A Pleasent Evening's Dance

10 years ago. Satinalia. A holiday ball at the Umbra estate.


“And just what do you think you’re doing, lurking up here?” Calpernia tapped her cane on the marble floor and glared down her nose at her eldest son. Even in a gown, she was severe and birdlike in aspect, the long decorative pins in her hair bouncing like a crest as she spoke. The simple white domino mask she wore hardly disguised her features.

“Reading, Mother.” The cane tapped again, dangerously close to his feet. She wielded that thing like a weapon when she was in a mood, alas. He closed his book, smiling up at his mother. An orb of silvery light floated above the open palm of his left hand, useless now. Calpernia extinguished it at once, dropping a mask into his hand instead. Gray and red, shaped and patterned like a moth’s wings. With a put upon sigh, Tiberius put it on and tied the strings.

“Come.” She turned on her heel and strode from the drawing room, leading the way to the ballroom balcony. Tiberius followed reluctantly, pausing to exchange brief greetings with people he knew. At the railing, his mother directed his attention to the floor below.

“I’ve gone through a great deal of trouble to arrange this, Tiberius.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

Perhaps the hard line of her lips softened. Calpernia touched his wrist and pitched her voice not to carry.

“Your Grandfather and I are worried, dear. You simply cannot pine after that soldier of yours forever.” She pointed at a cluster of masked women. “I’ve invited Miss Vero, just there. Not a drop of Somniari blood in her veins, of course, but her family is respectable enough. Oh, don’t scowl so.”

“I’ve told you before that I don’t appreciate this sort of meddling, Mother.”

“Yes, well. I don’t appreciate the thought of your cousins inheriting. Now go. I’ve worked everything out with her father. You’ll dance with her tonight. Twice.”

There was no point arguing with her like this, and he didn’t like the way conversations nearby had quieted. Tiberius adjusted his collar and prowled away like a cat with injured pride. If it were solely up to him, a great many things would be different. It stung to be reminded that things, if fact, were not. Indeed, things would go on entirely without him.

Perhaps his mother was right. Enzo would never be more to him than he already was. If they lost Grandfather’s favor, there were few in House Umbra who would be kind to an old widow who threatened their power. By the time he was downstairs, he had resolved to do as Calpernia wished. For now.

Miss Vero was easy to pick out of the crowd, her hair a rare curly auburn.

“May I fetch you some punch? I’ve been informed our parents are plotting something.”

@Nymeria Vero

For most of the day, Nymeria stood motionless in front of the mirror, her grey eyes locked onto their own reflection. It was as if she were caught in a silent dialogue with herself, a gaze that held a depth of emotion she kept buried beneath the surface. As she scrutinized her own features, a small army of maids worked tirelessly around her, their fingers expertly weaving through her once fiery red curls, now subdued into an elegant style. The process had been long and arduous, but Nymeria paid little attention to their efforts. Her mind was elsewhere, drifting far from the reality of the situation. This transformation was not something she had sought or desired, yet she complied without protest. Not because she was indifferent, but because she loved her parents deeply and wouldn't dream of rebelling against their wishes.

Despite the storm brewing within her, Nymeria's face remained a mask of calm, her posture relaxed and poised. She was the picture of a dutiful daughter, a role she had perfected over the years. The turmoil she felt was hidden beneath layers of practiced composure. No one outside the family would suspect that beneath her serene exterior, she was grappling with the weight of expectations and her own reluctance.

Now, as the family traveled towards their destination in a luxurious coach drawn by sleek black horses, Nymeria found herself staring out of the window, watching the world pass by in a blur. Her thoughts were tangled, a chaotic swirl of emotions she couldn't quite articulate. Her mother's voice broke through her reverie, gently pulling her back to the present. "We know you don't agree, Nymeria, but this will be good for both you and us," her mother said, her tone soft but firm. Nymeria knew her mother's intentions were well-meaning, even if they felt misguided. "At least try," her mother added, a plea hidden beneath the words. “ofcourse mother.”

Nymeria turned to meet her mother's gaze, forcing a soft smile to her lips as she nodded in quiet acceptance. Her brothers, ever the jokesters, exchanged mischievous grins, their eyes sparkling with amusement at their sister's predicament. Despite the teasing, Nymeria knew their actions came from a place of love. The Vero family, outwardly stern and unapproachable, was, in truth, a close-knit unit, bound by an unspoken understanding and fierce loyalty to one another. Nymeria valued this bond more than anything, even if it meant surrendering to a future she hadn't chosen—one that might involve marrying a man she barely knew.

When they finally arrived at their destination, the family initially stayed close together, a united front in the midst of unfamiliar faces. But as the evening wore on, Nymeria noticed how her brothers and even her father subtly maneuvered to keep most of the men at bay. Their overprotectiveness was almost comical, and Nymeria had to stifle a laugh at their antics.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the man her parents had encouraged her to 'try' with. His presence beside her drew her attention away from her family's protective circle, and she turned her head slightly to acknowledge him without fully disengaging from the crowd around them. "That would be nice, thank you," she replied politely, accepting his offer with a gracious nod.

Wearing a gown, as was expected of her, restricted Nymeria's movements, making her feel less at ease than she would have liked. The fabric, though beautiful, was a constant reminder of how far removed she was from her usual self. She would have much preferred the freedom of her armor, but her mother had ensured that Nymeria wouldn't even consider wearing anything less than the finest dress for the occasion. The very thought of her daughter attending in anything but a gown would have horrified her.

"Yes, it seems they do," Nymeria responded softly and with a silent sigh when the man beside her greeted her with his comment. Her mind was still far away, contemplating the futility of her situation. When he returned with a cup of punch, she decided to speak again, her tone soft yet composed. "There isn't much to be done except to go along with it until they leave us alone."

This time, she fully turned to face him, executing a perfect curtsey as etiquette dictated, though the gesture came a little later than it should have. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Umbra."

@Tiberius Umbra

It was difficult to form an opinion of the young woman’s looks, owing to the mask on her face. If nothing else, the arrangement of her hair was rather interesting – his gaze naturally rested there, perhaps a side effect of her height. Family resemblance made it easy to pick out the other Veros, clustered nearby. Tiberius waited a beat and then, when no one approached to make introductions, tried to ignore them. They – presumably – tried to look like they weren’t listening.

“Ah, I feel a bit like a thief in my own home. How very novel.” He dipped his head, smiling at Nymeria beneath his mask, and weaved his way back out of the Vero family’s protective circle to fetch the promised drinks. Satinala punch was mostly rum and sugar, fortifying but rather overwhelming in both taste and in its efficacy at intoxicating party goers. He wouldn’t offer a lady more than half a glass without knowing her better.

He poured himself a good deal more, draining his glass to approximately the same level on his way back. With the brothers Vero primed to stare at the two of them all night, Tiberius felt he needed it. He handed off Nymeria’s glass and spent a few seconds in dumb silence as she performed a graceful curtsey and called him mister.

“And now I feel positively ancient. Please, do call me Tiberius.” She was difficult to read, polite but not warm. Calm, slightly put upon. If this – if he – didn’t represent an opportunity for her family, he had no doubt that she’d have been somewhere else tonight. That … That he could work with. But not under observation.

“Since this is your first time here, would you like the tour?” Tiberius offered his arm, bracing for rejection that might not come. An unchaperoned walk on the grounds went against propriety, but that was what their families seemed to want. “It’s late in the year for blooms, but even so, I believe the garden is worth seeing.”

@Nymeria Vero