Although the day's heat lingered, it seemed not to reach this place. Floors of cool, white stone, furniture fine, and a refreshing fragrance filled the room. A colourful room, rugs neatly detailed, paintings grand, and flowers aplenty. A soft, delicate place for matters of little consequence.

After all, what consequence could come from two women merely talking?

Finger by finger, the host removed her gloves, her skin beneath perhaps paler still than the white fabric. Those fingers then curled around the porcelain cup's handle, her every movement slow and smooth. The tea brought to her lips, she took a sip, the flavour shown as her polite smile broadened.

"Sister has found something interesting." Her voice did not hurry, nor did it dawdle, every word spoken in due time and no sooner. Every word said perfectly, precisely.

The guest gave a breath of laughter, her head tilting to the side. "Sister could pass for a native."

Although the host gave no reaction, that in of itself spoke clearer than any answer. "It is only natural that one would offer this courtesy for those one would work closely with."

"Well, I shall hope it is appreciated. The fashion is still rather much in favour of French and, with Prince Hector, I doubt that will change in our lives," the guest said, not entirely awkward or apologetic with her words.

As for the host, she took that reply with a sip of tea. "Is that so?"

"Unfortunately, it is. If Fritz should stay here on his return, he has spent time in Prince Hector's circles and in the capital, that he has a reliable knowledge of these things."

Silence for a moment, then the host said, "Unfortunate, is it?"

The guest smiled, soft, yet her eyes narrowed that little bit. "Yes. There are… countless little things which become unfortunate for us. For example, it is more difficult to find maids who speak French, particularly outside of Augstadt."

"I rather find it a good mark of quality for a maid to speak French. We shouldn't settle for allowing any girl to enter our households," the host said, a corner of her mouth pinched.

With a gesture, the guest offered no rebuttal. "In the end, I simply wish to embrace this language of my ancestors," she said, a kind of melancholy to her words. "I have no interest in being French."

Another moment of silence passed, passed with a sip of tea and polite smile, then the host turned her gaze to the window. "To speak of brother, we all found it rather surprising that he would take command of those men."

The guest laughed, gentle, almost a whisper. "Grand Duke Charles requested my assistance and Fritz would not have us disappoint him. Those two, it was only a brief stay, yet one would think them old friends." She spoke slowly, lips stained by a smile, and punctuated the anecdote with another breath of laughter.

"Well, brother certainly hates to disappoint a friend…. I cannot help but still think that, in some small way, sister has a hand in it," the host said, her voice that little quieter, eyes tinged with a knowing look.

With one hand making a small gesture, the guest brought up her teacup with the other and took a sip. Once she had placed the cup back down, she brought together her hands, one nestled inside the other.

"I would not make gossip of what a husband and wife discuss. However, it is no secret that Fritz has never had much interest in meeting the expectations others place on him."

She paused there, expression clouded, until the host quietly asked, "And so?"

After a smile, she continued. "I suppose it is, if I may give a simple answer, that I asked him in which of his endeavours I may provide support."

For a moment, the host waited, expecting more, only for nothing else to be said. "Is that truly all it took?" she asked, her chin that little raised, eyes that little narrowed.

The guest turned over her hand. "To say it like that, of course it is only natural for a wife to support her husband. That does not mean such support is a small thing."

"Who said sister's support is trivial? Rather, I found it surprising sister would suggest brother lacked support from his own family," the host said, tone growing sharp by the end.

Yet a chuckle came in reply. "There is support, and there is support. Father made sure Fritz lacked nothing, that is true," she said, voice softening to a whisper. "I would not speak of these private matters. One ought to know that any second son is in a difficult position. It is enough to say that, whatever it is Fritz does, he does for himself, and I have always loved how selfless he is with his selfishness."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Rather than another laugh, she ended in a smile. Small, soft, delicate. Her eyes, too, held such sentimentality, half-focused on the middle of the table, yet slowly pulled towards the windows as if hoping, by some miracle, she might catch sight of him there.

Opposite her, the host sat still, observing, until the silence began to settle. "A selfless selfishness."

The guest did not react, but emerged from her thoughts, movements smooth as her gaze returned to the table and she picked up her cup for another sip. "Pray tell me, how are Augusta and Luise?"

After a slight hesitation, the host said, "They are baby, what is there to tell?"

Despite the wary reply, the guest only spoke warmer. "Oh, I hope they wake soon," she said, her hands together with woven fingers, pressed to her chin. "I would have brought dresses for them if only I knew what sister liked. There is nothing quite as dreadful as an unwanted gift, is there? Do tell me what fashions sister likes. We have a particularly fine shipment expected soon, so I would reserve the best for my nieces. Whatever bright colours sister likes, we have, and we have such talented embroiderers."

Although not rushed, her speech did not dawdle, one sentence after the other without pause, her breath apparently endless.

As for the host, she rather froze, expression careful for a long moment before her mouth returned to a polite smile. "A fine shipment… from those merchants? Sister will certainly be cheated."

Tittering laughter spilled in reply, her hand over her mouth until it stopped. "That is true. However, they think me foolish, so they merely cheat me in simple ways. My people know how to tell fine cloth from not, and there are those who are interested in cheaper cloth which appears good quality to the uninformed. Needless to say, I would not gift sister anything but the finest," she said, ending with a broad smile.

The host returned the smile, then rolled over her hand. "Sister would let others cheat her? Does she not think it shows… poorly of her?"

"Those who wish to think ill of me will find any excuse," the guest said, her hand brushing off to the side. "These merchants are useful, so I use them. When they are no longer useful, then I would… treat them as they have treated me."

Although she had not spoken warmly before, those last words came out with a noticeable chill, firm. Then she continued as she had before.

"Regardless, it is not those Italians I speak of. Spanish cloth has certainly found itself in fashion, which has not been without consequence," she said, her voice becoming a touch distant, only for her to then return her focus to the host. "I am sure sister is not interested in these discussions. It is enough to say that English cloth is still just as fine, if not finer, and it is a shipment of such cloth I am expecting. Scarlet, along with cloth yet to be dyed if sister would like a different colour."

For a moment, the host's frustration bled through, only to be wiped away with another polite smile. "Is that so?"

The guest replied in kind with a polite smile, one soon obscured by her cup as she took a sip of tea. That smile did not linger, though, replaced with a frown. No words spoken, she simply held the cup to the side; swiftly enough, one maid took it from her while another maid poured a fresh cup, bringing it to her in short, brisk strides.

"As good as it is to talk, I do wonder if sister had anything in particular she wished to discuss."

No difference in her tone, neither quieter nor louder than before, and yet it was if guest and host had switched places. One sat comfortably, confident, while the other struggled to meet the offered gaze, hands tensed, gripping tight the cup.

After a long second, the host flicked her wrist and the maids dutifully filed out.

"Sister certainly is anything but foolish," the host whispered.

If the guest heard those words, she gave no reaction, nor did she stay idle, shortly thereafter placing down her cup. "Forgive my frankness, but you have my condolences."

Of all the things the host had expected to hear, she had not expected that, stilled by it. Still, she could not stay idle either. "Condolences for what?" she asked, a lightness to her voice.

"Indeed, what condolences."

Silence followed, heavier than before, as if every breath lingered, every heartbeat echoed. The host showed nothing, yet the little movements of her lips, of her eyes, spoke so loudly, an audible hesitation that grew louder and louder.

And her guest sat with a small smile, silent.

"Sister is knowing about England?"

Those words barely broke through the silence, yet the guest heard them clearly. "I am."

The host tensed, plagued with such an urge to fidget, did not give in. "I wonder what sister's thoughts are on the… troubles that went on."

A vague question which the guest knew could only mean one thing. "Of course, sister asks of the late Queen Mary."

The host gave an attempt at a smile.

After a breath, the guest softly brought her hands together. "Sister should know I am particularly frank among family. My opinion is that, in these matters, there is no need to play such games, that our very fates are already entwined. One should not hold a grudge against family any more than one would harm one's own foot, so what need is there to speak without speaking?"

Simple words spoken without any flourish. That did not make it any easier for the host to reply, though. She held the guest's gaze, held it, until she finally looked away, her hands which had resisted this far now clenched tight.

For a moment, then the host looked as she had before, smile polite.

"Sister is not wrong to think like that. If only everyone else did," the host said, soft, yet not a whisper.

The guest said nothing.

With a last silent sigh, the host spread open her hands. "We are… considering to ask father… to ratify the succession with the council."

Of course, the insinuation of such was quite clear. There was, after all, no need to do such a thing when the succession was already crystal clear.

"Fritz certainly loves his nieces; however, this kind of thing, he must give his assent himself," the guest said, then picked up her cup for another sip of tea.

After a moment, the host relaxed, held breath easing out and polite smile natural.

The guest lowered her cup, smile broad and eyes pinched. "Well, this kind of thing, it is no secret he has never had any intention of meeting the expectations others put on him."

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