#Lady Camellia of Jiyel

[angstmongertina]

The way @teaandinanity takes my angstiest 7KPP daughter and slamdunks her into comedies in shared universes is actually one of the funniest and most amazing things in the world to me. I love you so much, Tea.

[awaylaughing]

Third Time’s The Charm - Camellia of Jiyel/Lyon (ish)

@ravenclawnerd hello! I was very taken with your ‘childhood “Friend”’ AU as a set up - so I think I dabbled in a minorly AU-of-that-AU. It’s not a huge story, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. If you don’t mind, I’ll upload it to AO3 with you as a recipient later - my wifi’s been acting up and can’t handle the posting atm. Anyway, without further ado:

Third Time’s the Charm

Lyon was not the last person into the hall by any metric, nor even the last of the Jiyeli contingent, though, based on the General’s reaction someone might have assumed otherwise. He did his best to ignore the heavy-browed frown pointed in his direction. His timing was, after all, neither a mistake nor a mark of negligent uncaring. Appearing first would have simply prolonged the agony, appearing last would call far too much attention. It gave him time to watch, to see where people moved. More saliently, it gave him time to see which parts of the room they did not move toward.

It became readily apparent that the answer to that was in the vicinity of the Arlish chaperone. Lyon only very briefly considered the implications of using an elderly woman in a wheelchair as cover, before he took up a spot a polite distance away, as close to the wall as he could manage.

“Good evening your grace,” she turned to him.

If he was to waste time on politesse, the Dowager Countess seemed the woman to do it on, so he managed a wood smile.

“As you say, my lady,” Lyon said, reluctantly relieved that Fallon had at the very least beaten the ranks of the chaperones into his head. He could guess a good number – the various princes rather stuck out in that way royalty, or the equivalent thereof, generally did. Largely by imposing on everyone around them. In truth the only other name he had cared to take note of was Lady Camellia's, both because it was surprising to see a last minute change in the roster, even for someone as disinterested as himself, and because of the name.

He had not been certain it was the same Lady Camellia at first. It had after all, been some time since he last had seen her, let alone had a genuine conversation with her. Flower names were far from rare, even if they weren’t, according to one of his pregnant relatives, overheard while walking past the parlour when she visited, in fashion currently. It had been said as a criticism of the delegate in question, which was by any metric illogical. Neither the lady Camellia who was his – not his but the one he knew, nor this delegate was an infant.

Though, perhaps he would get lucky. His little experience told him small children, though impressed by his height, generally found him dreadfully dull, and were far less dogged about interacting with him than young women. Even better, were a small child to toddle into the ballroom, Lyon would go so far as to postulate that no one would pay him any mind.

He abandoned the thought as quickly as it crossed his mind. Flights of fancy had their uses, but not this one – impossible and pointless and frivolous as it was. So instead he paid mind to the more immediate manner of the pale woman approaching him. Faintly recognizing her as the Revairan princess, he summoned the wherewithal to bow – an act which made her smile deep ever so slightly.

“Your highness,” he said, praying this was simply a cordial exchange and she would pass on quickly.

“Good evening, your grace,” the tone of her voice did not encourage any hope about this being brief. “What a pleasure to find you alone, at such a bustling event.” Again her smile grew, showing straight, white teeth, and she crossed her hands demurely in front of her as she looked up at him, expectant.

He could see she was, by the current subjective standards of either of their respective nations, very beautiful. But her tone was coy, smile fixed into something carefully pleasant, and there was a glint in her eye Lyon had seen among some of the more competitive students at the Academy.

He disliked her both immediately, and immensely.

When he didn’t respond, she shifted just slightly. “Are you enjoying your stay, so far your grace?” she asked, apparently not above forcing him to respond.

“No,” he said. Though it was foolish, predicated on no evidence of her behaviour, he hoped the blunt answer would encourage her to seek whatever it was she wanted elsewhere.

“That’s such a shame to hear, are the accommodations in Jiyel truly so opulent? I suppose for a man of your stature, the best might be nothing new to you.” Her tone put his teeth on edge, as did the way her pale lashes fluttered just slightly.

“It is rather the quality of the people,” Lyon said. Though not in the habit, for any number of reasons, he pointedly met her eyes as he spoke. Her smile just grew, teeth glinting in the lamplight.

“My, no one said you were so cutting,” she said.

“Discerning would be the more appropriate word,” only paying her half a mind now. Someone else had entered – a blur of white and gold on his periphery which promptly disappeared.

“Oh?” she said, dragging his unwilling attention back. The Princess didn’t seem bothered, as far as he cared to tell, neither by his inattention nor words. “Maybe you should give people a chance? You never know when something unexpected may...appeal to you.”

“No, thank you,” he said. She sighed, a small sound warped by her ever present smile.

“Very well your grace,” she said, “I do so hope you enjoy your evening.” There was another pause, this one clearly where Lyon should speak, and he was half tempted not to respond at all – but she seemed prime to wait him out.

“Goodbye,” he said. The glint in her eyes now had changed. Good – if she too immensely disliked him, she was invited to leave him alone, as he would be doing with her. He was not going to play whatever sort of game the Revairin royals were up to. He had neither the intellectual nor moral inclination.

If the Princess’ mannerisms had not been off-putting enough, she’d opened the proverbial damn. Young women of all stripes came up to him. Lyon tried, at first, to put his best foot forward but the topics were dull and demands on his attention exhausting. He was almost relieved when he accidentally offended one young lady, who promptly returned to her fellows to warn them off.

The relief was short lived however – the person he’d noted earlier had finally circled around to him. Bracing himself, he took a breath and turned fully toward the lady – and paused.

It was Lady Camellia.

Ludicrously, nearly as quickly as he noticed that, he found himself thinking she looked odd. Not bad – no she was quite pretty, still – but it took him a moment to notice what it was.

“You’re not wearing blue,” were the first words out of his mouth.

Lady Camellia, who was mid polite bow, stood with a surprised look on her face, dark eyes wide and lips parted.

“It’s very nice,” he rushed to add, realizing far too late how such a thing might be construed.

“You...don’t like blue, your grace?” Lady Camellia asked.

“Blue does not offend me more than any colour,” Lyon said. “I am not an artist.” Her gaze remained curious, and Lyon felt something vaguely like panic. He had gone thoroughly off script, and now he found himself quite unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t even certain how he was meant to interact with her – their last brief meeting, at the Academy, had not left him confident that the lady remembered him. Nor did the hesitant look on her face now.

“Nor am I,” she said after a beat even he knew was too long. She smiled though, “but I think my lady’s maids may well be.”

“Yes,” Lyon said, “forgive me Lady Camellia – I am not at my best in these settings. Nor when at this topic of conversation.”

Lady Camellia’s hesitant smile dipped slightly, before she mustered it back into action. “Well then, we should discuss something more agreeable. Perhaps you prefer philosophy? Or,” her dark eyes searched his face just  a moment, before she looked away, at some point around his right shoulder. “Or perhaps onvu tactics?”

He would expect the question to be teasing, but it was cautious. Lyon spent a brief moment trying to analyze why, before giving up. His insight into anyone else’s mind did not extend as far as he’d like, and historically, blind guessing wasn’t in his favour.

“It would certainly be worthy, to exchange information after so many years,” he said, equally as uncertain. “Though, more so if we were at a board.”

This time her smile was genuine, even she didn’t look him exactly in the face. “I agree wholly, your grace,” she said. “I don’t think the servants would be that obliging, tonight.”

Lyon had not found his butler nor his valet obliging exactly – indeed, it was as if they had been coached by Fallon – but he supposed hers were more tractable. “Indeed not,” he said.

“Perhaps then, we could follow up this conversation at a later date? I really should be making the rounds,” she said.

“Of course your lady, I would appreciate a sensible conversation partner,” he said.

“As would I,” she agreed, and then, “it is very nice to see you again, your grace.”

“And you, Lady Camellia,” he said.

She remembered him. Lyon was not entirely sure why this was vital information – his and lady Camellia’s previous relationship was little more than a juvenile acquaintance. It was though.

Indeed, nothing about this evening seemed important at all except that fact.

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Week 2024: Day 3

Well, I was going to post this alongside my fill for day 4, but I got nothing written so far because it's just one of those days, so here's my fill for day 3, and I'll just stay a day behind. Might start chipping away at it now, at least.

ANYWAY, here's Day Three -- Letters.

Again, the actual writing under the cut!

To My Daughter’s Suitor,

I must confess, sitting down to pen this missive is an altogether odd experience, for I expect it will be some time yet before I have so much as a confirmation of your existence. Still, I feel it would be remiss of me not to take advantage of this opportunity to greet you for the first time. Camellia is a singular young lady and her father and I are certain that anyone she wishes to wed will be a welcome addition to our small family.

Though we have yet to meet in person, I fear I must burden you with one request. As you have no doubt discovered, Lia is an intelligent and sweet young woman of strong principles, whom her father and I are proud to call our daughter. If you have won her hand, you will also have won her loyalty and devotion. And, we hope, her heart. Whatever she might think of her duties towards her family, our only hope is for her future happiness.

I know not what she has told you about her past, though I have no doubt rumors regarding her belated addition to the Jiyelese delegation have circulated throughout the summit, but she has spent these last eight years sacrificing her own dreams to help care for her family. As unexpected as her selection to the summit’s delegation was, we hoped, illogical though it might be, that she might find it an opportunity to find her own happiness, with whomever that might entail. And while I hope that your reception of this letter may prove otherwise, I fear that she might still choose to put her own vision of duty to Jiyel and her parents before herself.

To speak more plainly, my request is simply that, should you care for her at all, remind her that knowing our daughter is living for herself, prioritizing her own happiness, is all that we need.

If you can show her this, then her father and I will rest easy, knowing that she is in good hands. I look forward to the day I might greet you as family.

Lady Hyacinth of Grenwold

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Week: Day 2

Once again, I'm late (this time a full day already!), and my fic is tangentially related at best, so I'll add some rambling underneath about what some actual dates might be!

Anyway, day 2 is date night, here featuring a little fic of Temperance and @teaandinanity's Nisha and some discussion of NPC!Tempy and Lia!

As before, more 7KPP nonsense under the cut!

The musicale was a rousing success. That was apparent enough from the applause after the performance and the smiles of the guests as they bid Lady Nisha and herself—though, admittedly, far more towards Nisha, the official hostess of the event—farewell. And yet, Temperance hardly noticed, entranced as she still was by the melodies still dancing in her mind, the images of the violinist drawing his bow across the strings, clear and confident and with passion in every single note.

If she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she hardly cared for the social sense, but at least in the artistic sense, the musicale certainly was a success as well.

It wasn't until Nisha had bounced up to her, with far more speed and enthusiasm than her typical languorous movements would suggest, that she noticed the emptiness of the room. Their guests had all swiftly made themselves scarce, no doubt preparing for the introductions later in the day, while the performers packed up their instruments, murmuring in voices too low to be heard, even despite the acoustics of the room.

And judging by the glint in Nisha's eyes, it was a relative solitude that she intended to take full advantage of.

"I see your sister's descriptions of your musical talent were no exaggeration, Princess."

In spite of herself, she stiffened, the denial falling off her tongue with practiced ease. "You are too kind, Lady Nisha, and Princess Constance far too generous with her compliments."

"I, too kind?" A hidden smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I fear Lord Blain - who has a far longer-standing acquaintance with me - would vociferously disagree with that assessment. Though, I suppose your sister's compliments carried less weight after a closer acquaintance with her… expertise.”

On instinct, she smothered her laugh, a hand clapped over her mouth before the sound, harsh and inelegant, could escape. Given the still brighter grin she received in response, however, she only partially succeeded.

And oddly, she did not really care.

She did, however, pause, looking at her new friend more carefully. "She demonstrated her musical talents?" That, even more so than the letter Lady Nisha had cheerfully delivered to her, was an indication of her sister's trust; Temperance could count on one hand the number of times her sister had voluntarily performed—if her off-tune warbling could be called that—in front of her, let alone to others of their acquaintance.

“In a matter of speaking. She happened upon my serenading of a not quite empty courtyard, you see, and gave my performance a most impressive encore."

Judging from Nisha's satisfied expression, it was hardly so simple, but before she could formulate a proper response and despite her best efforts to avoid it, she found herself tugged forward to sit at the piano, and looked back up at her friend.

"She also revealed your aptitude for music," Nisha offered, nodding towards the instrument.

Barely restraining a start, she looked down, to where her hands had instinctively settled into position for a simple minuet, and let them drop, fingers slipping from the polished ivory keys into her lap as she shook her head. "You exaggerate. It was only a few brief lessons, several months' duration at most, and many years ago now." She twisted her fingers in her lap. "Certainly hardly worthy of a beautiful instrument such as this."

"The instrument would much rather be played, I think, and if you won't, then I will."

Lady Nisha's words were a threat and one she intended to follow through, she discovered, torn between amusement and horror as her friend leaned over, fingers twisting into some facsimile of her previous position and coaxing out notes more discordant than she thought would have been possible. Even the musicians paused their conversation to glance over, and she flushed, barely resisting the un-princess-like urge to knock Nisha's hands aside.

The lady in question straightened up and winked. "Last chance?"

"Fine." She sighed, though surely even the swiftly retreating observers could see her faint smile as she settled her fingers back into position and began to play.

-----

Tempy is quite the musician, and if coaxed into it, will play music for a friend who might ask it of her. In particular, should you be interested in practicing any dancing, she is a very willing musician, though not a participant--she is rather nearsighted and lack of corrective lenses (because princesses do not need glasses) has made her rather clumsy. Because of this, she has memorized much of her repertoire and can perform without sheet music, if properly encouraged.

And as a bonus for Tea, Lia is similarly musically inclined, though as a mom friend through and through, her date will vary a bit more depending on what she senses you might need. For some, this might be a calming walk by the lake, while for others, this may be a meal and some light conversation, or even time spent in companionable silence in the library. If she likes you and suspects you are harboring feelings for someone, she may even try to matchmake, giving you opportunities to interact with your beloved, in whatever form would be most helpful. Even if she may be harboring feelings for the same person.

[angstmongertina]

Not sure if you actually wanted questions from the character asks but if the spirit moves you (and not asking Objects 4 for Tempy because I don't want to cry about her instruments again): Food & Drink 1 and/or Community 13 and/or Hobbies 7 for Myna, Food & Drink 9 and/or Community 18 for Tempy, Community 10 and/or Mind/Body/Soul 8 for Lia? :D

please pick and choose I know this is too many and you're busy but there are SO MANY GOOD ONES!!

I am always happy to think about my characters, so I WILL DO THEM ALL thank you! <3

Under a cut because I can't shut up whoops.

Myna:

F&D 1. What flavor would your character say their personality is? Probably some sort of sweet and spicy. Hot honey, or something like that? That seems like her vibe. Probably with a wink because she's A Chaotic Entity. (She and Zarad Get Each Other.)

C&R 13. Would your character be good at providing medical assistance? Honestly, she doesn't know a TON but she's good in a crisis and knows basic first aid (you gotta if you spend a lot of time on a boat) so I'd generally say yes.

H&A 7. What is a talent that your character is proud of? Other than defrosting ice princesses and captaining a ship? I think she has a secret skill in embroidery, much like Cordelia, and enjoys having something to do with her hands.

Tempy

(Bonus because I love you: Objects 4. Is there an item your character liked that they can’t get back? Her instruments, yes, though she technically still has them. She just can't--shouldn't--doesn't play them. In terms of something she actually can't get anymore, I think Constance once gave her a small doll. It was a simple thing, starting to fall apart despite Constance's best efforts to fix it, but she's had it since she was born and it was a gift from her older sister and she loved it and when she got too old, her nurses took it away to dispose of it.)

F&D 9. Does your character like to try new foods? Tempy is rather adventurous, so I think she does like it. It DOES take her some time to get used to it, though, because Arlish food is relatively, uh, tame, let's say.

C&R 18. What is your character’s favorite form of affection? She thought it was words of affirmation, because that's the kind of approval she got from her parents and her kingdom, but I think it's actually physical touch. She's quite touchy-feely when she relaxes enough, but that was never appropriate for princesses so she really didn't know how touch-starved she was until she wasn't. :)

Lia

C&R 10. Is there a habit your character has that they learned from someone else? She tugs on her braid when she's thinking, which she got from her parents tugging on her braid gently to get her attention when she was younger. She also hums under her breath sometimes when she's working, which she picked up from her dad.

M/B/S 8. What scents does your character find comforting? The smells of home. She loves the mountainy forests of the lands where she grew up, and the smell of her favorite foods (especially dumplings). Also, of course, the smell of old books. What Jiyel scholar would disagree?

Thank you for asking, ILY!

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Promptober 2023: Day 14

This is my last post for this Promptober, but I have been CACKLING about writing it ever since I saw the prompt on the planning list for Promptober this year, courtesy of @teaandinanity, who somehow managed to FORGET what I have associated the word "winsome" with for AGES now. (It's I'm Not That Girl, from Wicked.) I love you so much, Tea! <3

So yes, I continue playing the VaLia 'verse, but rather than all of the fun romcom future stuff, I gotta address the fact that we threw two Lyonmancers into the same universe. And yes, I had MUCH fun with the angst.

Bonus: I tried to reference every verse of I'm Not That Girl, and also there's a SINGLE line of dialogue that was intentionally taken wholesale from Lyon's first date. Can you find it? :D

1.5k words of angst below the cut. Beware!

Lady Camellia of Jiyel.

At the Summit, it was helpful, perhaps even necessary, to identify delegates by their kingdoms, for ease of reference, particularly in the case of those lesser known delegates, such as herself. After all, with the varying titles and systems across the seven kingdoms, it was well-nigh impossible to remember every landholding as well as title, or the equivalents for those without such distributions of property.

For her, however, those four words also served well to summarize her entire status, all that she was to the Summit and indeed, the world as a whole. It was a simple fact that even the Queen of Jiyel herself likely did not recognize her name, to the extent that, if her home was familiar, it was likely for her ancestor’s scandal and not for any recognition of her own status.

She was, in short, not meant to be there.

She shouldn't have been there.

But there she was nonetheless, offered an opportunity stolen from a far more deserving lady, another simple fact that it would not do to forget.

Another simple fact that was, in fact, near impossible to forget, surrounded as she was by other, far more qualified, far more talented and ambitious and prepared delegates.

Indeed, there had only been a single conversation at the Summit thus far in which she had been able to forget the pressures of the environment, the consequences of saying the wrong thing, of accidentally offending the wrong person. In which she could relax and speak of Wang Yingming and Shang Yang without fear of boring or insulting her audience by her lack of charm or charisma or the multitude of other ways she did not belong.

In which, even as inadvisable as it may have been, she could be herself.

Perhaps that was why, when she next had the opportunity to explore the grand library, she found herself studying her surroundings more than she might otherwise in such a treasure trove. It was not a fully aimless perusal, of course—the rumors about the libraries in Vail Isle had reached even her small estate, and were one rumor which had proven to be more than accurate—but for the first time, strangely, impossibly, she found herself paying far more attention to the possibility of certain other delegates than to the writings in question.

And even try as she might, she could identify no explanation for the strange relieved smile, the sudden racing of her heart, when she heard a quiet, already familiar voice from behind a nearby bookshelf. Her steps quickening and perusal forgotten, she turned the corner, a greeting on the top of her tongue, and—

It caught, turning to sawdust in her mouth, at the scene before her.

Logically, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he was not alone; logically, he would have no reason to be speaking out loud, muted but clear enough to be made out even from a distance, if he had been alone, and yet…

And yet…

In just the few days she had spent at the Summit, in the few days just seeing him at mealtimes, if he even attended at all, she’d come to realize that Duke Lyon was not a particularly social or expressive man, even by Jiyelese standards. He was certainly not emotionless, far from it, but he was a man of calm, of self-control that she envied, unlikely to display anything but placid stoicism in company.

Company excepting a bright-eyed, visibly passionate Lady Valeriya, it seemed.

Not that she could blame him; she too had discovered very early on that Lady Valeriya, despite first appearances, was a wonderful, clever young woman who blossomed under attention in a way that any insightful person would recognize, would be touched by. And if he could even be interested in a conversation with her, could even make her feel—

Well, then, surely it was only natural that the two of them together…

The only small mercy was that they hadn’t noticed her yet, captivated as they were by their discussion, something about the merits of direct action or unbiased observation. Then again, from what she had heard of the Duke, Kellem Ives seemed an appropriate topic of conversation, and one that seemed to resonate with his partner as well.

Though, considering the vivacious, downright smitten expression on her face, it seemed as if any conversation with him would resonate with her.

Lia drew a deep breath, holding it in until she could be sure that her exhale would be silent around the tightness in her throat, and turned away. Even as ignorant as she was towards navigating the intricacies of such social situations, even she could recognize when she would be interrupting.

Just as she could recognize instantly, after checking her shoulder against a shelf with an audible bump, when attempting to make an escape would be futile.

“Lady Camellia?”

The fact that it was unmistakably his voice, low and deep and with a hint of shock, somehow made it all the worse; she hesitated for a fraction of a second before turning and dropping into an immediate bow, grateful for the hair that slipped over her shoulders to help block her face from view.

“Good evening, your Grace, Lady Valeriya.”

To her immense relief, her voice held steady, if a touch too cool for the degree of intimacy she already had claim to, at least towards the lady. Unfortunately, however, its finality was not enough to dissuade further inquiry, though she couldn’t blame him for clinging to etiquette in the face of an unwelcome interruption. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” In spite of herself, she glanced towards him, his brow furrowed as if in genuine curiosity, before darting to Lady Valeriya, wide-eyed and still smiling, welcoming, and she had to look away the next second. Even she knew better than to truly believe herself welcome. “I came for the books.” She forced a smile, forced some semblance of a teasing lilt into her voice as she gestured towards the books by her side. “It is a library.”

That appeared to be enough of an explanation to satisfy him, but Lady Valeriya was still watching her in silence and she turned towards the nearest bookshelf, pulling a tome at random. “I apologize for interrupting your conversation. I believe this is what I was searching for.” Turning back, she bowed again, grateful for the opportunity to draw another hidden, shaky breath. “Please excuse me. Have a good evening.”

Thankfully, they allowed her departure without any additional comments, seeming to return to their discussion smoothly, as if there had been no interruption at all. But still, she retreated out of earshot as quickly as she could, a maelstrom of emotions churning in her stomach at the steady brightness of the voices behind her. A maelstrom of embarrassment and guilt and self-recrimination and—

And relief. How could she feel otherwise?

It wasn’t until she had escaped to the privacy of her room, where she was sure to be alone, where she had no chance of disrupting anyone else’s plans, that she allowed herself a moment to pause. That she was able to look down and find herself clutching the book so tightly she had nearly left imprints in the leather binding.

At least she hadn’t managed to crumple the paper underneath.

Taking another steadying breath, she stared down at it, forced each uncooperative finger to relax until she could see the title: From Princess to Peacemaker, a History of Princess Katyia. How very fitting, given her first interaction with Lady Valeriya. And considering…

Subconsciously, she turned her attention to her desk, and the sheaf of papers that her butler had placed there just a few days previously, after she had turned down the opportunity to host an event for the other delegates. She had thought its presence a misguided attempt to persuade her otherwise, but…

But she had seen the way Lady Valeriya’s eyes brightened to something warmer, something genuine, when discussing history, particularly related to Princess Katyia. And she certainly knew of Duke Lyon’s reputation for knowledge in subjects ranging from history to philosophy to mathematics.

Perhaps she could manage to do some good by hosting an event.

When he returned in the morning, she could attempt to convince her butler to squeeze in the event next week. If it went well, it could even provide her standing with Jiyel, her standing at the Summit, a much needed boost, in the only way that she could. She knew better than to believe she had any value, any chance, for a Summit match, but at least she could offer something. And besides…

Lady Valeriya had been through so much already, at such a young age. She deserved happiness, deserved a wonderful marriage to a good man.

And she knew wholeheartedly that Duke Lyon was, that it would be.

She was happy for her. For them both.

And she would prove it, to the world, and to herself.

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Promptober 2023 Day 2

It's literally day 25 and I finally finished day 2, but it's fine, we're all fine here.

Anyway, for more in the VaLia 'verse with @teaandinanity, I love you! (Even if I will be providing angst next. :D)

Anyway, the day 2 prompt was reason, which I interpreted as "reason why Lia decides to adopt Valya as her sister."

There were rumors circulating about the young widow from Revaire before she even arrived at the Summit. From the moment her position in the Jiyelese delegation was formalized, she received notes and visits from aunties near and far, from advice to thinly veiled demands, only just subtle enough to remain on the side of propriety.

And it seemed nearly half of the communications contained some warning about the dowager baroness of Namaire.

She knew better than to put much stock to rumors; for all Jiyel prided itself as a kingdom run by logic, its people could be far from living up to that ideal, a fact that was only supported by the rumors circling the auntie tea circles about her own late-minute addition. Somehow, it was difficult to take seriously the reports that the woman had married, murdered, and poisoned her way to the Summit when she knew that the same gossipers accused her of blackmail in the next breath. 

Her reluctance to adhere to such advice was immediately validated when she set foot in the room for the pre-feast introductions. Young delegates of all sorts roamed the room, dressed in finery that far outshown her own, leaving her in the perfect position to watch the reactions towards the newly arrived young widow.

With particular emphasis on young.

She comported herself well—she had to, in the face of her reputation and the weight of her past—and her height served her well to provide a dissonance to the fact, but the tightness in the corners of her eyes, the stiff set of her smile, revealed that it was hardship, not age, which had given her experience.

That was made all the more obvious from their interactions. She hadn’t expected any witnesses to her admittedly amusing success at driving away less than savory crown princes from new friends through sheer boredom, and yet the approach of a clearly delighted Lady Valeriya was also not completely unexpected.

Even so, it wasn’t until she ventured to discuss the history of the Summits that the truth became transparent. Widow she may have been, but even more so, with a sudden warmth and enthusiasm at the subject, rivaling Peony at her most delighted, she was also very clearly scarcely older than a child. And, given the wariness behind her dark eyes, the heavy history which already haunted her reputation, a mistreated, terrified child at that.

Through some act of fate, they were seated together during dinner, and her immediate observations only served to confirm her opinion. Lady Valeriya was, no doubt, a slender woman in part from her genetics, and recent surplus had managed to soften the sharpest angles in her features, but Lia knew enough, had been taught enough of the signs, to recognize the reaction of an individual who had been raised with less than reliable sources of food.

Though she hid it well, the hungry manner in which Lady Valeriya examined the food, holding each serving spoon a fraction of a second too long, paired with her knowledge of her marital status and age, already painted a far too vivid image.

Lady Valeriya didn’t deserve that.

Nobody deserved that.

And even more so, Lady Valeriya was… a dear. It seemed strange, almost indecent, to think so of a woman she had only just met, scarcely a few years her younger, but she was, lighting up with just a touch of genuine interest and warmth, with a hint of positive reinforcement. Its implications towards her childhood were therefore all the more heartbreaking, and Lia couldn’t help feeling genuine affection, coaxing the young girl out from under her cold, uncaring exterior. It was certainly a far cry from the woman she had expected the so-called viper of Namaire to be.

She was apparently not alone in that assessment. Unfortunately, however, the young lord from Wellin is far less willing to consider it an exaggeration or a desperate act of self-preservation than a deliberate attempt at manipulation.

The absolute gall of the man to insinuate that a young girl in great need had derived any perverse pleasure in marrying and then being widowed by a much more powerful baron, rather than the much more plausible explanation of it being an act of desperation. And then to imply she had no right to attend the Summit…?

It was, she suspected, meant as a warning on her behalf, perhaps even kindly, if condescendingly meant, but it certainly did nothing to improve her opinion of him, and she only bristled instead. “Your opinion has been noted, my lord, and I thank you for your consideration, but I trust your excellent etiquette extends towards recognizing the folly of believing rumors…? ”

Before he could reply, however, she turned back to the lady in question, who looked for all the world like she was sizing him up for evisceration, and smiled, as warm and gentle as she might with a stray cat. “Lady Valeriya, I apologize on behalf of my seatmate for the truly unmannerly interruption. You were saying…?”

She wasn’t entirely sure what made her outburst more worthwhile, the sputtering of the lord in question, or the shining look in her new friend’s eyes, but either way, she found herself looking forward to the Summit with far more enthusiasm than she had before.

[angstmongertina]

Wow, I am terrible at technology, that last ask was supposed to be for Lia/Lyon I just... Hit send early? Or something? Idek anymore.

I randomed an "11" for you this time!

(Feel free to 🌀 yourself if you don't like 11 though)

So I absolutely meant to write additional scenes for this but I've been wholly distracted by a separate Cinderella AU for them now, so I will just post what I have so it doesn't burn a hole in my fic folder while I work on the whole AU lol. Thank you for the prompt! <3 I did, in fact, decide to run with 11 and it ended with me realizing what exactly Lia saw in Lyon in the first place, so thank you for that as well! :D

11. Heartbeat

At first, she approached him out of a sense of propriety. After all, as a delegate at the Seven Kingdoms Summit, she had a duty to meet as many of her fellows as possible, as soon as possible. And, given the circumstances surrounding her attendance, that Included the rest of the delegation from her own kingdom.

What possessed her to approach the Duke first and foremost was less apparent. It was certainly not from any encouragement on his side—while few of the Jiyelese delegation seemed to possess any more enthusiasm for socialization than she, a young lady who was attending out of obligation rather than desire, did, the duke was hardly one of them, though his expression seemed more… guarded, more uncomfortable, than anything else.

Perhaps that was it; it was not immutable, his attitude towards their fellow delegates. It was born of discomfort, likely of longstanding isolation, and she couldn’t help but try.

And shockingly, wonderfully, it worked. Oh, he had few words at first, his conversation stilted enough that it seemed to be an intentional obstacle on his part, but he was not immune to light coaxing and gentle teasing, even allowing a subtle smile to soften his features at her most pointed comments. And the words came easily, once she noticed his faint hint of interest. It was guarded, of course, carefully buried beneath stoic masks and, very likely, pointed reminders of what topics were and were not appropriate for social niceties, but once she did notice, it seemed almost impossible to not see the subtle shifts in his expression, the flicker of genuine enthusiasm in his eyes, as she ventured to ask his opinion on Mozi and Lisi, and offer hers in return.

It was a strange thing, to engage in such a discussion. After years of having only her family and servants as company, years where her conversations were on crop rotations and book balancing rather than philosophical treatises and academic debate, it was unfamiliar to banter and quip, to speak of theories and abstractions that she had only managed to glean through books borrowed and perused on late nights, made later by extra work. It was strange. It was enjoyable.

It was… right, somehow.

Still, she was not so deeply enthralled in the discussion that she missed the glances they received from the others, a mix of curious and calculating, particularly from other, no doubt more eligible, young ladies.

Then again, she did not require training for the summit to know that she was close to overstepping the bounds of propriety with the length of their conversation.

As she excused herself, he returned her formal farewell with alacrity, bowing and excusing himself a retreat into his self-imposed exile, in a corner far from the rest of their fellows, with a speed that perhaps should have been discouraging. And yet, even so, there was a change in his posture, in the manner with which he held himself, that lessened the disapproval which had earlier seemed to radiate off of him. For a moment, she granted herself a moment to pause, allowing the success of the interaction to bolster her nerve.

Maybe, just maybe, she was not quite so out of her league. Indeed, perhaps, she could make a small difference in her own way, could make some… pleasant memories, or even friends, from the unfortunate circumstances. Even if she did still have the rest of the gauntlet to face.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the rest of the hall and summoned her most friendly smile, though even so, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back towards the corner, towards him, with a silly smile that she couldn’t fight, even if she wanted to.

And, strangely, wonderfully, she had no desire to.

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Week 2022: Day 1

We’re doing another 7KPP Appreciation Week over on @fyeah7kpp, and I thought I’d start the prompts with an introduction to how my ultimate OTP meet in their cutest iteration, the Childhood “Friends” AU. It’s so cute, I almost feel bad for what I put them through on most iterations.

Day One - First

Lady Camellia Guo of Jiyel had barely turned nine years of age when she attended her first academic lecture.

Cousin Jiya, three years her elder and born with the triple advantage of an influential lineage, razor sharp intelligence, and not insignificant beauty, had adapted quickly to the expectations placed upon her, rising to the challenges of academic study and social niceties with aplomb. As such, it was only natural for the entire extended family to be invited to the budding young scholar’s first officially hosted event; after all, few had mastered the art of both paying respect to others and humbly bragging about themselves as thoroughly as the Jiyelese elite.

Which was, of course, why Lia found herself in the library, contemplating the impressive collection of books with curiosity and no small amount of envy. The lecture on Jiyel’s changing philosophy towards its relations with its fellow kingdoms had been most fascinating, particularly with regards to the introduction of the famed summits, to be sure. However, and much to her chagrin, its conclusion had soon brought about mingling and dancing with the peerage of Jiyel, a pastime that she, still a child with barely a name of her own compared to her much grander cousin and the other, more esteemed, guests, had little to contribute. But the library, on the other hand…

She reached out, running a gentle finger along the worn spines. Leather, smoothed by years of careful handling, greeted her as far as she could see, from the floor to the ceiling in carefully arranged rows of bookshelves, covering everything from art and music to science and history. Craning her neck to one side, she mouthed the titles to herself as she shuffled forward, each one more intriguing than the last.

Rounding a corner, she continued forward, transfixed, until her arm bumped into something hard and she tore her gaze away, just in time to watch as a precariously stacked pile of books teetered on the arm of a chair… before collapsing onto the floor as well as the lap of its occupant.

In the suddenly deafening silence, she winced. “I’m so sorry.”

Cool dark eyes blinked several times from behind a thin pair of spectacles before their owner sighed, brushing his hair out of his face as he looked down at the mess she had made. “It is no matter. I should not have kept them so.”

“And I should have paid more attention to my surroundings as well. I apologize for not noticing you sooner.” As she spoke, she knelt, gathering the fallen books and depositing them into a stack that she rather suspected would rival herself in height.

And, given the diminutive form working beside her, would probably give her newfound companion a run for his money as well.

After setting down another two onto the pile that was already threatening to reach her waist, she turned to him. “Were you planning on reading all of these?”

To her surprise, he flushed a faint red, halfway through putting the final tome on their careful tower. “I admit it is unlikely that I even could, but many of these are new to me and their perusal seemed a… more interesting way to spend the evening than performing social niceties.”

“At least until I interrupted?”

He paused, considering her with something that, for all the world, resembled Master Hinata’s expression when discussing the unknown mysteries of astronomy, the expression of a researcher possessed by a scientific curiosity bordering on fascination. “I confess I am not entirely certain. I suppose that remains to be seen.”

She smiled with some mischief, even as she folded her hands as demurely before her as she had been taught. “I see. Do you need more data?”

“It would seem that that would be ideal for proper analysis.”

Try as she might, she couldn’t quite hold back a giggle. “Are you hoping to conduct an experiment on social interactions, then?”

“That would be an efficient way to…” He blinked, apparently taking in her amusement, before his expression drew into a hint of a frown. “I… apologize. I am not well-versed in the social arts, nor do I find much enjoyment in their performance. I fear I am poor company for you to keep.” With that said, he returned to his seat, this time free from the looming threat of collapsing books, though she couldn’t help but notice that even though he had a book in hand, he didn’t seem as impatient as he could have been to read it.

“If I wanted to find sociable company, I’d go to the ballroom. Since you’re clearly not there, I think it’d be safe to assume you aren’t interested either.” The only response she received was a shrug, which was, given the situation, acknowledgement enough. “Besides, there are better ways to improve at onvu than reading a manual on strategy.”

When he met her gaze, this time with a brighter curiosity, she grinned. “I think I saw a board earlier. You can always test your new strategies against another player. See how much Liu Zhu’s manual can actually help you.”

“I didn’t— I was brainstorming how to counter them!” His protest floated over her shoulder as she walked away, laughing; the quiet shuffles following her were indication enough that he was more amenable to her suggestion than his mannerisms might have implied.

Which was how, an hour later, Camellia found herself in the most evenly matched game of onvu she had ever played. Contrary to her teasing, he had proven himself to be a formidable opponent, armed with quick thinking and a hidden spark of spontaneity that took her entirely by surprise.

Then again, considering the astonishment that slowly turned into respect in his expression, perhaps it was a mutual experience.

Scarcely daring to breathe, she watched him sit forward, absently pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes scanned the board and her scattered pieces. A thin finger nudged a cavalier to the side, neatly avoiding her attempted Taniguchi maneuver, before he slouched back with a genuine smile. “A good attempt.”

Finally relaxing, she grinned back and slid forward in her seat to shift her sage over a square, disrupting his counterattack. “Not quite. Check.”

Consternation flooded his face as he leaned forward, contemplating the board with renewed intensity. “That was… unexpected.”

She laughed, swinging her legs rhythmically as she waited for him to settle on his next move. “The game would be over much too quickly if it were not. Except…”

“Except it may just as well be now as well.” Her companion scowled, though his gaze never left the board.

Before she could reply, the door to the library creaked open. “Lia? Where are you?”

She heaved a breath, sliding out of her seat with an apologetic look and padding around the corner to the doorway. “I’m here, Mother.”

Her hand on her hip, Lady Hyacinth sighed, though it sounded more resigned than exasperated. “Of course you are. Heavens forbid we should find you properly socializing as opposed to ensconced in a library somewhere with your nose buried in a book.”

“I like reading, and I’m certain nobody even noticed my absence. It’s not as if any of them would want to dance with me, so learning is a much more efficient way to spend my time.”

“Learning and socializing need not be mutually exclusive, my dear. But no matter. Your father is ready to return home.”

Camellia nodded. “I’ll be just a moment.”

“Of course. It would not do to leave the room a mess.” Her mother smiled. “We’ll meet you in the entryway.”

When she returned to the onvu board, it was to find her opponent a little distance away and back to perusing a book in what was once again threatening to become a fort around him. He didn’t bother to look up as she drew near, though she couldn’t help but notice that his literature of choice was another manual on onvu strategy… and that his general had been tipped over on the board in a show of surrender.

She smiled, sweeping the pieces into their drawer. “Thanks for the company. I had fun.”

At that, he did glance towards her, eyes flicking so quickly that she almost missed it. “Good game.”

“You too. Rematch next time?”

Nearly at the corner, she paused, turning her head back just in time to see him shrug, though he did drag his gaze fully away from his book to meet her eyes.

Grinning wider at the acquiescence, reluctant though it might have been, she dropped into a brief curtsy before hurrying away.

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Week 2022: Day 4

Day Four - Fashion

Today’s post is basically just a snapshot of Lia’s closet. While she does have more... Arlish inspired clothing, many of her favorites and nicest dresses, the ones that she brings with her to the Summit, consist of more traditional Jiyelese hanfu. The simplest, pictured at the top, are what she is accustomed to wearing back home or when working or studying. The ones with more flowy lines and elaborate embroidery are saved for when she wants to make an impression (such as the one inspiring the previous Fashion post I made for 7KPP Week). And finaly, the last is what she might wear to her future wedding.

Yes, I was just really lazy today. Images taken from pinterest.

And because I can, two bonus images that don’t really fit the same theme under the cut:

Because I love these two pictures from my pinterest board for Camyon, I had to share them. First, an image evocative of Lia and their daughter, Lily.

Second, an image resembling Lily, now the older sister to a set of twins, Conan (reminiscent of the boy featured here) and Caden.

Because it occurs to me that I am not really planning on introducing the children at all this 7KPP Week so I thought I’d throw them in here, while I’m sharing an unreasonable number of images anyway.

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Week 2022: Day 2

Onward to day 2 of 7KPP Week. I’m already late but that’s because I wasn’t expecting to participate at all, but then I got slapped in the Camyon feels so here we are. This is technically more in the Childhood Friends AU, but it’s a relatively oblique reference lol.

Day Two - Family 

“Have you heard? Jiya got married.”

Looking up from the perusal of her own mail, Camellia blinked. “She did what? When?”

Across from her at the breakfast table, her father grinned, clearly relishing the attention. “Just a few days ago, as I understand it.”

Lady Hyacinth leaned forward, a concerned look on her face. “That is odd, don’t you think? One would assume that we would have heard something earlier, at least about an attachment, if not an engagement. And I thought she was selected to be a delegate.”

“I believe she was selected to be a delegate. That’s the curious part. I imagine the Crown is none too pleased at the moment. Such a carefully curated list, thrown off at the last moment.”

Her mother opened her mouth to say something in return, but before she could, Mrs. Lee slipped into the room, handing Lord Franklin an envelope. “A messenger just arrived from the capital, sir. He said it was urgent.”

He raised an eyebrow, running a light finger over the wax seal. “From the Council of Foreign Affairs? And addressed to…” He turned it over and hesitated, just long enough that she knew, she knew,, because why else would they, the untitled family of a small holding, have been contacted by the Council for Foreign Affairs?

“Well, there’s your answer, I think, Father.” She nodded toward the letter, keeping her voice carefully light, neutral. “The Crown has found a solution, almost just as quickly.”

“And quite an elegant one, too, one has to admit. After all, it isn’t as if they could just request the next highest score on the exam to attend without insult or bringing more headaches upon themselves Whereas Lia, on the other hand…” Lady Hyacinth shot her a smile before giving her husband a wry look. “And look, just a moment earlier, you had been so eager to share the gossip, too. It’s almost as if they knew.”

Lord Franklin groaned, though with no real irritation. “The universe is far too fond of irony, it appears.”

“Or perhaps you simply tempted fate too much, dear. At any rate, we do not have much time to decide. I’ve heard from the Chen’s that the delegates are due to set off for the Summit in only a few week’s time, and that her Weijun has been preparing for months, and he was hardly the top scorer on the exam.”

“I’m sure they all have, Mama. It would be simply illogical to take the examination, be selected for the Summit, and then do nothing to prepare for it.”

“Impudent brat. I know you know what I meant.”

She laughed, ducking the light-hearted swat from her mother’s fan, before letting the mirth fall. “I do, and you are right. Which means I should probably start preparing myself, if I want to have any hope of making a comparatively passable impression.”

“You’ve decided, then?”

She glanced at her father. The surprise in his voice was not wholly unexpected, but there was a hint of something more, something deeper, that flickered across his face, and she found herself looking away before her face could betray her.

No, he need not be reminded of the precarious balance they had achieved only with the Crown’s support, need not feel the sting of failure to provide for her future that she knew both he and her mother had grappled with for years.

No, this was her choice, her responsibility.

“I have.” She glanced towards her mother with a grin. “I can’t allow Lord Weijun’s mother to have all of the bragging rights, after all.”

Lady Hyacinth shook her head with a quiet chuckle. “He’s hardly the only other delegate to attend the Summit, my dear.”

“Perhaps not, but since Cousin Jiya is no longer attending, he’s the only other one I know.”

Her mother rolled her eyes, though the exasperation was belied by the fond amusement in her voice. “And whose fault is that? I know for a fact that even Duke Lyon himself has attended several of Jiya’s events, but you are the one who chose to hide in the library rather than socialize, are you not?”

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Only the first time, but very well, I must concede your point. But at least I will be able to meet the rest at the Summit, and you will have your stories to share with the other mamas over Mahjong at the next tea.”

“All right, all right. If you’re sure, then it’s up to you. Just promise me you won’t spend your entire time at the Summit hiding in the library as well.”

“Well, I’ve heard that they do have a very expansive collection…” On her way to the doorway, she caught her mother’s raised eyebrow and sighed, dropping the levity. “But I understand. I won’t, I promise.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Lia.”

She paused, turning to meet her father’s gaze, serious and thoughtful.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Positive.”

He sighed, a heavy exhale that somehow seemed to carry the weight of years of guilt mingled with pride. “Very well. I suppose you’ve done more than enough for us now and you more than deserve this chance.” He hesitated for just a moment. “Just… be careful.”

“Of course.” She stooped, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, papa.”

He cleared his throat. “Go on, then. We have a letter to write, and you work to do. And Lia?”

She froze, one hand resting on the handle. “Yes?”

He smiled, warm and fierce. “Thank you. We’re proud of you.”

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Week 2022: Day 3

Because, at least in Jiyel, cut fruit is a love language and making food is a family bonding activity. Also known as: The moment all of Grenwold knew that Lyon was definitively a member of the family.

Yes, I am also confused by all of the fluff. WHO AM I?

Day Three - Food

Regardless of how long she has spent away, regardless of how long she has been moved into her new home, the rooms and passages of her parents’ manor at Grenwold will always be as familiar as the back of her hand. She smiles, weaving her way past servants, both recognized and new, with a nod, but does not stop, cannot stop, because she knows where she is needed. She knows in her very bones that every time she visits home without fail, the kitchens will be full of bustle and she will not—dare not—miss it.

Even before she enters the room, she can hear the chatter, the warm, rich tones of her mother, the quiet, deep baritone of her father, and she can picture them in her mind’s eye before she turns the corner, animated eyes and bright faces and light-fingered hands in constant motion, dusty with flour, creating rows and rows of neatly folded dumplings.

They look up when she enters but without a pause in their discussion, something about the moderate success of their tenants’ newest crop rotation, but she sees the open seat to Lady Hyacinth’s left, the pair of chopsticks and row of covered balls of dough, and for a moment, she finds that she cannot interject into the conversation, even if she wants to.

Instead, she settles into her seat, dodging floury smudges as she kisses her mother’s cheek, and picks up the rolling pin. The motion is half-remembered at first, the wrapper uneven and misshapen, formed by fingers now more used to holding a quill than culinary tools, but the rhythm is still there, comforting in its constance, in its timeless familiarity.

“A little lopsided there,” her father interrupts his discussion to comment, amusement dancing in the crinkles of his eyes, and she makes a face in response to his light laughter. “Looks like you need more practice.”

“Should we switch then?” she counters, and this too is familiar, the faux disappointment as he shakes his head, the fond exasperation as he passes over his own rolled out wrappers, each one a neat circle, without protest, and she relaxes as she settles into the folding process and the customary banter on the virtues of knowing how to roll out one’s own dough compared to the expediency of focusing on the part of the process that she is much more competent at, thank you very much.

For several long moments, it feels almost as though nothing has changed, until…

“Lia?”

“In here,” she calls, and it is only when Lyon enters the room and stops, sharp eyes examining her from head to foot, that she remembers the flour which always somehow, inevitably, covers her like powdered snow, and finds herself fighting a truly illogical urge to blush.

In contrast, her mother does not falter, wiping her hands on a towel before rising to her feet in a fluid motion. “Ah, Duke Lyon, I see you’ve found us. We’re making dumplings. Come and join us.”

Almost before she is even aware, another position has been set up to her left, her father passing over another set of chopsticks and dough in quick succession while her mother pulls over another chair, and it isn’t until he has folded himself into the seat beside her that she notices the hesitation in his movements, the way his gaze lingers on her hands as she tightly pleats the edges of another dumpling.

“Do you always make your own dumplings?”

She hums, reaching for another wrapper. “Typically, yes. Between making the filling and all of the folding, it is far more efficient for everyone to work together than for only a select few to make them for everyone.”

“And it has always been an excuse for everyone to sit down together.” Her father leans forward, though she rather suspects that it is less about reaching for the filling than it is to look around her toward her husband. “The experience itself provides an opportunity to come together as a family and spend time together.”

“Or, at least, a uniquely bonding experience that is different from sharing a meal or something else of that nature. It was something that I enjoyed doing with my parents, and something that we have passed down to Lia.” Her mother reaches for her own wrapper, holding it out, flat on her palm, as she meets Lyon’s gaze, warm and encouraging. “And to you, if you would like.”

It is an invitation, and even more than that, it is an acceptance, and if her smile is a little shaky as she watches him imitate her, the rest of her family are thankfully all much too distracted to notice.

[angstmongertina]

and still so far (7KPP)

I technically had this written a while ago now but it kind of fits for today’s 7KPP daily prompt and I haven’t posted it yet so I’m gonna do that now.

This is another fic for my universe where Lia and Lyon break up before the end of the Summit. Because I live for angst.

Title taken from the song So Close from Enchanted.

Prompt 19: Facade

AO3 Link

He almost, almost, did not attend the ball. After all, he had already made his unofficially required annual public appearance towards the beginning of the season and was accordingly left to his own devices for the remainder of his time at the capital. Surely none of society was expecting his attendance at an engagement ball.

None, it seemed, except for one of the two whose engagement was being celebrated, and it required very little thought to figure out which one.

Still, that itself was worth considering, if only to prevent less enjoyable considerations from occupying his mind. Regardless of their previous association, Lady Camellia was never one who would do anything that might taunt him in the slightest, or, if their most recent interaction was any indication, even communicate with him at all if she could avoid it, not that he could blame her for that. The invitation was almost unthinkable to have been from her. But her… But Lord Randall, it appeared, had no such misgivings and, given his conviviality, seemed inclined to invite anyone who might have a passing relation to the parties in question.

Which he did, though perhaps not in the way the lord believed.

Still, Camellia appeared… content, or at least was genuinely willing to accept the man’s hand, which he knew was no small concession in it of itself, and whatever else happened, he would always wish the best for her, something that she tended to undervalue on her own. Not to mention the fact that, given her more reticent nature, the celebration would not be so large in scale that his absence would be unnoticed, something which might raise more undesired questions than his attendance would.

He wondered briefly when conforming to societal niceties became such an exercise in irony.

And so, he found himself standing in the corner of the ballroom, watching as a small crowd whirled on the floor or else mingled by the refreshments. Most were only vaguely familiar, a testament to his asocial tendencies, but they clearly recognized him; the surprised and calculating looks directed at him when they assumed he was not paying attention were evidence enough for that. In fact, it was some miracle that they had not descended upon him in full force, though perhaps he had the couple’s insightful choice of friends to thank for that, even more so than the drink and generally unapproachable expression he nursed.

It was, however, not enough to prevent Lord Randall from greeting him, leading his fiancée along by the hand. Then again, perhaps he should have been expecting it; the pair had shown themselves to be consummate hosts, and his determination to remain as far from the festivities as possible no doubt had caught their attention. He had attended, after all. It was only logical that he would have to interact with them.

That did not stop him from stiffening, ever so slightly, when he noticed their approach, a sentiment that she echoed, given the shock that crossed her face, replaced almost instantaneously by a polite smile.

Their reactions, however, did nothing to reduce her fiancé’s enthusiasm.

“Your Grace! A pleasure to see you again!”

Instinctively, his eyes darted to Lady Camellia, but instead of meeting his gaze, she dropped into a low bow, eyes lowered and hands clasped before her. “We are pleased you have decided to attend our humble celebration, Duke Lyon.”

Her greeting was everything appropriate from a minor noblewoman to a duke of Jiyel… and yet somehow all the worse for it.

Forcing some semblance of a polite expression onto his face, he bowed in turn. “It was a privilege and an honor to be invited.”

“So formal, you two.” Lyon nearly jumped, but Lord Randall only chuckled, shaking his head and clapping him on the shoulder. “One would think you barely know each other.”

“It has been four years, Randall.” Her voice, though chiding, was soft, almost hesitant, as apologetic eyes flicked to his face. “And I’m afraid much has changed since then.”

“Then you two should catch up!” He had, apparently, already encountered the lord enough that he was not entirely surprised to find himself pushed towards the lady. Unfortunately, that did nothing to quell his discomfort, particularly when he found himself grasping the hand of one Lady Camellia. “Go on for a dance.”

Before he could even formulate any sort of response, he was propelled towards the center of the room, Lady Camellia right beside him, as Lord Randall fairly disappeared into the nearest group of guests. It was almost impressive, given the man’s height was not far from his, and, as such, almost a head taller than the vast majority of people in the kingdom. Or, at least, it would have been had the situation not been so uncomfortable.

“I apologize, Your Grace.” He looked down, meeting anxious brown eyes, and told himself that it didn’t sting when she dropped his hand, taking a step away. “Lord Randall has always been enthusiastic about such things. He is more gregarious than I by far and I think he wishes to ensure that I find an equal enjoyment in companions.”

She chuckled, something resembling a smile, small and tremulous, crossing her lips for a heartbeat, and his chest constricted too tightly for him to form a response. Instead, he only inclined his head, offering his hand, and her smile, such as it was, turned melancholic.

“I have no desire to force you into a dance when all of Jiyel knows your distaste for such things, Your Grace.”

He shook his head. “Hardly.” When she didn’t react, instead watching him steadily with that faint sadness lurking in her gaze, he swallowed, forcing the words out of his suddenly dry mouth. “It would be an honor, Camellia. Please.”

That managed to catch her off guard, if the visibly stupefied look on her face as she accepted his hand was any indication.

As if on cue, the musicians played the opening strains of the next waltz, and he drew a deep breath, carefully leading her into the proper position and ignoring the gapes and whispers from the crowd. They did not go unnoticed by his partner either, a fact that was apparent when her expression somehow turned even more stilted.

Still, she said nothing as he stepped around her, save for offering him wordless apology when their eyes met. He shook his head, focusing instead on sweeping her across in turn, on recalling the lessons from his childhood, so many years ago. The lessons that he had reviewed in preparation for the Summit four years past, that he had anticipated using…

Keeping his face neutral, he carefully eased her into a turn, watching as she twirled, her gown rippling around her, light and graceful. When he caught her, she beamed, a warm, genuine smile that seemed to steal his breath. “A fine secret you’ve been keeping from us, Your Grace.”

For a moment, panic scrabbled at his throat and he nearly stumbled over the next step. “What?”

The sound was more croak than word, but she only grinned, a little sheepish. “The rumor on the Isle was that you didn’t attend the Ambassador’s Ball because you didn’t know how to dance and had no desire to advertise it.” She paused as he led her into a free spin, dropping away before returning to his arms, elegant and natural and something in his chest twinged. “I have no doubt society thought the same way, but I’m afraid your secret is out now.”

“You flatter me, milady.”

She said nothing more, only shaking her head with a soft, almost wistful look, and he followed her lead, putting the crowds and the people out of mind until there was only the two of them. Her grasp in his, light and trusting. Her hand resting on his arm, his palm against her shoulder blade. In synchrony and as one, a wordless conversation of giving and taking, a perfect communication of the mind. Warm and soft and right.

When he pulled her closer, leading her into a pivot, somewhat stilted but still with decent form, she laughed, cheeks flushed a faint pink, and for a moment, he relaxed completely, letting the faintest hint of a smile curve his lips as they spun smoothly across the floor.

Faintly, he heard the music taper away, sensed the other couples on the floor slow as the song came to an end, and he carefully led her into a final turn, bowing as she dropped into a low curtsy. Applause surrounded them, compliments and warm wishes, sights and sounds that slowly filtered back into his consciousness. Teasing remarks from the Jiyelese elite… not the delegates at the Summit.

That was four years prior, and a moment that had never come to pass.

He offered her his arm, feeling his chest tighten when she accepted it, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow with her face arranged back into a mask of inscrutability. “Thank you for honoring me with the dance, Your Grace.”

He cleared his throat. “It was my pleasure.”

Lord Randall, of course, had chosen to wait in the farthest corner of the room, and Lyon would likely have suspected that the man was planning something were he any less good-natured. As it was, however, he simply led her along, grateful that her presence, at least temporarily, served to protect him from any who might have wanted to approach him.

It did not, however, shield him from the weight of his partner’s gaze nor the gentle pressure of her hand on his arm.

“I must admit I was surprised you accepted the invitation.”

Her voice was soft, hardly audible over the music and conversation around them, and surely inaudible to anyone who might be listening in. For a step, he faltered, but when she said nothing more, he chanced a glance in her direction.

“I thought it would have been more telling had I not.”

She pursed her lips. “Perhaps. But you would also have been spared all of this…” She hesitated, looking about as though hoping to find the right word to describe the celebration plastered upon the wall. “All of this unpleasantness. Socializing.”

“Perhaps, but… I came to wish you well in person.”

Her smile was small, tinged with wistfulness. “I am glad you came.”

Unable to meet her gaze, he looked away and swallowed, feeling the strange lump in his throat shift with the movement. “I… I am as well.”

All too soon and yet not soon enough, Lord Randall stood before them, beaming as he accepted the hand of his betrothed. “Welcome back, my flower. I hope you enjoyed yourself and were able to catch up?”

She might have said something in reply but Lyon didn’t notice, preoccupied by the friendly gaze that met his, open and unguarded. “Thank you for humoring my request, Your Grace. I hope you know that any friend of Lia’s is a friend of mine.”

Yet another offering of gratitude added to the swirl of interactions and conversation, and between the forced pleasantry and polite socialization, it was all suddenly too much.

Glancing between the pair, he nodded, replying with something that, given the affable smile he received, was appropriate enough. Or, more likely, the lord was simply generous enough to accept whatever had managed to leave his mouth as agreement. At any rate, it was enough to allow for his escape, which was all that he wanted, the social consequences be damned.

Finally alone on the cobblestone, under the cool night sky, he released a shaky breath, watching as silhouettes continued to pass before the brightly lit windows of the ballroom, blissfully unaware of how the celebration was thoroughly crumbling the foundations of his very being. Then again, who would have noticed? Not even he had realized…

“Duke Lyon?”

He had to press his lips together to prevent something that resembled hysterical laughter from bursting forth. It was only natural that if anyone at the engagement ball were to notice, were to follow him out, it would be her. One of the couple that the ball was celebrating… and the one person in the entire seven kingdoms who still possessed the ability to send his world completely off-kilter.

“Lady Camellia.”

He said nothing more, and she approached slowly, footsteps faltering and stopping when she was almost close enough to touch. Almost, but still just out of reach. “I know I may very well be the last person you wish to see in this moment, but you left in a hurry without bidding farewell, and… well… I was worried…”

When she trailed off, he glanced down to find her watching him, sorrow resting heavily on her features, and he slowly released a breath, finding, though not to his surprise, that he was still—would always be—unable to resist her. “I apologize. I found I needed some air.”

Her answering smile was at once tentative and rueful. “I thought you preferred to tell the truth?”

That, the reminder, the memory, of a less burdened man’s long-lost words, was enough to coax a barking, almost harsh, laugh from his throat, and she was not quick enough to disguise her flinch. Not from him. “I did.”

What he left unsaid seemed to hang between them for several heartbeats before she nodded. “I suppose much has changed since then. For the both of us.”

“Indeed.” He shifted, noticing the way she moved subconsciously, balancing his change in posture without thinking.

Or, perhaps more accurately, she was reacting, adjusting. Adapting and rebuilding, just as he knew he had to.

He drew another shaky breath, closing his eyes against the pinpricks of heat behind his lids. “I hope Lord Randall makes you happy.”

For a second, she froze, expression startled, before she smiled, gentle. Sad. “He does.” A pause, during which time he could barely breathe, and then a warm hand brushed against his, light and tender, so quick that he almost missed it. “Thank you, Lyon.”

He nodded once, not trusting his voice, and waited until she returned to the ballroom before letting his mask fall.

[angstmongertina]

Hello! This is your Secret Santa with a few questions (it occurred to me while I was working on your gift that I really ought to ask). Did Lia wear her hair differently when she was young? And do you perchance have a pinboard for her, or a few dresses that really look like her to you? Does she usually wear blue? Thank you!

Hello, hello! Sorry about the delay in responding; I’ve been super swamped studying for finals, but thinking about this is a nice break!

Lia probably wore her hair free when she was younger. Mostly just down and long because it’s easy, and possibly pulled into a ponytail when she’s studying so it doesn’t fall into her eyes. And I don’t actually have a pinterest board for her specifically but since I headcanon Jiyel as being East Asian, all of the hanfu that are in my 7KPP board are basically for Lia. She does like blue a lot but in general, soft colors are her go to. Basically just hanfu. :P

Please let me know if you have any other questions! I can’t guarantee I can respond in the next two days but after that, I will be FREE.

[angstmongertina]

Inktober for Writers Day 12: Wedding

I’M STILL ALIVE. And very behind but I HAD to write this one because I had an idea for WEDDINGS AND ANGST. :D

Prompt list created by @heartofbucky found here!

Fandom: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem

The worst part was how right everything felt.

In the far corner of the assembly hall, mostly hidden by shadow, Lyon looked around. The place was simply decorated with flowers and traditional symbols of good luck, far less ostentatious than most ceremonies he had been forced to attend. In a similar fashion, the outfits, though still properly vibrant, were less adorned than were typical, though it took nothing away from the pair stood at the front of the hall. Her touch was apparent in that choice, achieving an elegant, understated event that suited her far more than anything elaborate would have.

That, if he were to be honest with himself, would have been what he had, as little as he wanted to intended, looked forward to, back during—

He shook his head. The time for that had long since passed and it was illogical to dwell on what was so far in the past, on what was impossible.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the couple and their guests. It was small for nobility, though considering the particular nobility in question, perhaps that was not entirely unexpected. What mattered more was that all of the people who were most dear to them were in attendance.

Or, perhaps more precisely, all of the people most dear to them, and him.

Still ensconced in his corner, Lyon drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He had no reason to remain. For that matter, he had no obligation to be there in the first place, considering how things had ended with her at the Summit, how every encounter he had with her since then had gone. But…

A burst of audience applause cut off his thoughts, though his attention was once again caught by the woman standing at the front of the room in her formal robes, her familiar pale hair twisted into an elaborate updo. Lady Camellia, as always, was resplendent, capable of catching his eye in any crowd, let alone when all attention was focused on her as she read from the paper she held before her. He couldn’t make out what she said, but he didn’t need to; there was only one thing it could be, and it was something that he would be better off not listening to.

“My lord?”

He froze.

Before him, an older woman peered up at him, warmth infused with surprise on her face. Rather than being dressed in the same level of finery as the rest of the guests, she wore a plainer, if still formal, gown and seemed more preoccupied with preparing the feast than watching the ceremony proceed. Except that had apparently been eclipsed by… given the lack of other possible suspects, his presence, even if she clearly had no idea who exactly he was. Which, honestly, was probably the better scenario.

“Madam?”

“I apologize if I interrupted your thoughts, my lord. I just thought you might be more comfortable seated with everyone else.”

In spite of himself, he glanced towards the front of the hall, to where Lia was still reading her vows, and swallowed once, hard. “No.” When she blinked at him, something akin to offense flitting across her features, he cleared his throat, forcing lightness into his tone, if just for her sake. “My apologies, Madam. I mean to say that unfortunately, I cannot stay, but I would like to pass on my best wishes to the happy couple.”

“Oh! Well, I will be certain to pass on the sentiment to my lady and her Lord Randall, my lord, if you would do me the honor of leaving me a name?”

But, with a parting glance at the impeccable ceremony and the now newly married Lady Camellia, he had already turned and disappeared back into the night.

[angstmongertina]

Mmmmm balter- to dance gracelessly OTP TRUCK

All right, have some fluff for these two FOR ONCE. :P (Ft. the Flower Power Trio aka @voidnoodles‘ Peti and @seckritlab‘s Rosa because there’s no fluff without those two.)

As usual, making assumptions about what happens beyond the extended demo so forgive any misconceptions.

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While she had found that much of the gossip surrounding Duke Lyon of Jiyel, chief among those his cold, unapproachable heart, had been proven to be patently false, the rumors of his infamous lack of dancing skills were far from spurious. Perhaps due in part to his considerable height and surely due to his own lack of experience, the good Duke could really only be described as mediocre at best, assuming one was extremely generous in their assessment.

Unfortunately for him, the Ambassador’s Ball was not an event he could hide from, and most certainly included the time-honored and international tradition of waltzing.

From her position by the refreshments, Lady Camellia spotted him amongst the crowd, a task made easier courtesy of his tendency of towering over those around him. He had managed to avoid the young ladies in search for dance partners, it seemed, in favor of his usual tradition of remaining ensconced in a corner, but given the mildly disapproving looks the ambassador was sending his way, it would not last.

Particularly once she noticed the mischievous looks that Rosa was also directing at him.

Before she could move, however, Peti spoke at her shoulder, sudden enough that she nearly spilled her wine. “Is it just me, or does Rosa look extremely excited about seeing your Duke on his own?”

Lia hid a grimace with some difficulty. “No, it is certainly not just you; she looks far too happy for my comfort, and doubtless Lyon’s as well.”

“Then I believe that makes it your honor bound duty to go rescue him, no?” Before she could reply, a quick hand snagged her glass while another shoved her forward into the thong of delegates.

By the time she regained her equilibrium enough to glance back over her shoulder, Peti had disappeared with her drink. Naturally. Sighing, she picked her way across the crowded ballroom towards her betrothed.

“Duke Lyon.” She sank into a small curtsy, holding back a chuckle as he started before relaxing.

“Lady Camellia.” The reply was accompanied by something resembling a smile, his eyes softening ever so slightly. “I hope the ball—”

“Lia! And Duke Lyon, of course.” To her disappointment, though not her surprise, Rosa had elected to join them without a moment of hesitation, flinging an arm around her shoulders without a care in the world. Then again, the fact that her presence alone would not be enough to deter Rosa from her favored pastime of teasing Duke Lyon was no great shock to anyone involved.

Judging from the expression on the duke’s face and his audible exhale, he had arrived at the same conclusion. “Lady Rosalinde.”

Other than a faint tightening of her mouth, even the dreaded full name went unanswered; whether it was from the ball or from her betrothed’s presence, Rosa was in a most delighted of moods. It was enough to send a frisson of fear up her spine, especially when she gave no sign of abandoning the… conversation, if the one-sided chatter about the attendees and dancing could even be called that.

It seemed that a little more would be required.

“Duke Lyon.” At her side, Rosa’s mouth snapped shut with an almost audible click of teeth, but she ignored it with the skill a long six weeks of experience had given her, not even bothering to spare her friend a second glance. “I believe I promised you a dance?”

“Indeed.” If he were any other man, she might have suspected the acquiescence to be token but she knew him well enough to see the glint of affection and perhaps even genuine appreciation in his eyes. “If I may call upon that now?”

She smiled. “Of course, Your Grace.” Hiding a smirk, she took his proffered hand, this time sparing a moment to peek at her visibly disappointed friend.

As he led her away, Lyon bowed his head. “Please excuse us, Lady Rosalinde.”

His eyes fairly glinted with satisfaction, an expression that soon faded as they approached the floor and he brought her into closed position with a posture that was just a little too tense. She carefully slid her hand to rest on his shoulder blade, gentle but steady against the tightly wound muscles, and frowned.

“Lyon.” Her voice was soft, but in the corner of the room, the string ensemble was quiet, lone instruments playing climbing and falling intervals in discordant rhythms. When he met her gaze, she smiled, loosening her hold slightly. “We need not dance if you do not wish to. The strings are still tuning. We have time.”

To her surprise, he only offered her a small but genuine smile as he settled his hand on her back and drew her closer. “It is true that I am not the fondest of dancing, as I have no doubt many are aware, but I have no intention of forcing you to break your promise, nor, I believe, retract from your enjoyment of the ball. And if I am not mistaken, you are quite fond of dancing.”

To be so full of affection that speaking was impossible was an expression that Lia had seen many times, often in the most sordid of romance novels, without understanding, but in that one moment, she knew exactly what they meant.

He said nothing, only squeezing her hand. For a brief moment, he seemed to look over her shoulder before he drew a deep breath and relaxed.

As if on cue, the musicians started their brief introduction and they began to move with the crowd. She stepped forward, watching as he shifted around her before spinning her around, each step made with careful precision. Still, despite the concentration clear in his movements, in the rigidity of his arms, he kept his gaze on their surroundings, a careful eye watching for unexpected collisions. Except, she noticed, for those moments when it seemed almost as if he were sneaking glances at her face.

She caught his eye and, for a moment, he seemed to stumble, but he caught himself, the hints of a flush lighting his cheeks as he led her into a simple twirl. As she slid smoothly back into his arms, she met his gaze, smiling wider, and as his face softened, his body loosening in equal measure, it was impossible to look away.

It wasn’t until he blinked, a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes, that she realized the last strains of the final chord was drifting away in the night air and they had come to a stop, his hand steady and gentle on her back. A rare, tender smile curved his mouth, shrinking but not disappearing in the face of the onlookers’ applause, and she couldn’t have torn her gaze away if she wanted to.

A soft cough made her jump and she turned to find an oddly satisfied-looking Princess Cordelia smiling at them, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“A beautiful waltz, Your Grace. Lady Camellia.”

To her surprise, Lyon offered a small bow. “Thank you, your highness.”

She curtsied, but before she could say anything, the princess dropped into an answering curtsy and hurried away, leaving her with a still-flushed Duke Lyon.

Clearing her throat, she turned, gathering the shreds of her composure and willing her voice into some semblance of calm. “Thank you for the dance, Duke Lyon.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he brought her hand to his lips, his breath ghosting over her bare skin. “It was my pleasure.”