OoOoO

The tension in the Saurivic household had scarcely abated since the thunderous quarrel between Lord Jalborn, Jahaelis, and Rosarin three days ago. Jalborn had promptly left on a matter of family business for Amenthere, leaving Jatheryn and Awenis feeling rather unshielded from their unhappy parents. Tyene and Randir were wisely keeping to themselves in their wing of the estate, along with Myles and Taevrin. Rather than suffer the suffocating chill inside, Jatheryn did something rather out of character on the third morning, and went for a walk in the gardens.

It was still quite early, the rising sun just barely cresting the hedges that ringed the estate. Beyond, the sounds of Vaelona awakening were faint and sleepy. Birds sang cheerfully in the lilacs, their yellow and brown wings little spots of movement among the leaves. Jatheryn decided that it actually was quite nice outside at this hour. Perhaps he would make a habit of walking in the dawn.

Jatheryn's newfound peace was interrupted by an unexpected discovery around the next corner. Sitting on a hanging bench facing the little ornamental swan pond was his mother. Rosarin was alone, her white crochet shawl falling down around the shoulders of her pearly pink gown. Rosarin's long, fading blonde hair tumbled down loose and un-styled, hanging softly around her aged face. It was an unusual way to see Rosarin for Jatheryn; he was so used to his mother being poised and formal at all times.

"Hello Jatheryn."

Rosarin put her bare feet down on the dewy grass to stop the slow swinging of the bench. Her shoes sat a short ways away, discarded. The usual harshness of his mother's voice was softened by the outdoors.

"Hello Mother."

Rosarin slid down on the bench, making room for two.

"Come, sit."

Jatheryn hesitated briefly before obeying. Posture as stiff and unyielding as ever, he sat like a child's doll bent to fit into its chair.

Rosarin did not speak at first. Instead, she pushed off from the ground a little, causing the bench to swing from its tree branch once more. A pair of swans glided into view from around a cluster of cattails on the pond. They touched their graceful necks together before breaking apart to make room for the wedge of cygnets that followed. The newly hatched swans were small and fuzzy looking, their grey downy feathers rather mismatched with the beauty of their parents. The avian family all seemed content enough with one another though, as they circled the pond.

"You see that?" Rosarin pointed at the swans.

"Yes, but why do you ask?"

"That is all we want for you, Jatheryn. You're lonely; anyone with eyes can see it. Do you believe me when I tell you that your father and I really do want you to be happy?"

Jatheryn watched the pair of swans guide their brood through the shallows and up onto the grassy banks of the pond. The cygnets shook the water from their down, making them look like little balls of grey fuzz. One of the swans stretched back to nudge the last baby out of the water after its brothers and sisters. Its mate waited patiently until everyone was ready before leading the way into the shade of a willow tree.

"I want that too, Mother. I just..." Jatheryn fell silent.

Rosarin eyed him from the side. Her skin may have been withered and dry, but her gaze was as keen and clear as any woman of forty years.

"You just didn't ask to be as you are." She sighed. Ruefully, she rubbed at the back of her knuckles, causing little white flakes to float up. "Neither did I. Your father, well, perhaps he loved us just a little bit too much."

"What do you mean by that?" Jatheryn asked, puzzled.

Rosarin shook her head, dismissing any further prying.

"Nothing. I wanted to tell you that your father and grandfather came to some measure of a solution. Your grandfather is going to Amenthere to send out letters to all the noble families of western Goran, advertising your eligibility as the heir to the Saurivic family headship. We will find you a girl who will have you as her husband, one way or another."

"You might find a girl willing, but what about her family?" Memories of the letter from the Farakirns made Jatheryn's ears burn with shame.

"We will find someone," Rosarin repeated firmly. "She may not be what you or anyone else in this family dreamed for. Your part in this is to believe me when I say that we will find you the best bride we can, and when the time comes say the words, fulfill the rites, and marry the girl. Can you do that?"

Again Jatheryn darted a glance toward where the swans had disappeared. The graceful white birds were nowhere to be seen, but the ripples they had left on the pond still echoed. Slowly he nodded.

"I can."

"Will you?"

"...I will."

Rosarin put down her feet once more, slowing the gentle swaying of their seat. The sun was above the hedges now, shining through the long green veils of the willow tree branches.

"Good. Someday this will all be but a memory, I promise you. Then you need not look back on these days at all, except to laugh with relief at your own foolish worries." Rosarin stood and slid into her shoes, drawing her white shawl closer to her. "Breakfast will be ready soon; don't linger out here alone too long."

As soon as his mother was out of sight, Jatheryn let out a long breath and leant forward, elbows propped on his knees and fingertips pressed together. He sat like that for a time, listening to the birds singing in the gardens and trying to imagine marrying someone he had never met. Did swans fall in love before mating? Did hawks, sparrows, or doves? Or did just facing the world together suffice? After a time Jatheryn gave up trying to answer these questions and went inside.

OoOoO

What followed in the coming weeks and months of fading summer could only be described as a gauntlet. True to his word, Jalborn returned from Amenthere having dispatched letters to Blue Stone, Syrion, Geristan, Falerik, Moaan, and even Hashodi. Jatheryn was glad he had never had a chance to read one of these 'advertisements'. Still, that didn't exactly make it easier to bear when he accidentally discovered his father burning a stack of rejections in the hearth in his study one evening. Thankfully Jatheryn had always been a quiet person, and Jahaelis did not notice his son before he slipped away again.

Then, some noble families actually started coming to call with the intention of seeing Jatheryn for themselves, and Jatheryn learned to fervently appreciate the rejection letters. Some of the young noblewomen would take one look at him and blanch almost as white as he was. Others would titter and talk behind their hands to their sisters when they thought no one was looking. The strain of hosting the stream of visiting nobility was also far from fun for anyone else in the Saurivic estate. Even Tyene was starting to get a bit testy by the time they hosted the second family from Falerik with no success. Not that Jatheryn minded those particular dinners turning up fruitless; the folk from Falerik came across as very...odd. Perhaps it had something to do with their close proximity to the haunted Forest of Latharan, a place even the boldest of youths spoke of in hushed voices.

There were two meetings that perhaps were not as terrible as all the rest. A family came from Hashodi, a northern city tucked deeply into Night Forest. Their eldest daughter, Io, was not particularly taken with Jatheryn, but their son Zhaiden was very friendly. The two of them chatted freely over dinner, and Jatheryn was sorry to see Zhaiden leave with his family at the end of the evening. He had gotten a terrific scolding from both Jahaelis and Rosarin for essentially ignoring Io, but Jatheryn was so happy to receive a letter from Zhaiden two weeks later that he hardly minded.

The most promising of all their efforts though, had been when the Dorwiniel family of Syrion came to call. The Dorwiniels were rich in the wine trade, as Jahaelis proudly informed them all beforehand. Before they had arrived though, he had pulled Jatheryn aside.

"I suggest you employ all your charisma and keep your wits about you tonight," Jahaelis had said, straightening the front of one of his best tunics. Jatheryn finally noticed the cause; his father was beginning to show the tiniest evidence of a gut. "Women from Syrion are as cunning as they are charming. Beware; they are not your average dalliance."

"Since when have I ever had a dalliance?" Jatheryn muttered, but followed his father to the front door all the same.

The Dorwiniel family had two daughters acceptably close to Jatheryn's age, Nesaria and Siresia. The third and eldest daughter, Arzai, was training in Amenthere as an Obad, making her unavailable for betrothal.

Nesaria Dorwiniel was about as old as Awenis, and Siresia was a little bit younger still. Both girls were olive-skinned with full lips, arched brows, and high cheekbones. The whole family wore light, airy clothes that often only covered one shoulder with open, fluttering sleeves. The head of the Dorwiniel family was polite enough as she greeted Jalborn and the rest of the Saurivics, although her and her husband's accents were a little thick for comfort.

Dinner had gone well enough, with conversation flowing genially from person to person. Jatheryn quickly came to realize though, that his father had been right. Even young as they were, both Nesaria and Siresia were easily as viper-tongued as Trianne Belryn when it came to witty banter. More than once Jatheryn found himself skewered by a joke he had not even realized was being set up. Even Tyene and Jahaelis got caught up in verbal fencing matches with the Dorwiniels. The most innocuous comment could be turned around and given unintended undertones by the Syrinese.

All that would have been manageable if Jatheryn hadn't realized about halfway through one particular exchange exactly what was happening. Smiling behind her goblet of red wine, Nesaria at last gave herself away.

"Such a political commentator you are, Lord Jatheryn! And what else does his lordship have to say about governance, hmm?"

The distinctly amused glitter in Nesaria and Siresia's dark eyes made the food in Jatheryn's mouth go dry. These two were merely toying with him, probing him as one would a curiosity in a traveling circus. Any pleasure he might have been taking in trying to keep pace with their debate evaporated like a summer mist. Jatheryn's participation in the conversation became far more reserved from that point on, and by the time the Dorwiniels left he could barely look them in the eye. At least the Syrinese girls seemed to have enjoyed themselves, if their laughter was any indication.

An added consolation was that no one had blamed him for clamming up that time. Rosarin and Jahaelis had been extremely indignant at being "mocked" by "glorified wine merchants," and no further mention was made of the Dorwiniel daughters.

OoOoO

During an apparent lull in the endless parade of nobility through the Saurivic estate, Jatheryn met Awenis and her friend, Bythnaryn Kilgorin, in the foyer one morning.

Yet again, Awenis had forgone her usual airy gowns of pale pink and blue in favor of a more womanly style. Jatheryn wondered at his younger sister's apparent maturation when it came to fashion. Even Awenis' white-gold hair was done up in a poised coif, rather than left free to tumble down her back as it normally did.

Bythnaryn however looked as young and trendy as she always did; no glittering eye powder now. Instead, she wore glossy lip paint that made her pink lips as smooth as mirrors. The glitter was now to be found woven into her smooth brown hair.

"Lord Jatheryn." Bythnaryn greeted him casually, forgoing the more traditional greeting for a quick curtsy.

"Lady Bythnaryn." Jatheryn was feeling a bit too wrung out by the dozens of greeting lines he had been subjected to lately to begrudge the distancing. "What brings you here today?"

"She's here to visit Taevrin," Awenis replied. The two girls had their arms linked together, and Bythnaryn blushed scarlet. Awenis hesitated before adding, "The Kilgorins recently confirmed a betrothal for them."

"Congratulations to you." Jatheryn tried to sound genuinely enthused. "When do you plan to wed?"

Bythnaryn giggled, turning even brighter red. "On Taevrin's Coming of Age Birth Day in five years. Mother jokes that it will take at least that long to plan everything!"

"You'll be sick to death of planning if that is really the case." Awenis laughed wanly.

"Not at all, it will all be so exciting! Awenis, you of course will be one of my handmaidens, so will Trianne, and we'll all have to go shopping for gowns. Maybe something in violet, do you think?"

With Bythnaryn happily dithering on about wedding plans between them, Jatheryn and Awenis walked with her through the house. Jatheryn hadn't really been planning on following along, but the prospect of seeing Taevrin try to keep up with his intended's enthusiasm was certainly intriguing. Awenis led the way upstairs and along the long open-air walkway that connected the main house to the wing that Tyene and her family inhabited.

Sometimes Jatheryn almost forgot that there was more to the Saurivic estate than the spaces he regularly occupied. The vastness of the household made the paintings and rooms in this wing almost seem unfamiliar, as if they were no longer in the same home. In a sense, they weren't; Tyene and Randir usually came over to the main house rather than vice versa.

They found Taevrin writing, or rather pretending to write a length of parchment for his tutors on the third floor balcony. The ink in his inkwell was drying from neglect, and thus just narrowly avoided spilling when Taevrin jostled the bottle standing up. Only Randir quickly reaching out and catching the ink pot prevented a stain on the white tablecloth.

"Bythnaryn, you heard the news then?" Taevrin grinned, his fledgling mustache wrinkling beneath his nose.

"I did!" Bythnaryn squeaked. "Can you believe-"

"Ahem." Randir cleared his throat, giving his son a meaningful look. "Taevrin, you forget yourself. Now greet the young lady properly."

Taevrin flushed almost as pink as Bythnaryn. "Ah, right. It's a pleasure to see you here, Lady Bythnaryn." He kissed his fingertips and offered them, standing much straighter than before.

As the two exchanged greetings and once again resumed chattering excitedly about their betrothal, Jatheryn and Awenis hung back beyond the balcony. Randir chuckled and went back to his book, his own impeccable yellow mustache twitching with amusement.

Jatheryn leaned in to whisper to Awenis. "No doubt Tyene, wherever she's at, must be just smug with satisfaction."

"No doubt."

Awenis fiddled with the infinity ring on her finger. Jatheryn tried again to engage her.

"They're going to wear themselves out with excitement if they keep on like that."

"Five years is a long time."

"It certainly is. Who knows, they might grow up a little bit and find they don't suit each other as well as they think."

"Or they could learn what it means to really care for one another by then. Bythnaryn absolutely loves the idea of love."

Jatheryn raised an eyebrow at his sister. "You speak as though she were half your age. I always thought you and Bythnaryn were a great deal alike, even more so than you and Trianne. The two of you are always flitting from one thing to the next like a pair of sparrows."

To Jatheryn's great surprise, Awenis actually looked rather hurt. A pained expression flickered across her pretty, porcelain face.

"Maybe we were once, but Bythnaryn and I are very different people, Jatheryn. Excuse me."

Awenis turned and retreated back in the direction of the main house, leaving a very confused Jatheryn in her wake. It was not like Awenis to snub him. He was drawn back to the present by a particularly loud squeal from Bythnaryn.

"And you'll of course look just dashing in the Saurivic black and gold," Bythnaryn was saying to Taevrin. "Do you think we ought to have golden banners decorating the hall, seeing as it's a color of both Saurivics and Kilgorins?"

Taevrin and Bythnaryn were both sitting on the cushioned bench against the balcony rail, all initial awkwardness long forgotten. Randir continued to pretend to read a short ways away, his presence demanded by social propriety. Jatheryn was just about to leave when Taevrin called out to him.

"Coz, what do you think, two attendants or three for Bythnaryn and I apiece? Obviously I need at least two, since there's you and Myles. Bythnaryn was thinking Awenis and Trianne for her handmaidens, but then she also has two sisters."

"Does it matter so much? You should each choose as few or as many people as you wish."

Bythnaryn was already shaking her head. "Oh, it matters, we have to be even! Mother told me that the best way to conduct a marriage is with fairness."

"Wise advice, Lady Bythnaryn."

Taevrin smiled rather doltishly at Bythnaryn. With a quick glance to check that his father was still reading, he inched closer to Bythnaryn on the bench. Randir's grey eyes slid sideways a hair, but he made no comment.

"Maybe then I ought to have four groomsmen, and you have four handmaidens. Any ideas for my other two?" Taevrin was looking to Jatheryn again.

Jatheryn shrugged. "You have a number of friends, pick two of them." All of this wedding dither was grating a bit on his already raw nerves.

"But which two? I wouldn't want to insult everyone not chosen by picking out just two favorites."

"Then choose a dozen groomsmen and have done with it."

"A dozen?" Bythnaryn looked appalled. "Oh no, so many would be just tacky."

Suddenly Randir closed his book with a sharp clap. Standing, he cleared his throat.

"Jatheryn, a word?"

Surprised, Jatheryn nodded. "Of course, Uncle."

It was not often that Jatheryn and Tyene's husband spoke directly to one another, and even less often that they spoke privately. Curious and a bit uncertain, Jatheryn followed Randir a short distance inside the house. They still had a clear view of Taevrin and Bythnaryn from where they stood, and the newly betrothed couple's chattering echoed all around the balcony.

Blonde brows knitted in a frown, Randir fixed a very direct look on Jatheryn.

"It cannot be easy for you, watching Taevrin and his betrothed carry on in such a way when you yourself are having such...difficulties. I am not insensitive to the hard hand life has dealt you, believe me. Still, you do yourself no favors."

"What do you mean by that?" Jatheryn demanded.

Randir's stare only got more penetrating. Jatheryn was now uncomfortably aware that Randir shared the same all-seeing grey eyes as his niece, Hadriel.

"Have you ever considered that you do not make it easy for people to like you, Jatheryn? The way you hold a room at arm's length and skim over conversations like they at worst irritate you, or at best bore you?" Randir sighed and shook his head. "You think your face repels people from you? It is not so much that as your coldness. Try to cultivate a little compassion, or at least some interest in others besides yourself. You might be pleasantly surprised."

Randir clapped a thunderstruck Jatheryn on the shoulder before returning to his seat on the balcony. Words both spoken and unspoken failed Jatheryn. Unsure what else to do, he turned and walked away. Taevrin and Bythnaryn's happy planning faded behind him as he crossed the walkway back into the main house.

His uncle's words jarred him to the very core. His intial reaction was to be incredibly insulted. He wasn't cold, was he? Jatheryn found himself turning over every conversation he could remember in his mind, worrying at every gesture and impression. It was true that he didn't often speak much, or first. He had taken the initiative with Kendris Farakirn though, hadn't he?

After ignoring her at the Crowning Day ball, a quiet voice inside reminded him. Had Kendris been afraid to approach him, sitting amidst the old men straight-backed and expressionless? What if Hadriel had ever thought to talk to him and then thought the better of it? How many opportunities, how many friendships had he lost out on because people like Randir thought him cold?

But it wasn't always that way, Jatheryn reminded himself. He and the northern nobleman, Zhaiden, had gotten on very well. Someone had mentioned music at dinner that night, and things had just built from there. And hadn't Awenis said that Kendris seemed to have started liking Jatheryn after he took it upon himself to speak to her directly?

Thinking of Awenis caught Jatheryn in mid-step. She had seemed so upset earlier after his comment about her and Bythnaryn. He hadn't meant anything by it, but maybe he had missed something bigger than the moment?

Darenel Tremaris. The answer came to Jatheryn immediately, now that he was actually thinking about Awenis's changed behavior lately. Something must be amiss between the two young lovers. Vowing to wring Darenel's neck if his hunch was correct, Jatheryn rushed through the main house to Awenis's rooms. The door was closed, as he had expected, so he paused to knock.

"Awenis?"

Jatheryn was both shaken and strangely excited. Randir's words had hurt, but it was a useful kind of hurt. He couldn't help his bleached face, but he could change his behavior. If he tried, really tried to be more welcoming, could things change? Could Zhaiden be the first of many friendships? Could he perhaps meet and win over a girl? The possibilities were dizzying, but first he had to check on his sister. He knocked again.

Awenis opened the door only halfway. "What is it Jatheryn?" She sounded weary. There was soul deep sadness on her pretty face that Jatheryn couldn't believe he hadn't spotted earlier.

"Awenis, what's wrong? I...I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I did not mean to tease you." His voice hardened. "Has Darenel hurt you?"

A frightened look came over Awenis' face. Glancing nervously up and down the hall, she only relaxed slightly once she had confirmed there were no servants or other eavesdroppers about.

"It's not as you think," she whispered. Leaning forward, she rested her cheek against the door frame. "Darenel told me we had to be more careful, that people were noticing us. He promised that soon we could openly be together, but we needed to distance ourselves first for a short while." Her chin drooped. "That was two weeks ago."

"And you've heard nothing from him in that time?" Jatheryn asked, incredulous.

Awenis shook her head. She bit her lip, tucking the hand that sported the infinity ring Darenel had given her into a fold of her dark green gown.

"Awenis, I am so sorry." Jatheryn wondered if he might try embracing his sister. She looked so fragile, but also so brittle. When he moved a step closer she shied back imperceptibly though. "I am at least partially to blame. I caught him sneaking out of the house, and warned him that the next time anyone found out about the two of you it had better be because your courtship was openly known."

"I know, Darenel told me." Awenis's whisper grew even quieter. There were footsteps on the marble floor downstairs.

"He did?"

"The very next day. We..." Awenis looked down at the floor. "We had been seeing each other very, very often before this."

"Maybe he-" Jatheryn hesitated, catching himself before he potentially said something insensitive. Shaking his head, he said simply, "Is there anything I can do?"

Awenis's pale amber eyes slowly slid up to look at him. For a moment she seemed so young, so vulnerable. Then her expression changed in an instant, and Jatheryn wondered if she looked a great deal like Rosarin in their mother's youth.

"No, I'm fine. I'll be alright, really I will."

Jatheryn wasn't sure he believed Awenis, but there was something glacial, forbidding even in his little sister's eyes that held him at bay. All he could do was nod.

"Well, you know where to find me then, if you do need anything."

After Awenis closed her door, Jatheryn sighed and made for his own room. He admittedly had little experience with heartbreak and the ways of lovers, but he did not like to think of Awenis navigating such territory alone. Still, if she did not want his help then he would not press her.

Randir's words still rung in his head as Jatheryn found his way to his favorite seat by the window. For once he did not feel like playing his viol. Instead, he sat and watched the squirrels at play on the branches of the elm tree outside. The rush of self-discovery had faded somewhat, but the possibilities remained. Tentatively, Jatheryn let himself approach the notion of hope for his future.

No longer would he shut himself away from the world and other people. He doubted the nobility of Vaelona would ever let him forget his differences. Still, maybe if he could change then so could they. Curiously he toyed with the idea of seeking out Kendris Farakirn on his own. Did she really like him at least a little? Perhaps with time her family could be brought around to the idea of giving him a chance, if Kendris herself was on his side.

Jatheryn would have sat there alone pondering such notions for hours. As the sun began to set he remembered his new promise to himself though. Gathering up his resolve, he stood and straightened his appearance in the vanity mirror. Dinner would be soon, and tonight he would join the rest of the family in the drawing room without having to be called down. It was a small gesture, but it was a start.

OoOoO