Chapter Text
“I am very pleased you could attend, Lady Lumine.”
Lumine hummed softly, fingers tapping lightly on the smooth wooden guard of her hand fan. She turned to face the speaker as he bowed his head in greeting. Her eyes flickered away briefly, past his shoulder, to somewhere across the room, catching sight of Aether, smiling politely, stood helplessly in a circle of noblemen and noblewomen, all clamouring for his attention. As though sensing her stare, his golden gaze, identical to hers in nearly every aspect, flashed upwards until they made eye contact, offering her a small, apologetic smile.
For a brief moment, Lumine was reminded of his desperate plea this morning, when he had unceremoniously entered her room while she was penning her latest letter, being as much of a nuisance as possible, begging for her attendance to this gala, attempting to guilt her with the reveal of a new dress he had gotten tailored for just the occasion. “Please!” he had said, “I’m sorry!” he had said, and “But I already agreed on your behalf!” he had said.
Before the glint of annoyance could set in, before the lines of a frown could settle over her lips, she quickly flickered her eyes back to the man in front of her, pulling herself into a demure smile, just enough to be polite.
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace,” Lumine said, tone even and appropriately cordial, curtseying in kind. “My brother and I are delighted to have been extended such a generous invitation.”
His smile, Lumine noted, was rather fox-like, curling one side of his mouth higher than the other, eyes shining lilac in the late afternoon light. He had presented her his hand, and Lumine knew better than to reject the courtesies—and the attention—of a Duke at his own gala.
Gingerly, she placed her own hand in his, white lace against black silk. She could feel the luxury of the material through the gaps in her gloves: soft, sleek, and—as expected—silky. If Lumine could have changed anything about the moment though, she would have wished for a different fabric.
“Of course,” he said, voice as silky as his gloves. Even through the two layers of material, she could feel the heat of his palm, of his fingers, as he wrapped them delicately around hers. He dipped himself slowly as he raised her hand to his lips. Lumine found that the way his eyes sparkled at her from beneath dark lashes made it difficult to look away. His hair fell like ribbons around his face, brushing against his delicate features, hiding any sharp angles, and framing his countenance as though it were a painting. “After all," he continued, "a celebration without the blessing of your presence,” he allowed a gentle lull here in his speech, as natural as the downstream flow of a river, taking the chance to press his lips to the soft lace stretched taut across the back of her hand, hot breath seeping in through the gaps and curling around her skin, “well, it would not have been worth attending at all.”
“And then? And then? And then?” Yoimiya squealed, voice high and bright in the late night air, clearly much more impressed with the duke than Lumine felt herself to be.
She sighed, slouching down further into her chair as her handmaiden, Jean, continued to systematically remove every last pin from her restrictive updo.
“You mustn’t leave it there, Lu! Pray, tell us what happened next!” Navia chimed in from beside Yoimiya, hands clasped together, eyes sparkling as though she were reading another romance serial from Yae.
“Did you two dance?” Jean teased, eliciting a burst of giggles from Yoimiya and an exasperated sigh that Lumine did not have the power to hold in.
“Not you too, Jean,” Lumine moaned.
“I only posed a simple question, Miss Lumine,” Jean stated solemnly, though Lumine spied Jean’s slight smile in the mirror, and was sure that it was laced with some kind of dubious intention. She scowled. Besides—
“I said you could call me Lu,” she muttered. Jean chuckled.
“Indeed you did, Miss Lumine.”
“Oh, Jean, don’t distract her!” Yoimiya bemoaned. “Come on Lu, what happened next? He said the only reason he hosts anything is to be granted the blessing of feasting his wanting eyes upon your alluring silhouette, and then…?”
Lumine could not help but note that that was not quite what the duke had said. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like something out of a Yae romance serial, and not like the words out of the mouth of a duke in the presence of polite society.
Weary golden eyes met much more excited red ones and blue ones through the polished mirror of her vanity.
“And then nothing,” Lumine said markedly. Yoimiya pouted. “He asked me for a dance. I hesitated to accept, and in my hesitation, there was a commotion of some sort raised in the gardens that he had to excuse himself to address. Aether and I had a scheduled meeting with the Grand Master, as you well know,” she eyed her friends through the mirror, and they, in turn, avoided her pointed gaze, “So we departed shortly afterwards, before we had the chance to exchange farewells with the good duke.”
Yoimiya huffed, falling backwards, flopping in a notably unladylike manner onto Lumine’s bedsheets. Lumine felt more than she heard Jean tut softly from beside her.
“What a shame,” Yoimiya muttered, voice wistful and needlessly longing. “Could the Grand Master not have waited the duration of just one, paltry dance?”
Lumine frowned.
“I fear that had there been any delay on my brother and I’s behalf, we would have needed to spend the night scouring the local taverns for him before conducting business,” she paused, watching with a flicker of amusement at Jean’s growing frown, then continued, “If we even had the time for that after such an escapade.”
“Fine, fine,” Yoimiya sighed, rolling onto her front so she could see her friends again. “You’re probably right. Still though, it’s such a shame. It would have been so romantic, don’t you think? You and the duke would be such a vision together…”
“Oh, do cheer up, Yoimiya,” Navia said suddenly, patting her shoulder lightly. Lumine could not help but wonder why Yoimiya was the one who needed to cheer up. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other chances. After all,” Navia flashed Lumine a rather suggestive smile, “the duke is clearly quite taken with her, no?”
Lumine groaned, audible and graceless, slouching as far as the chair could allow. A quick, disapproving cough from Jean however, had her immediately straightening back up, clearing her throat before responding,
“He is not taken with me, Navia. He was simply being polite. That’s all.”
Lumine’s frown only deepened as she watched Navia stand, a sage smile growing on her face, eyes shining with a knowingness that was, Lumine thought, entirely unearned.
“Oh, to be so young and still so full of denial,” she mused, as though she were not only a couple years older herself. She glided over elegantly to affectionately ruffle Lumine’s hair, earning herself a sideways glare from Jean, who had just finished brushing it out. “Maybe you aren’t so fond of him now, but you could be one day, don’t you think?” Her voice had taken on a pleasant tone—a cosy and rich one that Lumine recognised Navia liked to use whenever she was trying to comfort somebody. She picked up the brush from the vanity to tend to any minor tangles she might have caused. Jean nodded in silent thanks, and took instead to sorting the loose ends in Lumine’s room: on her vanity, on her writing desk, on her nightstand.
“I don’t know,” Lumine murmured, relaxing in her seat to the gentle ministrations.
“The duke is a good man,” Navia said. “He’s kind, he treats his people well, he’s wealthy, he’s intelligent.”
“And he’s super handsome!” Yoimiya chirped from Lumine’s bed. Navia giggled.
“Yes, and he’s very handsome.”
Lumine hummed thoughtfully, and though she was appreciating the pep talk, she was also gradually tuning it out.
“You should be hard pressed to find a better man,” Navia said as she finished brushing out every last tangle. “Besides, the sooner you announce an engagement, the sooner this bottomless pit of tedious suitors will disperse, no? And with a betrothed as well-respected and as high-ranking as Duke Kamisato, well,” Navia set down the hair brush. “You wouldn’t need to worry about any undue attention ever again.”
Lumine didn’t respond. Instead, she plucked quietly at the neat embroidery of the nightgown Navia had leant her.
“I know you don’t like thinking about it Lu, but we all have to consider it, at least a little. Even Navia and me," Yoimiya said gingerly.
There were no loose threads, she noticed, not even where the embroidery was over mesh.
“Lu?” Navia leaned down to try and catch her gaze.
It was so neat and tidy, only a skilled hand could have accomplished something so—
“I should think the hour is growing quite late. Might I advise turning in soon, miss?” Jean interrupted, much to Lumine’s great relief.
“Oh!” Navia gasped, eyes shooting towards a standing clock in the corner of the room. “My, but you are right, dear Jean. Come, Yoimiya, let us allow Lu her rest, while indulging in our own.” Navia offered Lumine a sympathetic smile, and Lumine returned a small, thankful one in kind. “It’s been a long day for us all. Good night, Lu.”
“Good night, Navia; good night, Yoimiya.”
“Good night, Lu!” Yoimiya beamed, hopping from her spot on the bed to join Navia as they exited her room. Jean shut the door behind them and then moved to remake the bed in silence. Almost immediately, Lumine felt the smile on her face drop.
She sat, staring at herself in the mirror, conflicted eyes staring right back, mind racing as she mulled over Navia’s words. It wasn’t untrue, the things Navia had said; a formal announcement of engagement, to Duke Kamisato of all people, would surely cease the endless invitations and mountains of unwanted gifts from suitors—some of which she didn’t even recognise the names of. And it’s not as though the duke treated her poorly, either. He seemed to respect her well enough—in all their conversations (of which, to be fair, there were not very many), she had never felt slighted or belittled, and he openly listened to and considered her opinions. Every now and again, he even managed to wrest a genuine chuckle out of her. He was clearly wealthy, seemed to have good connections, got along well with her brother, obviously had the approval of her closest friends, and it wasn’t as though Yoimiya was wrong when she called him handsome.
Still, though, Lumine thought, an engagement to the duke would mean…
She sighed heavily into the room, so quiet and still, it was almost as though she were alone.
“What do I do, Jean?” she murmured softly, half to herself, half to her loyal handmaiden, and half to the awful fabric of the awful universe that put her in this awful situation.
“What you should do is get to bed, Lu,” came Jean’s voice, as steadfast and clear as always, with a decisiveness that Lumine often found herself envying. “The hour is late; you have had a long day today, and tomorrow only promises to be longer still.”
Lumine hummed. As usual, she was right.
Lumine took breakfast alone the next day. Since coming to Navia’s estate, she had yet to do so. Always, the three had found the time to dine together in the mornings, as their afternoons and evenings were often promised to others. But it seemed that Navia had unexpectedly urgent Spina di Rosula business at dawn, and Yoimiya had to wake early to catch a meeting with some merchants on behalf of the Naganohara estate. And so, it was just Lumine this morning, sat at a dining table with more fruit, bread, cheese, jam, honey, and butter than any one person could reasonably eat. She had tried to invite Jean to take a seat, but Jean, ever the picture of propriety, promptly refused and returned to the kitchens to take her meal there, with the rest of Navia’s staff.
Lumine sighed. Not even her brother was in, though he was rarely in in the mornings anyway.
Nevermind all that, Lumine huffed. The quiet was nice, too. It allowed her time and space to think about things. Things that she discussed with very few people, if any at all. Things like—
“Miss?”
Lumine jumped a little in her seat.
“Ah, sorry, yes?” She turned to find the worried face of one of Navia’s newest hires, peeking out from behind a door, cracked open only enough for her to see his face. Freminet, she thought his name was?
“There’s a man downstairs,” he said simply. Lumine hesitated, expecting more, but that seemed to be all he had to say on that.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Lumine asked. The boy’s eyes grew wide, a horrified gasp escaping him.
“I’ll ask!” he squeaked before he ran off, slamming the door behind him much too loudly, earning a scolding that Lumine could hear even through the thick, polished wood.
Lumine gulped, turning back to her breakfast, but suddenly feeling her appetite vanish.
Could it be…?
No, Lumine thought to herself. He wouldn’t…not here…
Her hands shook a little as she tried to maneuver her cutlery, but as the seconds ticked by, she was having an increasingly difficult time evenly spreading her jams and butters.
Though she had been waiting anxiously for it, Freminet’s voice from between the same, slightly cracked door still startled her when she heard it,
“He said he’s here to see Sir Aether,” he said timidly, voice shaking almost as much as Lumine was. “But when I told him he wasn’t in, and to come back later, he said that it was only a small thing, and that if the 'better twin'—his words, not mine!—could spare him but a moment, he would be ever so grateful.”
Lumine’s exhale came out shaky.
It certainly sounded like him. But surely, he wouldn’t be…?
Lumine willed the shakiness out of her breath before she replied, using the excuse of taking another bite of food to stall,
“Thank you for letting me know. Please inform Jean for me.”
“Yes, Miss! Right away, Miss!” and he slammed the door, too hard once again, earning yet another loud scolding from the mystery voice behind the door. Alone again, Lumine allowed herself another quivering sigh. She tried to stand carefully, but the nerves in her legs had her shooting up much faster than she had expected to, her chair dragging with a dull screech across the floor that made her wince.
As she began to head towards the drawing room, she caught the reflection of herself in the mirror above the mantle, giving her pause. Subconsciously, she began looking over herself. It had been over a week since she had seen him last. Twelve days, including today. She rarely fussed so much about the details of her appearance, but...did she look…okay? Presentable, at least?
Nervous fingers brushed gently at her hair, tucked stray strands away best she could, smoothed out any wrinkles in her day gown (a pointless venture—Jean’s ironing was, as always, immaculate). Once satisfied she had done as much as she could with just a mirror and her trembling fingers, she pushed open the door to the morning room and tried her best to feign nonchalance as she made her way down the empty halls.
When she arrived, she found the door closed, and Jean standing just outside it, posture resembling that of a guard. A knight, even. If Lumine weren't so nervous, she would have smiled.
“Is it—” Lumine asked, voice barely louder than a whisper—him? Jean’s passive face melted into a small smile, and Lumine felt her breath hitch, pulse picking up speed.
“Are we—” she asked again—alone? Jean’s eyes flickered away briefly, before offering a near imperceptible nod. Lumine closed her eyes, taking one last deep breath to calm the nerves. It didn’t do very much, but she always got jittery at this point, so it was more of a matter of ritual, if anything.
“Did you—” Lumine blushed—find it? In one smooth motion, Jean drew a freshly sealed envelope out of her pocket. Lumine flashed her a look of gratitude, and took the letter from her with shaky hands.
Finally, awash with about as much anticipation as her poor body could stand, Lumine turned the handle on the door to the drawing room, and slipped inside silently.