garden

(C) Intelligent Studios and Nintendo

-0-

06. Lady of Golden Violets

(#1. look over here)

There was a knock at the open door. Pent lifted his head from his book to find the manor's housekeeper, a pleasant middle-aged woman named Linna, at the doorway with a silver tray of letters. Having no butler, parlormaid, or footman at the summer manor due to its general disuse meant that she cheerfully performed many duties outside her title alongside her husband, who cared for the grounds, and her daughter, a maid of all work. Pent appreciated this especially because he'd been looking into reducing the castle staff on his wife's advice to cut costs, but his steward still was resisting that change.

"What can I do for you, Linna?" Pent asked, putting down his book on the page he'd left off. The housekeeper approached with a smile.

"Today's correspondence from the castle, my lord. The courier's waiting if you have any responses to send back."

Pent rifled through the letters, separating the party invitations - trash - from Raike's daily letter and paperwork before finding a letter on the bottom addressed to Louise. He picked it up and couldn't immediately recognize the handwriting, which was a little odd because only her mother and her former sister-maid (though he supposed she was still a sister) wrote with any regularity. "This seems to be for Louise," he said, offering the letter to the housekeeper, who shook her head in response.

"Yes, but my lady is busy at the archery range. She looked too involved in her practice to be interrupted."

Pent half-smiled at the description; the determination that normally was at a low ebb in his wife arose with astounding vigor whenever she practiced, which had a habit of startling any maid or footman who expected their placid countess to respond as such to a trifling question or three. He stood, letter in hand. "I'll take it to her, then. Thank you for your hard work."

Linna smiled. It seemed to him very motherly, though she had never once acted as a mother to him - something he appreciated. "Hardly any work at all, my lord. I'll tell the courier you've no replies to send, then I'll start on my lady's morning tea. Something sweet for the heat, I think. Will you be joining her today?"

"I will."

"Something not so sweet for you, then. I'll bring it to the parlor."

For his part, Pent left the bright parlor he claimed as his office for the back area of the manor, leaving through the front kitchen where Louise often liked to cook dinner and out into the kitchen gardens. The aroma of mint, parsley, and rosemary, as well as the overpowering brightness of the day, was a pleasant reminder of the idyllic summer days they'd been spending. It was already mid-July, and he didn't see them leaving for another month at worst. The thought of having to leave this behind for the castle was a mildly depressing thought, so Pent decided to defer it for another time as he reached Louise's archery range. He had one built at the castle as well, but for some reason or another Louise was very diligent about practicing at this one. She would always practice in the hours between breakfast and morning tea, even if he succeeded in distracting her attention in the morning, then she would write letters, read adventure journals, or prepare a menu for dinner in the afternoon. It was a little endearing how much she enjoyed this schedule of hers.

He could see her form now as she practiced; it was a testament to her diligence indeed that she could stand to shoot all morning despite the strength needed to pull the wire-strong string of her bow. Once he was obliged to try and the result was a welt on his forearm that wouldn't go away for a week. Seeing her now, her hair tied high, her body as taut as the string of her bow as she shot an arrow that hit the center target with an audible sound though it was far from her position, and he admired her anew that she could be so...her. He wasn't sure if he didn't have the words to describe just how he found her, or not enough of them to match everything she was, but he believed that was part of the fun of being married to her.

Pent couldn't help but smile at his thoughts. Imagine, him as a sentimental old man at twenty? He had never thought it would ever come to be, not when magic had so filled up everything he was.

Louise seemed to be resting, so he hurried to where she was before she began again. "Louise!" he called, and she turned to him, clear happiness shining on her face.

"Lord Pent, what a surprise! Weren't you studying?"

He held up the letter. "You received this, but Linna didn't want to interrupt you."

"Oh, is that so?" Louise said with a smile as she took the letter and glanced at the front of the envelope. "Well, it can't possibly be!"

"What?" he said, watching her take an arrow from her quiver and slice the envelope open before returning it, pulling out a single sheaf of paper. There was a complex expression of surprise darkening her face as she quickly read its contents, then she made a soft exclamation that was neither pleased nor unpleased.

"Well..." Louise said, glancing from the letter to his face, her large, vivid lavender eyes expressing something he didn't know how to read. "My grandfather has written. He says he's sending a painter to the castle."

Pent raised an eyebrow at this. "I didn't know you had written your grandfather about that matter." Judging by the one time he'd met Duke Mersey, he didn't think the man cared about art - rude, perhaps, when Pent was a very different man and also held no particular inclinations, but the impression remained.

"Yes, I only wrote Mother, as I thought she would ask Nella on my behalf, but I suppose she thought my grandfather would know someone skilled enough. My grandfather is very exacting on this, as he is with all things."

"I would believe such."

His wife was staring at him with those luminous eyes. "Does it displease you, Lord Pent? I can try to write Grandfather, but it seems the painter is already on his way to the castle. It's dated three days ago, and his holdings are another day away from Reglay with hard travel."

"No...it's fine. I really do want to get a portrait of you done. I can finally have that one of my mother replaced." Pent noticed Louise's strange, almost pained smile and reached out to stroke her hair. "What is it?"

"I don't think a portrait of me would compare favorably with your mother's, especially in such a place as the castle foyer," she admitted quietly, eyes downcast. "It seems a little insulting as a replacement."

From her golden blond hair to her creamy, unblemished skin, her light pink lips to eyes unmatched by any flower or jewel in their purity of color and the depth of her emotions - Pent could hardly understand what about his wife that couldn't compare favorably to any Etrurian lady, living or dead, when it came to sheer beauty. Even at fourteen her looks had held great promise; at eighteen she was still in the process of achieving that promise and she had already outstripped all the ladies he had met both at Reglay and at court. As he considered it, the difficulty would be in finding a painter who could convey the fullness of her beauty. But her humility, her sheer sweetness of character, and her great determination were even grander and more developed than the loveliness of her face and form, so he supposed it was no great surprise that she could say such things.

"Lord Pent? Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked, her voice hushed and her cheeks slightly flushed. He bent and kissed one pink cheek as she giggled.

"No reason," he said, smiling. "We'd better get to the castle to wait for our unexpected guest."

-0-

The first time Louise had met with the artist who would work on her first portrait, she had formed no particular opinion of him; he had been invited to dinner with herself and Lord Pent, and he acquitted himself well in regards to his manners, but his answers seemed all surface and no depth. He begged off on sitting with them after dinner, as the journey to Reglay had left him drained of energy and out of sorts besides, and so she and Lord Pent were left to discuss him in the blandest possible terms - he seemed educated, relatively nice and polite, and his journey must have been quite tiring. It relied on their second meeting, after breaking their fast, to provide her with more than the simplest sketch of their guest...so to speak.

"Master Leon, does this space suit you for an atelier? I thought this would be big enough for all the supplies my grandfather insisted you would need, but we can always move if anything displeases you," she said after their mutual greeting. Master Leon, who had been adjusting the various artistic implements that had been bought for him, turned to her, his light green eyes holding her gaze for a moment before looking past her.

"It is fine, Countess. On the contrary, I am grateful you managed to procure all the items necessary. It shows your devotion to this project."

Louise smiled. "Please, call me Louise. I dislike titles."

"Then you will have to simply call me 'Leon.' I'm no master, only a student thus far." He stood at his full height, which was taller than even Lord Pent. Indeed, the more Louise studied him, the more she thought he did not resemble the image of an artist. He was so tall, and his shoulders so broad; his startling light green eyes were placed in a head that had the most regular, even, and pleasing features of masculinity, and was framed with short auburn-brown hair. His frame looked as though it should be perfect in soldier's garb while his easy, certain movements assured it, and his large hands looked as though they would engulf any brush held within them. These things she did not think discouraged an appraisal of his skill - after all, did she look the image of an archer and hunter? - only that she would think her grandfather, having met with this artist, would have done all he could to persuade him to drop the brush in favor of the sword or lance.

All she hoped was that she would be a suitable subject as his model, and that Lord Pent would be happy with the results. To think that any portrait of hers could replace his mother's...yes, it was unthinkable, no matter the skill of the artist.

"Are you doubting me?" he asked, his voice sonorous. Though he was smiling, it did not seem to reach his intense eyes.

"Not in the least, Leon," Louise hurried to soothe him. "I only doubt myself. I fear I am not what you hoped to paint."

"I have no hopes when I work, only that I can accurately represent what is in front of me," he said. "Part of art is in having a subject worthy of painting. There are things we can do to bring you to that level."

"Oh, I'm glad," Louise said, giggling a little in suppressed anxiety. "Well, I shall leave you to prepare your atelier. Please let me know if anything is wanting." He nodded in agreement, and she left the converted drawing room. It was only later, when she was recounting the episode to Amy, that she realized he had insulted her to her face without even the smallest flicker of regret. But, as she was increasingly used to being insulted and disrespected by all creatures great and small in Castle Reglay, she could only appreciate his honesty.

Two days later, he had completed the arrangements of his makeshift atelier and sent notice that she should come in the outfit she most wished to display herself in for her first sitting. Having deliberated this since the time Lord Pent had first mentioned his desire to have her portrait done, she came to the west hall in the dress she had commissioned for this very purpose. It was made of rich, heavy silks in the very deepest shade of Reglay blue, tiers of delicate white lace peeking through its split skirt. Elbow-length satin gloves the color of ice white covered her arms, and seed pearls had been delicately woven into her pinned-up hair. She could barely move for all the petticoats she wore and the train of her dress, but she managed on the thought that she would be representing House Reglay through this costume - she would be a true and good Countess Reglay, if only for the portrait's sake.

"Excuse me, Leon? I am here," she said at his door. There was a muffled call for her to enter, and she did with the slightest tremble of apprehension. The room was beautifully lit with natural light, and Leon was in the middle of it, dressed casually with a pen in hand; the light revealed the thoughts as displayed on his face with nary a trace of it hidden by shadow, or by a compulsion to hide. No, she could see all his emotions: shock, then disgust twisting his lips into a sneer, then anger lining his fine brow.

"What are you wearing?" he said, a snarl in his tone as he stormed up to her and grabbed her arm. Louise was too surprised by the sudden violence of his tone and movements to wrest herself away; the hand engulfing her wrist strangely did not hurt in his grasp. "Are you trying to make a mockery out of this? Out of me?"

"I don't understand!" Louise shouted back, very close to bursting into tears. "What is wrong? This is the finest gown I have!"

Leon tossed down her hand in sheer disgust. "You cannot mean that. You look like an overdressed twit with no sense of what suits you. Do you not have eyes, or a mirror? Did you honestly look at yourself with only pride, wearing a color that does nothing for you but bleaches out your skin and makes your veins show? Don't take me for a fool, Countess!"

Her tears were hot as they ran down her face, ruining the powder applied there. "T-this is the color of the house," she struggled to say as if disaffected, though her throat throbbed with emotion, "and I am the countess, as you say. I must wear it."

"'Must'?" He crossed his arms. "Am I painting Countess Reglay, or the lady wife of the man who thinks her the most beautiful woman in Etruria?"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am only Louise," she said with a sudden flare of resentment, failing to stop herself from rubbing away the tears staining her face with the fine gloves she wore.

Leon smiled, though it was a mockery of every honest smile she had ever laid eyes upon. "Then show me 'Louise'. I am engaged to paint no other but her, no matter what she thinks I must paint in her stead."

It was an audacious statement, as she knew she could not be so easily separated from the image of Countess Reglay, no matter how difficult it had been to assume such a role. It was bigger than her, grander than her, and standing in the dress made for that image after having been so derided for it only made her feel small and foolish. "...I like ribbons and lace, but tastefully so," she started, her voice halting and soft. "My favorite colors are pink, purple, and white. I am said to have the tastes of a child because I wear no jewelry or makeup if I can help it. How can you paint one such as me and be satisfied?"

"It isn't my satisfaction I seek, but my employer's," he said. "If I painted you as you are now, it would be false. There would be no soul in it. If you think you must be as a countess should, then you must be one on your own terms, not that of the former countess."

"It doesn't seem possible," Louise muttered. Her face felt sticky, and she fidgeted with her hands as she looked away from Leon's handsome face, as if she would feel better for it. She didn't, and that made her feel all the more worse.

"You only say that because you lack understanding. Come, we will find you a better outfit and have your face washed and clean your hair of the pearls. We will start from the beginning, and you will understand."

Raising her head to look at him, Louise could not find any kindness on his face - that is, his kind words were at odds with his unsmiling countenance in the most obvious way. But his words were startling in both tone and diction, with a self-confidence about this trial that she so clearly lacked. Were he the noble and not she, their positions would more perfectly match their stances...but she could not think that. He was offering her a chance, not only to be herself, but to be herself publicly in the most daring fashion yet: as the face of House Reglay, there for all visitors to see.

She did want that. Was that so wrong, even if she was barely tolerated? What Leon was offering by convincing her that she could be true and honest to herself was too seductive, too blatant to be believed...but oh, how she wanted to believe.

Let her believe.

-0-

It was hardly to be expected, but the letter Pent received from one of the most illustrious of academic mage societies did not also include the latest draft of his paper marked liberally with corrections and unneeded commentary; rather, it was an invitation to publish his paper in their seasonal journal. It addressed him in terms better than lordly: as a fellow researcher and scholar of magic though he had never finished his graduate studies. What mattered was his work, of which they wanted him to produce more. And he knew exactly what he wanted to work on next, as his analysis of the magic schools had revealed there was quite a bit more to elder magic than the anima-based academic society had agreed on. Of course, the difficulty was in collecting viable material, but what was he a count for if not to have the funds for such an excursion? Oh, he couldn't wait to tell Louise about this, to see her smile...

"Milord?"

The vision of his wife's soft smile dissipated; what was left before Pent was Raike's annoyed stare. "Raike, what is it?" he said, a little short though it was not quite deserved.

"Here's more paperwork to look over. Have you read the king's letter yet, or have you not gotten to it? I am a little worried about its contents."

"Why would you be worried?" Pent questioned, reaching for the royal correspondence. Admittedly, he was going to read it next, after basking a little longer in the glory of his new published work. With a swipe of the letter opener, Pent took out the letter. His Majesty wrote it himself, congratulating him on a cleared tax record and having a few kind words for Louise's work on some corrections made. Since Pent had never had the chance to look over his wife's work - assuming in a rather blithe manner that it would be fine - he was a little pleased that it all went over well.

"What did the king have to say?" Raike asked. Pent looked at him.

"You've just asked that, correct? What did you say you were worried about?"

Raike shook his head. "I didn't say."

"So what is it?" Pent said, a little disbelieving over the conversation. The reddening blotches on his steward's face did not make this feeling fade.

"I have been wondering what the king had to say about Lady Louise's assistance."

"Nothing but praise," Pent answered, now guarded. Lately he felt that everything he argued about with Raike was regarding Louise, whether it was her competence (a ridiculous question that Pent ended instantly) or if she should have say over any changes in the housekeeping (a really ridiculous argument that was at a stalemate) or if she should be in charge of any affairs regarding the castle city and the run-down area (an aggravating series of discussions that he didn't want to mention to Louise for fear of hurting her feelings). Really, it was annoying. Raike was happy when her second dowry payment arrived, but he seemed to have these fears about Louise asserting any power as a countess despite the fact that her family was literally and liberally paying for the privilege.

"I see," Raike said evenly.

"Are you disappointed?" Pent should not have said, but since his good mood had now been ruined a part of him wondered why anyone should be allowed to have a good day. As if to soften that snide comment, he added, "Louise is immensely talented. I think you should reconsider your stance against letting her participate in governmental matters."

"My stance is what it is for your protection, milord. No other." Before Pent could say something even more unwise, Raike asked, "How is Lady Louise's portraiture sitting going? Amy said she's been turned away from assisting these last few days."

Pent raised an eyebrow at this. "By Louise?"

"By the painter."

"I imagine it's difficult work to paint. Leon probably doesn't need the distraction."

"His name is Leon?"

"Yes, why?"

"No reason, only..." Raike bowed his head. "I know he was recommended to you by no less a personage than the retired great general, but I wonder if it is safe to have him unmonitored. He has no reputation besides what he can borrow - "

"From her grandfather," Pent stated firmly. "Louise will be fine. The portrait will be fine. Is there anything else?"

Raike shook his head. "No, Lord Pent." He left with considerably more haste than when he had entered, but Pent was sure that was not the last he would hear from him. It was almost impressive how quickly Raike had changed from being an inoffensive public servant to one that constantly and consistently resisted every change Pent wanted save for the ones Raike had already suggested. He didn't want to think the worst of his steward and a little dissension was perfectly fine, but it was starting to become intolerable.

Looking back to the letter he'd received from the magic society, Pent sighed. He had been happy, hadn't he?

-0-

"Look at me."

Louise did, although it was difficult; his face was so near it was borrowing intimacy where there was none, though his hands were in her hair and gently plaiting its strands. His hand brushed her cheek as he tucked the braid behind her left ear, but she did not start at the inadvertent caress. The dispassionate stare he was giving her, his intense eyes darting from her own eyes to her lips to the long, loose locks tossed over her right shoulder, was enough to kill such an impulse. He worked another braid within her loose hair, then tilted her head just so.

"Keep looking."

She did not respond, only watching him as he stepped back to his easel and stared down at her from his great height, then sat down behind it, his eyes still fixed on her. Finally, he seemed to slowly exhale, his jaw working just so to indicate he was probably grinding his teeth behind his pursed lips. Then he said, "It's missing something."

Louise barely parted her lips. "What?"

"If only I knew," he said, his tone exasperated as he rose from his stool, pacing one way, then the other. "Just one last accent, I know it. But what? It would be perfect, but for that..."

Watching him pace, she pitied him. He was seeking perfection; there was always one last thing he needed. From the layers of lace at the elbows of her pearlescent pink dress to the number of braids in her hair, there was never something that did not need his attention. Yet somehow she did not think he was finding such difficulty because he wanted to paint the perfect picture - oh no, not at all! This was a job to him, and one that had to be very near perfect. Perhaps he thought Lord Pent had such exacting tastes in art, just like her grandfather? It did not seem quite correct to think such.

She wondered. She wondered a lot. All she could do was sit still and watch him slowly grind down his teeth as he agonized over what was needed now to begin his sketches.

"If you speak aloud, maybe you will realize the missing ingredient?" she suggested after a moment, careful not to move her mouth too much lest he fuss about it.

He stared at her a moment like he thought she was addled, then he sat heavily on his stool. "You are Innocence, simple and unmade, as fresh as springtime. Your eyes are the centerpiece to this entire portrait, the only thing to show the depth and wildness of your character."

Because her lips were already in a small smile, she hardly needed to add to it. "Am I so wild?"

"You're certainly not tame," he retorted, but it lacked heat. "You hide nothing, but you are high nobility now. Though you can afford finery like lace and bows -" and here he gestured at the tiers of cream lace revealed by her split skirt, as well as the ribbons the same color as the dress running down its front, on top of rivers of more delicate lace, "- you are not dainty and suppressed and meek. You hold no elegance save for the way you express your heart. This is the way of the new Countess Reglay."

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought - her, a new sort of Countess Reglay.

"You have to understand the power behind a portrait. You are not having them judge you, rather you are showing them a taste of what they ought to expect. Sweet and pure, a girlish beauty, but with a ferocity that only the observant will notice. They will court you, and you will have power of your own. The fools will ignore you. Let them." He shrugged. "They are unnecessary."

She stared at him, disquieted by the low timbre of his voice; there was emotion there, one that he normally took care not to reveal. Perhaps that was why he knew so much about imagery and art, and what they showed and hid. "I don't find this to be a world where anyone is unnecessary," she said, not bothering to limit the movement of her lips.

He looked at her. His face was uncommonly handsome, but it could have been carved from stone for all the emotion he was showing. When he finally did show it, it was in the form of one of his dishonest smiles. "The image suits you, I see. If I could only put a flower crown on your head you would..." He stopped, then frowned. "Flowers would do it, I think. Contrasting from the eyes, or complimentary in color? It's summer, so what sort of flowers..."

"Um," Louise said deliberately. "The yellow violets Lord Pent had planted for me are still blooming. I could have someone go and gather some for you."

Several hours later and there were no longer any complaints or constant arrangements - Leon simply sketched, his eyes a flash of color that constantly darted from her to his sketchbook. His concentration was all-consuming, and he did not let her leave until it was time for dinner and she had to rush to dress into a more appropriate outfit. Yet, as she listened to her husband talk about his day, she could not help but remember again the color of Leon's eyes, light green that shimmered like a precious stone, and the blatant, overpowering intensity of his gaze as he studied her as if he knew all her secret places if he only turned his stare just so.

Such familiar eyes...

-0-

Pent pressed a kiss against the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder, lightly nipping it. After a moment, he lifted his head to see if she were sleeping, a little perturbed at her utter lack of reaction. Once he deduced from her breathing that she was still awake, he suppressed his amusement and said in a flat tone, "Louise, please pay attention when I am attempting to seduce you. It's only polite."

"Huh?" she breathed, turning over to face him. He could see the whites of her eyes in their moonlit bedroom. "What did you just say?"

It wouldn't do any good to repeat himself, so he smiled. "I'm feeling ignored."

"By whom?" she said, her voice hushed. "By me?"

"You're the only person I would care about being ignored by," he said, wrapping his free arm around her small waist. "What is it, Louise? You've been distracted as of late."

"Have I? I didn't realize. I'm very sorry, Lord Pent." She moved closer to him, her head pressed against his chest. "I never realized that it is actually difficult to sit for a portrait."

"Is it?" Letting his fingers trace magic letters on the thin silk that covered her back, he thought back to before the painter arrived. Yes, Louise had been livelier then. He wasn't even certain she practiced her archery since Leon had begun his work in earnest.

"Mm, it is. Lately we've been working on sketches. He's very particular about my poses. I've never realized that sitting for long periods of time in one position can deliver quite a strain to the body."

"He does let you take breaks?"

"Yes, but they are only long enough to allow me to stretch and walk a little. I think he is stressed because he isn't completely satisfied about which pose will become the finalized portrait."

"It seems he is very focused. He doesn't even join us for dinner."

"No." Louise yawned and moved deeper into his loose embrace; for his part, Pent was happy to oblige her. "He is a very private person. I think even moreso than you, Lord Pent."

Now he was tracing entire magic symbols onto her back. "That isn't so bad. Of course, I would like it if he were warmer. But he needn't worry overmuch about the portrait. His portfolio was singular in the skill displayed within."

"Lord Pent, did he seem familiar to you?"

"I've never seen him before, if that is what you mean." He thought about it, his hand stilling. "No, not really familiar. Why?"

"I don't really know...only that the more I see of him, the greater this feeling is. Mm, but perhaps I'm mistaken." She yawned again, but he didn't need that to know that she was falling asleep. He held her even more closely, feeling her breathing become slow and even against his chest, and closed his own eyes. He dreamed of flower fields where each yellow bloom was a nature spirit, and by the time he woke up Louise was gone for another day of sitting and he could hardly remember what he had spoken with her about the night before.

-0-

The sound of each stroke from Leon's pen had a scraping quality to it, one that was nearly hypnotic to Louise as she listened to it day by day, hour after hour. She stared at him with unseeing eyes, willing her body to slow down its processes, to allow her to blink and to breathe shallowly and nothing else. It was tiring to sit with her head tilted just so, holding up a new sprig of yellow violets without allow a single twitch of her fingers to distract him. Her neck itched from having her hair on it, while her mouth and throat went dry. Still, she could not waver.

"This one is done. Relax."

Louise slumped onto the chaise lounge that had been brought in for her portraiture sitting, breathing in deeply a few times before she rose onto unsteady feet. "How wonderful. Now I can have tea brought in for us," she said, attempting to add a note of liveliness to her words that she was too drained to feel. "I'm so parched!"

Leon grunted as he studied the sketches he had made, displeasure clear on his face. "I hardly need any tea. I don't want the possibility of it staining my work."

"Please," Louise said with a smile. "I wouldn't like to take tea alone."

Though he was obvious in his displeasure, he consented with a short nod before returning to his sketches. Soon enough a simple spread of cucumber and watercress sandwiches, small salads with sliced strawberries, sunflower seeds, goat cheese, and a light vinaigrette, and violet and chamomile tea occupied the little table closest to the great Etruscan windows that were the once-parlor room's most charming feature. Though he possessed a larger, more solid frame, Leon ate very little despite the warming room and the refreshing menu. "Do you dislike it?" Louise felt she must ask after a time of quietly bearing his impeccable manners and his disinterest in the meal.

"I don't," Leon said, a lock of his auburn hair falling to his forehead when he looked up at her. "But food is food."

"There is artistry in a good meal," Louise said, remembering that Lord Pent had once held that very same position. How she worked to convert him into adopting her position instead!

"Oh? Do you cook, Countess?"

Louise nodded. "I enjoy it greatly, though I've only cooked for Lord Pent since I arrived at the castle as his wife. And it is much easier to prepare meals in our summer manor rather than the castle proper, but I hope to gain more skill in time."

"That's an interesting hobby, considering you have servants who can undoubtedly do more and with greater skill." He bit into a slice of strawberry. "And it is arrogant to take over the duties of those whose entire livelihood depends on their work just for the sake of your self-satisfaction."

Though Leon's words were as sharp as ever, she sensed they lacked hostility; in fact, she greatly appreciated his harshness - after all, it allowed her to speak honestly as well. With a sip of tea, she smiled at him. "It is true that I lack skill, but the way to gain it is by constant practice rather than to simply accept my weaknesses. As to your second point, those employed by House Reglay keep their wages whether I interfere or not. It is a little easier in the manor though, as so few servants are there on a full-time basis, so my...arrogance, as you say, is more a help than not."

"If you say it like that, I have no choice but to accept, it seems." Picking at his salad, his lowered eyes seemed to convey a demure quality that Louise could never quite believe of him. "It would have been nice if my own sisters considered cooking at all, not to talk of having such a devotion to it."

"You have sisters?"

He lifted his head, his lips quirked into a strange half-smile. "Two, actually. Margarete and Euphemia. Greta is taking care of herself, but Euphy is in my care."

A rush of warmth at such knowledge - how kindly his tone was as he spoke of them! - was a real and true pleasure that Louise had sorely lacked during her days moving from one pose to another. "I'm sure they're both very proud of their brother. I imagine you are the eldest, by the way you speak of them," she said, her food forgotten. "It must be so wonderful to have siblings. I have always imagined such."

"Yes, I'm quite fond of my sisters, though they are both willful. Art is my life's pleasure, so I am grateful to put my skill into making sure they are taken care of." He gazed at her, his eyes no longer intense and cold; rather, they conveyed the measure of his humanity. From what she could see, he had the potential to be a great and good person, though he was not always honest with himself by acting the part of a cruel, self-interested man.

"That is why you are so concerned with the outcome of this job," Louise said, surprised at how fully new he appeared to her with simply that one revelation. "Please, you shouldn't worry. I am certain that, after the unveiling of this portrait, you will have all the offers you will need to be successful."

Leon was not smiling when he said, "I do hope so," and that was how she knew he was being completely honest. That his smiles were scythes of cold cruelty whereas in most people a smile was the most pleasant thing, while his neutral face was his honesty and kindness writ large was a strange thing, but Louise thought she no longer minded now that she understood this about him. His difficult nature and unkind words sparked her own strength - she enjoyed this now. She enjoyed spending time with him. It was far more comfortable inside this makeshift atelier, with just the two of them and long stretches of silence, than nearly everything that lay outside of it. Louise wondered if that was strange, but soon Leon had her in a new, slightly different pose and she stopped thinking at all.

What mattered was the portrait. What mattered was a greater freedom.

-0-

"Lord Pent!"

Pent looked up from the license renewal paperwork on textile shops in the castle city, his cup of tea halfway to his lips. "Raike?" he questioned, unable to hide the wariness in his tone as he placed his cup in its saucer. "This is a little dramatic -"

"Milord, I have reason to believe that Lady Louise's painter is not who he purports himself to be!" his steward said in a rush of words, as if afraid Pent would interrupt.

"That is a fairly serious accusation," Pent said mildly, tense but needing to hear more before he was willing to commit to an action. "What reason do you have to make it?"

Raike fidgeted, fairly shaking with barely suppressed emotion. "For my own peace of mind I decided to have someone check his background, scant as the information you gave me was. I traced him to Duke Mersey's manor -"

"I know this -"

"- Where he and his sister had been guests for nearly a year, treated as part of the duke's family! He is no mere commoner artist looking for a patron, but a fallen noble who deliberately held his family name to be hired here!"

Pent frowned in growing disbelief. "That's hardly a crime, though I'm sorry to hear it."

"You don't understand," Raike said with unsuppressed force. "He's not here to paint your wife's portrait, he's here for revenge. His full name is Leon Minart, and he is the former knight general's trueborn heir."

The knight general - Alfred Minart. Yes, Pent had no choice but to know that name well; the man had planned for Pent and the rest of his regiment to be abandoned at the Western Isles so that his own son could marry into the new inheritors of House Reglay, and were it not for Louise's efforts they might all have died there. Louise's mother, Lady Catherine, had independently decided to ruin the knight general through writing a book about all of his ill deeds, implicating him in crimes great and small, and the king had responded by stripping the knight general of all his titles, his assets, and finally exiling him.

But what of his family, Pent had remembered thinking once when Lady Catherine had revealed her own method of revenge, what happens to them?

Now he knew.

Pent stood, reaching for the Fire tome he usually kept near his person, pity - and a fair bit of shame, if he were completely honest - warring with his fear for Louise's safety. She had never seemed wary of Leon, but perhaps his plot had not ripened yet...

"I will call the guards to arrest him," Raike was saying when Pent surfaced from his deepest thoughts. "I can't imagine why the king would have let that man's children roam free after exacting such a heavy price from the entire family, but -"

"No," said Pent. "No need to call the guards."

"Milord, he could be dangerous!"

But Pent remember Leon's portfolio, the one that claimed his skill as genuine. Pictures of landscapes, pictures of trees and buildings and dresses and men of all walks of life, but only three women. One had been of an older woman, perhaps his mother, and the two others were younger. They didn't look anything like Leon, but these had been sketches in pen; perhaps they had not been random women, but his sisters.

Pent wasn't sure he had much skill in reading people other than when they were trying to use him, nothing like Louise's faith in the goodness of man, but he did have reason. It would be better to exercise caution, he felt. If this information proved true, then there had once been little difference between himself and Leon in terms of rank, if not education and ability. Were he dangerous, perhaps he could be reasoned with. Were he not, it would be a crime to treat him as a criminal merely because of his father.

He knew that. Pent knew that.

"If he is dangerous, it is because the circumstances have made him such. We cannot judge the son by the father." Pent looked at Raike full in the face. "Correct?"

Raike looked away, his face blotching. "You were a different case, Lord Pent. I can only hope that Lady Louise has not been -"

"Come," Pent ordered, leaving the Fire tome at his desk. There was no need to hear the rest of Raike's ill omen. They walked down to the parlor on the first floor of the wing, the place designated as a temporary workspace for the portrait. Though he did have his doubts regarding Raike's claims, he was affected enough to enter the room without knocking - as if he could interrupt an act of evil that would prove his steward's words right with that little bit of stealth. Instead, he found Leon sketching, an image of Louise being filled in as the real Louise sat in front of Leon, golden violets in her hands.

As she was facing the door, his wife reacted first. "Lord Pent?" she asked, her face clear and beautiful with a sort of pleased surprise. "Are you here to watch Leon work?"

"Not quite," Pent said, and with those words Leon's broad back seemed to tense as the artist laid down his pen. Yet, he did not fully acknowledge Pent until the latter continued with, "I wish to ask Leon a question."

Leon half-turned in his seat, his posture military-straight on the stool. That simple observation made Pent wonder. "Ask what you like, my lord," he said, smiling.

"I would like to know if you happened to have misrepresented yourself when you first arrived," Pent said. "Perhaps you are using an alias, or simply left out your family name during your introduction."

Leon was still smiling when he replied, "If you are asking me this, you probably already know which of it is right. Yes, I left off my family name."

"Leon, you're of a noble family?" Louise asked, her surprise less pleased than it was simply confused. The smile on Leon's face fell away.

"No, I am no longer nobility."

Pent looked down, hesitating slightly. With Raike beside him, he felt greatly pressured to see this through to the end, despite his reservations. "But you had been high nobility. That is correct, Leon Minart?"

There was no expression on Leon's face; it seemed to have all fled to Louise, who gasped as she jumped up from her seat. "Minart? You're his son? I..." She began wringing her hands, which Pent knew was the clearest sign of her deep agitation. "I thought you had looked familiar. You do resemble him...his frame, his intense stare..."

"I'm said to resemble both my mother and father, so I had hoped that my mother's blood would come out more than my father's enough that you wouldn't question it. But you did, didn't you, Countess?" Leon shook his head. "So then, I can't say I lied, but perhaps you two feel differently, Count, Countess? I would only ask to be able to finish this portrait and that the money paid is sent to my sister's care, at Duke Mersey's residence."

"You're not in a position to bargain," Raike said from Pent's side. "How do we know that you didn't purposely come here for revenge? Revenge against the daughter of the woman who caused your family's downfall while she is defenseless?"

Oddly, Pent noticed the corners of Leon's mouth lifted as he glanced back towards Louise. "Countess, what did I tell you? Ignorance abounds, especially in your home." Pent did not have time to wonder at those words before Leon returned his attention to him and Raike. "I do admit that I hate the countess' mother - what of it? She destroyed my family and I am allowed my feelings. However, I learned prudence as a lordly heir, and I would not forget it now when I have a sister to care for. As much as I appreciate Grandfather's assistance all this time, I cannot allow us to be dependent upon his kindness much longer."

"You...call him 'Grandfather' too, Leon?" Louise asked, her eyes shining with a strange emotion Pent had never seen his wife display before.

"I do. My father was his favorite, you know. Moreso than your mother."

Louise nodded, though Pent nearly flinched at the bold words. "Yes, I know. Were your father his natural son, Mother would have been forgotten long ago."

"Then you see," Leon said. "It was only right that he would take in Euphemia and myself, as he felt he bore responsibility for our lives, and perhaps for causing our family's downfall in the first place. But to live as a dependent is not our way, and Grandfather is old and we are not blood heirs besides. I thought to work using the skill my parents so loved to earn a living. Grandfather agreed, and had me sent here when your mother informed him that you were seeking a portrait to be done."

"That Duke Mersey would collude with an enemy of House Reglay is unthinkable," Raike said, his tone hard enough that Pent looked at him with some annoyance. "You were the one who was to marry Baron Tilley's daughter, thus becoming the heir to the new Count Reglay. You are no innocent to your father's sin, but would have been its greatest beneficiary."

Pent watched Leon smile again and wondered why harsh accusations amused him so, but found out within the minute as the other man said, "I am my father's legitimate heir, so I already had my own inheritance set. The son you mean to accuse would be my eldest half-brother, who was the lieutenant-general of the mounted knight brigade. His birth being such, my father had hoped to improve his rewards in life."

"Making a bastard the head of Etruria's most noble house?" Raike bit out, and Leon's smile dropped into the most deceptive neutral expression Pent had ever seen. He could easily believe that Leon was raised as a noble's true son with the sheer control the man exerted over himself; in fact, Pent admired it.

"A bastard, yes," Leon said. "God forbid we see human beings as fellow humans, rather than the measure of their birth. But I find that, as much as the nobility is limited in the scope of their thoughts on this matter, servants are decidedly moreso. After all, their survival depends on the quality of the lord they serve...an earthly, small mindset."

From her spot next to the chaise lounge, Louise appeared to Pent as if she were regaining her equilibrium. "Is your mother also being cared for by Grandfather?"

Leon closed his eyes. "My mother took poison. Your mother's book had enough insinuations about her own life that she felt she could do no less."

As horrified as Pent felt at that news, he felt frightened when Louise's legs seemed to no longer hold her weight and she dropped onto the chaise. He came to her as she covered her face with her small hands, and while he sat next to her and attempted to soothe her, he could hear her small voice muttering, "Mother, what have you done...?"

"Louise..." he said, but could not think of words beyond her name. She looked up at him from her hands and - this was very odd - she seemed almost disturbed by the sight of him. Pent couldn't place why, nor could he understand why the set line of her mouth bothered him so when she rose up from her seat. He stood up as well, one hand on the small of her back just in case, following her eyes to Leon, who seemed almost statuesque in the moment.

"What..." Louise's voice faltered, but when Pent returned his gaze to her he thought that, with the color returning to her face, it hadn't been out of weakness. "What can I do for you?"

Leon cleared his throat. "I didn't come here to ask for anything. I only came here to do my job."

"What can I do for you?"

Pent watched this man Leon shift his weight from one foot to another - an almost imperceptible movement, but Pent had fought in battle before. It was the kind of movement that signified a sort of unease, steeling oneself for their opponent's next move. He didn't like what such a small action foretold because it meant that Leon saw Louise as dangerous in a way that Pent supposed the other man didn't see either him or his steward.

Louise, dangerous? What was Leon seeing in her at this moment that Pent couldn't?

"I'm looking for a patron."

"Then I'll be your patron."

Pent glanced at her, but wasn't particularly surprised. Louise as he knew her was an instinctive creature - her sense of honor was probably permanently fixed at doing the right thing at any moment. He smiled inwardly at the thought; it was why she could offer her very life for the sake of a lonely little count.

"Countless Reglay!" Raike snapped. "You cannot do this! This man is an enemy of House Reglay!"

"If I am Countess Reglay, then I can't see why I wouldn't be able to choose who I can support in the arts. My grandfather supported Leon's coming here knowing his heritage, so I think he must have surely known that I needn't - that Reglay needn't fear him. And, it is for the sake of my honor that I...do what I can in light of my mother's actions." Pent watched Louise exhale, her eyes downcast, and wished that she would look at him if she needed to derive her strength from somewhere other than the undoubtedly vast stores within her small body. But she didn't spare him a glance as she looked up again and continued with, "And I don't think looking at people as forever being our enemies is the way for House Reglay to remain strong. I think it would take more strength to forgive House Benet than to strike it down at its collapse."

"It is a demolished house, anyway," Leon said, crossing his arms. "It doesn't exist anymore."

"Speaking as one who had to endure your father's plot upon my lord, believing that he was killed in a foreign land, I think it is no less than what you deserve," Raike said, a snarl of viciousness giving his words a weight that touched Pent's heart, no matter how frustrated he was with his steward as of late. Yet, he wasn't very pleased when Raike's next action was to turn to him and say, in beseeching tones, "My lord, this is not acceptable to any of us who serve your house. No matter Lady Louise's family's later involvement, his father is still the one who brought down so much misfortune upon you and House Reglay."

"The son is not the father," Pent said because it was true, because he knew how much work he had put in to prove the very same for himself. He would not deny that effort to another. "I stand by my wife's decision on this matter."

He thought Raike would resign then and there, but the older man only nodded, his brows knitted as if the steward were suffering real pain over the matter. Perhaps that was true - Pent knew Raike had suffered too much in the wake of the former knight general's plan coming into fruition. However, Louise did not say things because they sounded pretty, but rather on the basis of her convictions. He felt it was important to support her because she asked so little of him otherwise.

Yet, she wouldn't look directly at him.

-epilogue-

It wasn't until much later, as they were walking towards their bedchambers after a stilted dinner, when she asked the question Pent had been fearing.

"Did you know?"

Pent paused. Louise had stopped walking and now was staring up at him. "About what your mother had done?" he clarified. "Yes, I knew."

Louise nodded. "I knew Mother was writing a book - I threatened Grandfather with that knowledge - but she never told me that she had finished it. She told you...but you never told me."

"I never told you," he echoed her words. "She published it weeks before our wedding, and I didn't want to tell you. There seemed to be no right time."

Louise only looked at him. The torchlight from the walls illuminated a sort of fragility he had never seen before from her, and the shadows flickering at the corners of her face seemed like a hidden anger that had never before touched her smiling face. When she looked down, the feeling of relief he felt made the guilt warming his face a sudden inferno.

"I'll sleep in my room tonight."

"Louise - "

"Please!" she cried out, turning away from him. "I understand, I understand, but I need time to myself."

He lowered the arm he hadn't even realized he had outstretched to her. "All right," he said slowly. "But I am sorry that I never told you. I want you to know that."

"Even if you say that..." He heard her sigh. "His mother is still dead by my mother's actions, and I never even knew. No one saw fit to tell me... I'm sorry. Good night."

Pent watched her go back down the hall, and wished that he would never see such a sight again.

-end-

So this took longer than I had thought it would, mainly because I had been busy with school and I had been frozen in indecision regarding further plotting, but all that is settled now. I've graduated with a grand finish and will have time until the summer to do what I can for this serial. My time as a fanfiction writer has largely ended, but this serial is near and dear to my heart and I hope to finish it.

This story is one of my original checkpoints, and it is steeped in a lot of bouquet's main plot (the one besides Pent and Louise falling for each other). I recapped what I could, but if you want or need the details you're going to have to read bouquet.

Lady of Golden Violets: I've said this before in bouquet, but this is the original Japanese for Louise's ending title. Pent is the Mage General of Silver, which I will allow sounds pretty clunky. Looking over the translations I did of the FE6/7 artbook is a little painful right now. Anyway, it was from this title that I realized that there could be a lot said about the power of art in Etruria; Louise is not really coming into her own as Countess Reglay so far, but she is beautiful and that, in and of itself, is its own power in a kingdom of high culture like Etruria.

The picture I used as a reference for the description of the dress Louise wears for her portraiture sitting after she's scolded by Leon is "Sweet Doing Nothing" by Auguste Toulmouche, completed in 1877. The date is too 'new' for anything that could be produced in Elibe's general time period, but Academicism as an art form began in the 16th century, so I'm fine with assuming there might even be an art academy in Aquleia (though Leon most certainly would have been privately tutored).