In Which Hollie Is Closer

February 2, 1204

"The bedroom is to your liking, I hope? I know you tend not to care much about decor or anything, but if only for the sake of comfort--"

"Shh." Hollie tapped her finger to Ricky's lips. It was sweet of him to consider such things, but as sweetness and consideration were typical of him, she doubted he could have made a bedroom unfit for her if he tried. "I'm quite happy with it. Cozy, but not cluttered--and simple, but not dull."

"Ah, good." His arm on her shoulder relaxed as she drew back her hand, though he choked out a nervous chuckle all the same. "Maybe it's good luck, a bedroom that fits the same description as one's husband?"

"You're not simple, and I'll box the ears of anyone who calls you such."

"I'm flattered that you're so eager to defend my honor." Ricky slipped his free hand beneath Hollie's knees and nudged her up to his lap. Comfortable though he'd made sure the bench was, she preferred this alternative seating.

"All those years of my nagging parents were worth it, you know. I'm sure I could have found someone who didn't make me miserable, but no one makes me happy like you do, Hollihock."

"And you likewise," she agreed, leaning inward until they were brow to brow. His eyes may well have been the only blue in the room, but there came and went a distinct second in which her whole world was that color. "Here's to all those years and then some of us figuring out how to make each other even happier."

"Each other, and ourselves from time to time. I know you're still figuring things out. If there's anything I can do to help you find yourself, know that there's nothing you can't ask of me."

"I know--but I'm a lot closer already." Closer in time, closer in space, closer in every sense including the gaps between thoughts and the strings that tied hearts together. "It helps when you have someone who will love you no matter who you are."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Hollie Is Not the Suitable Comforter

June 24, 1201

So much for a nice, quiet day with Ricky.

Just when Hollie had finally had a day to spare, she'd made the ride out to Armion only to find that Ricky had and his father had left to survey some construction projects in the area, and that his mother was calling on her sister in Tetran.

But, Aldhein had told her she might as well stay, because Camaline had just received a letter from the woman who would have been her mother-in-law, informing her that her betrothed had died. He'd said she was in need of a suitable comforter.

Hollie didn't think she had been a 'suitable comforter' at any point in her existence. But, Camaline was her little cousin and would one day be her sister-in-law, so she'd resolved to do what she could--which was, apparently, nothing.

"I mean, I-- I-- I'm practically a widow!"

Had Camaline even met Farilon? Hollie didn't recall any instance in which she might have. Then again, what did she know about long, pre-arranged betrothals? Unlike herself at that age, Camaline had likely held a clear picture in her head of how the rest of her life would play out. Someone had taken a dagger to that canvas and slashed it to shreds. "Don't say that..."

"But I am! And what's to become of me now? Who's to say if Father can find anyone else for me?"

That couldn't have been much of an issue for a pretty, generally charming daughter of a duke and a princess, but it felt insensitive to point that out. "You're younger than I was when your brother proposed to me. Someone will come along."

"Will he? You know how early most of us are betrothed; every young man worth having is spoken for." Camaline took a minute to wipe her eyes while Hollie pondered the meaning of 'worth having'. Surely the existence of marriage hold-outs such as her brother hadn't been lost on her? "Now I'll probably end up as some old man's third wife, or I'll be promised to some little boy and I won't be married until I'm past thirty--and I'll be stuck here until then as a maiden aunt!"

Again--Hollie didn't think that would be the case. But, it did sound like a drag. "If it helps, I can cover for you if you decide to... you know, not be a maiden."

"That's not the point! I just don't want to be... extraneous. Purposeless." Camaline sniffed, a sob caught on her throat. "Well, and I don't want to be a maiden for that long either. And even if I technically wasn't, I don't want people to look at me when I'm that old and consider me as some woman-shaped child who knows nothing of the world and ought to be kept that way."

"Aww, you know Ricky and I will punch the lights out of anyone who treats you like that." But she just collapsed into tears again--because that didn't erase the possibility that people would. "I'm sorry. I'm... not good at this whole 'comforting' thing."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Hollie Is Understood

December 25, 1199

"Hello, Hollyhock," Hollie's cousin greeted her. She hadn't expected or even wanted company--but if someone had to join her in Lord Severin's study, then Ricky was among the least objectionable possibilities. "You never were one for dancing, were you?"

"No, not really." Or much of the rest of it. Hollie pushed herself upright; if Ricky was anything like her in that regard, he'd want to sit down. "I hate weddings."

"I do too--and not just because my parents keep pestering me about when mine will be. They're pretty excessive, really. If you love someone, I don't know why throwing a big party would make that much of a difference."

Hollie sniffed. If love was what made the party unnecessary, then no wonder Gennie and Wolf had insisted on such a massive event. "Not everyone marries for love."

"I guess not. But anyway--I wanted to talk to you about something."

And what better time was there to do so than when they were both avoiding the rest of the guests? "All right."

"You start at the university next term, right?"

She did. He knew she did. "Why ask what you already know?"

"I want to know what your plans are for after."

"For a career?" Hollie frowned. "I don't think that's for me, really. I think I'd rather keep studying on my own time and maybe see where that leads--like what Rennie's doing." Careers, or at least any that sounded half-interesting, had more social requirements than she was willing to fulfill.

"Fair enough; some disciplines can be a bit restrictive in their commercial purposes. But do you mind if I ask about any..." Ricky grimaced. "...personal plans?"

"What, like marriage?" Hollie snorted. That might have been a cruel joke, had she been in the habit of denying her own flaws. "As if anyone would want to marry me."

"Actually, uh... I kind of want to marry you."

...huh. She'd never quite realized just how low her jaw could fall. "What?"

"If you're interested, that is. And this wouldn't be until after you've graduated, so you've got a few years to think about it, if you need them."

Her interest. As if that was the problem. "You don't seriously expect me to believe that you don't have anyone better in mind."

"Hollyhock, you're a hell of a lot better than you give yourself credit for. I haven't considered anyone else; we get along, we know each other well, and you have the right combination of brains and political background to make an excellent duchess." Ricky cemented the compliment with a smile--and a blush on his cheeks as his eyes swept over her. "And I hope you don't mind me saying it, but you've really grown into a beautiful woman."

"Um... no, I don't mind." She'd never really seen much reason to agree, but that didn't she minded. "Thank you, I guess. If I told you 'yes', but then I changed my mind--would you understand? I'd understand for you."

"Of course I'd understand." He laced his arm beneath her own and hoisted her onto his lap. "But I'll tell right now that I won't be changing my mind."

She couldn't help it.

She rarely smiled quite so freely. "Then I believe things are looking well on my end too."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Dea's Sister Is Not Herself

December 25, 1199

"You look great, really. It's just..." Dea stretched out her arms, as if the gesture would distract from any unconscious cringing. Her sister was a pretty woman--and, more to the point, she'd always found great pleasure in showcasing that. Something wasn't quite right if Dea could notice that a dress wasn't quite right, but the woman Dea relied on to keep her own wardrobe beyond ridicule couldn't. Such an event would have most likely been brought on by Gennie's going blind, but no--Gennie had spent enough time adjusting herself according the mirror to eliminate that possibility.

"I mean--it's a nice dress, but it's not really... you."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean?" There was an obvious force behind Gennie's smile, but not the mischievous smirk some devious part of Dea might have been hoping for--like the real wedding dress was underneath this one, and no one would know until she shed the robe on her way down the aisle. "A wedding dress is supposed to be fancy, right? What's fancier than a white gown with a gold brocade?"

"No, it's not that it's a wedding dress! It's just not what I pictured you wearing. It's a little..." Dea curled back her lip, cursing herself for her failure to transfer basic diplomacy to personal conversations. "...matronly."

"Sorry?" Gennie turned back around and looked her reflection over--but, from what Dea could see of her face, it wasn't a critical inspection, nor a search for reassurance. More... feigned interest? That wasn't like Gennie. If Gennie wasn't interested, she made no effort to hide it.

And on her wedding day? Not everyone married for love, true... but even in a marriage of convenience or politics, surely some emotion stronger than apathy was merited.

"I don't think it's matronly."

"Are you blind?" Hollie groaned from the bed, the first time she'd bothered open her mouth since Dea had dragged her up to Gennie's new room. "Dea's showing more cleavage than you. Hell, I'm showing more cleavage than you, and I barely have any. You're not a forty-year-old widow getting remarried for her children's sake."

"Be nice, Hollie." Though, she did privately agree. "Maybe it's your hair? You have such lovely hair, and you usually wear it proudly; that snood might be suffocating it."

"Suffocating? Dea, I can't believe I'm the one saying this to you, but it's hair." That made two of them who didn't believe it. "Besides, I'm going to be a married lady. I don't want to dress like this all the time, but no one needs to ogling my cleavage on my wedding day."

"Sounds like Wolf's in for a dull night," Hollie muttered under her breath; Dea shot her a silencing glare before turning back her attentions to Gennie.

"You just don't seem like yourself today. I was more excited on my wedding day, and I barely knew Henry back then--and I'd never been one for weddings anyway. Out of the three of us, you're the girly one; I always figured that when you got married, I'd be jabbing knives in my ears to avoid all the gushing over the perfect dress and the perfect hairstyle and how this was going to be the best day of your life."

"Best day of my life? Give your future nieces and nephews the benefit of the doubt; would you really tell Sparron or Jedaline that the best day of your life happened before they were even thought of?"

Dea frowned. That might have been a decent point, had Gennie's reflection not twitched at the words 'nieces' and 'nephews'. "Look, Gennie: Wolf's a good man. If you don't want to marry him, I'm sure he'd understand if you just told--"

"I do want to marry him."

And, to prove it, she and the mirror parted with a scowl as she stormed toward Wolf's desk chair--their shared desk chair, soon.

"Just... give me today to make peace with that."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lara Considers Twelve-Year-Old Definitions

January 10, 1199

"...and it turns out, she copied off of me in mathematics. But I copied off of her in history, so I suppose that's fair." Camaline's curls bounced with a dismissive toss of her head, as satisfied with a twelve-year-old's definition of 'fair' as any other twelve-year-old was likely to be. "But you don't have a school in Carvallon, do you? You just have tutors. That must be dreadfully lonely!"

"Not really." In truth, Lara suspected that Camaline's idea of loneliness was approximately her own idea of peace and quiet, and she'd yet to have a problem with any of her tutors--none that she hadn't been able to spin in her favor, at any rate. But she'd be back in Naroni the year after next to attend the university, and perhaps the Naronian classrooms would have been better preparation for that. Then again, a university class was surely a more focused experience than run-of-the-mill childhood education. "I usually finish up with my lessons fairly quickly, since I don't have to wait for anyone else to catch up. Then I'm free to do as I please."

"Don't you study with Naeva, though?"

"Naeva's four years younger than me--closer to five, even. We study more side-by-side than together."

"So she's closer to my age," Camaline mused. "Why didn't she come along, then? I don't doubt we'd have fun together."

"I don't know. Naeva doesn't really have much fun with anyone." And neither did Lara, really--but at least Lara had learned to be polite about it. Polite enough, at least, that she hadn't vehemently opposed leaving her comfortable room at the castle for the day to meet her cousins by the duchess.

"Oh." Camaline batted her eyes toward their other cousin--who, really, hadn't had much reason for dropping by as far as Lara could tell. "Sounds rather like Hollie."

"You realize I'm right here," Hollie muttered under her breath, the first she'd said since a half-grunted 'hello' to Lara as if it hadn't been only the second time they'd met.

"Yes, dear cousin--but I'm never sure if you do!" Camaline laughed. Lara failed to see just what was so funny. "You'll have to excuse her, Lara. Hollie never has anything to say, except maybe to my brother Ricky."

Hollie shifted, the fabric of her skirts rustling against that of the couch cushion. Camaline was twelve years old, with twelve-year-old definitions: 'loneliness', 'anything'. Camaline herself didn't have anything to say, but she insisted on saying it anyway.

Hollie, from what much-yet-little Lara knew about her, must have had a lot to say.

But having something to say didn't always mean having a way to say it.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Hollie Is Still Young

June 5, 1192

"How's it going, Hollyhock?" Hollie's favorite cousin shot her a smile and sat down beside her. She hadn't seen too much of Ricky, since he'd been so busy at university. It was good to see an old familiar face, now that she'd taken a hiatus from school and mainly spent her days roaming about her grandfather's castle. Still, she'd wished he would have called sooner.

"Hollyhock? No one's called me that before." Granted, it hadn't been all that long since anyone had started calling her Hollie.

"Just trying it out. I can stop if you don't like it."

Hollie shrugged. "I don't mind it."

"All right. Well, I just thought I'd stop by on you and see how you were holding up, now that we know Dea's going to inherit."

Why did everyone think she'd been so hurt by that? "I'm fine. I don't want to rule, and Dea does, so it works out for everyone. I just wish I could go back and not have to listen in on any of my father's boring meetings."

"I don't know; they still might serve you well some day. Dea might give you or Gennie a shire if we acquire more land."

"Gennie wants to marry Dalston, so she'd have Veldora. And I don't want a shire. Dea can give it to Ella if she wants."

"Well, maybe you'll marry a lord who's stupid, and you'll need to help him out."

"I don't want to marry anyone stupid."

Ricky laughed. "All men are stupid, Hollyhock--especially those who don't think they are."

"You're not stupid."

"Ack! Sorry to have misled you there." He smirked. "Hollie, one day when you're older, you'll see me when I'm drunk, and you'll know just how stupid I am."

"Everyone's stupid when they're drunk." And yet--that was why they seemed to like getting drunk. Hollie didn't get it. "But I guess that's a long way off anyway. I don't know if I want to get married. Maybe I'll just stay with Dea."

"I'm sure you'd be a great help to her if you did."

"I don't know if she'll need help, though."

"Well, maybe not--but you're still young." She guessed so. It was only recently that she'd come to take that as a good thing. "You've got plenty of time to figure out what you want."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Gennie Can't Find the Wrong

April 15, 1192

"Hello... kiddo," Gennie addressed her brother--sister?--sibling?--not without the unfortunate awkward pause. She hadn't seen much of Holden since they'd settled in at their grandfather's castle. Apart from their mother, most of the household hadn't either.

But today, she--Gennie guessed she'd use 'she' until Holden/Hollie/Holladrin told her for sure--was out of her room, seated in the baroness's sitting room where anyone could find her rather than behind the locked door of her bedroom. Perhaps she didn't actively want to talk, but Gennie took it as a sign that she wasn't opposed to it either. "Hello."

"Um. So." Had Gennie ever had such trouble speaking in her life? Conversation had always come so easily to her! It had been her one pride and joy in comparison to Dea. Well, that and her fashion sense, but Dea's utter indifference to style dulled the excitement of that. "How are you feeling?"

"All right, I guess." Hollie--that was what their mother had called her privately, it seemed--sighed as Gennie sat down next to her. "At least I don't have to be king."

"I guess so." That would have been a downside for many, but the lack of interest in ruling was something Gennie could understand. She had her strengths, and Hollie would too, but ruling required a particular combination she didn't think either of them had. Dea? She had it. "But, uh... how about just you, personally? Are you angry with mother?"

Hollie shook her head. "No."

"I think I would be."

"That's because you'd hate being a boy." Gennie wouldn't argue there! The boring hairstyles and scratchy-looking tunics and... ugh, physical training! "But I don't know. I think most of the boy stuff and girl stuff is made up, if you really think about it."

"Hmm. Maybe." Though, even if that was true, Gennie still had no doubt about her own status as a girl. But, as all of this had taught her, that wasn't the case for everyone--and even if it was an odd thought for her, she couldn't think of any reason as to why that would be wrong. "Do you like being a boy?"

"I don't know. I never really thought about it before now. It was just a thing that I was told and I didn't know otherwise."

"So you don't feel cheated."

"No. I think Father would have been worse if Mama hadn't done it, to her and me. And maybe you and Dea too." That was... well, probably the right way of looking at it. Maybe. The positive way, at least. "Gennie?"

"Yes?"

"Could I maybe try on one of your old dresses?"

Gennie smiled. "Take your pick."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Holden Is Alone

Note: For anyone who just happened to stumble across this story blog who hasn't read the previous posts and is unaware of earlier events in this storyline... the way this particular post ends, it may read like a VERY BAD thing is about to happen. That very bad thing does NOT happen. What follows won't be pleasant for certain characters, but there will be no sexual assault involved.


April 14, 1192

It was so hot out! How was it only April? It felt like July!

Holden brushed back some sweaty hair, then tugged at his velvet collar. Velvet. Velvet was the worst in summer. Or spring when it was hot. Hot and humid.

So hot! So humid!

Damn binding thing! Last year at this time, he could have lazed around in his braises and been as comfortable as possible, but now he had to keep his shirt on. Stupid growing body!

At least he was alone, he guessed. He'd be alone all day, probably.

But if he was alone...

To hell with it. No one was going to see him. He'd take off the shirt, and the velvet, and chausses.

Maybe he'd even take off his braises. And then he'd sprawl out on his bed and take a nap atop the covers.

It would have been an excellent plan if only he'd remembered to lock the door.

NEXT CHAPTER: