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VEL NUMERA
"I wish your help in finding a suitor."
And so there it was, out at last. Many restless nights had led up to it, now that Kristen lacked the terrible immediacy of war to distract her.
Indeed, upon her return to Vel Numera, it was one of the first things to come to mind, wrestling with matters of her Ladyship, duties and possible duties of her Dreadlord title, and other domestic concerns. Mostly at night, when at last she had found a comfortable spot in her bed, did these thoughts of suitors and marriage and children assail her. She knew the well-trodden road already: her crush on Dorian, her relationship with Drastus, and her relationship with Alistair. And with a most special eye to this third part of the road, Kristen lost many an hour of sleep considering how things could have went differently, to which she found no shortage of answers—"if" is a dangerous word, invoked at night.
When at last she could stand it no more, she sent a letter to her Uncle Tobias, the Head of House Pirian, and to her father, Neil Taeris Pirian. She'd a mind to take some step forward, some certain step, for to wait interminably was a torment.
So Lord Tobias and Lord Neil arrived in Vel Numera, and Kristen received them at the door to the Pirian Manor. All due pleasantries were exchanged, and during these Kristen kept her excitement (which had an awful caustic feel to it) and her sorrow—her emotions all—well-veiled. They retired then to one of the drawing rooms. Drinks and snacks were served as requested, more pleasant small talk. And then the servants left the room, and only was it Kristen, Tobias, and Neil.
Stately was her composure, much befitting the Darling Daughter of House Pirian, and yet there was a slight tremor in her human hand, which she had folded in her lap. She tried to hide it with her artificial hand, having laid that one over top.
She began calmly, and came straight to it, saying, "Uncle Tobias...Father...I feel with ever increasing lament that, while I may be attending to my duties as Lady and Dreadlord with satisfaction, I am failing...I have failed...in what is far more important. And in this my great fear is that I cannot, I must not, dally long."
And out it came: "I wish your help in finding a suitor."
Relief came as a cooling tide, but close behind a new and uncomfortable anxiety (attended quite naturally by grief). For now that she had said this, the raw potential of what might come of it well and truly yawned wide open. She knew not what the future could hold.
Tobias Pirian