are so- so ahead of so many in the Upper City. The poor dears, so stuck in their old ways, they sometimes never accept that sort, no matter how high they climb,” Aunt Margaret had said. She had sounded disapproving, but her eyes had twinkled as she had taken a sip of her drink. 

Even Marian, brand-new to the family, had known that Aunt Margaret was flinging barbs at Alvin, who had single-handedly turned his father’s failing merchant business into a veritable empire, but who seemed he would be satisfied with nothing short of becoming part of actual royalty. She had almost felt sorry for her father-in-law, until he had said, “Yes, well, I am certain that in many cases, it is simple insecurity. Especially among the older women. It’s a pity, really. All the things they did…all the things they let be done to them…and in the end, what do they have to show? Cold beds, spoiled brats for children, and an estate they have to pretend is not falling down around their ears.”

Marian knew nothing of Margaret, beyond the fact that she had married into the Connor family, minor nobles known for their talented hunting dogs. However, judging by the homicidal look in her eyes, Alvin’s barb had struck true. And so it had continued in that fashion for the rest of dinner, and during the post-dinner dessert and drinks in the parlor. Marian had met passive-aggressive people before; as a noblewoman with a sun allergy in a culture that placed so much importance upon the sun, she had heard her fair share of backhanded remarks; yet the Mercers showed a mastery of unpleasantness that made all other instances that Marian had witnessed seem like children playing pretend. Tension and outright hatred radiated off of nearly everyone in the room, so intense that Marian half-expected to be physically burned. Even Alvin’s pet amphiptere Trophy (dragged in in a gilded cage and then released, presumably to serve as the thing she’d been named for) hissed and spat as she slithered about. The only ones not joining in were Marian’s sisters-in-law, Theophonia and Aurora. Theophonia, in her twenties and very pregnant, was acting far ditzier than Marian had ever known her to be when the two of them were alone; she was the epitome of sweet but naive, seemingly not catching the undercurrents of anything that was said to her (though her husband, Albus, clearly was, and he seemed determined to avenge his wife tenfold). 13-year-old Aurora, on the other hand, spent the entire evening being very quiet and still, as though she believed her relatives couldn’t see her if she didn’t move.

Marian was confused by Theophonia, and she pitied Aurora, but that confusion and pity paled in comparison to the dismay she felt over her husband, Lucian. He had taken longer to join in, had started off acting cheerful and oblivious, a bit like Theophonia, but as soon as Cousin Margaret had asked Aurora “So, how is school? I hope you haven’t had any more sphinx issues?”, Lucian had butted in with a “Ah, Maggie-Laggy! How’s the Knighthood? I hope the gout hasn’t made your usual duties too difficult? What are those, again?” 

He had only worsened from there. In fact, now that all that wine seemed to have deadened Carina’s tongue, Albus had elected to help Theophonia to their quarters when she decided she needed to retire early, and Cousin Margaret had snuck off with her husband, Lucian was among the most dagger-tongued of the party, save for Alvin, Aunt Margaret, and Mara (who dwarfed everyone else by far, in terms of unpleasantness; Marian had the uncharitable thought that the women in myths who ate their own children would think she was too much). Marian had known he had sardonic inclinations, but this…

And then there was the matter of wine. Lucian had had more than his now mute mother, and he was still going. If he wasn’t demanding more be poured for himself, he was knocking back some he had snatched straight from Aurora. Aurora hadn’t been drinking hers- she had taken one sip, acted like she was struggling not to vomit, and then had just stared at her glass in dismay- but even so, she had seemed shocked and alarmed when Lucian had snatched her goblet, and she just looked more scared the more Lucian drank and the more unpleasant he acted towards their relatives. Lucian didn’t seem to notice, not until after he’d chased Aunt Margaret off with a jibe about her late husband, and Aurora tugged at his sleeve and hissed “Lucian!”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive,” said Lucian cheerfully, putting a hand on Aurora’s shoulder, his eyes still on Aunt Margaret’s retreating back. “I’ve got this.”

Aurora froze, staring at the hand on her shoulder like it was a venomous snake. Marian frowned. That was…odd. Why was…?

Lucian looked back at Aurora, and froze himself when he saw her expression. He quickly snatched his hand back.

“I…” he began. Aurora stared up at him with huge eyes. 

As quickly as shock and regret crossed Lucian’s face, it was gone, in its place his usual cheerful nonchalance. “I’m seriously craving more fruit jam tarts. How about you?”

Aurora looked away, gripping her empty goblet tightly. 

“I-I’m not hungry,” she said quietly.

Surprise and hurt flickered through Lucian’s eyes, so fast that Marian wouldn’t have seen them if she hadn’t been staring. “But- are you suuuure? I could sneak some from Sapphira, nothing tastes better than-“

“I’m NOT-“ Aurora began loudly. She shut her mouth quickly, then said more quietly than before, “N-No, thank you, I-I’m not hungry.”

“…Alright. I’ll…be right back. I’ll bring us some juice,” said Lucian.

Marian’s stomach churned as she watched him walk away, and Aurora shuffle off to a quiet corner. She didn’t know what had just happened. She felt she knew nothing about anything that was going on right now, let alone what she was supposed to do about it. Should she do anything? She and Lucian were married…but in name only. What did that mean for this party, this family, this life? Was it theirs…or only his? And…what sort of life was his life? What sort of man was her husband? After his display tonight…she wasn’t sure she knew anymore.

Lucian returned with two rather expensive-looking teacups, presumably full of juice. He stared at the spot where Aurora had stood, blinking for several seconds before finally looking around. Marian swore he steeled himself before heading towards Aurora’s corner. 

Again, had Marian not been staring, she wouldn’t have seen what happened, it happened so fast- though in the moment, it felt like it was happening so, so slowly. 

Lucian softly said something to Aurora, who reluctantly reached out to take the cup. 

Trophy shot past, trying to get away from Mara, who had stomped on her tail.

Aurora yelped and jumped back, fumbling her cup.

The cup shattered on the ground, sending red juice all over the new carpet and Aurora’s skirt. 

All turned at the commotion, Alvin already paling with fury.

In the split second before any other eyes landed on them, Lucian poured some of his juice onto his shoes and trousers, shoved his cup into Aurora’s hands, and stared down at the mess with a mildly miffed expression. 

“Whoops,” slurred Lucian.

For a moment, all was still, save for everyone’s eyes going from the mess to Alvin. Mara, Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Cordelia stared at Alvin hard, as though waiting to see what he would do. Cousin Margaret, who had just returned, looked like she longed for a snack to munch on while she watched the oncoming show. Cousin Sapphira looked like she might pity Lucian…though not enough to draw Alvin’s attention, herself. Carina and Aurora both looked like they were going to be sick; after a second, Carina turned away, but Aurora just stood there, staring at Lucian with all the horror of someone who knew something awful was about to happen, who knew it was their fault, but who was now powerless to stop it. 

“What. Did. You. Do?” growled Alvin.

“Weeeellll, I was enjoying some juice. But…alas, alack, avast, gravity,” sighed Lucian, shaking his head. 

Aurora opened her mouth, then gasped and staggered back as Alvin crossed the room, snarling, “You- you absolute clod- you drunken nincompoop-“ 

“Heeeeh. Poop,” slurred Lucian. 

Alvin grabbed Lucian by the shoulders. Even from where she stood, Marian saw his knuckles turn white; he was digging his fingers in hard. Alvin thrust his face less than an inch from Lucian’s, growling lowly, “Do you have any idea how much that porcelain cost, you-“

Orange light pulsed out Lucian, sending Alvin staggering back. Carina whirled around, eyes wide. Cousin Margaret looked positively gleeful. The rest looked as shocked as if they’d seen a dragon returned from extinction. Aurora whimpered and hugged herself, her hands going to her shoulders.

Marian should do something. 

Alvin stared at Lucian, shock quickly cycling back to fury. Lucian glared back, all pretense at wine-induced stupidity gone. He suddenly seemed so large, so fierce, so…so dangerous. Marian knew he was a Watchmage, but this was the first time he had felt like a warrior.

Marian should do something.

Alvin took a menacing step towards Lucian. Lucian stood his ground, hands and eyes glowing flame orange. Alvin faltered, eyes going from his son to his mother and sisters, who were watching all of this the way a hungry seagull might watch dolphins corralling fish. 

Marian should do something! 

She couldn’t move. 

Albus ran into the room, red-faced and dripping with sweat. “Father! FATHER!”

“WHAT?!” snarled Alvin, whirling around.

Albus faltered for just a moment, then stammered, “Th-Theophonia- s-something’s wrong- sh-she thinks- the baby-“

Fury didn’t quite turn back into shock, but shock and alarm certainly joined the mix of Alvin’s emotions. He grabbed Albus by the shoulder. “WHAT?! The baby is WHAT?! Is that idiot-?!” 

He swore, and stomped out of the room, bellowing orders for a midwife to be fetched. Marian’s hand flew over her heart. The baby…? Could the baby really be coming now??? But- but it was far too soon! 

The light of Lucian’s magic flickered and then died. He stared at the spot Alvin had just been, looking stunned himself. Marian wasn’t sure if it was shock at Albus’s news, or shock at what he had done to his father.

Albus panted heavily, his shaking hand reaching for his shoulder, only to stop an inch away. He straightened, and his hands rested at his side, clenching into fists. He turned to his family, and coolly informed them that the party was over. 

“Ohh, but it was just getting good,” Cousin Margaret muttered. 

Albus whirled on her, and something in his eyes made her actually take a step back. 

The rest of the family, Albus let servants see to, but he himself steered Lucian out of the house by the shoulder (his hand laying flat, unlike their father’s white-knuckled grip), not even giving Lucian a chance to speak to Aurora, who was shaking with silent sobs. Marian hesitated, then pulled out a handkerchief to offer it to Aurora. Aurora shrank back, eyes wild. Marian opened her mouth to say…she had no idea what…but before she could speak, Carina had snatched the handkerchief from her.

“Your husband is leavin’. You should do the same,” she said coldly. Something about her voice was…different, apart from the slight slur to her words. Marian decided not to argue; she turned and staggered off after Lucian, feeling like her legs had turned into seaweed.

Albus himself called a taxi carriage to take Lucian and Marian home. He didn’t say a word to them beyond that; he simply slammed the gate, turned, and stomped back inside Mercer Manor. Marian’s eyes were drawn to a window on the second story, where she saw Theophonia waving, cheerful as can be. Marian stared. That…surely wasn’t normal behavior for a woman in danger of giving birth prematurely. Could she have…?

Something warm grasped her hand, and she jumped. Lucian jumped, too, for the “something warm” was his own hand, Marian realized as he pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry, just- carriage?” asked Lucian, gesturing at the taxi. 

“Right…right,” said Marian. 

Lucian didn’t say another word as he helped Marian into the taxi, nor did he speak for several minutes afterwards. He just sat there, head resting against the window, eyes gazing in the direction of the moon, but seeming to see something else. 

Marian was seeing something else, too, apart from the taxi. She was seeing, in her mind’s eye, everything that had happened tonight. Lucian, so casually cruel, so gleefully gluttonous.  Lucian, so confused and hurt his sister’s standoffishness, so determined to make things up to her. Lucian, so ready to take the fall for his sister…staring down his father’s wrath like it was nothing…

“That wasn’t the first time, was it?” asked Marian quietly. 

Lucian jumped, then stared at Marian like she had two heads. “What???”

Panic shot through Marian, followed by embarrassment and relief as she realized she’d spoken in Estelmaran. 

“I…n-nothing- j-just-” she stammered.

Light’s Grace, she sounded like Aurora.

Lucian might have thought the same thing, because he looked away from her,  teeth gritting. Marian lapsed into silence. She didn’t know what to say, anyway. 

“…Welcome to the family,” said Lucian sardonically. He turned and gave her a crooked, bitter smile, “Believe it or not, that was one of the better ones.”

Marian shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. Lucian looked away again, rubbing his arm. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t worry. I won’t drag you into that crap again. You’re not one of…you don’t have to be…” 

He may not have been as drunk as he’d pretended, but the smell of him alone made it clear he wasn’t sober either. Marian told herself that she shouldn’t take it personally, what she believed he had been about to say: “You’re not one of us.”

Lucian groaned, and massaged his temples. So quietly that Marian almost didn’t catch it, he muttered, “I wish I could be you.”

A confused “Hmm?” escaped Marian’s throat before she could stop it.

“Not you you. Just- not of- not him-“ Lucian broke off with a curse, and hit the carriage door. Marian flinched, and Lucian looked at her, then at his fist on the door, and then swore again. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits, as though by doing so he could stop them from doing more damage. He drooped, looking utterly defeated, and for a moment, Marian didn’t see the man she knew, who could blast his attacker away with just a smidgeon of magic. She saw the child who could do nothing to stop the claws from sinking in, nor whatever horrible punishment followed. 

That couldn’t have been the first time. That had to have been the latest of many, many times.

And yet he’d taken Aurora’s place anyway. Not to mention, before that, he had only joined in on the unpleasantness when Cousin Margaret tried to pick on Aurora…so much of what he’d done tonight had taken attention away from Aurora, had kept her from dealing directly with their family’s scorn…

Again, it escaped Marian before she could stop it: “You’re not one of them.”

Lucian’s head snapped up, his eyes boring into hers. Marian felt heat rush to her face. 

Lucian snorted, and stared at his feet. “I thought Endariac said it’s a sin to lie.”

“I’m not,” said Marian, surprised by the firmness of her voice, given how hard her heart was pounding. “You’re not one of them. You don’t have to- there’s something- you’re just not one of them!”

Lucian looked back up at her. He stared, and stared. Then, he blinked rapidly, and said in a quiet, befuddled voice, “Oh. Alright, then.”

Marian’s throat tightened, and she blinked rapidly herself. Luckily, Lucian didn’t say anything else the rest of the way home. Marian didn’t think she could have replied, even if she knew what to say- which she didn’t. She had used up every word she had in her.

She kept it together long enough to let Lucian help her out of the carriage, and stumble to her room. But there in her room, she started to sniffle, then sob as the full weight of all that happened came crashing down on her.

Not one of them, true. But…but…but he could still turn out like them, if he wasn’t careful…he could still…he was still stuck with them.

 They were still stuck with them. 

This was their life, their family, and it was even more screwed up than Marian had ever imagined. 

Though she found herself on her knees, she didn’t have the words to pray, at first. She just kept sobbing, kept repeating Endariac’s name, kept pleading “Please…please…please…”

Please keep my words true. 

Please keep him not one of them.

Please MAKE me someone who doesn’t just- make me someone who DOES SOMETHING!

But…what could she do? 

Marian had never been to a party she hadn’t liked…until now.

It wasn’t the sort of party where everyone guzzled liquor until they entered a maddened frenzy, which Marian had never been to, but suspected she would not be comfortable at. It wasn’t a grand ball, with all the highest-ranking people in the land in attendance wearing their finest garb; that could have its pitfalls, but Marian’s parents had taught her how to avoid those pitfalls, and so Marian usually quite enjoyed the finery, feasting, and dancing. This was just a dinner party, hosted by her father-in-law, Alvin Mercer, for his mother, his sisters, and their families, as well as his own immediate family. However…how to put this politely…

However, it was a dinner “party” only in name. “Dinner battle royale” felt like a more apt term.

No one was physically fighting. No one was even verbally arguing. Nevertheless, the feeling of a battle was still there, as the family (particularly the older generation- Alvin, his sisters Margaret and Cordelia, and their mother Mara) took turns boasting about their lives and taking digs at each other, while still maintaining a polite facade. It had been instigated by sister Margaret- or rather, Aunt Margaret, as she’d so sweetly told Marian to call her at the wedding (right before heavily implying that she was doing Marian a favor, by being so warm and accepting of a foreigner; apparently, Marian’s brother Micheal wasn’t the only one who had trouble accepting that Estelmar was a part of  Soltera, even though it had been so for longer than anyone in the world had been alive). As the first course was served (floating in on golden plates, enchanted to start levitating as soon as Alvin clapped), Aunt Margaret had purred, “Oh, how adorable! Are those a Frimeur creation?” 

“They are from an up-and-coming enchanter in Terdaurum, actually,” Alvin had replied, his tone that of someone barely restraining their smug pride, and his eyes those of someone barely restraining their homicidal urges. 

“Ahhh, up-and-coming. Yes, that is your usual crowd, isn’t it? People of their own invention. You are so- so ahead of so many in the Upper City. The poor dears, so stuck in their old ways, they sometimes never accept that sort, no matter how high they climb,” Aunt Margaret had said. She had sounded disapproving, but her eyes had twinkled as she had taken a sip of her drink. 

Even Marian, brand-new to the family, had known that Aunt Margaret was flinging barbs at Alvin, who had single-handedly turned his father’s failing merchant business into a veritable empire, but who seemed he would be satisfied with nothing short of becoming part of actual royalty. She had almost felt sorry for her father-in-law, until he had said, “Yes, well, I am certain that in many cases, it is simple insecurity. Especially among the older women. It’s a pity, really. All the things they did…all the things they let be done to them…and in the end, what do they have to show? Cold beds, spoiled brats for children, and an estate they have to pretend is not falling down around their ears.”

Marian knew nothing of Margaret, beyond the fact that she had married into the Connor family, minor nobles known for their talented hunting dogs. However, judging by the homicidal look in her eyes, Alvin’s barb had struck true. And so it had continued in that fashion for the rest of dinner, and during the post-dinner dessert and drinks in the parlor. Marian had met passive-aggressive people before; as a noblewoman with a sun allergy in a culture that placed so much importance upon the sun, she had heard her fair share of backhanded remarks; yet the Mercers showed a mastery of unpleasantness that made all other instances that Marian had witnessed seem like children playing pretend. Tension and outright hatred radiated off of nearly everyone in the room, so intense that Marian half-expected to be physically burned. Even Alvin’s pet amphiptere Trophy (dragged in in a gilded cage and then released, presumably to serve as the thing she’d been named for) hissed and spat as she slithered about. The only ones not joining in were Marian’s sisters-in-law, Theophonia and Aurora. Theophonia, in her twenties and very pregnant, was acting far ditzier than Marian had ever known her to be when the two of them were alone; she was the epitome of sweet but naive, seemingly not catching the undercurrents of anything that was said to her (though her husband, Albus, clearly was, and he seemed determined to avenge his wife tenfold). 13-year-old Aurora, on the other hand, spent the entire evening being very quiet and still, as though she believed her relatives couldn’t see her if she didn’t move.

Marian was confused by Theophonia, and she pitied Aurora, but that confusion and pity paled in comparison to the dismay she felt over her husband, Lucian. He had taken longer to join in, had started off acting cheerful and oblivious, a bit like Theophonia, but as soon as Cousin Margaret had asked Aurora “So, how is school? I hope you haven’t had any more sphinx issues?”, Lucian had butted in with a “Ah, Maggie-Laggy! How’s the Knighthood? I hope the gout hasn’t made your usual duties too difficult? What are those, again?” 

He had only worsened from there. In fact, now that all that wine seemed to have deadened Carina’s tongue, Albus had elected to help Theophonia to their quarters when she decided she needed to retire early, and Cousin Margaret had snuck off with her husband, Lucian was among the most dagger-tongued of the party, save for Alvin, Aunt Margaret, and Mara (who dwarfed everyone else by far, in terms of unpleasantness; Marian had the uncharitable thought that the women in myths who ate their own children would think she was too much). Marian had known he had sardonic inclinations, but this…

And then there was the matter of wine. Lucian had had more than his now mute mother, and he was still going. If he wasn’t demanding more be poured for himself, he was knocking back some he had snatched straight from Aurora. Aurora hadn’t been drinking hers- she had taken one sip, acted like she was struggling not to vomit, and then had just stared at her glass in dismay- but even so, she had seemed shocked and alarmed when Lucian had snatched her goblet, and she just looked more scared the more Lucian drank and the more unpleasant he acted towards their relatives. Lucian didn’t seem to notice, not until after he’d chased Aunt Margaret off with a jibe about her late husband, and Aurora tugged at his sleeve and hissed “Lucian!”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive,” said Lucian cheerfully, putting a hand on Aurora’s shoulder, his eyes still on Aunt Margaret’s retreating back. “I’ve got this.”

Aurora froze, staring at the hand on her shoulder like it was a venomous snake. Marian frowned. That was…odd. Why was…?

Lucian looked back at Aurora, and froze himself when he saw her expression. He quickly snatched his hand back.

“I…” he began. Aurora stared up at him with huge eyes. 

As quickly as shock and regret crossed Lucian’s face, it was gone, in its place his usual cheerful nonchalance. “I’m seriously craving more fruit jam tarts. How about you?”

Aurora looked away, gripping her empty goblet tightly. 

“I-I’m not hungry,” she said quietly.

Surprise and hurt flickered through Lucian’s eyes, so fast that Marian wouldn’t have seen them if she hadn’t been staring. “But- are you suuuure? I could sneak some from Sapphira, nothing tastes better than-“

“I’m NOT-“ Aurora began loudly. She shut her mouth quickly, then said more quietly than before, “N-No, thank you, I-I’m not hungry.”

“…Alright. I’ll…be right back. I’ll bring us some juice,” said Lucian.

Marian’s stomach churned as she watched him walk away, and Aurora shuffle off to a quiet corner. She didn’t know what had just happened. She felt she knew nothing about anything that was going on right now, let alone what she was supposed to do about it. Should she do anything? She and Lucian were married…but in name only. What did that mean for this party, this family, this life? Was it theirs…or only his? And…what sort of life was his life? What sort of man was her husband? After his display tonight…she wasn’t sure she knew anymore.

Lucian returned with two rather expensive-looking teacups, presumably full of juice. He stared at the spot where Aurora had stood, blinking for several seconds before finally looking around. Marian swore he steeled himself before heading towards Aurora’s corner. 

Again, had Marian not been staring, she wouldn’t have seen what happened, it happened so fast- though in the moment, it felt like it was happening so, so slowly. 

Lucian softly said something to Aurora, who reluctantly reached out to take the cup. 

Trophy shot past, trying to get away from Mara, who had stomped on her tail.

Aurora yelped and jumped back, fumbling her cup.

The cup shattered on the ground, sending red juice all over the new carpet and Aurora’s skirt. 

All turned at the commotion, Alvin already paling with fury.

In the split second before any other eyes landed on them, Lucian poured some of his juice onto his shoes and trousers, shoved his cup into Aurora’s hands, and stared down at the mess with a mildly miffed expression. 

“Whoops,” slurred Lucian.

For a moment, all was still, save for everyone’s eyes going from the mess to Alvin. Mara, Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Cordelia stared at Alvin hard, as though waiting to see what he would do. Cousin Margaret, who had just returned, looked like she longed for a snack to munch on while she watched the oncoming show. Cousin Sapphira looked like she might pity Lucian…though not enough to draw Alvin’s attention, herself. Carina and Aurora both looked like they were going to be sick; after a second, Carina turned away, but Aurora just stood there, staring at Lucian with all the horror of someone who knew something awful was about to happen, who knew it was their fault, but who was now powerless to stop it. 

“What. Did. You. Do?” growled Alvin.

“Weeeellll, I was enjoying some juice. But…alas, alack, avast, gravity,” sighed Lucian, shaking his head. 

Aurora opened her mouth, then gasped and staggered back as Alvin crossed the room, snarling, “You- you absolute clod- you drunken nincompoop-“ 

“Heeeeh. Poop,” slurred Lucian. 

Alvin grabbed Lucian by the shoulders. Even from where she stood, Marian saw his knuckles turn white; he was digging his fingers in hard. Alvin thrust his face less than an inch from Lucian’s, growling lowly, “Do you have any idea how much that porcelain cost, you-“

Orange light pulsed out Lucian, sending Alvin staggering back. Carina whirled around, eyes wide. Cousin Margaret looked positively gleeful. The rest looked as shocked as if they’d seen a dragon returned from extinction. Aurora whimpered and hugged herself, her hands going to her shoulders.

Marian should do something. 

Alvin stared at Lucian, shock quickly cycling back to fury. Lucian glared back, all pretense at wine-induced stupidity gone. He suddenly seemed so large, so fierce, so…so dangerous. Marian knew he was a Watchmage, but this was the first time he had felt like a warrior.

Marian should do something.

Alvin took a menacing step towards Lucian. Lucian stood his ground, hands and eyes glowing flame orange. Alvin faltered, eyes going from his son to his mother and sisters, who were watching all of this the way a hungry seagull might watch dolphins corralling fish. 

Marian should do something! 

She couldn’t move. 

Albus ran into the room, red-faced and dripping with sweat. “Father! FATHER!”

“WHAT?!” snarled Alvin, whirling around.

Albus faltered for just a moment, then stammered, “Th-Theophonia- s-something’s wrong- sh-she thinks- the baby-“

Fury didn’t quite turn back into shock, but shock and alarm certainly joined the mix of Alvin’s emotions. He grabbed Albus by the shoulder. “WHAT?! The baby is WHAT?! Is that idiot-?!” 

He swore, and stomped out of the room, bellowing orders for a midwife to be fetched. Marian’s hand flew over her heart. The baby…? Could the baby really be coming now??? But- but it was far too soon! 

The light of Lucian’s magic flickered and then died. He stared at the spot Alvin had just been, looking stunned himself. Marian wasn’t sure if it was shock at Albus’s news, or shock at what he had done to his father.

Albus panted heavily, his shaking hand reaching for his shoulder, only to stop an inch away. He straightened, and his hands rested at his side, clenching into fists. He turned to his family, and coolly informed them that the party was over. 

“Ohh, but it was just getting good,” Cousin Margaret muttered. 

Albus whirled on her, and something in his eyes made her actually take a step back. 

The rest of the family, Albus let servants see to, but he himself steered Lucian out of the house by the shoulder (his hand laying flat, unlike their father’s white-knuckled grip), not even giving Lucian a chance to speak to Aurora, who was shaking with silent sobs. Marian hesitated, then pulled out a handkerchief to offer it to Aurora. Aurora shrank back, eyes wild. Marian opened her mouth to say…she had no idea what…but before she could speak, Carina had snatched the handkerchief from her.

“Your husband is leavin’. You should do the same,” she said coldly. Something about her voice was…different, apart from the slight slur to her words. Marian decided not to argue; she turned and staggered off after Lucian, feeling like her legs had turned into seaweed.

Albus himself called a taxi carriage to take Lucian and Marian home. He didn’t say a word to them beyond that; he simply slammed the gate, turned, and stomped back inside Mercer Manor. Marian’s eyes were drawn to a window on the second story, where she saw Theophonia waving, cheerful as can be. Marian stared. That…surely wasn’t normal behavior for a woman in danger of giving birth prematurely. Could she have…?

Something warm grasped her hand, and she jumped. Lucian jumped, too, for the “something warm” was his own hand, Marian realized as he pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry, just- carriage?” asked Lucian, gesturing at the taxi. 

“Right…right,” said Marian. 

Lucian didn’t say another word as he helped Marian into the taxi, nor did he speak for several minutes afterwards. He just sat there, head resting against the window, eyes gazing in the direction of the moon, but seeming to see something else. 

Marian was seeing something else, too, apart from the taxi. She was seeing, in her mind’s eye, everything that had happened tonight. Lucian, so casually cruel, so gleefully gluttonous.  Lucian, so confused and hurt his sister’s standoffishness, so determined to make things up to her. Lucian, so ready to take the fall for his sister…staring down his father’s wrath like it was nothing…

“That wasn’t the first time, was it?” asked Marian quietly. 

Lucian jumped, then stared at Marian like she had two heads. “What???”

Panic shot through Marian, followed by embarrassment and relief as she realized she’d spoken in Estelmaran. 

“I…n-nothing- j-just-” she stammered.

Light’s Grace, she sounded like Aurora.

Lucian might have thought the same thing, because he looked away from her,  teeth gritting. Marian lapsed into silence. She didn’t know what to say, anyway. 

“…Welcome to the family,” said Lucian sardonically. He turned and gave her a crooked, bitter smile, “Believe it or not, that was one of the better ones.”

Marian shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. Lucian looked away again, rubbing his arm. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t worry. I won’t drag you into that crap again. You’re not one of…you don’t have to be…” 

He may not have been as drunk as he’d pretended, but the smell of him alone made it clear he wasn’t sober either. Marian told herself that she shouldn’t take it personally, what she believed he had been about to say: “You’re not one of us.”

Lucian groaned, and massaged his temples. So quietly that Marian almost didn’t catch it, he muttered, “I wish I could be you.”

A confused “Hmm?” escaped Marian’s throat before she could stop it.

“Not you you. Just- not of- not him-“ Lucian broke off with a curse, and hit the carriage door. Marian flinched, and Lucian looked at her, then at his fist on the door, and then swore again. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits, as though by doing so he could stop them from doing more damage. He drooped, looking utterly defeated, and for a moment, Marian didn’t see the man she knew, who could blast his attacker away with just a smidgeon of magic. She saw the child who could do nothing to stop the claws from sinking in, nor whatever horrible punishment followed. 

That couldn’t have been the first time. That had to have been the latest of many, many times.

And yet he’d taken Aurora’s place anyway. Not to mention, before that, he had only joined in on the unpleasantness when Cousin Margaret tried to pick on Aurora…so much of what he’d done tonight had taken attention away from Aurora, had kept her from dealing directly with their family’s scorn…

Again, it escaped Marian before she could stop it: “You’re not one of them.”

Lucian’s head snapped up, his eyes boring into hers. Marian felt heat rush to her face. 

Lucian snorted, and stared at his feet. “I thought Endariac said it’s a sin to lie.”

“I’m not,” said Marian, surprised by the firmness of her voice, given how hard her heart was pounding. “You’re not one of them. You don’t have to- there’s something- you’re just not one of them!”

Lucian looked back up at her. He stared, and stared. Then, he blinked rapidly, and said in a quiet, befuddled voice, “Oh. Alright, then.”

Marian’s throat tightened, and she blinked rapidly herself. Luckily, Lucian didn’t say anything else the rest of the way home. Marian didn’t think she could have replied, even if she knew what to say- which she didn’t. She had used up every word she had in her.

She kept it together long enough to let Lucian help her out of the carriage, and stumble to her room. But there in her room, she started to sniffle, then sob as the full weight of all that happened came crashing down on her.

Not one of them, true. But…but…but he could still turn out like them, if he wasn’t careful…he could still…he was still stuck with them.

 They were still stuck with them. 

This was their life, their family, and it was even more screwed up than Marian had ever imagined. 

Though she found herself on her knees, she didn’t have the words to pray, at first. She just kept sobbing, kept repeating Endariac’s name, kept pleading “Please…please…please…”

Please keep my words true. 

Please keep him not one of them.

Please MAKE me someone who doesn’t just- make me someone who DOES SOMETHING!

But…what could she do?