Franziska had written her sister after their mother died. No response; though she'd not expected one. The entire family was shook, quiet. Their father, their mother... and their country in shambles. Her father would roll in his grave if he knew his great Antiva was in such turmoil.
And yet, she stayed in Ferelden. As if glued to her position, to her husband's side. She'd sent a letter earlier in the morning, inviting her sister to visit with her... to discuss Antiva's future.
Because she wasn't certain that Antiva had a future with Enzino. And she could not lay claim to Antiva; she'd only been adopted. But Adaria...
Adaria had arrived not long before her sister’s letter had arrived. It had been ignored, along with a great many other things as she coalesced behind the walls of their Aunt’s estate. Her magic, drained, was not something the gawking eyes and ears of the Orlesian needed to inform their enemies of. It was already enough that her mothers demise hushed every conversation when she did enter or was noticed, unable to hear their true thoughts; it infuriated the young woman that she had to rely on her base instincts and training.
Trust, but verify. Yet there was no way to verify anything until it returned.
When the second letter came, her condition had improved. Not enough to adequately defend herself, but enough that she could mask the underlying discomfort and weariness, appearing her usual withdrawn self when walking through the Eluvian. She had ordered Pen to remain behind, the sting of her handmaid's detention over her mothers death still fresh.
Summoning one of the attendants with her, Adaria sent her off ahead to announce her arrival to visit Fran. Drawing her black cloak of mourning closer against the chill, Adaria and the other maid followed at a slower pace, eyes focused coldly on the path ahead.
She received word that Adaria had arrived, and thanked the servant that delivered that news. And she came to stand, in the doorway of the tea room she'd claimed for herself. Byron didn't care what rooms she liked, as long as she was discreet with whatever she was doing in them.
Baby Sister. You've grown up, she mused, as the younger girl came into her view. Y'know, you look more like Mom, than Dad, with every passing day. Her voice was quiet, as she said the statement. It wasn't meant as a compliment; but rather... to express a sadness. Her sister's hair was not as wild as their mothers', her skin not as dark, but it was easy to tell that Adaria was born of Eularia and Francesco just by looking at her.
And some part of Franziska envied that. Come, I expect you to catch me up.
As they turned the corner into the corridor the sharp blues of her eyes landed on Fran. A mixture of nausea and emotion curled together, grief, regret, anger, sadness, joy and relief all mixed together that she couldn’t speak to greet her sister until her hands slid into Fran’s.
Franny, her voice quavered a moment before she huffed, smiling slightly. Two inches taller doesn’t make me grown up.
She took a moment to collect herself though, the comment one she’d often heard but hadn’t taken seriously. Not from strangers. Hearing it from her family cut differently, gave her pause. Yeah… I see her in the mirror sometimes. Then I hear dad. Her lips curled with soft amusement and nodding, she’d join her sister inside.
How is Byron? I don’t think I made a good impression on him during our last family dinner. There had been a lot of bickering well before Albert had come in with his box, springing their father out as if some jack-in-a-box.
A sad smile, that mirrored her sister's sadness, crossed her lips. Mmm, two inches changes a lot, Lil' Bit. Another year older, she reached out to tug her sister's hair.
Franziska snorted, derisively. That man is insufferable. I much prefer the maids. It wasn't a secret to her family, that Fran was miserable stuck in this country where customs were boring and stuffy. There was none of that Antivan eccentricities that she had grown up with...
She'd shrug, But all-in-all, my old man's fine. Some part of her cared for the fool of a king, even if she wasn't ready to admit that she still cared about him. And you made the impression he deserved, honestly. She rolled her eyes, taking a seat.
They didn't sit dainty, instead seated themselves against a corner of the couch, ankles crossed and taking up as much space as they were able. He does not grasp... how culturally different I am from him. Well, he thinks I murder people just because I can... Her lips pulled into a wry grin. Think he'd hate to know my body count, though. She didn't mean her sexual partner count, either.
Adaria pulled her head to one side, hating the act of tugging. It inadvertently brought up an image though that had her biting her lower lip. Stop it. she’d whine.
The sadness shared soon melted into the background as Fran conveyed her woes and ails of Ferelden. Adaria could only sympathise, reaching for her sister's hand to gently squeeze. Byron seemed to be a good man, which was the best they could hope for given their father’s own limited options.
I suppose it’s best he knows that our tempers are not to be underestimated. If anything we know how to make our point known and felt. she’d offer her own shrug, chuckling while taking her own seat. Her shoes were kicked off and slumping into the seat the younger let out a long sigh. Men really don’t understand the patience, the endurance it takes to put up with their bullshit. Maybe you should take him on a hunt, to better explain it? Maybe Byron wanted someone dead and just needed a reason to make it justifiable?
And then the million gold piece question finally made its appearance. Adaria’s head turned, eyes staring with unsaid irritation. Oh just peachy. I’m surprised he hasn’t sent word to you yet, about my possible upcoming nuptials? Her scowl deepened, a frustrated sigh puffed out before continuing. He wants me to keep out of ‘trouble’ but it’s really him marrying me off for a bargaining chip. I would quite like to be left alone, continue my studies in Orlais. Aunt Mica supports my plan. Their fathers sister would do anything for his children, including Fran. She had always been one of their family’s biggest supporters which was why Adaria had sought her out.
Fran smirked, as her younger sister suggested she take the King on a hunt; show him the kind of patience that the Antivan women had. Might be a good idea, if I thought he'd go through with it, she mused, under her breath. Her husband seemed much too... goody-two-shoes, unwilling to do anything if it might anger the other parties involved.
She settled, and raised an eyebrow as Adaria detailed what their brother had in store for her. Then... do what you want. What'll he do, lock you up? He's too soft. Their brother was a boy-king, and much of Thedas recognized that fact. Alternatively, get married and I'll make sure your unlucky partner is late to the wedding night? She shrugged, and left the offer there.
She would kill for her littlest sister. She had no qualms, if it would protect herself, or the people she cared about. Mother and Father would encourage you to find love, before you find any other reason to wed, you know. Maybe your studies are your love. They were gone, now, but they'd always wanted the best (even if, at times, their best was skewed by their own bias) for their children.
Adaria didn’t quite catch what her sister muttered, but she could infer the meaning of her words. She’d smirk, her sister was having fun with her marriage at least, even if her husband was just a tad too good. You have to rock the boat occasionally, what was it Father used to say… ‘a flat calm spells trouble?’ It was something like that.
Snorting, Adaria’s arms gestured, palms spreading open. Why do you think I am still in Orlais? He’s throwing me a party for my birthday, but I’m not dumb. I know what he wants me to do. Enzo was barking up the wrong skirt. If he wanted to secure his throne they had another sibling who was far more eligible and next in line. He should focus on finding his own consort rather than sticking his nose in my business. I don’t need a husband, not at the minute anyway.
But love? She wasn’t sure about it. Adaria had endless love for her family, even a measure for their late mother though it paled in comparison to the rest. Rafael had confessed his affection, but she had so far said nothing, unsure, which only frightened her more. Love is a fickle thing, Franny, but maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll find it in my studies.
While she grinned at Fran’s offer, the young woman would shake her head. No, but thank you though. I’ve already said I’d attend if they send me to Tevinter. Enzo can’t go, Alonso would get himself killed, the smart play is to send me. Brow shrugged, masking the quiet excitement that had been building since hearing that the Magocracy had rejoined the rest of the continent. I think it’ll be fun. Fun, with a healthy dose of danger even if she had begrudgingly agreed to be chaperoned.
Franziska snorted, flashing the younger girl a grin. I can't teach you anything about love, I'm afraid. Like I said... my husband's basically a pet that I keep alive. A lie, in part. She was starting to enjoy Byron's company; even if she knew she shouldn't give him hope, after he'd confessed how much he loved her.
But I think you'll enjoy Tevinter. I've been trying to convince Byron to let me visit, she could only imagine the people she'd meet there, how entrenched in magic she might get. But then he reminds me that, the other pet I keep alive, is this nation. She snorted again.
Perhaps, though, I can convince Byron that I must chaperone my dearest sister... She hummed, thoughtfully. There wouldn't be much chaperoning if she went; but then, that would be the point...
Adaria listened, shifting deeper into the chair to observe her sister better. She’d narrow her eyes slightly, inwardly scoffing, but not offering further comment. There was growing affection there despite Fran’s choice of words. One didn’t spend quality time with pets they didn’t enjoy.
Gio would leap at the chance to, but he’s smart enough to know it’s better sending me than Luci. No doubt their middle brother would become a Magister's pet if he took her place. Yes, though I doubt the little folk would enjoy hearing you call them so. One had to be mindful of the mobs shifting mood and loyalty, it was as unpredictable as the sea and one rogue wave could spell any ruler disaster.
Unfortunately I already have chaperones, yes plural, eyes rolling at the need for such nannying. She was almost twenty now and not as helpless that her apparent weak constitution would suggest. Father’s old friend Rene and his… cousin? I can’t quite remember her relation, but both of them have received invitations on the University’s behalf. Adaria’s brows shrugged and leaning forward she began to make her tea.
It should be an enjoyable weekend, though they aren’t providing Eluvian’s to Minrathous directly, only the boarder. Seems the Tevene haven’t lost their engrained level of suspicion of their neighbours in their five years of self isolation.
