![](http://cobalt-company.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/writing:2023-05-14-the-lighthouse-in-the-vast-and-deep-ocean/style="margin:/medium.jpg) |
| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | After the Thenedain Remebrance ball and a picnic with a certain Commodore, Morgauna has her friend Avrenne over for tea as they touch base with what has been happening with the other, and the state of their engagements or lack thereof. 3700-ish words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: Ringside Seats
Avrenne is five minutes earlier than the calling card announcing her visit said she would be, but that's not unusual. She makes her way to the front door of the Thenedain house with a stately walk, the floor length, dark green, long sleeved silk dress with its high collar framing her neck announcing her more obviously than a sign would of her nobility. Her golden blonde hair is pinned back, as usual, and her face shows nothing but a cool composure as she uses the knocker on the door to announce her arrival.
The door is answered by a middle-aged woman in Thenedain livery — a jacket and pants in the dark sapphire and gold of the house. With a respectful bow to the Duchess, she welcomes her in and guides her to the solarium. The cozy room is half windows arranged in a semi-circle, all with a magnificent view of the hills and the ocean beyond.
Morgauna stands in the soft glow of sunlight, diffused from the frosted glass of the overhead windows. Smiling as the doors are opened to let her guest in, she crosses the space between, stepping around the small table containing the tea set. "Lady Esprit," she coos affectionately, reaching for Avrenne's hands as she steps close for air kisses. "I'm so delighted you came."
A much warmer smile than her usual composure lights up Avrenne’s face as she steps in to accept, if not give, the air kisses. “Morgauna. You look especially radiant. I would ask for your secret, but,” Avrenne straightens. “I expect it has more to do with not trying to dance with half a ballroom after thirty.” Her voice sounds very dry.
Morgauna gestures to the tea table even as servants pull out chairs for the two noblewomen. "You are too kind, Your Grace. I feared I would show too much how sore my feet still are." She sits and gazes across the table at Avrenne. "And you, looking positively regal. You certainly need no secrets from me."
Avrenne so readily takes her seat that it’s clear Morgauna is not the only one footsore. “Quite a lot of cosmetics, in my case,” she says, her eyes moving from each servant before settling back on Morgauna, her hands settling into her lap as she awaits tea.
The tea arrives promptly. One lump or two?
"It has been far too long since we've done this. It's always nice seeing you in society, but I've missed our more intimate time together." Morgauna takes a pause as the tea is poured. "You are well, I hope…after your visit to the north?" Her tone is delicate, as is the subject itself.
Avrenne declines anything for her tea; she takes it plain, as always. “As well as could be expected,” she says, her voice a little dry. There’s a brief, harder look in her eyes, a touch of fire in them, that she blinks away to retrieve her teacup for a sip. “I was able to retrieve the paperwork Mr. Green had completed, such as it is,” a faint, vicious sound in her voice; there is a story there, clearly. “And complete the rest of the surveys necessary for the current contracts.”
Mr. Green. The return to formality does not escape Morgauna. She takes a sip of her tea with sugar and cream; she was Avrenne's opposite in so many ways. Perhaps that was how their friendship survived so long. "And…will those current contracts keep things manageable? Do forgive my prying. You know I only ask because I care."
Avrenne’s expression is tightly controlled; it’s clear from her manner that she has dealt with the shock of it all enough that now she can nearly achieve the calm composure she would like for it. “The contracts, if they are able to be fully completed, will be sufficient for Northrend.” A pause. “The question at the moment is whether they will be.” Her eyes go briefly to the servants. “I will need to address the particulars, but I have it under control.” There’s just that brief flutter of her fingers around her teacup to give away the sense of something not-quite-a-lie. It might be more accurate that she has a plan.
Morgauna observes her friend with concern, but also more than a little curiosity. She looks toward the servants, and a certain nod is all that is required to send them out of the room, leaving the two ladies in privacy. "I do not normally put our resources toward military spending. But, if you are looking for new investors…" She leaves the question open-ended for Avrenne to pick up or pass by.
Avrenne sets her tea back down. “Not yet. If it comes to it…if it is a choice between leaving our soldiers with less, or…” She doesn’t finish it, the hanging concept of a heavy debt between friendship. “I will alert you to the sale of the contracts, messy as that business will become. At the moment, I am looking to re-secure the financing.”
Morgauna nods, allowing a touch of worry to show in the pinch of her brow. "Please do not hesitate to let me know. Lady Esprit…Avrenne…I am forever your friend. You do not stand alone."
Avrenne smiles back, reaching out a hand to pat Morgauna’s wrist in a familiar way. “I know.” There’s a look of something in her face – odd. Guilt? She takes a sip of tea, mostly covering it. “But I would never wish to take something of yours, when I might find something else instead.” A beat, and perhaps unrelated, perhaps not. “The ball was wonderful. Very well done.”
"Thank you. I was very pleased with it myself, if I may be so bold. I managed to accomplish nearly everything I set out to do," Morgauna stares into her tea for a moment of thought. "Well, in any case, I was thinking perhaps next year we could make a festival of it and share Remembrance Day more broadly with the locals."
Avrenne gives her that fond look. “A perhaps small agenda for when you sit on the House?” There’s not quite a teasing note, but there’s a bit of a lilt to it, almost conspiratorial.
"Perhaps. Spending money on a festival can always be balancing act. Some will call it waste while others see the benefit of raising public morale. If it comes to it, I'm sure I can encourage other noble families to contribute to the cost." Morgauna chuckles softly. "But when I have a House seat, I intend to be known for not just being a voice for the sons and daughters Lordaeron, but for meaningful infrastructure projects to strengthen this kingdom." She pauses, giving Avrenne a mildly abashed look. "Forgive me, I am still campaigning, aren't I?"
Avrenne chuckles, that closed mouth society polite laugh, as she takes another sip of her tea. “It is good practice. And I am glad to hear it. You know how I feel about it.” It’s something she’s spoken of enough in the past. “We must preserve and empower Lordaeron, when we can. If we do not, we run the risk that eventually Stormwind will become the de facto human culture of the Alliance. Lordaeron is not gone or dead simply because our land has altered and our numbers are fewer. Our culture, our traditions, our people still exist. They matter. So long as we remain, so does Lordaeron, even if we must share proximity much closer than before. We Houses that remain are the voice of all of those that came before us, and those who are still among us who need such a voice.” She is not campaigning; she just really does feel strongly on the issue. “But we are all the Alliance. We cannot look at ourselves as separate – Lordaeron or Stormwind. It must always be and. But unification does not mean homogenizing to the largest population.”
Morgauna smiles proudly. "I could not possibly agree more. Oh, I wish you had been here to help me plan the ball. Promise me we will plan next year's celebration together." She laces her fingers together. "In fact, regarding togetherness…it is my hope to create a formal coalition of Lordaeronian houses, in the interest of precisely what you are espousing. Having voices in the House is important, but it will still only be one or two seats. We need stronger influence, and I believe we can accomplish much more as a union within the Alliance."
“Of course,” Avrenne agrees. “You know that House Esprit will stand with you.” She does not promise to plan a party, but then again, she probably rarely does. “Every nation of the Alliance has something to offer, and we are stronger together than considering ourselves separate, by race or by culture. Who have you been considering?”
"House Esprit, of course," Morgauna gestures to Avrenne, "and House Fallon. With the three of us, we will attract others. I believe our membership should be open to any noble house of Lordaeron. Of course, we would need a charter of some kind that will have broad appeal. The question of House Ference will surely come up. But I think the case can be made for their admittance if Lord Elohad is inclined."
“Hm. I am considering House Tyrrell,” Avrenne says and there’s that particular note in her voice that suggests she doesn’t mean for a coalition. “And how it may fit with House Esprit in particular. Captain Tyrrell, however, is an unlikely ally on his own. He does not care for the position, and he has been…neglecting the maintenance of his House as such, having declared it ‘dead’ for being only one.”
"Yes…well…Captain Tyrrell is an unusual case, to be sure. I don't suppose anyone can truly convince him of anything one way or another; he will make is own choices." Morgauna quirks an eyebrow. "You…say you are considering how his house fits with your own?"
“He has certain qualities that make him suited,” Avrenne says calmly, as she sets her cup down. “And I am on something of a time limit for a solution. My options are limited within that, and he possesses what I am looking for.” She flicks her gaze to Morgauna. “And you are considering House Fallon for a coalition, but is it as House Thenedain…or as yourself, Morgauna?” Her voice is gentle, and there’s something warmer in it, a friend asking rather than a duchess.
Morgauna picks up her tea, taking a slow sip before replying. "Avrenne…let us speak as ladies. Are we still talking about the coalition?" She gives her friend a skeptical smirk.
“Are they related?” Avrenne picks her cup up again, as if to have something to hold. “I know that your mother would certainly consider them to be so. But that has not always been your way. Has it become something more than a pleasant game with a friend, enough to consider the merger?” She asks it directly, voice lower and quieter.
Morgauna falls silent. It is only a matter of seconds, but the pause is palpable. "Lord Fallon has made his intentions very clear. Or rather…his lack of intentions. House Thenedain and House Fallon remain political and economic allies."
Avrenne sighs, and reaches out a hand to Morgauna, as though to touch it lightly on her wrist. “I see.” There’s sympathy there, in her voice, cool as it might sound. “There is, then, at least that.” She pauses. “Lady Sintha invited me for tea, the day after the ball.” That is new – she has never been invited to the Fallon house, either of them, before.
Morgauna nods, for the first time avoiding looking Avrenne in the eyes. "How lovely. I noticed you seemed to be getting on well with the Fallons at the ball. I trust your afternoon with her went well?"
“Yes, I enjoyed the afternoon, in fact,” a slightly warmer note to her voice. She doesn’t comment on the Commodore, and that may be somewhat telling in itself. “Although, it was peculiar. She asked…quite a lot of questions,” Avrenne says, a faint frown on her face. “Do you know her well at all? She and I have circled around each other for years, of course, but that was the first time she has ever expressed any interest in getting to know me beyond what is socially beneficial, given my position.”
"I know her…and I don't. My relationship with Sintha…forgive me, with Lady Sintha has always been a bit strange. Our families are close, and she and I were much closer as children, but we grew apart at some point." Morgauna frowns with a soft sigh. "I suppose she is just somewhat aloof as a person until she takes a particular interest."
Avrenne looks at her tea with a slightly rueful air. “That is what I suspected as well. I’m just not sure that I know what it was that grabbed her particular interest.”
"You don't?" Morgauna lifted her brow in an unusual show of surprise. "Then…what did you talk about at tea?"
Avrenne frowns enough to show some faint lines on her face. “Such an odd collection of things I could hardly tell you. One moment she was asking me if I had any pets and what my middle name was, and the next if it was true that I knew calculus. I had the thought, naturally, that it was somehow related to all my recent…” She waves a small, delicate fingered hand through the air. Her Circumstances. “But she did not ask about those at all. It was more as though she wanted to know a great deal about me all of sudden. She did not speak of herself very much, except in some smaller ways here and there, with the answers I gave.”
"No, indeed, I imagine she did not have you there to speak of herself." Morgauna sighs softly. "Avrenne, can you think of no reason she would be so keen on learning such details about you?"
“Aside from the obvious – that she was trying to entice me into looking at her brother now that I am no longer engaged?” Avrenne cannot raise one brow, so she raises both, as she speaks the obvious out loud. “She hardly spoke of him at all, and she asked no questions that I would have expected if she were attempting to get a feel for if I was interested in the match. It was a lot more like she really was…attempting to get to know me better.” Avrenne seems a little wistful about it, as though it is not usual for people to really attempt to engage the cold mannered duchess in friendship.
"Would you not want to know a potential sister-in-law better?" Morgauna gives her tea a stern look before setting it down again. "I think Lord Fallon will be the one doing the enticing. The two of you seemed to get along well at the ball. But…I know Siamus well. He is a man of the sea and that isn't going to change. Which means a wife would be left to manage his house. Lady Sintha has an obvious interest in that."
Avrenne looks at her tea. “It was good to meet him,” she says diplomatically. “And very useful as well. He was able to correct some misinformation from Mr. Green for me.” The rage of it still hasn’t calmed, and it’s made manifestly obvious with one of Avrenne’s true tells of actual anger – or fear – as her hands go hot enough that she is clearly heating the tea within the cup. “I had not gone to Fort Wildervar because Mr. Green had supposedly completed the survey there for confirming their operations. The Commodore was able to provide more accurate information.” The implication being, of course, that they had been talking business.
Morgauna folds her hands in her lap, keeping a measured tone. "Avrenne, you can speak to me about Siamus. As I said, he has made it clear that there is no possibility of a marriage between us. But that should not mean you need to avoid discussing your opportunities with me. I am your friend, and it would be wrong of me to forbid it."
Avrenne looks at Morgauna, that composure of hers more habitual than any other expression. “There is nothing really to tell. I am not pursuing him as an option,” there is an odd pause, a suggestion in it that is not spoken, not quite saying ‘yet,’ but her words don’t close the option off entirely. “He was pleasant company in an otherwise…difficult evening, that is all. I made an agreement with Captain Tyrrell as part of an opening negotiation for a potential union of our Houses, and it was…” She sighs heavily. “Exhausting. He demanded that I behave as though I was there to truly enjoy the party, the company, the people, the dancing. And to let it be real for a moment at least, to pursue other options other than him.” A scoff, and a tightening of her lips, something approaching real irritation in her expression. “As though I have not been doing this for fifteen years and knew very well what there was on offer. But, men will insist they have something to teach you, even when they know nothing at all of it.”
Morgauna huffs in agreement. "Endlessly." She allows her brow to tighten with apparent concern for her friend. "You do not seem particularly enthusiastic about this union with Tyrrell. I…cannot help but wonder. Why him? His accomplishments are impressive, to be sure. But…the man is terribly prickly, and…well…he is a warlock. One of the good ones, perhaps, but that still comes with all manner of baggage. He knows it as well as anyone."
Avrenne sets her tea down. “That is precisely why, actually: that I am not enthusiastic, and that it should be evaluated by his accomplishments.” Her shoulders rectangle square off. “That was my mistake, with Mr. Green. I liked him,” or loved him, more accurately, as Morgauna well knows, “And I tried to fit the box around him to fit. And, as is now obvious, his choice of me was based on sentiment, rather than logic. When that sentiment.” Too long of a pause, too long and too telling. “Ended. He no longer wanted the match. And that is not acceptable for me. You know that there will be no divorce, for me. That is not an option. Whoever I marry, it will be for life.
“Captain Tyrrell has the qualifications I require. He had no emotional feeling for me that was positive enough to potentially cloud his judgment, and I had none for him to make him seem more appealing outside his reality. Now, we are in talks of a match, and what advantages that may have, and that is.” Avrenne inhales and nods very slightly. “The way I should have done it all along. I am not just a woman. I am the House. This cannot be based on a fleeting feeling, and I will no longer chart my life’s course off the possible inconstancy of a man’s affections.”
Morgauna's heart sinks to hear Avrenne speak of setting aside the hope of love. She wants to reassure her, to encourage her to seek romance again, to bolster her spirit and wax poetic on the beauty and wonder of love. But what does she, herself, truly know of it, other than her own barely tethered hope that she might find it?
She looked across at Avrenne, her dear friend, and yet her opposite in almost every way. Physically, all corners and angles to Morgauna's soft curves. Avrenne was rather short, while Morgauna towered over her. Avrenne's light skin and hair contrasted with Morgauna's dark complexion. Avrenne kept her emotions contained, unseen by the world, while Morgauna used hers as a delicate tool. Even their magical potential was in opposition: Avrenne's fire and heat to Morgauna's affinity to water and frost.
Yet, despite being almost completely unalike, there was perhaps no one that better understood Morgauna and the pressures she faced, and she believed the reverse was likely true as well. What would she do in Avrenne's position? "Avrenne…I wish I could advise you to hold out hope that love will come. But that would be an unkindness. For the world is unkind." She gives Avrenne a sympathetic frown. "You are correct. You are House Esprit, and there are more futures than your own dependent on your decisions. You will do what you must, and I will support you in any way I can. The only advice I can offer is this: Never forget who you are along the way. Tyrrell is a man of indomitable will. You must be equally indomitable. Do not allow him to subsume you."
And there it is; for all of the two women’s differences – the flirtatious countess to the frigid duchess, the socially refined hobbies to the strange obscure pursuits, the dangerous mother to the once-dangerous father – they had always understood the other in some deeper way, to look through that mirror and see on the other side their own inner face staring back at them under the weight of their names and holding up beneath it.
Avrenne gives Morgauna a smile, a real one, the warmth and confidence obvious. “Don’t worry, Morgauna. I would never let any man define who I am. If he is an indomitable will, let him break that wave across my lighthouse. I will never fall.” There is no false humility in her voice now, no polite demurring that she uses like a weapon in the foreign political sphere that she wades in year after year. There is her own indomitable will, resolute and resilient, of a woman who holds the last line of her House and will never, ever fall.
Morgauna shuts her eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh. There is quiet, but audible relief in the sound. She can feel a tension release from her. In the dark of her closed eyes she can still see Avrenne…the lighthouse in Morgauna's vast and deep ocean. For all the currents she must navigate and storms she must weather, Avrenne was always there. A steady and constant beacon to lead her back to a place of stillness. It was comforting to hear her say that no man could change that. The countess opens her eyes and reaches a hand to briefly touch Avrenne's, her smile bright and full of pride. "No, you will not."