#But explaining that its for curtesy feels so awkward

[autosarcophagy-avaritia]

I cant tell if apologizing is annoying to them, or its because ‘you did nothing wrong’

[imaginedolanscribbles]

A heart’s journey [2/10]

Part ONE

warnings: forced marriage

words: 2.672

summary: you finally meet the twins

tagslist: @graydolan12 @sweet-dolans

TWO

When you join the breakfast table the next morning, the Duke has already left, and the Duchess and a lady, you guess to be her eldest daughter, are talking closely. All you can hear is the Duchess saying “… just outrageous!” and her daughter replying with: “But how is that her fault at all?” They fall silent when you enter the room and the girl stands up to curtesy in greeting. She has beautiful long hair that is dark at the roots but turns into a honey colour at the ends, and she isn’t wearing a dress but loose trousers and a beautiful dark jacket, lined with black fur and covered in fine silver lines.

“Good morning, my lady”, she says with a small but earnest smile. “I hope you slept well? I have been looking forward to finally meeting my future sister-in-law.”

You curtesy as well and try hard not to blush. “Pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

“You can call me Cameron”, she says and shrugs. You notice the fine silver lines on her jacket are actually hundreds of fine, small ‘V’s. “Since we’re going to be family anyway.”

You nod and carefully decide you like her. She seems like a genuine person. You sit down opposite to her, on her mother’s other side, and start eating as soon as you remember how hungry you are. The Duchess doesn’t say anything as she finishes up her breakfast, but you can’t spare her any thoughts. As long as you mind your table manners, she can’t have anything to complain about.

It’s probably good fortune they don’t turn up until you’re nearly finished. You hear them before you see them, but you don’t realise what it is you’re hearing until the door is already thrown open and the same person walks in twice.

“Hey, mum, Ethan says that… oh.” The first one interrupts himself as he notices you sitting next to his mother. His eyes are dark, almost as dark as his hair. Despite the cold temperatures out here his skin looks almost golden, contrasting sharply with the white tunic he’s wearing, tucked carelessly into his black pants. You notice something silver dangling from his ear but you can’t identify what it is from this distance.

The one that entered the room second looks exactly the same, only are his ears pierced with simple black stones, instead of the one silver dangling one. His tunic is dark blue, which is maybe why he seems paler than the first one, and it is tucked neatly into his trousers. Since the first one spoke of him in the third person, the one in the darker tunic must be Ethan. Interestingly, apart from his shiny belt buckle and the earrings, none of them are wearing any jewellery.

You stare at him for a long second, not completely grasping that this is the person you’re meant to marry, and he stares right back at you apparently equally lost for words. He’s … well, he’s unbelievably gorgeous, that’s what he is. Obviously. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen anyone as attractive as him. Apart from his brother, of course. They look like they belong on an oil painting, something unreal, the depiction of an artist’s imagination of perfection.

It’s just that … you can’t believe yourself. Your future husband is perfect, around your age and good looking. That’s more than most girls your age can say. But still. There’s nothing, no connection. Yet, you remind yourself. You haven’t even exchanged one word, the connection will form eventually. You probably read too many romantic novels, somehow you seem to have gotten up some misguided hopes of an instant connection. Then another thought sobers you up, as well, putting Ethan’s ridiculously pleasing appearance in the background: you don’t know him, yet. He might be cruel, or mean, or violent, or all of the above. He might also be kind. The bottom line is, you don’t know. Yet.

It’s only when the Duchess clears her throat dryly that you snap out of it and scramble to your feet in such haste, you almost trip over your dress.

“Your Graces”, you croak nervously as you curtesy to the brothers. “I apologize for – “

“None of that, I’m Grayson”, the one with the silver earring says, frowning slightly. “And he’s Ethan. He really doesn’t need an extra title, just because he was born two seconds earlier.”

“Pleasure to meet you”, Ethan say and reaches out to brush his lips against your knuckles shortly.

“The pleasure is mine”, you reply automatically as you get your hand back. After another awkward pause, the Duchess has all of you sit and a heavy silence falls over the table for what feels like eons.

“Well, since we’re all here already – except for your father, but when is he not somewhere else in the important moments? – let’s make some things clear”, the Duchess starts and while she talks like she’s addressing the whole room, she only looks at you. “The wedding will take place in two months, just when winter should be in full swing. This time frame will give everyone the chance to get to know each other, it will give you time to familiarise yourself with Taoiseach Hall and its etiquettes and become an integral part of the Dolan household. The official invitations will be sent out in two weeks, but of course everyone important has already been notified to keep the date free.”

There is no question in her voice or mannerism, so all you can do is nod and try not to look too overwhelmed. You knew the rough time-frame, of course, your father told you most of this already. Two whole months in preparation are unusual when the engagement is already finalised, as you well know, but your father said it’s probably a northern custom and not to question it. The Duchess’ eyes assess you carefully. “Tonight is the welcoming banquette, where you will meet everyone significant from around here, and you will also need to go to the tailor as soon as possible.”

It takes you a second. “Oh, for the dress?”

The Duchess frowns. “Well, obviously. But also, and much more pressing, is the fact that you don’t have anything befitting the Frysk winter and we wouldn’t want you constantly sick now, would we?”

You blush at her insinuation of you living such a sheltered life, never leaving home far enough to realize how things might be different up north. You not packing the right kind of dresses also puts blame on your parents, who didn’t prepare you sufficiently, meaning they’re either too disorganised or ignorant. The worst part is, you can’t tell her how she’s wrong, because you would have to explain to her your family doesn’t have the financial means to afford you a brand new set of warmer clothes, at the moment.

Embarrassment flaming high on your cheeks you lower your eyes and stay silent.

      ++++

           The tailor notes down your measurements and hurries off immediately to start working on all the pieces, the Duchess ordered. Later that day you get a fur lined coat delivered to the rooms you’re staying in. It reaches down to your ankles and is made from a very light midnight-blue material, the weight of the clothing item stemming mostly from the silky-soft, silvery fur. The coat fits quite well with a grey dress that you brought with you, so that’s at least your outfit for tonight’s banquette decided.

You don’t see any members of House Dolan until that evening, when you finally get a chance to get to know your fiancé a little. Strangely enough you’re sat not simply next to your future husband, but you are positioned between the brothers. At home in Lausanne, this would be a scandal, especially with the two of them looking so similar. There would be no end to the talk about the seating and how it did not signal clearly which twin you were to marry and which one you weren’t. You decide against speaking up about it, though. Maybe it’s another northern custom you don’t know about in the south.

Instead you do your best to smile politely at everyone approaching your table and introducing themselves you the duchy’s heirs and you. Cameron doesn’t seem very interested in most of them, her attention wanes quickly until she resorts to nodding at people in recognition, maybe tipping her glass of wine to them and otherwise talking to the people sat next to her who seem to have lots of entertaining stories to tell her. You watch her laugh loudly, her hair loosened already, beautiful smile and perfect teeth on full display as she listens to one story after another, no care in the world – and you wish you could switch places with her. You’re not at ease in these kinds of situations and while the younger twin appears to have no problem finding something to talk about, Ethan hasn’t spoken to you since asking politely whether you liked your food.

“So, I heard you’re quite the soldier?”, you ask him when the latest suitor has retreated to their table.

Ethan nods, one corner of his mouth pulling into a lopsided smile. “I fancy myself quite apt at some military disciplines, you could say that, yeah. My father has always thought it very important for us to be educated in military strategies and all it entails. Kind of comes with being a member of this family, I guess.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, ‘quite apt at some disciplines’ is a huge understatement”, you reply, relieved it appears you picked the right topic. “Supposedly you’re a brilliant strategist, a legendary leader, and an outstanding soldier.”

There’s a scoff from your right side and you turn around just quick enough to catch Grayson rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right. Half of that praise should go to me, since I am definitely the better soldier and at least as good a leader as you are. The strategist part … well, he’s alright at that. Better than me at least.”

“Is that true?”, you ask intrigued and turn back to Ethan, who shrugs.

“We pretty much do everything together. I’m not sure we know how to function without the other one, so he is kind of right. All the positions I’m holding, I share with Grayson. We make all the important decisions together, at least half of ‘my’ accomplishments are his, really.”

“That is so interesting. I didn’t hear it like that at home, but that’s probably because of the long way these stories travel. We don’t know much about the north in general, I’m not surprised some things get lost on their way to us”, you reply.

Their bond seems to be extraordinarily strong which makes those accomplishments all the more impressive in your eyes.

“We don’t know that much about the south, either”, Grayson admits shrugging and pours himself some wine. “There’s some names, of course, the usual rumours at court, and the cultural differences. But it’s all neither here nor there, to be honest.”

“What cultural differences do you mean?”, you question, carefully. This is thin ice you’re walking on. If you’re not careful, you might offend them or the other way around. Of course there are differences, Drottningen is a big kingdom, but you never heard of specific cultural traditions or customs of the north and you wonder what they might’ve heard the other way around. All you know are rumours about a slightly different way of living, but all in all it’s supposed to be the same culture.

“Well, your people are pretty stiff and set on etiquettes and tradition”, Grayson starts listing immediately. Ethan doesn’t say anything but the way he shifts subtly in his seat next to you, tells you he’s uncomfortable. He is probably aware of how this could turn very easily into an argument, or at the least into someone being offended. “You’re supposedly quite soft and spoilt, but I always thought that’s just the envy we harbour speaking, since you guys get to have nice weather and a warm sea instead of miserably low temperatures, dark days and icy lakes.” He frowns thoughtfully and there’s a pause. Ethan slowly starts eating again, judging the tense moment to be over, just when Grayson asks: “What stories do you guys have about us?”

He looks genuinely interested, his eyes open and wide. Grayson appears to have been able to hold on to his naiveté, as opposed to Ethan who seems much more serious and careful. That’s probably the advantage of being the younger sibling, you assume, comparing him to your Livia and Tatiana. They have a lightness to them, a carefreeness glowing behind their eyes that you have never known. It draws you in and you find it hard to look away. You want that, too.

“Not many”, you reply and avert your eyes with more difficulty than you like to admit. “They’re not really stories, either, more … they’re assumption more than anything.” You cut the meat on your plate into bitesize pieces and wait for an indication they’re interested in hearing more. Ethan doesn’t react but you can see Grayson nodding eagerly out of the corner of your eye. “Well, word down South is, Northerners are hardened and don’t know how to enjoy things – I suspect that’s similarly related to the climate like your assumption about us. You like to solve conflicts by fighting and violence, rather than diplomacy. And your culture is a strange juxtaposition of conservativism, seeing as your female descendants cannot inherit any land, property, or money, but at the same time you’re quite open, uhm, physically.”

Another pause, Ethan tensing up even more next to you, then Grayson snorts loudly into his cup. His eyes are all crinkly, betraying the smile dancing behind his twitching mouth. “’Physically’”, he repeats. “You mean sexually?”

You can’t help it, you blush deeply and hide behind your food. That word is not to be said out loud, just as the whole topic is supposed to be skirted around. Some friends of your mother have made it an art to talk about it, without ever saying anything even half as crass and forward as Grayson just did. You’re not sure if you’ve heard that word spoken out loud more than once in your life.

“I think she’s referring to the fact that we don’t teach our children to be ashamed of their bodies and desires”, Ethan jumps in, no trace of amusement in his voice. When you glance at him, he doesn’t appear to be laughing at your discomfort. His face is a perfectly neutral mask, with just the right amount of softness around his mouth to seem empathetic. Grayson is the complete opposite, he is actually giggling. You’re not sure which twin you find more frustrating.

“That is true, we have a … a less flexible sense of propriety”, you agree, trying to word your incomprehension of their culture, while not offending them too much.

“We don’t base our women’s worth on their sexual innocence, yes”, Grayson shrugs with a dry snort and there’s that word again. You feel your cheeks burning.

“Since women cannot own anything, anyhow, might as well give them physical freedom.” The words are mumbled, but they’re still out. Horrified by your own rudeness you tense up, staring blankly down at your half-eaten plate. You tried so hard to stay diplomatic and now you messed it up during the very first real conversation.

Grayson’s eyes are narrowed, but Ethan’s expression has remained neutral. He shrugs. “Women also get to choose whom they want to marry, if at all, since a family’s fate is not bound to their spouse. That balances things out a little, doesn’t it?”

You only nod and don’t look at Grayson for the rest of the night, but you can feel his eyes burning into your temple throughout the entirety of the banquet. Great. You brother-in-law already hates you. Way to go.

Part THREE: you get to know the Dolans a little better and there’s a mysterious guest.

Masterlist