The Rake and the Almost Diamond - GooeyBelle, aww_yeah (2024)

Chapter 1: The Queen

Chapter by aww_yeah

Chapter Text

All across the ton, mothers and daughters are getting ready for the newest season. A time for romance, a time for planning futures, a time for making deals that could make or break families.

Some enter the new season with high hopes of making not only a love match but a match that will ensure stability for the rest of their lives. Others enter the season with little joy, instead approaching it as a duty one must fulfil in order to remain in good society.

Imogen Rose Mikage is one such debutant with quite mixed feelings on the whole situation. At 20, she understands that securing a good match would please her mothers and ensure their retirement will be safe and secure. But secretly she hopes that she’ll be swept up and adored by whoever decides she’s worthy enough of their name. Zoella, her mother, holds up jewellery to her face between sips of strong wine and sighs. She couldn’t have a child suited to gold of course, no, she’s more suited to the less expensive silver.

“Be sure not to put too much makeup on her Paulie, or they’ll say she’s a trollop.” Zoella says to her wife while Paula mixes a stain of crushed berries in a little pot.

“No one will say that,” Paula whispers, leaning in comfortingly.

—

Astarion flops into his chair and sips his brandy moodily. "You really should stop moping about all this, Ancunin. You knew it was coming." Gale says, rolling his eyes at his friend.

Wyll claps Astarion on the shoulder and settles down in a chair next to him. "You should consider yourself lucky; After myself" He rolls his eyes. Being the son of Duke did come with its absurdities. "You’re 'London's most eligible bachelor', the rags have been saying. You'll have girls falling at your feet, dying to wed you."

"That," he says, pointing at Wyll. "Is exactly why I hate it. It's all very well desiring and being desired until there's a f*cking marriage at the end of it all."

Gale laughs. "Your father has been hounding you for years, you're not getting out of it this time, old chap. Better to suck it up and get on with it, I say. I'm quite looking forward to it, myself."
Astarion sighs and downs the rest of his glass. "I'd better get back home before he sends a servant after me again. I'll see you both at the ball."

When he gets back, Cazador is scowling at him from the settee in the parlour, but that's nothing new. "Where have you been, boy?" He gets up and follows as Astarion walks past him.

"I met Ravengard and Dekarios for drinks, father. We discussed the ball." Astarion doesn't look at him as he makes his way through to the sitting room.

"You'd better make me proud this year. If you're even capable of such a thing, that is." Astarion picks up a random book and sighs.

"Yes, father."

"You're too harsh on him, dearest." Minthara says, making Astarion jump - he'd not noticed she was in the room. "He knows his duty, and he'll do it well."

Cazador raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything more.

—

Imogen’s dishwater blonde hair is pulled in every direction to produce the proper curls, her lips are painted, then dabbed, then painted again. Some sort of soot is combed through her lashes to make them dark and long before her mother holds her by the back of the neck and picks through each lash with a needle to separate them.

“So who do you think you’ll catch the eye of? I hope I get Lord Ravengard to look my way,” Karlach says as she stumbles around in her gown behind the display of maternal preening.

“I honestly haven’t had a chance to look at any of the suitors,” Imogen admits, trying to stay completely still as the needle comes close to pick apart another clumped set of lashes.

“Obviously she’s not going to get one of the most eligible bachelors - but she’s going to do her best to get a good one.” Zoella mutters.

Before Karlach can open her mouth, Imogen smiles and shakes her head, “I just hope it’s someone nice. Lord Ravengard would be a fool not to notice you Karlach,” she beams and reaches out to touch the light fabric of her friend’s dress, “You look so beautiful!”

“I think the silver fabric makes you look a bit washed out,” Zoella mutters again, sticking silver diamond star pins in her daughter’s hair one after another.

“The Ancunins are forcing their eldest to seek a match this season,” Paula says absentmindedly as she flips through the rags. Both Zoella, Paula and Karlach seem to laugh at the same time while Imogen pulls away to resist her eye being poked.

“Eyes forward, shoulders back, stomach in, glide,” Zoella reminds her daughter as they stand behind the debutants’ door. “The room is empty except for the Queen, as far as you’re concerned. Just keep your eyes focused somewhere around her nose.” All this coaching makes Imogen feel quite queasy but she nods and straightens herself up more.

“And remember to have fun!” Karlach whispers behind her, causing Imogen to smile and stifle a giggle.

“No! No fun. Just conquest,” Zoella hisses, clenching a dramatic fist, “We find a target, lock in on him, and then once the seed is planted, we can all go home and take a nap.”

“I would love a nap,” Imogen whispers.

“Not now, later.” Paula insists.

—

Imogen sucks in a deep breath and lets it out shakily as she turns to the door. Zoella puts a caring hand on her back. “You’ll do fine. Just relax.”

She can barely make out the announcer; she just knows the doors open and she’s supposed to step out gracefully. The hall is already so full, so many people at the end of the staircase dressed in their best, with their glasses in hand as she steps out. Their eyes swing up to her and she remembers, they’re not there. None of them are. Just the Queen. She measures her steps and barely breathes as she steps towards her and remembers to bow as gracefully as possible. Make mother proud, of course. The second she can step away, all the sounds and feelings rush back to her and she has to take a moment to cover her mouth for fear of belching because of her rolling stomach.

The queen is initially impressed by Imogen. She's certainly striking, with big round, grey eyes and a doll-like face. She would have picked her as diamond were it not for the small convulsion of the diaphragm she notices as the girl stands up out of her bow. What a pity. She does smile sweetly at the girl before she has time to hurry away, though, bestowing some favour on her at least.

The girl that does win that title, however, is Jenevelle Hallowleaf. Raven black hair pinned into the most curious of styles, piercing green eyes and a very pretty face. She bows low, and stands languidly. She is beauty and grace. The perfect diamond. The room erupts into applause as she bestows her with the title and the kiss.

There, thank goodness that's over with. She watches the rest of the girls paraded before her with a mild disinterest.

“You did very well,” Zoella says, patting Imogen's thigh as they sit bustling back home in the carriage, “I could see she almost wanted to pick you.”

“I know mama,” Imogen sighs heavily and rubs a spot below her rib cage just trying to settle down, “I’m actually thankful I’m not the diamond, too much pressure,” she mutters.
“Jen seems pleased.”

Karlach shrugs heavily. “Good for her.”

—

Astarion tries reading in bed to distract himself, but it doesn't work. Leon was only a year younger, and clearly more favoured by his father. Why did he have to be the oldest? He pinches the bridge of his nose, dropping the book on his chest. There was nothing for it, he supposed. He gets up and begins to get ready. When every curl is perfectly in place, and his suit perfectly smoothed, cravat secured, he feels slightly more ready. He even gets a compliment from his mother. By the time their carriage is pulling up outside the Queen's palace, he wishes he'd drank more brandy before leaving. At least Wyll and Gale would be there. He enters, bowing and smiling, while his mother and father whisk themselves off to schmooze.

He finds the two men huddling together in the corner of a study. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Looking quite dashing, sir." Wyll says, grinning and shaking Astarion's hand.

"Don't remind me," he says through the side of his mouth while he smiles and nods, gratefully taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "It's bad enough being forced here as it is."

"Oh don't be ridiculous," Gale says good naturedly, "You get to ogle at pretty women all night, what more could you ask for?! The Queen picked your obvious choice for you,” Gale says as he nudges Astarions arm, “Just pick the diamond and your parents will be pleased, yes?”

“Seems like a good choice,” Wyll agrees, as he watches Karlach stumble towards the door behind Imogen, the two of them with laced fingers and nervous looks.

"Have you ever spoken to Jenevelle?" Astarion snorts. "She's pretty enough, but our egos are far too big for it to ever be a good match. If I have to marry, it has to be someone I can at least stand to be around." He picks up another glass of champagne.

"Who are those new girls?" Gale asks, nodding to Karlach and Imogen. Astarion looks up, disinterested. Karlach is tall and broad shouldered, so next to her, Imogen looks even smaller. He watches her anxious, round-eyed face and...'no', he tells himself. But...she's gorgeous. Pale and delicate, big grey eyes round with worry. He finds himself moving forward as if drawn by an unseen force. Wyll and Gale exchange a confused glance behind his back as he begins to walk towards them, but before he can get further than two steps, he's accosted by Jen and her mother.

"Mr Ancunin, so lovely to see you again!" Emmeline gushes, bringing Jenevelle forward with her arm. "I believe you two have met before? Did you know she's been picked as this season's diamond! How exciting, isn't it dear?" She turns to her daughter who smiles up at him simperingly.

"Hello Mrs Hallowleaf. A pleasure." He inclines his head politely. "Miss Hallowleaf, what an honour for you indeed."

"It is, isn't it?" She responds, sweetly. Astarion is already looking past her, trying to find the other girl he had seen. "Would you care to dance, Mr Ancunin?" Jen asks, looking up through her eyelashes at him. He glances back at her, then back up. He's lost sight of the new woman, even her tall friend is nowhere to be seen in the crowd. She offers him her gloved hand and he takes it with a polite smile, turning and shooting a 'help me!' look at Wyll and Gale whose mouths are both twisted into an attempt at holding back laughter.

"Anyone caught your eye, Mr Ancunin?" She asks as they twirl around the room. "Besides me, of course?" He looks down at her and resists the urge to roll his eyes.

He fakes a smile as he hisses through his teeth at her. "Miss Hallowleaf, you know as well as I that I had to be practically dragged here. I'm not trying to have my eye caught by anyone."

Chapter 2: First Dance

Chapter Text

Imogen is being approached as well, a lord here and there offering her lemonade or champagne. To the point that she has to start turning people away lest she’s inundated with far too many drinks. Karlach is approached too, and she beams with every request for a dance or a stroll. It’s quite sweet, Imogen thinks, the elation at being romanced shines so bright in her face. This is what she deserves, honestly, all Imogen feels she deserves is a nap at this point.

“Lovely ball isn’t it?” A man with long dark brown hair and a matching beard asks. The purple of his suit is quite fetching and Imogen smiles, tilting her head.

“Oh, it’s darling,” she agrees nodding as she watches the people dance on the floor, “I’ve never seen so many people so dressed up. They look so lovely, it’s like a dream!”

“I have art at my estate that captures this feeling so eloquently. I’m sure you’d love it, if you wished to come and see.” Gale beams over his glass of champagne.

—

Jen chuckles. "Then perhaps you shouldn't have accepted a dance from this season's diamond. Everyone's looking, you know." He glances around and sees that they do, in fact, have the attention of most of the onlookers. All except two. He sees Gale standing smiling down at the girl he saw earlier, who is looking directly at a patch of floor near her feet, bright pink spots colouring her cheeks. "Oh, for the love of-" he mutters under his breath, spinning Jen once more, then bowing to her as the dance finally finishes. He hurries over to the pair, Gale completely oblivious to the discomfort in the lady's face and posture.

"I hope Mr Dekarios hasn't been saying anything untoward, my lady." He bows to her, before shooting Gale a look.

"Nothing of the sort!" Gale waves a hand. "I merely invited her to view the collection of exquisite artworks at my estate." He smiles, proud of himself. Astarion closes his eyes for a second, gathering himself.

"Gale, you can't invite ladies to your estate. Did Ravengard and I teach you nothing of courtship?" Gale looks embarrassed, then his eyes dart around the room.

"My apologies, my lady." He bows and hurries off, searching for Wyll, who seems to have mustered up the courage to speak to a beaming Karlach. He liked the man well enough - he loved him like a brother, but god was he frustrating at times.

"Your name, my lady?" Astarion turns back to her, smiling down.

Imogen seems quite stunned at how quickly that all changed in just a moment. She thought the first gentleman was cute but there’s something so wickedly handsome about the man before her that her breath catches her throat for a second.

“Imogen Mikage,” she says and offers her gloved hand for him to touch, “I’m sorry I’m not familiar with you, though I feel I should be.” Watching the lights above flicker in his dark red eyes makes her want to lie beside him by firelight and just admire the blood red twinkling for hours.

People seem to have noticed him rushing over, they stop and whisper behind their hands, some give her looks of sympathy, some men give her looks of amusem*nt. It makes her pause, but only for a second, before her eyes flicker back up to his.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Mikage. Astarion Ancunin." He bows his head to her. He notices the whisperings, sees Jenevelle's face twisted in a mixture of anger and envy as she watches the two of them talk. "Would you care to take a stroll? There are an awful lot of people watching us." He offers her his arm. She takes it nervously but looks up at him gratefully as he leads her out of the hall and out of the door to the gardens. "That's quite a lovely gown you have on, my lady." He says as they stroll through the perfumed garden.

“Oh thank you,” she takes a moment to step to the side so he can see more of it, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a new gown.”

Remembering how her mothers and Karlach laughed at the sound of his man seeking a match rings around in her head, but he seems so lovely so far.

“You look like you were born to wear that suit,” she notes, squeezing his arm. As they leave she manages to look behind her to see the diamond of the season glaring at her, glass in hand, like she’d rather see her head on a pike than standing with this man. It makes her shiver a little but she looks back up at Astarion, “I didn’t interrupt anything did I? You won’t be missed in there?”
Obviously she doesn’t want to cause anyone any trouble, but she does feel a little special that he’s paying her this much attention. Even if it is just for fun and he has no intention of making a match.

"I really would rather be anywhere but in there, Miss Mikage." He scrunches his face. "I'm not a fan of all this." He waves his hand towards the building. He stops and turns to her. "I am sorry about Gale...he sometimes says the wrong thing. He means well, he just doesn't always think before he speaks." He chuckles. "Unless, of course, you didn't mind him, and I've butted in where I'm not wanted. That's usually his job. And don't mind Jen. She and her mother practically strong-armed me into dancing with her; one doesn't deny the diamond if she approaches you."

He smirks down at her, studying her pale, pretty face in the moonlight. She really is gorgeous...his gaze flicks from her eyes to her lips. He clears his throat and looks away.

Imogen takes a huge sigh and her shoulders sink, “Thank god, I don’t want to be in there either. It’s way too full, way too many people. Lovely as they are to watch, it’s when they notice you it’s a little…much.” She grimaces but giggles. “Debuting is like being in an animal parade, the one they pick as the best will be slaughtered for the feast.” She explains, “I can understand if Jen really wants it though, she seems like the type that wants to succeed at everything. Whereas some of us know there has to be a second and a third place.”

Imogen takes a moment to admire the flowers around them, the trees dripping with wisteria, magnolias fully in bloom, all the orchids. Her fingers itch to pluck them from their stems and smell them but she knows the queen's garden shouldn’t be touched. It’s not until she looks down at her feet and sees a fallen magnolia bloom does she feel a sense of relief, swooping down, she grabs it and brings it to her nose before turning to him and finding the spot where one would pin a corsage. She pulls a pin from her dress and gently places the bloom on his lapel. “So you’re not seeking the diamond?”

He laughs heartily. "Oh, absolutely not. I've known Jenevelle for quite some time, and I can honestly say… as disinterested as I am in marriage as a whole, I am far more disinterested in marriage to her." He looks down at the flower and strokes the rim of the petals gently. He doesn't notice her eyes following his slender fingers. "What about your good self?" He says, settling on a bench and patting beside him to invite her to sit as well. "Are you hoping for a love match this season?" He nudges her gently with his shoulder.

Imogen blushes slightly as she watches his fingers. “It's a dream, I’m sure… many will tell me so. But don’t be cruel, a girl can dream of true love can’t she?” She asks, turning to look up into his dark eyes again, “there’s only so many times you can be reminded of duty before wondering if there’s something more than that, surely? That the one you marry is entirely besotted with you as you are with them.”

She knows she sounds a bit childish, most mothers are concerned with securing the estate and their daughters not dying in the birthing bed so that perhaps they’ll get a few grandbabies. The thought makes her shudder. “I’m sure you’re a very logical man; marriage being a union for the books and perhaps in time fond feelings will develop?” She asks, tilting her head.

"My, you really haven't heard of me, have you?" He chuckles. "Although perhaps if you knew of my rakish ways I would never have had the pleasure of your company tonight. At least I still have your token if you were to take off running." He chuckles and wafts the scent of the flower to his nose, then sighs. "I'm not sure if I believe in the whole ‘true love’ business. At least, certainly not for me. Perhaps a beauty like yourself, however...that seems more likely. But my parents insist I must marry, despite my many protestations."

Imogen furrows her brows, “Oh you’re really a rake,” she laughs and shakes her head, “That is most unfortunate. I was just thinking if either of us was the beauty here, it is clearly you,” she stretches her legs straight out under her dress and he can see her wiggling her feet under her petticoats. “You don’t think someone could fall in love with you, despite your reputation?” She asks innocently, just genuinely curious about him. Not running like he suggested, still sitting ready to make conversation with him. “Or is it that you don’t believe you can truly love anyone? Because there must be some love in you to even try to please them?”

Perhaps she is just as bad as Gale for not thinking before she speaks, but she means no harm. “And there must be some love in there, to not wish to marry if you don’t feel you can fully give yourself to a partner. Some people don’t think of that, they just do what they need to do - not caring if they hurt others.” The little diamond stars in her hair twinkle in the torch light as she looks around the garden watching the couples meandering about and whispering to each other.

"Well I would make quite the sad figure of a rake if I wasn't attractive. Just attempting over and over to seduce women only to be rejected each time." He pulls a face. "That would be terribly sad." He chuckles. "But you're definitely most captivating yourself. Perhaps if I hadn't spent so many years avoiding these balls, I might have seen you before your debut and not been quite so unwilling." His brow furrows as he thinks on her questions. "A little of both, if I'm honest." He says after a beat. "I'm not against using people if they're using me too. It would seem...uncouth to lie to a lady who was after a true love match." He reaches out and tucks an errant curl behind her ear.

“I appreciate the honesty,” she laughs and leans into his touch, just enough to enjoy herself before pulling back, “Excuse my language, but I think you might be full of sh*te.” He laughs at her cursing.

She folds her hands in her lap and looks up at the stars, anything to avoid gazing deeply into those eyes that have no doubt charmed so many others. “I think everyone has the ability to love, if they look at one another with the kind of patience and acceptance they wish for themselves. So… you may see yourself as that rake who can only find a form of love through seducing others, but someone else will see it differently. Then it will be up to you if you see yourself as capable of returning the sentiment.” She finally turns to him with a huge smile. “It has been lovely talking to you, Astarion. But if I spend too much time with you, my mother might scold me for not filling my dance card.”

"You may be right, my lady." He stands and offers her his arm. "I shall escort you back. Perhaps I may receive the honour of a dance with you tonight?" He surprises himself with the question. But he doesn't want to miss the chance to look into those wide grey eyes again tonight. "Maybe you'd even grace Gale with a dance? He really does mean well, and he is a good man, he's just... slightly awkward sometimes." He deflects. Perhaps if she becomes taken with Gale, he'll forget about her and tell his parents no one sparked his curiosity.

“I would love to grace you with a dance,” she laughs at the term “grace” coming from her. She holds out her dance card for him to sign in as many places as he likes. “And if Gale would like a dance, I wouldn’t mind. Just be sure to dance with me again afterwards.” She can already feel her cheeks warm up, the thought of him being allowed to be close to her…she can’t deny it’s a little exciting.

"But people would talk if I danced with you more than once." He says, gasping theatrically, but he pats the hand that's through his arm to show he's sort of joking.

“Oh let them talk, who knows, perhaps having the rake seem interested will draw in more suitors, ones wanting to save me from your evil designs.” she laughs, teasing just a little. Perhaps they can be friends if he doesn’t want to marry, she’s not here to judge him for his past, if anything someone like him wouldn’t lie about other suitors intentions would he? Perhaps they can help one another.

"An interesting theory," he says, chuckling. "But I'd rather not call your decency into question just yet." He whispers as they enter the hall again. He releases her, bows slightly, and moves back over to his friends. Gale and Wyll have a myriad of questions but he deflects them all with bluster. Honestly, he has found himself quite taken with the doe-eyed Imogen, but he is very good at pretending he isn't. Maybe they could even be friends, in time.

As soon as she’s back in the ballroom, other suitors make their way over cautiously, some of them looking over at Astarion who seems to tell them to back off without even opening his mouth. Imogen furrows her brows, a little confused by it all, until Gale walks over excitedly as if Astarion told him to do it. She laughs just a little, holding out her dance card for him to sign before the next song starts.

“I thought no one would ask,” she says with a bright smile, “Thank you Mr Dekarios,” she nods.

“Oh it’s hardly something to thank me for, I quite enjoy dancing.”

He pulls her enthusiastically out onto the floor as the next song begins and Imogen smiles up at him, “I can tell!”

Astarion watches Gale twirl her around, and she giggles and smiles as he does so. Wyll watches Astarion watching them and nudges him. "Is my favourite rake finding himself enamoured?" He whispers.

"Don't be ridiculous," Astarion spits at him. "I'm just making sure he doesn't step on her feet, he doesn't have your grace on the dancefloor." He turns to Wyll. "Speaking of which, have you procured any dances tonight, Ravengard?"

Wyll blushes slightly. "A few. Even Jen wanted a twirl, which got me a few more requests. But...Karlach was my favourite. I - I may try my hand at courting her." Astarion raises his eyebrows, intrigued. Wyll shrugs, a little embarrassed under his scrutiny.

"Oh, we may finally get a Ravengard wedding after all?!" Astarion says in mock surprise, knowing full well that Wyll has been excited to marry for as long as he's known him. While he himself has delayed several seasons, Wyll jumped at the chance on his first.

“Perhaps. You know I’ve wanted that,” he says and there is genuine sincerity. Wyll does want to marry, he wants the whole picture, the whole love match ideal. “You would do well to try the same. At least try, you may find yourself surprised.” Wyll adds with an eyebrow raised, knowing Astarion will bark out his standard laugh.

But just as he is about to laugh, there is a little familiar giggle from the dance floor that catches his ear. Gale spun Imogen one too many times in his excitement and she nearly fell over her own feet, only for him to steady her with his hooked arm. She looks up into his eyes, startled at first then breaking out into laughter at his startled face. A good natured friendly laugh as she places her hands on his chest to regain her footing. “Little dizzy,” she declares, “sorry!”

Astarion's brows furrow momentarily before he catches himself. She's not his, he's not courting her. But maybe he shouldn't have suggested she danced with one of his closest friends. He closes his eyes and works at the furrow in his brow with his forefinger. At least he would still have his dance with her after this. And he could dance, at least. People are whispering again about the small spectacle.

"I don't see it, Wyll. Not for me." He sighs. "They're all so...desperate for marriage. And I'm the opposite."

"All men say that." Wyll quips.

"Not you." Astarion reminds him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Exception that proves the rule,” Wyll insists, wagging a finger gently.

Once the dance is over, Imogen parts from Gale and bows a little back at him, her face flushed from giggling so much. He seems delighted, honestly, what a nice chance to get out on the dance floor. She takes a step back, waiting for the next person to step up but a series of eyes keep turning to Astarion as if asking permission. Eyebrows raise, people whisper behind their hands. He was so concerned about not ruining her reputation, yet it seems like rushing over to her out of Jen’s arms already sent quite the message to others.

He notes the looks. There's a beat where it feels like all the eyes are on him, including Wyll's burning into the side of his neck. He smiles and walks over to Imogen, hands held behind his back. "My lady." He says, holding out a hand.

"They're all looking!" She hisses at him, as she takes it.

"What did you expect, making such a scene with Dekarios?" He says matter of factly as the music strikes up. He moves past her, then takes her other hand. "Plus, the gossip is all the rage about me being oh so desirable. And you almost being the diamond." He continues, twirling her and bringing her back tight against his chest. She can feel his warm breath tickling her ear and neck as he speaks. "Just act like it's any other dance," he says, swaying with her while she looks up at him wide eyed. "Because it is." His hand finds her waist as their other hands clasp together. His gaze burns into hers as the dance continues. It's like their pupils are magnetised towards each other.

How is she supposed to pretend like this is some normal dance? She doesn’t even feel her feet moving, he’s just guiding her, and with his eyes alone she feels like she understands what step to take next. Everything feels too tight, her dress is way too tight around her, her corset too tightly laced. Is there even music? She can’t tell, all she can hear is her own heartbeat in her ears. What is this? Is he trying to make her feel that way? Is this part of how he charms people? The intensity in his gaze makes her want to clench her thighs shut and she’s not sure why. He can see her pupils widen, it’s a familiar look, one he can recognize on the many lovers he’s taken to bed. Soon to follow with moans and desperate clawing at his back and hips. But when the song ends she sucks in a deep breath and nods, “…I should go home.”

He bows to her. "Of course, Miss Mikage. Goodnight, and sweet dreams." He takes a second too long to tear their gazes away before stepping off the dancefloor quickly. A few more ladies approach him on his way off, and he politely refuses. He should go home too, but he can't see his parents anywhere. Wyll tries to catch his attention again, but he avoids his eye and continues his search. When he finally finds them, they are speaking to the Hallowleafs. He groans internally, but approaches anyway.

"Ah, such a pleasant evening." Emmeline says, smiling at him. "It was so nice to see you dancing with my Jenevelle." Her voice is questioning. "And what of the Mikage girl? We did notice you only danced twice this evening..." Her eyes are sharp, despite her soft words.

"Only twice?" Cazador turns to him with a look that suggests he will hear more of this later.

"Perhaps one has taken your fancy, son?" Minthara pushes.

"Honestly, mother, I am quite exhausted." He says, avoiding both of his parents’ eyes. "May we go home?" Minthara and Cazador share a look, and she nods. "So nice to see you again, Mr and Mrs Hallowleaf." She curtseys. Astarion and Cazador follow her to their waiting carriage.

"Tell me what happened tonight." Minthara asks intensely as the carriage pulls away. "You and the Hallowleaf and Mikage girls." Her dark red eyes are sharp and watchful as ever.

Chapter 3: Promenading

Chapter Text

“What was that?” Karlach laughs as they head to their carriage, her strong arm wrapped around Imogen’s shoulders. “You and the rake make quite a cute couple,” she teases, “and trust me, he’s quite a looker. Can see where he gets the reputation from.” she snickers in Imogen's ear, swaying the both of them as they walk, still almost stumbling over her gown as it catches her slippers.

Still feeling like she’s on fire inside and out Imogen swallows, “You danced with Lord Ravengard?”

Karlach blinks, surprised by the question - but then a broad smile spreads across her face, “Yes! Yes, we did dance! Quite a few times.” she brings her dance card out in front of Imogen's face to show just how many times Wyll wandered back for another dance.

“That’s so good, Karlach!” Imogen beams awkwardly, “I hope he courts you!” And she does, but she definitely would sound so much more sincere when she’s not currently buzzing with her own excitement.

That night as she lies in bed staring at the ceiling all she can think of is those eyes. She wants him to look at her like that again. Drifting off, she imagines him gazing at her, hand on her cheek, pulling her close so his lips brush against hers. Trembling, she moves forward only to have Astarion pull away and meow.

Her eyes open suddenly to find one of her cats staring down into her face. The massive light orange feline stares at her with large yellow eyes. “Peach,” she mutters, sitting up and scratching her head. Pear, the hairless one, stretches out from her pillow and the black British shorthair Plum yawns from her bookcase. They all stare at her slightly confused in the dim light as to why she was making such strange noises in her sleep.

—

He manages to evade most of the questions on the ride home, but does start considering throwing himself from the carriage when they start insisting he calls on the Hallowleafs the next day. Perhaps he'd even get caught under the wheels and end the whole horrible business for good. He has a headache by the time they arrive home, and quickly excuses himself to his room.

He throws himself onto his bed and sighs. That could have gone better. But at least he met Imogen. He closes his eyes and remembers her sweet face, the way her cheeks flushed pink, the way her lips parted slightly when he spoke to her. He was used to girls looking at him lustily, usually while he tore away their clothes, but there was an innocence in her gaze too. He rubs at his temples, willing the headache away. He really did not want to visit the Hallowleafs, but...perhaps he may call at the Mikage's. Just to speak with her of course, he wasn't going to court anyone.

He undresses and crawls into bed, blowing out the candle on the nightstand as he does so.

It’s nearly noon when Jen comes down the stairs at the Hallowleaf estate. They’re still delivering flowers and candies and small gifts in the receiving area. She smiles to herself as she goes through the gifts picking at the note cards reading each one. Except there’s nothing from the Ancunin home. She goes through each gift again just to be sure and she hasn’t missed any. Perhaps it’s late.

When Imogen stumbles downstairs, still in her pastoral linen dress, hair a mess, followed by three hungry cats, she opens the drawing room to find one single massive bouquet on the drawing room table. A huge vase of white camellias (you’re adorable), little white clover (think of me), and gardenias (you’re lovely). She pauses, looking at it with her brows furrowed. The cats start to head towards it but she quickly shoos them out of the room and locks the door behind her. Stepping forward like she’s unsure if the flowers might explode, she reaches out for the note card.

Will call on you later, at the appropriate hour. AA

Oh! She can’t help but grin at the note, how sweet. Of course, he said he wasn’t interested in marriage, but this is such a lovely gift. Maybe he truly does want to be friends.

He spends a while in the florist that morning, carefully picking out flowers. The florist raises an eyebrow as he makes up the two bouquets. The man asks for addresses, and he gives him one while saying he'll hand deliver the other.

He makes his way to the Hallowleafs, and asks to call on Jenevelle, who beams as he enters the parlour.

"I knew you'd come!" She says, excitedly, but her wide smile drops as she sees the bouquet he hands to her. Candytuft (indifference) and white chrysanthemum (truth). The scent of basil (good wishes) wafts out too. "Do you know what these mean?" She hisses at him quietly so her mother can't hear.

"Positively no idea, I just thought they looked wonderful together." He smiles down at her, the picture of innocence. She looks at him uneasily for a moment, deciding if he's telling the truth and then smiles again.

"Well, thank you, Mr Ancunin. They do look beautiful together. Would you stay for a spot of tea? Cook has made fresh biscuits."

"Unfortunately my lady, I am quite busy today. I must take my leave." He starts to turn, then turns back again. "Oh and there's a special surprise hidden in the middle, just for you, Jenevelle." She eagerly parts the flowers, before her face becomes thunderous.

"Get out." She whispers, voice dripping with anger. He grins widely and bows before making his way out. In between the white and pink blooms, he'd nestled two carnations; one striped for refusal, the other yellow for disdain and refusal. He chuckles as he makes his way down the steps and back to his carriage, asking the driver to take him to the Mikage residence.

Inside the house, Jenevelle's mother pulls her away from the thoroughly stomped bouquet. "Calm down, dearest! You have plenty of other suitors, and everyone knows the man's a rake. It's for the best." She soothes, stroking her daughter's raven hair while she quakes with rage.

Once he arrives at the Mikage residence he notices it’s not nearly as lavish as his own or Jen’s home. Rather modest, situated between two bigger homes with grand walkways and statues.

He has the address right and when he knocks at the door there is a moment where it seems someone is rushing forward. “Hold your horses! Hold your-“ the door swings open and there is a woman who looks almost exactly like Imogen, just more mature. She’s quite a bit taller as well, her dishwater blonde hair is twisted and styled up with lovely pins and pomade, her dark blue eyes widen at the sight of him. “Oh, Lord Ancunin! Come in, come in!” She steps aside, grinning like she can’t believe this is really happening. “We received your lovely bouquet earlier, my goodness, how beautiful!” It almost sounds like she’s positively charmed by him as well.

Imogen peeks out from the drawing room, still in her casual dress, hair down to her waist, completely unkempt by modern standards. He notes that she’s even barefoot before she ducks back into the room while hissing at herself. An absolutely hairless cat comes to see what the commotion is and stares at Astarion.

He is returning the platitudes from Imogen's mother but is quite distracted when the cat makes its entrance. "Why hello there!" He exclaims as the cat approaches him, sniffing at his boot tentatively. "And who might you be?" He stoops and holds out his hand so the cat can sniff it.

“That’s Pear,” Zoella says, “you can pick her up, Peach and Plum should be around somewhere.”

Once he scoops Pear up she looks at him with massive round eyes, one jade green and the other vivid blue. She has the sort of dumbfounded expression he saw a few times on Imogen the night before.

When the doors of the drawing room swing open, Imogen steps out, now in her slippers, and a rather large orange cat comes galloping out, followed by a shy smaller black cat with the roundest face known to man. “Hello, Lord Ancunin!” She says a little breathless, “I thought you’d be a bit later, I hope you forgive me for my appearance.”

Now he's being circled by the other two cats, both of them chirping and pawing at his legs, curious about him.

“…It seems the cats like you already.”

He chuckles and bends to let Pear down onto the floor, scratching behind as many of their ears as he can reach while they wind around him. "And I like them too. All so pretty, aren't you?" He coos to them. He realises he's not exactly being proper so straightens up. "Good afternoon, Miss Mikage." He says, bowing to Imogen. "You look wonderful, as ever. I was hoping to speak with you. Perhaps you'd accompany me on a stroll in the nearby park?"

“Oh! Of course! I would love a promenade,” she looks to her mother making sure that is the correct word and she’s using it right.

Zoella nods quickly and raises a finger, “I’ll have Paula get ready to accompany you.” She shuffles off out of the room, practically giddy at the prospect. Oh, wonderful day! And her first season! Her daughter might actually land the second most eligible bachelor in the ton.

Imogen watches her run off before stepping forward with her arms folded over her chest. “You look very handsome,” she grins, noting he still has the magnolia; he’s pinned it to a new jacket. She tilts her head, “You know they’re not going to let you be alone with me with your reputation, right? At least until you lie and say you’re courting me. Then perhaps we can sit with them on the other side of the door.” she jokes, scrunching her nose at him. The cats are still circling around the both of them, chirping and begging for more pats and attention. “Well, I certainly trust you if they do,” she gestures to the cats with a loving smile.

"We seem to be quite alone in this moment," he says, stepping forward and gazing intensely down at her. He gently runs a finger down her bare arm and her breath hitches. "Perhaps you shouldn't trust me, after all." he smirks, stepping back as he hears her mothers’ returning footsteps.

Imogen feels her skin flush white hot in just that moment, her face falls as she looks up at him. “You’re cruel,” she hisses, trying not to snort too hard, but also turning to avoid his gaze.

Paula stumbles out of the study pulling on her jacket. “Promenading are we?”

“It appears to be so,” Imogen smiles, rubbing the spot where his fingers brushed along her skin, “Lord Ancunin seems quite keen on it.”

“Good!” Paula beams, clapping him gently on the arm, “Good man. Let us head to the park then!”

Once at the park, he offers her an arm and she takes it. As they stroll along, he glances behind to see Paula walking a few paces back. "It's quite ominous, don't you think, to be followed around by your mother like this." He says, voice low so her mother can't hear. "Like we have a phantom on our heels. I don't know how you ladies do it, it seems quite overbearing, always having someone watch over you." He steers her towards the pond so they can watch the ducks diving and the swans swimming around serenely.

“It’s all to protect our sacred purity,” Imogen laughs, “Otherwise a cad like you might steal us away without so much of a promise of marriage.” She reminds him as she bows her head to watch the baby ducklings follow their mother along the pond's surface. “A lot of us ladies don’t even know the pleasure of a kiss until our wedding day, Astarion.”

Swans swim in tandem, gracefully as ever and she squeezes his arm, “You know they mate for life? The swans - look.” She points and the two gliding along the water turn to each other, touching bills making a heart shape. “Some might see that as a sign, you know.” She pats his hand, “then again, when you’re looking for true love, anything can be a sign.”

"How terribly boring to not experience such things until then." He glances down at her, and smirks. "You really are missing out, Miss Mikage. There are many more pleasures than just kisses to be had." He looks away from her blushing face, back at the swans. "I wonder if they ever have to just do it out of duty." He says. "Who's to say it's always a love match? One of them may just have a particularly nice nest."

Imogen snorts loudly, “Ah yes, the nest is the reason to stay with someone forever. Not the quacks or the cuddles,” she quips back. “There’s only so much a loveless union can do before it’s less living and more surviving.” She waves her hand flippantly. “And I absolutely would not know what you’re talking about,” she laughs, “There’s kissing and cuddling and…I suppose one other thing that produces the dreaded pregnancy.” Before he can open his mouth she holds up a finger, “I’m not ready to learn of that yet, I just know it might be a tad more uncomfortable for me than my husband, so I had better love him dearly to endure it.” She says, like it’s plain fact, that anything he tries to say now she won’t entirely believe.

"You're certainly right about loveless unions." He thinks about how his parents are rarely in the same room. They seem to simply tolerate each other, acting the picture of love only when out in society. "Precisely why I hate that I'm being forced into it. It's not worth the big house in the country if I have to be miserable in that house." He frowns. "And I don't want anyone else to be miserable with me, either."

He thinks about her take on sex. "If you're not ready to learn of it, my lady, then I shall respect your wishes. But I will say," he leans close to her ear, "that none of my conquests have ever been uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, in fact; they're often pleading for more." He straightens up and smirks at her.

Imogen blushes deeply and her mouth goes slightly slack. “I…suppose I’ll just have to believe you until I read the reviews myself,” she laughs lightly, but now she wants to know what he means. She wants to know what he could possibly do that could have so many pleading for him to come back for more.

He watches her swallow hard and turn back to the ducks and swans. Sweat is starting to bead on the back of her neck. “I- I think the solution to your problem may be just finding someone you can be honest with. Who you don’t have to act with.” She straightens her back a little trying to resist a shiver. “Find someone you can be friends with.”

How odd she’s talking to him like this, like it’s not what he’s doing right now, not acting - well, not acting nearly as much as he could be. There is a brief moment of silence when she pulls her hand away from his arm to dip down so she can see the ducks better, “They’re so sweet, I wish I could hold one.”

"Please don't steal any ducks, my lady." He says, chuckling. "Shall we continue?" He offers his arm out again and thinks on her words. He wasn't technically acting around her. Except to perhaps be more of a gentleman than he actually was, of course. The circ*mstances of her birth prevent him from getting away with that. He glances at their shadow, Paula, and nods back as she smiles at him. Maybe if he courts her and gets some time with her away from watchful eyes, he can seduce her into thinking he's a good love match for her. She isn't bad company, at least...and if he has to marry this season, better this sweet, intelligent, but overly innocent girl than Jenevelle or any of her insipid ilk.

“I would never steal any ducks, I’m known for stealing cats,” she laughs squeezing his hand, “I don’t think they would get along.”

They walk arm in arm silently for a while before Imogen finds herself leaning on him like she does with Karlach when they wander. “How does Lord Ravengard feel about Lady Cliffgate?” She asks suddenly, “Between you and I, she is quite enamoured with him and hopes he’ll court her this season.” Imogen looks up at him with a little smile. “She’s a beautiful woman, full of love. If your friend has no designs on anyone else, he would find no better wife and lover than Karlach.” She wants him to believe her - wants Karlach happy after everything. She deserves it, being the ray of pure sunshine she is. A proper love match would suit her so well.

"I do believe he is quite taken with her, although I was in quite the hurry to leave last night, so I've no idea his intentions yet. I can ask him when I visit the club later, if you'd like. But he is certainly serious about a love match, and marriage. I'll eat my cravat if he's not planning on courting her, though. She's probably already received a dozen bouquets, all from him." He snickers. "I hope you liked the one I sent you?" She nods enthusiastically. "I gave Jenevelle quite the...shock, with hers, I believe."

“Oh it was beautiful!” She doesn’t let him know it’s the only one she received, he doesn’t need to know that. He’d see later if he goes back home with her anyway.

“What did you give Jenevelle if mine was that extravagant?” She seems a little surprised, “I can only imagine it was the size of a horse with the size of the one you gave me.”

As they pass on their promenade other couples seem to spot them and whisper to one another. If he has no intention of courting her he’s doing a very good job of spreading the opposite information with how many people they pass. Imogen doesn’t mind, however, they don’t know her or Astarion well enough for them to truly matter when it comes to their friendship.

He chuckles. "No, it was much smaller in fact. And devilishly insulting." He leans down and whispers, "I gave her candytuft." Imogen gasps and looks up at him. "And a little surprise of a yellow and a striped carnation." Imogen's eyes grow round. "I think if her mother hadn't been there, she may have punched me! Most unladylike of her. But at least now she knows I have no intentions of ever courting her. You, on the other hand... I may consider." He looks down at her. "If you would be amenable, of course. Even if just as friends, for now. We wouldn't want people talking, after all."

Imogen blinks and tilts her head, “You may consider me? Hmm, an honour.” But she breaks out into a bright smile, “I may consider accepting.” She smoothes her hand over the lapel where he’s re-pinned the magnolia, “Ah, and what would you hope to get out of courting me, if you hate the thought of marrying?” She raises an eyebrow and stops them both so she can move to stand in front of him. He looks so pretty surrounded by sunlight, the glittering water behind them, like an angel come to earth - if only to find new ways to sin. “What if you accidentally fall in love with me?” Her lips twist like it’s the funniest joke in the world and she must resist laughing at it. Him falling in love with her, how funny! “Say that happens, what would you do?”

He smiles warmly down at her. "Truthfully, you are the only one I would consider courting. I've heard that sometimes the best love matches start out as friendships." That's not incorrect, he just leaves out the part where he would be okay with having a wife who was just a friend to him. He shrugs. "Why not try, since I have to marry this season, or essentially be disowned. You are free to continue your search for a better prospect, of course." He wrinkles his brow. He's not supposed to be actively trying to put her off, but it feels wrong to not at least give her a mode of escape, if his plan doesn't work. "And if I fall in love with you, I would propose, of course. Why not, if it is actually one of those fabled love matches? I'd just have to hope the feeling was mutual, or I would look quite the piteous fool." He grins at her.

“You’d never look like a fool for trying Astarion, just a fool for being too afraid to try.” She snorts and takes his arm once more. “Well, I’ll have you know, it seems you’re the only one interested. You’re the only one who sent a gift. Not even Gale sent anything,” she laughs, squeezing his arm, “Which is all fine, I honestly didn’t expect much.”

He rolls his eyes. "He probably forgot. The man is useless in these matters, I promise I will admonish him for his slip up later. Although, maybe I'll be selfish and revel in the fact that for now, you are stuck with me."

Imogen rests her head on his arm as they stroll just enjoying the sun and his company as her mother follows behind them. It would be nicer if they were alone, she has more questions but doesn’t want to risk asking them where her mother can hear. How are children made? Would he be okay if they never had any? Would he insist they just have one? What if her wedding gown is to be her death shroud because of it? That thought makes her a bit ill and she shakes her head to clear her mind, but that makes it appear like she’s nuzzling into his arm further.

He's enjoying the silence and the feeling of her leaning into him, the smell of lilac and honeysuckle drifting from her hair when Paula's voice makes him jump.

“Okay you two. Behave.” Paula calls out from behind.

"My apologies, Mrs Mikage." He moves slightly further from Imogen automatically. She scowls at them and they turn back. "Oops." He says, giggling softly. "I'd better let your mothers know I’ll be courting you properly with haste, lest I'm beaten away with her cane."

Imogen laughs taking his arm properly again, “I fear she knows your reputation and doesn’t want you showing me any of those pleasures you mentioned earlier without a ring and a contract,” she teases squeezing his upper arm, “And…I don’t think of it as being stuck with you, Astarion, that implies I’m unwilling and opposed to your company. I consider myself lucky. The most handsome man I’ve ever met has seen me, that says something, doesn’t it? At least it does to me.” She smiles softly.

It could be nice if this works out, the two of them able to be close and friendly without anyone judging. Honestly she would like to see him happy, if he proposed an arrangement where they married and then lived apart she would take it, just so he could be out from under the thumb of his parents - who she’s gleaning might not be the most affectionate and loving. “I’m sure it’ll be the talk of the ton once it gets out. Will your parents want to meet me?”

"That's the problem with having an unsavoury reputation. It always proceeds you." He says, laughing. "And stop flattering me, it is I who should be showering you with compliments. Those gorgeous blonde curls, those rosy cheeks, big grey eyes and... a very kissable set of lips, I must admit." He says the last part in a hushed voice, so Paula can't hear. "A true beauty, through and through. I’m the lucky one." He makes a face when she mentions his parents. "Yes, they will want to meet the lady who their rake son has finally set his sights on. You really must not hold them against me, they can be quite awful."

Imogen looks disbelieving at his compliments but blushes deeper at the mention of even thinking of kissing her. “You lay it on thick,” she laughs but shakes her head a little, “This is the part that always worried me when my mothers mentioned it. The interview with the parents. Suddenly I’ll have new people telling me I’m malnourished and my birthing hips won’t save me,” she sighs deeply. “….speaking of which, I never want children. Don’t fall in love with me if you want children. Please.” She gives him an awkward smile like she’s trying to hide just how much of a non-joke that was.

"You really think a man that's spent the last three seasons desperately avoiding marriage is somehow simultaneously in the market to become a father?" He laughs, and pats her hand. "Fear not, Miss Mikage. I have absolutely no desire for children. I find them extremely annoying, and have since I was one myself. Thankfully mother and father decided two was enough, and Leon is only a year younger than me, so I didn't have many children squawking and running underfoot." He thinks for a moment. "Why don't you want children? Not that I'm judging, just that it seems to be all most young ladies will talk about - marriage, children...like they desire nothing more in their life to be breeding stock."

“That exact reason, I hope to never be breeding stock. If it was permitted I’d like to travel and not risk bleeding out in the birthing bed,” she says with a shudder and a sudden greenness to her face. “I want love, yes, but I don’t see children as the ultimate expression of that. Love should inspire people to live and create and explore.” Her voice and face show she’s extremely passionate about this, her hands come up like she is trying to take life by its balls and guide it her way. “I want to see France, and Spain, and Italy. I want to sleep in ‘til noon, eat pastries and butter, drink wine and look at the stars and no one can do that if they’re constantly with child.” Her hands drop and she sighs. “Unfortunately my mothers say that it happens no matter what. If you want your husband to be happy, eventually you’ll be with child. And yet they never tell me how to make said husband happy - that way I can’t figure out if there’s any alternatives.”

He watches her speak, gesticulating wildly and passionately. Her voice was lively and full of hope and longing, before settling back to defeat. "I would quite like to do all of that too, it sounds positively delicious and far more fulfilling than an infant vomiting on you." He lowers his voice. "There are many alternatives, my lady. Perhaps I can show you one day." He smirks and winks, delighting in her blush. "What do you like to do, Miss Mikage?" He asks. "Not the talents and hobbies that they teach you to win a husband, what do you really like to do?" He's intrigued by her inquisitive mind and adventurous spirit even more now.

She pauses a moment and puts her hands behind her back, “I like to learn new instruments to play. I like trying any new food that I’ve never tried before, and I do read quite a bit - seems the only place I can get away from anything is in the pages of a book.” She sees the little sparkle in his eyes and grins, following him, not even needing to be guided. Just like he’s holding out a sweet to her and expecting her to come along in hopes of getting it. “And museums. I love museums. Love learning about the past and other cultures, respectfully of course.” She steps in front of him and begins walking backwards so she can look up into that pretty face, “What about you Lord Ancunin? What it is it besides seducing beautiful people that you truly enjoy doing?”

He smiles down at her, watching carefully to make sure she doesn't trip over anything. "Well, beside that, I too like to read. I draw and paint. I can even sew, if you'd believe it." He chuckles. "I also do all the usual manly things, fencing, shooting, playing cards... And I do like a good hunt." He winks. "What do you like to read?" He takes her arm again, too anxious that she'll trip without looking where she's going.

“Oh anything! Stories of adventure, ghosts, even romance!” She beams but then she pauses, “my moms rip out the pages of those ones though.” She frowns a little, “You sew? That's probably why you look better than any of the other suitors at that ball last night,” she shakes her head giggling, “perhaps you can paint me one day, if you like. On canvas of course,” though the thought of him running a brush against her bare skin does make her slightly giddy.

“I do believe it is getting close to tea time, Imogen,” Paula notes from behind them.

“It is close to tea time,” Imogen chirps, repeating her mother - excited that this is all going so well. “Tell me, when will I see you again?” She completely missed the hint that he would like to hunt her down like his prey, instead just giddy that he’s so close.

"Whenever you would like, my lady. Tomorrow, if you'll have me?" He bows slightly. "Please, take my carriage back to your home. They'll return for me shortly."

“I would have you any day, any time,” she says with a huge smile, not even realising what her words could mean as she looks up at him. “I cannot wait, my lord,” she giggles.

"Then I shall see you tomorrow, my lady," he says, trying to contain his laughter. He bows to her, then to her mother. He does want to ask her about how she came to have two mothers, but he'll wait until they're allowed to be alone for that conversation. There was quite the scandal when it happened - that much he remembers - but he was far too young to be privy to the talking around it. He watches them walk away, then turns and continues walking. He eventually finds himself going back to the pond, watching the swans with his brow slightly furrowed.

Imogen heads back home, smiling the entire way. She looks out the window at the people passing by and can’t imagine how she ever got so lucky. Even if he doesn’t want to marry for love they could still be great friends. And in the end, a friend that understands you is better than nothing. It’s much better than a loveless marriage.

“So he’s going to court you?” Paula asks with a raised eyebrow.

“He said so,” Imogen answers with a little shrug, “I think it best not to rush him. He doesn’t seem like the type that appreciates it much.” She notes.

“Well he can’t drag his feet all season, he has to make some sort of choice,” Paula insists.

When it comes back, he gets into the carriage and requests they take him to the club. He can barely imagine how excruciating the next few hours will be. But as he settles into his seat, the now-familiar scent of lilacs and honeysuckle drifts up from the fabric, and it calms him.

Chapter 4: Calling Hours

Chapter Text

When he enters the club, Gale and Wyll are already sat at their usual table. He makes his way over - for the first time in his life, feeling apprehensive.

"The rake arrives!" Wyll announces. Gale chuckles and picks up his brandy glass for a sip.

"f*ck you, Ravengard." Astarion sighs as he sits. It's not long before his glass is filled. "So how did you find last night's ball?" He asks, draining it immediately and holding the glass back out for a refill.

"It was wondrous!" Gale exclaims. "I danced with three exquisite ladies."

"Did you send any of them flowers this morning, Dekarios?" Astarion asks. Gale looks confused for a moment.

"Was I supposed to?" Gale asks, looking between him and Wyll.

"Yes." They say in unison. Astarion continues, "That's how you show a lady you're interested, Gale." Gale rubs his beard in thought.

"It seems I've made quite the faux pas." He mutters. Wyll and Astarion catch each others' eyes and try not to laugh.

"We did try and tell you before the season started..." Wyll offers. Gales waves a hand at him, deep in thought.

"So...you and Miss Cliffgate?" Astarion poses to Wyll. "I heard you danced together several times?"

Wyll sets his jaw, refusing to be embarrassed. "We did. She's most lovely. I'm already courting her. What about you and the Mikage girl? I noticed you ran home before I could speak to you about her."

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Convenience, nothing more." He says. "Father will make me marry this season. She is agreeable."

"Simply agreeable?" Wyll raises an eyebrow.

"Agreeable." he confirms. "She is...interesting. I do rather think we could be friends, if not lovers, at some point." He settles back in his chair. "And Gale? Consult your book on the meanings of flowers before you send the bouquets. One can greatly offend a lady, by accident or otherwise, by choosing your flowers wisely." He chuckles. Wyll looks at him expectantly, so he discloses the story of Jen’s bouquet. They both guffaw.

"Oh, she will have been spitting mad, you dog!" Wyll laughs. "But well played, indeed."
They manage to make it through the rest of the night without him being grilled too hard about Imogen. When he gets home, he is accosted by Cazador.

"You were seen promenading with the Mikage girl?" he questions. Astarion nods. "Do you mean to court her?" He nods again.

"I'm quite taken with her, father." He barely lies.

"Good." Cazador says. "I do hope we will meet her soon."

"Yes, father. I'll invite her to dinner soon, I'll speak with mother about the arrangements." He inclines his head. "Now if I may be excused, I am awfully tired." Cazador regards him for a few seconds, then nods.

Astarion makes his way to his room, undressing quickly. He leaps into bed, and tries not to imagine the feeling of her arm against his, the smell of her hair...The enthusiasm of her words...her eyes. Her mouth. He is somewhat annoyed with himself as his hands dip below the blankets and he takes his hardness between his fingers and thumb. His eyes close as he imagines kissing her plump, soft lips, thinking of her gasps against him as his fingers explore her wetness. How she’d look beneath him as he f*cks her, her cheeks pink, sweat on her brow. Would she sigh out his name? Would he be able to hold himself back with her, long enough that she really enjoys her first time? His hand works quickly, and his org*sm hits him hard and fast. He is somewhat ashamed of himself as he cleans up. She's too innocent to be thought of like this…

—

“Honey, I just want you to be happy. And at times men can be fickle,” Paula explains, “They don’t…exactly know what to do with a woman who has passion and fire. You have to trick them.”

“That certainly makes for a good marriage,” Imogen laughs, “I think Astarion and I have an understanding, I think we can appreciate that in each other without any trickery.”

Paula looks a little unsure, she leans back and folds her arms over her chest with a big sigh, “I certainly hope so. You deserve the security of a good marriage.”

Imogen scoops up Plum and holds her like a big baby while kissing her face, “Mum, I love you and adore you, as I adore mama. I will make a good match, neither of you have to worry.” She leans over and kisses Paula's cheek causing Plum to whine in disagreement at being sandwiched. “Just trust me.”

Paula nods a little and tries to smile, “Alright little girl….I'll trust you.”

Imogen stretches out as she flops face first into her freshly made bed. One foot hangs off the side, the other curls up to touch her thigh. She's so drained, just being near someone as engaging and exciting as Astarion and not being able to kiss that sly mouth…it seems awfully unfair. Slowly her hand moves to grip one of her pillows, embarrassed, she pushes it between her legs. Closing her eyes she imagines how it would feel to have him place his lips upon hers, have his hand cup her cheek as the other pulls her closer by the waist. Would his tongue dance along hers? Was that even a thing?

Her hips move against the pillow and she whimpers. It feels good, though she knows she really shouldn’t be doing this at all. Would he clench his fist in her hair? Would he moan into her mouth? Another whimper, another roll of her hips, soon she feels the back of her knees and her neck dampen with sweat. A coil tightens in her stomach and she shivers. That’s when it feels too intense and she quickly pushes herself up embarrassed and ashamed of herself. “No! No, no, no…” she sighs rolling onto her back pushing the heels of her palms into her eyes, “Nope! Goodnight Imogen!” There’s a little meow from the corner of the room and she can’t help but laugh, “Goodnight Peach.”

—

When he wakes the next morning, he goes to speak to his mother. He informs her of his plans for a dinner with the Mikages that night and she beams. "Of course, Astarion. I'll make sure it's arranged. Do send her more flowers though, my dear." She adds almost absent-mindedly, as she turns to her maids. He doesn't want to do more flower arrangements...but, if it was the proper thing. He goes to the florists. He selects a bouquet of daisies, more Camellias, a few white lilies and for a pop of colour, purple clematis. He ensures to add to his note that lilies are not safe around the cats - he just wanted her to know...know what? He thinks. That they're not safe around her cats, of course. So she can throw them out, or keep them in a high place that they couldn't reach. He wonders if she keeps his flowers. By now, having been seen promenading with him, others will have seen how desirable she is, surely? A knot of anxiety forms in his stomach. What if his bouquet isn't enough to be noticed amongst the others? He instructs the florist to add blue salvia. That will do. Hopefully.

“You’re adorable,” Zoella reads out, flicking through the pages of her book pointing to the camellias, “Innocence,” she points to the daisies, and Paula coos.

“He does know she’s a sweetheart doesn’t he?” Paula beams.

Zoella stops at the white lillies, “Heavenly virginity?!”

“Well…he’s aware then…” Paula scratches her cheek but looks a little uncomfortable, “don’t focus on that, what are the purple ones?”

“Desire and reaching for the stars,” Zoella adds and that makes Paula tilt her head side to side, “perhaps the stars are marriage.”

“Oh! And he’s thinking of her!” Zoella says snapping the book shut after pointing to the blue salvia.

“Goodness gracious, perhaps we worried about nothing,” Paula mutters rubbing the back of her neck, “he also said the lilies are dangerous for the cats so he does know how much she cares.”

“God above Paula, we are going to have an Ancunin for a son in law!” Zoella laughs almost wickedly as she tosses the book over her shoulder onto the settee, “can you imagine?”

“What are you two cackling about?” Imogen yawns behind them, causing her mothers to jump with fright. She scratches her head with one hand while the other carries Pear under her arm, the limp sack of loose flesh mewing pathetically, dying to be let down to zoom around unceremoniously.

“Oh nothing dear, just your Lord has properly stated his intentions to court you!” Zoella claps her hands up under her chin and beams.

“Oh? Wonderful,” she laughs, “…that’s even bigger than the first one.”

“Bigger isn’t always better, dear, but in this case I would say it is,” Paula notes, taking a step aside so her daughter can admire the bouquet.

“There are a few more in the foyer we haven’t brought over yet,” Paula notes, “one from Lord Dekarios that is just…unseasonably purple. Just so much purple, we couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say.”

“I think it was saying he likes purple,” Imogen giggles just a little.

“And a few more that seem to be saying you seem charming and that they have some interest,” Zoella adds, “so it really is up to you how you play this, but…” she sort of gestures towards Astarion’s bouquet, which makes Imogen laugh a little more.

“I can see, thank you mama. I’ll write my thank you notes,” she lets Pear down and picks up the bouquet to put it up very high where the cats can’t get it. “I suppose we will have flowers for every room, then. I’ll have to thank everyone.”

He paces in his room. How early is too early? He wants to go to the Mikage's right now. He needs to warn her about his mother and father before she gets an invite to the dinner. He wonders for half a second why he cares. He just doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable, of course. It would be ungentlemanly to have her suffer.

It’s just as he is about to leave that the footman comes with a letter to be placed in his hands. There’s a M wax seal on the front and when he opens it he can faintly make out the scent of lilac and honeysuckle.

Thank you so very kindly for your impressive bouquet, Astarion. It made my mother’s titter with delight. They are over the moon about it all. Gale even sent over a bouquet as well, he must really love the colour purple. Understandable, it is a royal colour. It suits him. You mentioned your parents wanted me over for dinner? Well now my mothers are insisting the same for you. Be warned, they are very excited.

He smiles down at the letter. Of course Gale sent an entirely purple bouquet. He's eccentric, but Astarion is sure he'll find his match eventually. He sits down on the bed, his anxieties somewhat soothed just by looking down at her looping writing. It would be fine, she's too sweet to be rattled by them, and they'll hopefully be on best behaviour. Mother at least, is especially good at appearing cordial. He glances at his pocket watch. It's 11am. He'll wait another half an hour before calling for the carriage and making his way over to Mikage's.

At least when he arrives Imogen seems to have gotten herself more tidied up than before. Hair up, dressed in something more sturdy than the linen gown the day before, and definitely wearing shoes.

Greeting him with a warm smile, she gestures to the other bouquets, “Your plan worked apparently, others are finding me charming. But I quite like yours the best,” she admits sweetly, stepping just a fraction closer than she perhaps should, “you look like you slept well, did you eat yet? There are a few pastries in the kitchen if you’re peckish.” Peckish, she can only think she wants to get on her toes and plant a few pecks against that smirk.

"I have already broken my fast, but I wouldn't say no to a pastry," he says, smiling down at her. "And I did sleep well, thank you..." He catches a glimpse of purple in the corner of his eye and grins. He walks over to it, inspecting the bouquet. Lilac (joy of youth), morning glory (affection), hyacinth (sorrow), and iris (faith, trust, wisdom, valour), all surrounded by lavender (distrust). He laughs heartily, "If he knew what he was doing, he'd really be sending you one hell of a mixed message."

“Honestly I think if I were to read into this much further, I would worry I traumatised the poor man,” Imogen giggles as she leads him to the kitchen. There’s a large plate of tarts and filled pastries, she picks a raspberry filled ball of dough and holds it out for him on a napkin before taking one herself. “Anna makes the best pastries, if I don’t stop myself I could eat the whole plate.” She admits and takes a little bite leaving a bit of powdered sugar on her lip.

"I'll make sure to give him my book on the meanings of flowers, before he does irreversible damage to another lady's ego," he says, chuckling as he takes the pastry. "Thank you, oh.." his thumb comes up and brushes the powder away. He sucks it off his thumb nonchalantly, trying not to laugh at the shocked expression on her face.

Imogen watches and sticks her tongue out to follow the ghost of his thumb. She blushes before covering her mouth. “My!” She laughs quietly, her face burning red. “If I do it again will you repeat the same move?” She asks without thinking.

He snorts and moves closer. "I could. Or I could cut out the middle man. I could do or say something that would make your hand want to slip between your legs when you’re alone." He bends towards her until he can feel her warm breath on his mouth. "But that would be most improper," he says, smirking as he steps back from her, just in time for their cook to bustle into the room.

Anna stops and stares at them with narrowed eyes before remarking that the two need to be in the main room if they’re to be alone. “You two are being improper,” she says with her thick French accent and Imogen immediately scatters, red faced towards the door covering her mouth with her hand. That was far too close! If she were caught they definitely would be forcing Astarion to take vows way sooner than he’d like.

Astarion follows her, chuckling. "I heard her coming, you know. I would never compromise your virtue...at least not where others might see it." He says, smirking at her as she shuts the door behind him. Her face is still red.

“Oh thank you so much,” she fans herself gently with her flat hand, “You get close enough to set me ablaze, then run away before anyone can see us. Everyone will think I’m catching a fever,” she swallows hard and chuckles. “And the only thing I’ll be deficient in is you.”

He laughs and holds his hands up, walking away towards the settees. "I'll be good for now. Come, sit with me." He settles into the corner of one and crosses his ankle over the other knee. "I do believe you had some questions for me." He smiles devilishly up at her as she makes her way over.

Imogen throws herself in the chair across from him and sighs heavily, no longer being the ridged lady she was supposed to be, now that they understand each other a little better. “My mothers would like to know if you’d have dinner with us on Saturday night,” she says, folding her hands in her lap. Then her eyes scan the area like she’s traversing the span of her mind before she realises, “Oh! The babies!” She hisses leaning in, “how do we avoid the babies!”

"Of course, I'd be delighted. My mother wants to invite you for dinner tonight in fact, I really should let your mothers know." He laughs at the mention of babies. "Are you positively sure you want to know?" She nods. "Well...wait, just about avoiding them or the method in which they are conceived? Because to avoid them without knowing that is simple, just never let a man touch you." She looks horrified. "You don't become pregnant from a touch, Miss Mikage," he chuckles. "You'd have to be quite naked, and some extremely specific touching must be done." He grins.

“So where do I tell him not to touch?” She leans in, bent at the waist in her chair. He can clearly see down her dress where her corset has pushed her breasts up and made them very prominent. “Is it just that you can only touch above the waist?” Her eyes are huge and round searching his face to see if he’s lying to her just to upset her. “Just tell me how they are conceived and then I’ll know to do the opposite,” she says quickly.

He smiles and leans in too, whispering conspiratorially. "Well, the man has to put what's between his legs inside what's between yours. And then some hopefully vigorous moving about happens, and voila...a child is conceived. Not always, of course, but that's the long and short of it." He sits back and watches her face as she processes the information.

She looks at him, slightly horrified and a tiny bit disgusted, but then she immediately imagines it’s him inside her and moving vigorously and her face burns bright red. “…Is there any way to do that without the child coming about? I mean, since it seems men like to do that so much. Wait, you’ve done that?” She pauses and looks at him with wide eyes, “And you have no children? Do you have children?” She hisses, eyes narrowed.

He smiles widely. "Yes I've done that, and no, I don't have children. There are pessaries, sponges...sheaths, even. They all prevent the act of sex from producing children. That's what it's called, by the way. Honestly, I don't know why they keep it from young ladies like it's a huge, awful secret they must only learn about on their wedding night."

“Why…would women do it if it doesn’t feel good then? Just to please men?” She whispers. She does want to please her husband, and perhaps seeing him in a state of ecstasy would be enjoyable for her. Would he kiss her while he does this? Would his body sing? Would he moan? All that would be lovely to see.

His eyebrows raise. "Why have you assumed it doesn't feel good for the woman?" He taps a finger on his lips, thinking. "I suppose, if their husband is a selfish lover, then it might not feel good. That's what all the bleeding on your wedding night nonsense is about… and sometimes, I imagine they force the blood on purpose. But no, it can be equally pleasurable for both parties...sometimes more so for the woman, if she finds herself with a skilled gentleman." He smirks.

Imogen finds her brows furrowing, she folds her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at him. “I think you’re full of sh*te,” she says suddenly, “prove it. Take me somewhere they do this and show me. Not on me of course, and not with you, but take me to one of those houses of ill repute and show me it’s a mutual thing and not just an act women put on to please their husbands.”

He laughs a little too loudly, startling the orange cat who'd been lazing in a sunbeam across the room. "You'd fall into a dead faint if you saw that! Plus there's no guarantee in a brothel. The ladies there do only pretend they like it, most of the time. Believe me or don't, Miss Mikage, but I am certainly not taking you somewhere like that." He thinks for a moment, brow furrowed, then his face spreads into a wicked grin. "I don't need to, actually. You can show yourself. Anything you can do between your legs, I-" he clears his throat quickly, "a man can do too, if he knows how."

Imogen pauses, noticing how he referred to himself in that last sentence. Her cheeks burn bright pink and she narrows her eyes again, “I can’t do that. It feels wrong. Strange. Like someone’s watching and judging.” She sighs heavily and realises she’s just admitted she tried before to him. Flushing, she shifts in her seat, “I mean if I was to try. It would feel that way.”

He bites his lip to keep from laughing. "Yes, if you were to try, of course." He shrugs. "Well if someone was watching, they'd also be watching you in your marital bed too. I rather think that they're quite a pervert." He chuckles. "Perhaps I can give you a little...inspiration." he gets to his feet and offers her his hand. "Nothing untoward, I promise." He says, looking into her sceptical eyes.

Imogen looks up at him with wide eyes and places her hand in his, “You’re in the business of inspiring as well now? A man of your many talents?” His hand is cool, she can imagine for a brief moment that if he slipped his fingers between her legs that at first she would shiver before melting around him, but that thought makes her bright red.

He smiles and begins twirling her around the room, a silent waltz. "I have my ways." He says, spinning her. He catches her by the waist, back pressed against him. One arm snakes around her waist, pulling her tight to him. "I want you to try again tonight." He murmurs against her neck, his lips very slightly brushing her skin. He feels her shiver beneath him, and smiles. He releases her waist, and continues waltzing, giggling at just how red she's gone.

Imogen closes her eyes with a shiver, and he can feel her nails bite into his jacket, “And you want me to picture this? You want me to picture you?” She asks quietly, a hushed breathless little voice, “What do you want me to imagine? Paint a picture.”

He raises an eyebrow. She was becoming bolder by the second. He quite liked it. "Well, it doesn't have to be me, of course." He dips her, arm curled securely under her waist. "But if it was...perhaps you could imagine us dancing like this, except...my hands don't stay in the proper places."

Imogen looks up at him. “You don’t want me to imagine you?” Her head tilts slightly and she searches his face with her lips slightly parted.

"I didn't say that," he bends his head to hers, until their lips are almost touching, his hand sliding up her back, his fingers caressing the bare skin just below her neck. "I would be quite glad if you did." Her eyelids flutter closed and he wants so badly to kiss those parted lips, but he straightens again, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Chapter 5: Release

Chapter Text

Imogen flickers her eyes over his face, settling to stare at his lips. “Then give me something more, give me something that’ll make it not just slip, but…glide.” She mutters. What is happening - why is she teasing him? Why is she poking a bear? Perhaps it’s because she feels safe in her mothers’ home at this moment. She knows he won’t go too far, but it truly feels unfair he knows what this all feels like and she doesn’t. He said he liked her passion and curiosity; then he can encourage it.

He raises an eyebrow and stands up. "Very well. If you want it to glide." His fingers touch her lips. "I'd kiss you here. Then here," they move to her delicate neck. "And then...here." his fingers alight on the swell of her bosom, tracing across it. "Your whole body would tremble under my hands, and then...I'd kiss between your legs." He takes her hand, folding all but her forefinger, which he brings to his mouth. "Like this." He runs the flat of his tongue softly, deliberately, over the pad of her fingertip. "Is that enough of a picture, Miss Mikage?" He smirks.

Each place he touches makes her eyes widen, her breath quicken, once he mentions his mouth against her breasts she lets out a little gasping cry, only to have him seemingly finish her by saying his kisses would be between her legs. She watches him drag his tongue along the pad of her finger and she feels like she’s on fire, that if she doesn’t get away soon he'll have her burst into flames. This is so insanely unfair. She wants that. She wants it right then and there! Her mouth is suddenly too dry for words, it feels like her knees might give out just a little when she looks up at him and his eyes are sparkling wickedly. “T-thank you…” she squeaks out. And now she’s supposed to have dinner with him and his family? Tonight? When all she will picture is his perfect, pink tongue sliding across her fingertip?

"Only giving the lady what she wanted," he smirks. He takes her hand and sits her on the settee though, as it does look like she might faint where she stands. Her palm is burning hot and a little moist, but he doesn't comment. "So, what would you like to do today?" He says, sitting across from her and folding his legs as if nothing has happened.

“That.” She says simply looking at her fingers. She's off in her own world, a world where she’s just learned what’s between his legs could be put inside her and that tongues can touch something other than teeth and food. She settles into the seat slowly as if her whole body aches all of a sudden.

"Already? I fear I may have had a terrible influence on you." He says, laughing quietly. He starts a little as the doors to the drawing room fly open and Paula and Zoella are suddenly in the room, looking around with their eyes wide. They stare at the two in their own chairs and look relieved they haven’t found them doing anything untoward with each other, despite how flushed Imogen is.

“Hello Lord Ancunin! What a pleasure to see you!” Zoella chirps happily. “We got your invitation just now and Imogen would love to go to dinner.”

Imogen is still staring at her finger for a moment before nodding.

He jumps out of his seat to greet them. "My ladies! Lovely to see you too." He bows. "That's a pleasure to hear, my mother will be delighted." He turns to look back at Imogen. "I should probably take my leave, my lady. Much to prepare. I look forward to seeing you all this evening." He inclines his head, trying to keep a straight face so her mothers don't notice anything is strange.

Imogen stands quickly and swallows, facing him, “I’ll be there at 6 prompt.” She says, he can see her eyes are blown wide with excitement. The look on her face says the moment she’s alone she’s running up to her room and doing exactly what he suggested, but she nods and curtsies gently trying to appear modest and reserved.

“I hope nothing indecent happened when we weren’t looking…” Zoella giggles; part of her secretly hopes it might, if they can catch him in the act of seducing her they might be able to force a marriage quickly to save everyone from scandal.

Imogen glares like she wishes her mother wouldn’t say such things. “Nothing. Nothing at all. My lord only told me of his latest hunt,” she says quickly, “I am trying to convince him how cruel the fox hunts truly are.”

He goes home to tell his parents that the Mikages would be attending dinner that night, then excuses himself. He takes a carriage downtown, and tips the driver for his continued silence, before entering the establishment. The air is hazy with incense, but doesn't hide the unmistakable smell of sex. He wanders through the corridors and into some of the rooms, listening to the sounds of 'pleasure' around him, wondering how Imogen would actually react to being in a place like this. Maybe he'd underestimated her, after all. She practically asked him to provide her with material to masturbat* to. He smiles to himself. A pretty woman with dark hair approaches him. "Good afternoon, m'lord." She breathes, placing a hand on his chest and fluttering her eyelashes at him. He regards her for a moment.

"Apologies madam, I'm just visiting." He says, peeling her hand away.

"You're always 'just visiting'," she pouts, but takes the hint and leaves, sashaying her hips in what he assumes she thinks is an attractive way. In truth, he'd only ever visited brothels with friends from university, but had never partaken. He preferred women that wanted him for him, and not his money. The ones that wouldn't pretend to enjoy the way he touched them. And now...it feels even more strange. Imogen clearly lusted after him, but in a uniquely chaste way - sort of. The smell is suddenly overwhelming and he leaves hastily, breathing deeply in the relatively fresh London air. He pushes a finger and thumb into his eyes. He wasn't supposed to be liking this as much as he was. But she's... something else.

—

As soon as she has a brief moment, Imogen practically kicks off her slippers to get on her toes to bolt up to her room. The cats can’t even keep up with her, so there’s no interruptions when she throws herself behind the door and locks it. There’s no sense getting naked, so she pushes aside her gown and forces her hand excitedly between her legs as she leans against her vanity.

Peach is crying outside the door begging to be let in, but she closes her eyes and pictures all Astarion said. His mouth on hers, his teeth grazing her neck.

She gasps as her fingers meet new wetness, warmth, something slick and hot. Lips against the top of her breasts, tongue teasing her nipples. The tip of her finger finds the little bundle of nerves that aches when she imagines all these things. Touching gently she bites her lip to keep from moaning. This is where he said he’d kiss you, lick you, she thinks and her mouth flies open, a choked noise escaping her mouth.

You’d tremble in my hands, she hears him whisper and her knees begin to go weak. The sound of her nails against the wood of her vanity could nearly break her out of her moment, but he would want her to focus wouldn’t he?

It’s intense to push past the point she always stopped at before, her lashes wetting, her fingers moving quicker. “Oh!” She manages to squeak before everything seems to wash over her, waves of relief and warmth and satisfaction. Imogen braces herself on the vanity and gasps. So he wasn’t lying…

—

When they arrive at the door, he greets them properly, bowing to Imogen's mothers before taking her gloved hand and leading her inside. "You seem a little more relaxed, my lady." He murmurs quietly as they walk to the dining room. "Perhaps you found a special kind of release today, after all?" He doesn't smile but his ears move back with the effort of holding a straight expression. She blushes.

"Don't you dare. Our parents are here." She whispers back.

"My dear, you have set a precedent. I can't fall behind." He mutters back, grinning at the pink on her cheeks and ears. He pulls out her chair for her and sits beside her at the table.

“Your home is absolutely lovely!” Zoella beams, her shoulders shot up around her ears looking around with such wonder.

“Thank you so much Mrs Mikage,” Mithara smiles in a reserved ladylike way, but she is already reaching for her wine glass, her eyes flickering between her son and this new woman who seems far too innocent to be someone Astarion would actually agree to marry.

Cazador clears his throat quietly as he throws his napkin in his lap. They are both keen to watch this girl and see if there is something Astarion is hiding from them. It isn’t actually like him to not…attempt a scheme. Even a small one.

“We’re ever so grateful for the invite,” Paula adds politely, as she folds her hands in her lap.
Imogen and Astarion keep catching each other's eyes and it makes her blush and attempt to hide a smile. She seems absolutely twitterpated honestly and despite the control he’s clearly displaying, he does keep glancing at her with amusem*nt.

Minthara tries not to visibly narrow her eyes, but all throughout dinner she's been desperately scrutinising the chemistry between them, searching for a ruse. When she doesn't find one, she finally relaxes. While dessert is being served, she decides to be bold.

"I hope this isn't too forward, ladies...but how did you manage to procure a wedding between two women?" She takes a sip from her wine glass. "We are of course, not judgemental. I am very supportive; why should sex affect who one can love?" She assures, as both women shift uncomfortably in their seats. "I apologise if I have spoken out of turn." But her eyes do not soften. She's waiting for a response.

"Mother..." Astarion starts, but all it takes is a glance of her burgundy eyes to close his mouth again. Cazador isn't looking at anyone, he is drinking deeply from his glass.

Imogen looks down at her hands, a little embarrassed. Not of her parents, no, but of the entire situation. Paula rolls her lighter around against the table, turning it in her fingers. “Well…the priest didn’t exactly think I was a woman when we went through with the wedding,” she says simply, “and I didn’t correct him.”

Imogen avoids all eye contact; this is the point where his parents don’t approve - her mother just exposed she lied to a priest and on legal forms. That can only spell problems in the future, correct? How can the courtship go forward if her family seem to be untrustworthy?

“We lived as man and wife for a while until it became too frustrating to hide,” Zoella explains, “and by that point, Imogen was already here. She is from my previous marriage, she was just a baby when Lord Mikage passed,” Zoella adds, “Paula has always treated her as if she was her very own. One of the reasons I fell so easily.”

Minthara laughs heartily. "Inspired!" She clasps her husband's hand. Cazador just looks uncomfortable, sipping from his cup again.

"Apologies for prying, it's just… you hear so much gossip." She waves her other hand, the other remaining squeezing her husband's fingers uncomfortably hard. He gets the point and stays silent.

"What a lovely story." He says, eventually. Astarion has to keep from rolling his eyes.

"Perhaps myself and Miss Mikage could go and enjoy the garden?" He asks.

Chapter 6: The Garden

Chapter Text

"Of course, dear." Minthara says. The Mikages note that she is clearly in control of this relationship, and feel slightly more comfortable.

Astarion pulls Imogen up from the chair gently by her hand and she can’t do anything but follow him; he’s magical like that, silent as ever and he could have her do whatever he wishes.

Body buzzing still from earlier, and now all she can think about is how they’ll be alone for a little bit again. Of course there will be staff wandering by, but they’ll be alone just for a while. The second they’re in the garden Imogen turns to him, “I do owe you an apology, you were absolutely right.”

He laughs. "I did try to tell you...but feeling is believing, apparently." He stops her in the shadows between lit braziers. "Did you think of me?" His dark red eyes are sparkling in the remnants of the light.

Imogen's lips twist like she’s trying not to smirk at him. “You’re all I could think of,” she admits, “I bet you’re even better than my fumbling fingers, you actually know what you’re doing, rake…” She looks up at him with those wide pale grey eyes, “Will you think of me? The next time you’re alone?”

"Truth be told, I already have," he says, as nonchalant as if he's discussing the weather. "I felt terribly ashamed of it until you said what you said earlier today, Miss Mikage." His mouth curls into a smile. "Perhaps we can drop the platitudes, now we're officially courting? Amongst other far more egregious things..." He chuckles. "Imogen." He says, savouring the sound of her name on his tongue.

Her stomach (and far lower regions) flutter at the notion that he has already touched himself to the thought of her. “Astarion…” She likes the taste of his name in her mouth, how it hisses just a little, how she imagines the air escaping between his teeth when he’s feeling himself to completion. “You are fascinating,” she murmurs, stepping slightly closer, “and I appreciate you, for being honest with me. And not treating me like a child.”

He chuckles low in his throat. "If my time with you today has taught me anything, Imogen, it's that you are most certainly not a child." He glances around to check there's no one nearby before gently stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "You learn of sex and immediately want to do it." He laughs. "Not that I could blame you, with such a handsome man telling you of such depravities."

She snorts a little and rolls her eyes, “No one here will ever question your beauty, not as long as either of us shall live. But I’m serious,” she slips her hand into his, the one brushing against her cheek, “I think some men appreciate the ignorance and fear. But you don’t. You seem to care if I would enjoy it.” The tips of her fingers graze his palm, “I appreciate you.”

He thinks about how to phrase what he says next as he starts walking with her again, hand in hand for the moment. "I just think it's unfair. That ladies are made to feel scared of what should be a mutually pleasurable experience. Some men go into marriage completely inexperienced too, but it's unlikely they wouldn't have had someone tell them what the wedding night entails beforehand. Even at the very basic level. It feels cruel to keep it from women..." He rolls his eyes. "Perhaps it's on purpose, so they don't realise what they're missing out on - then they can't demand more from their husbands."

“That may be the case,” she says softly, “and I don’t know when that will change. But you didn’t want me to go into it all blindfolded.” Imogen kisses the back of his hand gently. “It really made me trust you.” Biting her lip, she lets his hand fall and smiles, “I do expect more from you now though. I expect the honesty to stay the same. If this does move forward and you decide to marry me, don’t hide what you desire or what you detest. It….excites me, the thought of belonging to someone who cares equally as much about how I feel.”

His brow furrows and he stops them walking. "You trust me… Even after today?" He is genuinely confused, wondering how what transpired today could have garnered her trust in him. He may as well have taken her then and there for all he left her innocence intact. He blinks his way past the mentions of marriage and simply says "I'll always be honest with you, Imogen."

“Thank you,” she murmurs fiddling with her fingers, “I promise to do the same.” After a beat of silence she looks around to make sure they’re alone. “I want you to kiss me. Quickly, just once. That is me being honest. You don’t have to, if you don’t think it’s appropriate.”

"Oh, all of a sudden you're worried about what I think is appropriate? Did you forget what you asked of me earlier today?" He laughs, but he pulls her closer by her waist. He leans down, and finally plants a soft kiss on her parted lips. Her fingers dig into the shoulders of his jacket, though, and he can't help but deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting hers. He wants to hitch her legs around his waist and press her against the nearest surface; his hands itch to explore her body...but he stops himself as his arm tightens around her. He pulls away, gasping slightly at the loss of contact despite being the one who instigated it. He can feel his dick straining pathetically against the waistband of his trousers and hopes she couldn't feel it. "I'm sorry," he says impotently.

Imogen feels the familiar ache between her legs from before and she touches her lips, how does he feel so cool on her skin but manage to set her on fire so easily? She's practically trembling at feeling that tongue he promised to use on her in her mouth so suddenly. “Don’t apologise,” she says, swallowing, “that’s exactly what I wanted.” Her eyes flicker over him and he can see her settle on his trousers while tilting her head. “What is-“

His eyes close in resignation. He offers her his arm again so the people milling around outside don't notice anything is amiss. "I had hoped you wouldn't notice that." He chuckles. "In short...for sex to work, the man must become excited. Otherwise it would be like trying to stuff a wet sock into a buttonhole." She gasps at the euphemism, probably thinking the worst. "But...sometimes, one can become excited outside of...that particular scenario. It's a compliment to you, really." He worries at his lip with his teeth, hoping such a terrible description will make sense to her.

“…I’m so very flattered,” she whispers, trying her best to not look at it, it seems to be distressing him quite a bit, “it doesn’t hurt does it?” She’s looking up at the trees above her, narrowing her eyes at the leaves like they are the most fascinating thing in the world, “if it pains you, I won’t do it again.”

He laughs. "No, it doesn't hurt, but it is a little uncomfortable. It rubs against the waistband of your trousers..." He readjusts his hips as they walk. "And it's not your fault, my dear. My imagination running away on its own is the culprit." He pats her hand gently.

“One day you’ll have to tell me what you imagined,” she grins in a wicked little way that if he looked in a mirror, he might be familiar with. Her mothers would be having a fit if they knew what she was talking about with him but she’s thankful they’re off chatting with his parents. “I really like you Astarion.”

"I...I really like you too, Imogen." He smiles down at her. "I will say that we are doing a terrible job of remaining just friends." He chuckles. "Perhaps I was a fool to suggest such a thing in the first place."

Chapter 7: Intentions

Chapter Text

“It can be both can’t it? We can be friends and lovers. We could very soon be friends and wed,” she smiles warmly, squeezing his arm, “you just stay yourself, and I bet we will both be absolutely, completely, irrevocably doomed to some happiness and contentment.” She leans her head on him again, just happy to be close. “So… say all that happens, god willing, where do you want to stay after the wedding?”

"I suppose it can be," he says, smiling as he thinks that he had not expected things to change so quickly in just a day. But his mouth dries up when she speaks of weddings. He shifts his shoulders, uncomfortable. "It's a little soon to be talking of such things, don't you think?" He clears his throat, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "Not that I don't see it going that way, of course... But um, probably mother and father will go to the estate in Devon, and I'll stay here in London." He wants the ground to swallow him. He's f*cking this up terribly.

Imogen sees how uncomfortable this is all making him and decides to redirect. “You know, we could drag a courtship out for however long you like, Astarion. I’ve heard of some lasting seven years.” She moves so she’s in front of him, looking up into those dark red eyes, “I do not intend to trap you. We promised to be honest with one other.” Leaning in so the staff can’t hear, she whispers “I can see that you don’t want to be here.”

He brightens a little at that, but not fully. "I don't exactly want to drag it out, nor do I think my father would allow me to. It’s just...I only met you three days ago. And I do like you a lot already. In the spirit of honesty, I'm just, well… scared. Scared I won't and can't be a good husband. And thank goodness you don't want children, as I'm sure I'd be an even worse father. I don't exactly have the best role model." He admits, sighing. "He wants me gone. I've no idea what I did to deserve his scorn. You could blame my being a rake if it weren't for the fact he's hated me since I was a boy."

Imogen frowns a little and furrows her brow, “Well, we may not have known each other long, and I do understand the caution. But I do want you to be happy. And you clearly aren’t happy here.” She shrugs just a bit, “no matter what the books say, I don’t think there is one true way to be a good spouse. Just the way they want you to be a spouse. Not everyone fits the mould. Otherwise we wouldn’t have artists in the same world as scientists, doctors in the same town as sex workers; everyone finds what works for them.” She explains before turning to look up into his eyes, all genuine sincerity, “I’m sorry he can’t see the good in you like I do.”

He nods as she speaks, astounded by her insights about the world yet again. Then he laughs. "You just haven't spent enough time with me yet, I'm sure you'll come to despise me in time." He says it jokingly, but deep down he does truly think she might. "We should get back inside before my mother sends someone after us, thinking I'm having my wicked way with you." He says grinning, taking her arm again.

“Astarion, who’s to say once you get to know me, wed me, bed me… all those things, a few years down the line you won’t wake and find everything I do irksome? There’s a chance anything could happen but I’m always willing to try…” she says before he can play off that particular joke.

He sighs as they walk back to the house. "You have this awfully annoying habit of being right, you know." He chuckles. "I'm willing to try, too. Just not at breakneck speed. Both our necks are simply too pretty for such things."

“Whiplash speed, then.” She laughs and before they can make it to the back door, she pulls him to the side just out of view and yanks him down by his cravat for one more kiss, one more chance to taste his lips. Humming happily against them, she rubs his ears with her thumbs just a little before breaking the kiss. “I like being told I’m right, by the way.” She adds, before straightening up and going back to her proper, stiff and upright position.

He gasps in mock surprise. "You are positively devilish...I like it." He chuckles. "Whatever will we do with you?" He smirks at her as he rearranges his cravat and leads her inside. Their parents have moved to the drawing room, sipping brandy and laughing together. Even Cazador doesn't look as rigid and haughty anymore.

"Ah, you're back! I was just about to send for you." Minthara says, with a tight smile that suggests she was in fact thinking he was doing something dishonourable. If only she knew he wasn't the only instigator this time.

"No need, we're here now." He says, leading Imogen to the settee her mothers are sitting on, before taking his seat in an armchair. "It's quite lovely outside. I was just showing Imogen your beautiful roses, mother."

She beams at Imogen. "First name terms already; my, you two are getting along."

“They are beautiful - how you get the blooms so large and luscious, it’s astounding! Do you use eggshells? Coffee?” Imogen immediately is trying to make it seem like they truly were talking about the roses, not the likelihood of them hating one another after a few years of passion. She smiles warmly and tries to keep her eyes on Minthara and not Astarion, where her eyes want to go and stay forever.

“A combination of both, dear. I’ll have my gardeners take some blooms so you can bring them home with you.” She says, positively delighted that someone noticed her efforts around here…

He smiles, watching the two interact. He can scarcely believe it, but Imogen is just so sweet that even Minthara seems taken with her. He meets Cazador's watchful gaze for a second. His father raises an eyebrow, questioning. Astarion nods once and shrugs, and Cazador actually smiles at that.

—

"This evening has been so lovely," Zoella sighs, smiling widely. "But it is unfortunately getting quite late and we don't want to overstay our welcome."

Minthara waves a hand. "You never would, my dear. But of course. Miss Mikage must be quite tired after such a long day." The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles at Imogen. "I'll call our carriage for you."

"Oh you needn't-" Paula starts, but Minthara cuts her off, her voice still friendly, but firm.

"Nonsense, I'll see it is done." She gets up and glides from the room. The others all stand up too, and say their goodbyes.

"Thank you for coming, my ladies." Cazador says cordially, bowing to them in turn. "It truly was lovely to make your acquaintance." He leads them to the door, where Minthara is already waiting with a small bouquet of white roses, tied with pink ribbon.

She hands them to Imogen. "Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl." She says, making Imogen blush.

Astarion chuckles. "Most beautiful indeed." He agrees. "Sleep well, my sweet. I'll call on you tomorrow." He kisses her hand gently.

Imogen blushes deeply, looking down at the roses and beaming, “I’ll be waiting,” she insists, her eyes connecting with his, “sleep well, Astarion. Sweet dreams.” Only the two of them know there could be a wicked request in that.

Paula helps slip Imogen's coat on before helping Zoella with hers.

All three women seem to be in a bit of a titter as the carriage closes. Imogen stares into the roses imagining the ones at their wedding. He’s afraid, he admitted as much, so she doesn’t want to rush him. She’ll move at his pace, as best she can.

—

"So, you have real intentions with this Mikage girl?" Cazador asks, once the carriage has drawn away. Minthara rolls her eyes.

"Are you blind, Cazador? Their affection for each other is obvious."

"I wouldn't put it past him for this all to be an act." Cazador spits, "Making us think he's going to propose without any intentions of it, pulling out right at the end of the season, so he can continue to f*ck every loose woman in the city that will have him."

Astarion scoffs and looks at his father with derision. "Why in the world would you think I'd want to spend any more time with you breathing down my neck than is absolutely necessary? I couldn't take another year of this, even if it meant marrying some absolute dolt of a woman - not Imogen."

Cazador's hand shoots out to slap him, but Astarion is faster and steps out of the way. Minthara moves between them and places a hand on her husband's chest.

"Stop this, both of you." She glares between them. "Do you intend to court this woman until you deem her suitable for a proposal?" She asks. Astarion nods. "Good. Then there is no need for you to snipe at each other like cats in an alleyway. Go to bed." She instructs Astarion. He does as she asks.

When he's retreated up the stairs, she turns to Cazador, whose eyebrows are still knitted in anger. "I know you think little of our son. But what I saw tonight was genuine. We will be able to return to Devon after this season, I am sure of it." His face relaxes a little. She pats his chest with little affection, more as a gesture of 'remain calm'. "I have an announcement to write. I will see you at breakfast."

—

Everyone in the Ton will be talking once the next morning's gossip rag comes out. Someone has declared their courtship officially - Imogen suspects the Ancunins - to lock their son in, so that they absolutely would get a marriage by the end of the season. Imogen frowns a little as she reads it; she knows Astarion would absolutely loathe the thought of being caged into something. She just hopes he doesn’t resent her for it.

Chapter 8: The Announcement

Chapter Text

When Astarion is woken and given the morning's letters and paper he is initially furious. Why would they have announced it like that without even consulting him? He flops back into bed and tries to even his breathing. It wasn't that bad, he supposed. He did intend to keep courting Imogen, until she grew tired of him and met a proper gentleman. Then again, he chuckles to himself, perhaps a proper gentleman wouldn't be able to handle her.

There’s a gentle tapping at the window and when Astarion lifts his head there is a pigeon sitting there staring at him. At first he thinks the poor thing got hurt, but as he gets closer he notices that there’s a berry coloured lip stain on the top of the bird's head, like a woman has kissed the bird to send to him. It coos gently as he pulls the note from its leg.

Stroking the little bird’s head while he reads, Astarion can make out that Imogen's usually neat, loopy letters are messy and haphazard:

’I am sorry your parents did this. I swear to you, mine had no say in it. Please forgive me. I only wished to joke about how fast we moved.’

She genuinely doesn’t want him to feel shackled to her. Flipping over the note, he sees her writing continued furiously, not even attempting to be neat:

’If this all moves too fast and you feel you need to be free, don’t worry about my reputation. If they’re forcing you, you do not have to abstain from the affections of others. It will not suffer me to see you happy.’

He sighs, and carries the pigeon over to his desk. It sits obediently, cooing quietly. He pulls out paper, his quill and ink and responds.

'My sweet Imogen,
First of all, did you kiss this damn pigeon? Don't do that.
Second, it's not your fault at all. They want rid of me, they're doing their best to make sure it happens... Although mother does seem genuinely happy that we like each other so much. Perhaps she simply got carried away in her excitement. Whatever the reasons, it's done. And I intended to continue anyway. I have grown rather fond of you, you know.
Await my flowers, I shall call around at 1pm. If your cook just so happened to make some extra pastries, that would be delightful.
Yours, Astarion.'

He attaches it to the pigeon's leg and tells it "Back where you came from, little one. No kisses from me," before going back to his desk and reviewing flower meanings in his book. He taps the feathered end of his quill against his lips and smiles, writing down the list for the florist. 'Sweet pea, pink (blissful pleasures), white daisies (innocence, I'll never tell), white clover (think of me), clematis, purple (mental beauty), gardenia (you're lovely, secret love). To the Mikage estate, please add to the bill of A. Ancunin.' he checks the book again and grins at his secret joke, before going to find someone to send the letter to the florist.

Imogen is practically chewing her nails down to the quick by the time the pigeon arrives. She takes it in her hands and gently unravels the note.

“Oh, of course order me around,” she mutters and kisses the pigeon one more time before sending her off to her roost.

She sits down to continue reading. ‘Yours’ makes her smile to herself, he is quite sweet when he wants to be. She flops back on the bed and sighs happily, following the letters of his note as if it were his very finger.

“Oh right,” she pushes herself up to go let know they need more pastries. So many pastries. Enough that he can take a box home with him if he pleases.

“You know if you keep on with these pastries, you’ll grow fat,” comments as she sighs, taking out the butter from the ice box.

“I hope so,” Imogen says honestly as she throws herself down at the kitchen table, “big and fat and they’ll have to roll me around in a carriage just to get anywhere.”

Astarion goes to meet Wyll and Gale at the club before he heads to Imogen's, knowing that now it's been announced, he may as well endure their ribbing now rather than later.

"Lover boy returns!" Wyll announces as he sits down at their table. "Still just agreeable?" Astarion can't help but smile.

"No, actually. I really quite like her." He doesn't mind admitting it, since it's true and she knows it herself.

Gale gasps theatrically and leans forward. “Does this mean you may actually marry? Whatever will the ladies of London do without their silver-haired rake?" He chortles and sits back. "But in all seriousness, I am quite pleased for you. I have been having quite some trouble myself."

"Yes, because you don't listen!" Astarion guffaws, reaching into his jacket pocket for the spare book on flowers he'd brought. "Make sure you read this carefully and make a list next time, don't just pick what you think is pretty."

Gale takes the book and shrugs. "If you think it'll help." He says, flicking through the pages.

"Well you sent Imogen flowers that said you were sad and distrust her." Astarion laughs and so does Wyll. "Trust me, friend. This will make a world of difference." After a moment of quiet while they sip their drinks and Gale pores over the book, Wyll clears his throat. They look up at him.

"I'm going to propose to Karlach." He says, cheeks getting red.

"Already?!" They exclaim in unison.

"Yes, already. I've never met anyone like her, and I can't risk losing her." He says indignantly. "It's a true love match, I believe."

"Well, in that case, I'm happy for you." Astarion says, hoping his friend isn't being too hasty.

Gale nods. "That's the most wonderful news, Wyll."

They joke around for a little longer until Astarion checks his watch and jumps up.

"Sorry boys, I'm about to be late to call on Imogen."

Wyll whistles through his teeth. "Who are you, and what have you done with Astarion?"

Astarion chuckles and shakes his head. "Until later, gents." He bids his leave.

“Mama is all in a titter about your bouquet this morning,” Imogen says as the two sit in the little garden area behind the house. The cats are chasing butterflies and rolling in the sun. There's piles upon piles of raspberry filled pastries and lemon tarts on sparkling mismatched patterned plates and Imogen is in a plum coloured dress, completely clashing with the spring colours around her.

“They say you’re a real romantic,” she beams, setting down her cup, “you know the language of flowers so well,” she giggles.

Peach leaps up into Astarion’s lap and lounges so she’s basically hanging off the man’s lap like a lady in repose waiting to be pet. “Seems you’ve charmed every single person here.”

He scratches the cat under her chin. "Hopefully they missed the hidden message about blissful pleasure I won't tell of." He smirks. "I'm glad they like it. And I hope you do too." He moves to scratch behind Peach's instead. "You're friends with Karlach Cliffgate aren't you? Wyll is absolutely enamoured with her. If the feeling is mutual, I wouldn't be surprised if they're the first wedding of the season." He chuckles and picks up a lemon tart with his spare hand, taking a bite. "Delicious! You must give my compliments to the chef. Did you have anything in particular you wanted to do today?" He asks.

“Oh Karlach is going to get married!” Imogen practically radiates delight, “I’m so happy for her! She's completely smitten with Wyll - completely smitten.” She tucks her legs up under her on the seat and watches him eat, enjoying how much more relaxed he is. “…they did ask about the blissful pleasures thing, they thought perhaps you were promising things to come and considered you cheeky for it.”

He laughs at 'blissful pleasures'. "I did hope they'd think something like that, I'd have been terribly ashamed of my little joke if I'd caused an inquisition for you. They must think you so innocent, if only they knew..." He chuckles and strokes along the big cat's sides with both hands.

Imogen watches him for a moment. “You said you draw? Would you like to draw me?” She raises an eyebrow. “Not that I’m vain or anything, but perhaps you could teach me to draw and I can teach you a little harp. Fair trade off?”

"Mm! I'd love to draw you my dear, but I don't have my things." He tickles Peach's tummy and she swats lazily at his hand - not a real threat. "I don't think this one would make a very good canvas, cute as she is."

“Tragic,” she laughs, “but I do have my harp if you’d like to come play with me,” she says, stretching out a leg so it rests beside him. “Honestly all I can think of wanting to do, we absolutely can not,” before he can smirk wickedly or open his mouth she shakes her head, “I really meant if we could lie against the tree and cuddle just a bit. Those other thoughts popped into my head as well. But I’m trying to behave.”

Every fibre of his being screams at him to touch her leg, to lift it up and dive his head beneath her skirts. But he resists, continuing to stroke the cat in his lap. "I can't say it hasn't crossed my mind either. But we must be good for now." He clears his throat. "Harp sounds lovely, although I'd much rather just watch you play. I do have skilled fingers... but I never could get the hang of playing string instruments."

Imogen snorts and stands picking up the plates to take back to the kitchen, “Do you wish me to sing for you as well, my lord?” Giggling she leads him through the house, the cats following at their heels, just happy to have people to wander around after. For a brief second she can picture this being their life, both barefoot going from room to room with their food and their cats with no one to tell them they can’t touch or be familiar. No one to stop them from reaching out and touching each other's hair or arms or anything else…

"If you'd like to sing, then go ahead." He smiles, traipsing after her into the house. "I'm sure your voice is very sweet. Just like the rest of you."

Imogen takes her place at the harp, she fluffs out her hair behind her and cracks her knuckles plucking at the strings to warm up before leaning it back into her arms. Closing her eyes so she doesn’t get more embarrassed than need be, she begins to play a gentle little melody, “I’m not the freckled mare, I’m not the fair haired girl, I’m not a pail of milk for you to spoil,” she begins to croon tilting her head with the sounds like she’s trying to see the notes in her head, “Why are the wholesome things the ones we make so obscene?”

The cats seem quite used to this sort of treat, they hop up on the settee to sit beside him, curl in his lap, lay against his legs and purr. Imogen continues on plucking trying to forget there’s anyone else but the cats there for fear her fingers might falter, “Well, if your mercy’s lost, I have an offer: us.” Occasionally she opens her eyes to make sure she’s still got everything right, but she quickly closes them again when she feels they’ll flicker over to him, “Latin words across my heart, symbols of infinity, elements so pure, my atomic number…”

He watches her in awe, the way her fingers move delicately over the strings, and revels in the sound of her sweet, soft voice ringing out through the room. He's quite enraptured by her. His fingers even stop moving in the cats' fur as his attention is completely drawn to her.

When she stops, he's stunned for a second but then he claps. "That was beautiful." He manages. "Absolutely beautiful."

“Oh stop it,” she laughs before gesturing to come sit beside her. “Come, let me show you,” patting the spot next to her, she waits for him to make himself comfortable before letting him reach out to pluck at the strings.

“Play a note,” she orders gently and when he does, she plays one that she thinks would sound pretty with it. Tilting her head, closing her eyes again, she waits for each note he plucks to add one right after.

It sounds disjointed at first but as it goes on she smiles, “I’m imagining there is a glen, a secret spot only we know. It just rained, and this is the sound of the droplets coming through all the leaves.”

One note here, another there, suddenly her fingers are brushing against his on the strings, her face is warm but she’s so calm at that moment. “We are alone, no one watching us, we can do whatever we like, and the drops keep hitting the leaves around us,” she whispers. “Do you see it too?”

He closes his eyes and imagines it. His fingers slide back over hers. He caresses her skin gently. "The problem is, of course...is that we can't do what we like." He murmurs, opening his eyes again. His fingers close around her wrist and he brings her hand to his lips, kissing each of her knuckles in turn. "I wish we could be in that secret glen at this moment. The things I could show you..."

Imogen blushes deeply and opens her hand to cup his cheek, “You could tell me?” She smiles and her thumb brushes along the underside of his perfect lower lip, “Paint me a picture of how it would be.” Keeping her voice low she leans in. “It’ll be our secret.”

Chapter 9: Talents

Chapter Text

He raises an eyebrow at her, but they seem safely alone for now, aside from the cats. "I'd hitch your skirts up and lick you just how I licked your finger yesterday. I just know you'll taste like heaven." He scoots closer, his head dipping towards her neck so he can speak even more quietly into her ear. His breath tickles her neck. "Remember when you didn't believe me that pleasure was possible during the act? You know how some of it can feel now. But when I'm inside you, it will feel different. Even better." His lips meet her neck for a scant second. "But that's just something you'll have to believe me about until I can prove it to you."

Imogen's breath comes out as a gasp when he brushes his lips against her neck. She laughs lightly, “Y-you sure you don’t want to propose now?” she jokes and turns, everything he does she wants to do back. “And I would be allowed to,” she leans in to whisper in his ear, “you would teach me how to please you? In kind?” Her lips gently graze the skin of his neck. He smells so warm, so much like what she imagines the gentleman’s clubs smelling like. Dark wood, a hint of smoke, good liquor. There’s a hint of something sweeter there as well, something that may just be him. The very tip of her tongue comes forward and traces a small line along his neck, right over a warm thudding vein.

"I'll teach you..." He gasps as her tongue flickers over his neck. "Although it seems you may not need to be taught." He laughs, surprised yet again by her forwardness. "You're going to have to stop this or I'll not be able to remain gentlemanly." He says in a fake stern voice. "I can't propose yet, anyway." He says, matter of factly. "Wyll is heir to the Duke’s title and lands. We can't steal his and Karlach's thunder." He traces a finger along her jaw and kisses her, soft, gentle, but lingering. "But if that was all I had to do to get us into that glen...then I had better get to the jewellers." He grins. He steals another quick kiss before moving back. If he gets any more carried away, her mothers will catch them, and that would never do. They have to pretend to be proper until they're engaged at least, when they may be left alone long enough for such things to occur.

“That is true, I would never want to rob Karlach of her moment. She deserves so many more than she already gets.” Imogen breathes quietly.

Looking around to make sure they’re still alone, she sits in absolute silence just to check for footsteps, before diving back in for another kiss.

If the kisses are this heated now when they’re trying to behave she can only imagine how bruising and passionate they will be when they’re not bound by any restrictions.

“Your skin tastes so sweet,” she lets slip against his mouth, “Once I get the chance, I want to kiss you all over.” Blushing, she searches his eyes to see if he’d enjoy that.

He grins and kisses the tip of her nose. "Only after I've done the same to you, my sweet." He hears footsteps and slides away from her on the seat. "Someone's coming, play again." He whispers. She turns away and pulls the harp to her chest once more, fingers moving gently over the strings.

"Ah, Lord Ancunin, here you are! I missed your arrival it seems." Paula's eyes narrow at them sat so close together on the stool. "Perhaps you would be more comfortable on the settee?" She tells Astarion, who nods and moves over to the seat she gestured to.

"Thank you, Mrs Mikage. Imogen was showing me how to play a few notes." He explains. "She plays beautifully, such lovely finger work." He makes eye contact with Imogen as he says that, his eyes sparkling as she blushes. He turns back to Paula. "I myself have never been very musically inclined, unfortunately."

Imogen turns back to the harp to avoid blushing any deeper and tries not to snort.

“Well you must be talented in quite a few other ways then, the gods don’t make any of us without at least one.” Paula adds as she sits next to Imogen, facing Astarion just to watch him.

Imogen can think of one or two, being able to completely ruin her train of thought with a few words and a smirk is quite the talent.

“Astarion is going to draw me once he brings his art tools,” Imogen says just trying to keep Paula from worrying about how close they were, “Perhaps he can draw you as well, mother. Your handsome face needs to adorn the walls.”

"A wonderful idea, I'll make sure to bring my things next time I visit." He smiles. Imogen keeps playing and he watches her, the way her eyes close and her mouth turns up into a gentle smile as the music flows from her fingers, the sunlight dancing off her hair. Paula watches him watch her daughter with a shrewd eye, but can't see any ill-intent in the soft way he's looking at her. She smiles at that. It seems Imogen will get her dream love match after all.

Astarion blinks to snap himself out of his reverie. "I'm very much looking forward to our dinner on Saturday, Mrs Mikage." He says, smiling widely at her. "It's been so nice getting to know you and your wife. And your lovely daughter of course. You're all so charming."

Paula chuckles and waves a hand at him. "You're too kind, my lord. I'll have Anna make something extra special for us."

“Everything Anna makes is quite special; at least my lord thinks so,” Imogen notes with her eyes closed, “every note he sends asks for more pastries.” She begins playing one note after another in a little twinkling childish melody, “Raspberry filled, lemon tarts, please~”

“Well we can’t have a whole dinner of that. You’ll need teeth pulled before long, if so.” Paula says, “but I’ll make sure we have some for dessert.”

"Not every note," he mutters, chuckling. "But yes, they are delicious."

She straightens out her cravat as she watches the two of them. Perhaps this rake is genuinely going to be redeemed, her own daughter seems to fascinate and charm him and he hasn’t sullied her honour. Yet.

“I forgot to mention, a pigeon came by earlier, Karlach wants to know if you’d like to join her down by the lake for some swimming to deal with some of this heat.” Paula mentions.

“Oh yes, after calling hours,” Imogen replies with her eyes still closed. For a split second Astarion sees her open one eye to him like he could come too if he was sneaky about it, but it probably wouldn’t be the best idea.

He contemplates the risk vs reward of going along with them to the lake and decides against it. People wouldn't be surprised that the rake turned up to watch the ladies swim, but it might hurt her reputation. He'd see Gale and Wyll instead.

"I rather fancy a hunt... Say, Mrs Mikage, if you're partial to venison, perhaps if our hunt proves fruitful, I could have the butcher send over the choice cuts to your chef for Saturday?" She beams at him.

"That would be lovely, how generous." She finds herself rather liking the young man, despite knowing of his past exploits.

They spend a little longer just watching and listening to Imogen play, sometimes she hums or sings along. He checks his watch. "Ah, calling hours are almost over." He is a bit disappointed, he could have sat and watched her play until the sun set. "I'd best take my leave. I hope you have fun with Miss Cliffgate, Imogen. Lovely to see you again, Mrs Mikage." He smiles and nods at them both, before turning to leave.

Before he can leave Imogen does take a moment to pull him aside and tuck her handkerchief into his pocket as a favour for him. “I slept with it last night,” she whispers, “so it smells like me, if you are interested in that?” Her voice is low, so Paula can’t hear her. Just so they don’t risk anything further, she touches her fingers to her lips and then touches them to his cheek. “Be careful. Promise?” Astarion gives his promises and the handkerchief will remain nestled in his pocket for later use.

Chapter 10: The Lake and the Hunt

Chapter Text

It’s mid afternoon when the girls find themselves at the lake. Karlach is already in her bloomers and chemise top, kicking her feet in the cool water when Imogen arrives with her basket of lemonade and cucumber sandwiches.

“There you are!” Karlach beams, turning her usual radiant smile upon her friend, “I’ve been waiting ages for you!”

“Forgive me, my lady,” Imogen bows dramatically, “though I’m sure you enjoyed the silence to daydream about your courtship.” She teases, which makes Karlach blush deeply and touch at her warmed cheeks.

“He is a dream, Imogen. The perfect gentleman, he is kind and thoughtful and noble…and so handsome.” She lavishes praise upon Wyll as Imogen kicks off her slippers and pulls off her frock until she’s in her bloomers alone. There is no worry about modesty among ladies.

“Well, I’m sure that will ensure that you have the most pleasant wedding night.” Imogen giggles as she throws herself into the water.

Karlach watches for a moment as the smaller woman surfaces and throws her head back before frowning. “And there’s the part that keeps confusing me. All this, and what am I supposed to do in return if we do wed?”

“Let him pleasure you.” Imogen says without thinking. Her hair spreads out in a sun like pattern around her and she has to keep pushing heavy wet locks out of her eyes.

Karlach's brows furrow, “Pleasure…me? How’s that supposed to happen, between the blood and discomfort?”

Imogen frowns a little and gathers her hair up into a ball at the top of her head, “I heard there isn’t supposed to be blood and discomfort…”

“Who told you that?”

“…Doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me! I’m not going to believe you if it’s just some stupid rumour or something,” Karlach slips into the water and scoops Imogen up under her armpits.

“I can't tell you!” Imogen hisses and kicks gently, quite amused at being held like this, “but if you use your hand, you can figure out how it works.”

“That’s filthy,” Karlach snorts, dropping her friend suddenly into the water and folding her arms. A dusky blush spreads across her face, “…what do you mean though?”

“I mean, if he knows what he’s doing, it won’t be terrible. Our mothers really didn’t have the best of times,” Imogen says. She rubs lake water out of her eyes and looks up, “I suppose you just have to know how to do it. I mean, I’m no expert, I only just started.”

“Touching yourself?”

“…yes,” she sinks down so only her eyes are over the surface of the water.

“It has to be that rake,” Karlach hisses, “…have you…?”

“NO!” Imogen immediately pushes herself up, “God, do I want to but no…no…”

“And you love him?” Karlach asks as they circle each other in the lake.

“I’m infatuated, enamoured, and absolutely charmed but I don’t think you’re supposed to love someone after a few days, even if you don’t have the proper language for anything else.” Imogen says with a little shrug, “I think one day we might.”

Karlach moves to lie on her back and float across the water, “I suppose that’s logical, but where’s the romance?”

“You’d be surprised,” Imogen tries to braid her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of the way, “But enough of this, no more about me, you are courting an absolute gentleman, a Duke! You could very much be a duch*ess!” She doesn’t want to let slip that she knows just how likely that’s going to be. “And you’ll have plenty of time after the wedding to find out just how right I am.”

“And if you’re wrong, you and I are going to scrap.”

“If I am wrong, you’ll find a way to make me right with how besotted you are,” Imogen beams, “I’m really happy for you.”

—

Unsurprisingly, he finds them at the club. "Fancy a hunt, gents? It's been a while." He grins. It doesn’t take them long to gather their things for it.

"Why in the world do you insist on using that?" Wyll asks, kicking his horse into a trot. Astarion hitches the crossbow over his shoulder and gives him a withering smile.

"I think it quite suits me - plus I'm a better shot with it."

"Let him show off, Wyll. It's all he's got now he's so enamoured." Gale jokes. The horses stay in pace with each other without much encouragement.

"Speaking of which...when are you proposing to Miss Cliffgate?" Astarion asks, counting his bolts.

"Tonight." Wyll responds casually, as if he was asked when he was next going to have a bath.

Gale chokes a little. "So soon?"

Wyll turns to give him a derisive look. "Was it not you who almost proposed to the girl who works at The Winchester?"

"We were lovers!" Gale says indignantly.

"For a week." Astarion reminds him, laughing. "And you wouldn't have been able to marry her anyway, you idiot. Your parents would have forbidden it. Congratulations, Wyll. I'm sure you'll be very happy."

Wyll spots deer tracks and they dismount, hitch the horses and follow the trail quietly.

"I'll never understand how you make so little noise, Astarion." Gale whispers, wincing as a twig snaps beneath his foot.

"A lifetime of creeping around the house and sneaking out." He responds. He doesn't add that he had to creep to avoid his father. "Shh. There." He crouches and points to a doe a few dozen feet away, grazing on the foliage. He readies his crossbow and fires, bringing her down.

"Nice!" Wyll exclaims,, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll fetch the horses."

After a slight struggle between the three of them, they have strapped the deer over the rump of Astarion's horse. "Should we get another?" Wyll asks, wiping his brow.

"Why not? I'll pretty much be taking this one for Imogen's cook anyway. I've dinner at her house on Saturday."

"Ooh, so it's getting serious then?" Gale asks, his eyes lighting up.

"I suppose it is. She's something else, you would not believe some of the things that come out of her mouth." He smiles. As Gale opens his mouth, presumably to ask for details, he holds up a finger. "A gentleman never tells."

Wyll scoffs. "Since when have you been a gentleman?"

Astarion chuckles and pushes his shoulder playfully. "Since I've had to be, my dear man."

They do get another - a young stag, which Wyll takes down with his rifle. They make their way back to town on foot with the horses carrying the deer. "Do you think you'll propose? Will Astarion Ancunin finally become a husband?" Wyll asks as they lead the horses along.

"I...think I will." Gale gasps and clasps Astarion's shoulder, his eyes wide with genuine surprise. "Don't be so dramatic." He laughs. "I would have had to marry this season anyway, I just happen to have found someone who I very much like."

"Well I, for one, am happy for you." Wyll says, grinning. "Although you will have to admit that you love her at some point." He raises his eyebrows.

"f*ck off." Astarion says, feeling his ears grow pink. Gale and Wyll exchange a look; they haven't seen him blush since he was a boy.

The butcher is delighted when they arrive with the deer. "I'll have them both processed within the day," He assures them. Astarion gives him the instructions to send the best cuts to the Mikage household and he nods. "Of course, sir. I'll make some blood sausage too. I know how your father likes it so much." He says as Astarion hands over the money. He tries not to roll his eyes at the mention of his father and heads back out onto the street with Wyll and Gale.

"Do you have the ring, then?" Gale asks Wyll, nosey as ever. "And you've asked her father?"

"I do, and of course I have. My mother's old ring, god rest her." He says, fishing it from his pocket to show them. It is a very pretty ring, a large diamond surrounded by rubies. "I'll have to get it resized, of course, assuming she accepts." He mumbles, clapping the box shut.

"Of course she'll accept," Gale says. "She'd be mad not to!" He grins at his friend.

Astarion is quite lost in thought, wondering what kind of ring Imogen would like. Probably nothing his mother has...would it be strange to ask her directly? Or maybe her mothers?

Wyll’s voice shakes him out of his reverie. "Did you hear me? I said I have to go and prepare for dinner tonight."

"Sorry," Astarion says, blinking. "Of course. Send us word of her response as soon as you can."

Wyll shifts nervously. "I will, but be gentle if it's not what I hoped for."

"Don't be ridiculous." Astarion assures him, clapping him on the back. "Now off with you, make yourself nice and pretty for your big question." They all laugh. Wyll nods and mounts his horse. "I'd better go too, Gale. Father will be wondering what I'm doing." He says.

"Your father is an overbearing dick." Gale grumbles, his brows furrowed. "Fine, I'll go and browse the bookstore, I heard they've had some new philosophy books delivered recently. See you soon, my friend."

Chapter 11: Contemplation

Chapter Text

When the two ladies are lying in the sun trying to dry themselves from the water, Imogen gazes at Karlach. She's going to be such a beautiful bride. They’ll put her in a lovely gown she can actually walk in and put flowers in her hair, her bright eyes are going to shine with so much love. It’s enough to make her want to cry if she thinks about it too much. “I wish I had known you when you were a child,” Imogen says casually, “I bet you would have made amazing mud pies.”

“Oh, the best!” Karlach barks out a laugh, “I bet your worm church would have loved to break for that.”

Imogen hopes Wyll is as good of a man as everyone says he is, her friend deserves a good happy marriage.

—

Astarion is still pondering the question of the ring when he returns home. He hands the reins to their stable master and goes inside. Naturally, Cazador is waiting. "You're serious about the Mikage girl? Truly?"

"Yes, father. Must I fall to my knees and declare my undying love for her before you'll believe me?" He rolls his eyes and makes his way to the parlour where he assumes his mother will be. Hopefully she can take some of the scrutiny off him.

"Have you bought a ring yet? I've not seen anything on the accounts." Cazador continues, following close behind his son.

"God, no, I haven't!" He responds, genuinely annoyed now.

"Leave him be, Caz." Minthara says in her usual slow drawl, not even looking up from the book she's reading. "The boy isn't a simpleton. The Duke’s son has been most taken with his beau, I've no doubt Astarion is simply waiting so that he doesn't upstage his friend."

"Thank you, mother." Astarion sighs, turning hard eyes to his father again. "Wyll is going to propose to Miss Cliffgate tonight. I will propose to Imogen, but not until a decent enough amount of time has passed since Wyll's proposal. And I'm yet to have dinner at the Mikage's. It would look uncouth were I to move too quickly at this stage." He hopes his reasoning will get through to Cazador, before either of them loses their temper. "The butcher is making you blood sausage from the deer we hunted today." He adds, hoping that it will turn his father's mind away from proposals.

"Hmph." Cazador’s face softens the tiniest amount. "So that's where you were. You should really let me know your plans before you go gallivanting off. It would save so much worry."

Astarion purses his lips, trying not to laugh. As if Cazador had ever actually been worried about his wellbeing...more likely worried that his least favourite son might find a way to break free of him without marrying.

—

“Did you hear? The Duke is going to propose to Karlach,” Zoella seems so excited when Imogen arrives back home alone. “I do love the season,” she adds giggling, “seeing who will pair up and the pageantry and all!”

Imogen smirks just a little and nods, “It is quite fun. We should have known it would be her to have the first marriage of the season.”

Flopping down into the settee next to her mother, Imogen waits for Plum to jump up before settling in. “You’ll be next,” Zoella says giddily, nudging her daughter in the side with her elbow, “Then your mother and I can finally breathe a little easier.”

Imogen shakes her head but keeps quiet. The desire to see her married is obviously coming from a good place, but she doesn’t want to rush anything. Though, she won’t deny, the prospect of being alone with Astarion unobserved feels like more than enough of a reason to run to church.

That night when Imogen is tucked into bed, she imagines she’s walking the Acunin estate. It doesn’t feel like she’s visiting, instead her step is practised and familiar, like she’s never lived anywhere else.

Entering a room she finds Astarion stretched out with his sketch pad and his charcoals. The tips of his fingers are covered in soot and there’s even some at the roots of his hair and on the tip of his nose. Smiling, she leans down and kisses the side of his face.

No pressure, no additional eyes on them, no rules. Just the two of them relaxed and happy.

—

The whole night he is thinking about rings. A diamond, surely. But what else? Amethyst, topaz? He can't decide. He rolls over in his bed, restless. He thinks about Wyll and Karlach. He can't imagine she would have denied him, but he hopes for his friend's sake that she said yes. He's going to have to ask someone about rings before the thoughts drive him mad, he thinks. Maybe even his mother...she might be able to give some insight that he's failing to grasp. Tomorrow is Friday. Saturday is the dinner. Maybe...maybe he should have a ring by then? Just in case it feels like the right time? His anxiety is so great that he's chewing the skin off his lips. He flops face down onto his pillows and wills sleep to come.

The next morning's rags have the big announcement up top, front page, the Duke has found a bride! The first wedding of the season is well on its way.

Imogen grins looking at the paper while still lying in her nightgown stretches across the bed. Taking out her pen and paper she quickly starts writing out nonsense to Astarion. She's finding he’s one of the few people she wants to share all her little thoughts with as soon as she wakes and before she falls asleep.

‘Dearest,
Hope you slept well and your hunt was successful. I just received the announcement in the paper about Duke Ravengard and Lady Cliffgate; it’s all terribly romantic. I must confess, I did let my friend know that her wedding night isn’t supposed to be something approached with fear, just like you said to me. But it was hard to not explain anything further than that.
You were on my mind last night. I pictured us in a new place, a tangible one where we could actually be one day. Alone. The two of us finally free from watchful eyes. It made me understand why people rush these sort of things at times.
She scrawls out a little heart at the bottom of the note before adding Devotedly yours, Imogen’

When she goes to get her pigeon, she snorts, thinking of how he won’t know if she gave the girl a little kiss on the top of her head before sending her off.

Chapter 12: Flowers

Chapter Text

The pigeon tapping at his window wakes him before the butler can. He gets up and opens the window to let it in, rubbing at his eyes. He reads Imogen's familiar scrawl, smiling. Today's bouquet will call for more colour, he thinks. He liked sending the mostly white bouquets, but not today. He wants her to know he's serious this time. He makes his list for the florist. 'Aster, pink (symbol of love and daintiness), red and white camellias (you're a flame in my heart, you're adorable), morning glory (lol, but it means affection), with fern (magic, fascination, secret bonds of love) and valerian (readiness).' He considers adding red roses (love, obvs), but decides that is far too unsubtle.

He writes back to her. 'Dearest Imogen,
Please tell me you didn't kiss this one. You're going to get an illness at this rate.
It was kind of you to tell her that. I will do my best to prepare Wyll for their wedding night in the meantime.' He chuckles before continuing. 'That dream sounds like a very nice one. I wish I could have been there with you. Perhaps someday soon? I am sending you a bouquet today that may surprise your mothers. Don't think I don't mean it. I look forward to seeing you next.
All yours, Astarion.'

---

“Imogen! Come down here quick!” Zoella squeals from the bottom of the stairs so loudly and abruptly that Imogen is quite sure there must be some kind of rat or large bug in the house.
Nearly tripping over the bottom step only to steady herself on the railing Paula spins around at the drawing room door with a frown. “Zo, you’ve got the girl falling all over the place.”

“As she should be!” Zoella grabs Imogen's hand and leads her to the drawing room where this bouquet full of red and pink blooms is displayed on the table. “Look at all that love and devotion,” Zoella squeals.

Imogen can’t help but break out into a huge smile as well. She covers her mouth to stop from giggling herself into a tizzy. It wasn’t too long ago he swore this was a friendship and that falling in love most likely wouldn’t happen.

“I want to send something back,” she laughs and turns back around to go find a note to send to the florist.

“Imogen, you don’t usually send suitors flowers!” Zoella calls out.

“Why not? Should he not enjoy the beauty and thought as well? Why should his only flowers be on his grave?” She asks, throwing herself into the note.

White roses (I'm worth of you), speedwells (feminine fidelity), baby’s breath (everlasting love), white chrysanthemums (truth), larkspur (open heart). Send to the Acunin estate, charge to the Mikage estate. Add note with just a drawn heart.

“I’ll admit, it’s odd... but someone as sentimental might appreciate it,” Paula says with a shrug, “and it would be our family to break the norms”

“Exactly!” Imogen giggles as she takes the note to the window. One of the pigeons comes and she scoops her up. “The Florist, please.” She goes to kiss the bird's cheek only to pull back and sigh, “sorry, I must establish a boundary I suppose.”

—

Minthara is laughing as she produces the bouquet for Astarion. "I think you have won her heart, son." She says, handing it to him. He hates that his ears go pink, but he can feel it regardless.

"A queer response." Cazador mumbles. "But then again, she has quite a strange family as it is."

Astarion looks through the flowers in the bouquet and tries to ignore his father.

"What did you send her?" Minthara asks, peering at the flowers in his hand.

"Just what...felt right." He answers, honestly. She beams at him, then looks to Cazador.

"I do think our son is in love!" she exclaims. The heat spreads from his ears to his cheeks.

"I couldn't care less about love." Cazador says sourly. "I just want to see him married."

The blush retreats, replaced with anger. "Of course that's all you care about." Astarion spits.

"Don't start this, you two." Minthara warns. Her voice is measured, but her tone is harsh. Neither of them want to set her off, so they both back down. "This is good news!" She continues. "This means she won't reject your proposal. She must feel strongly about you, to send this."

Astarion agrees, wordlessly. He doesn't even want to speak in his father's presence about this. He'll just ruin it like he has done every other happiness Astarion might have enjoyed. "I have dinner with her family tomorrow." He tells his mother.

"Good." She says. "Will you propose then?" His ears grow hot again.

"I don't know. Probably not, I haven't asked her mother...or mothers. I wonder if I have to ask both?" He mumbles, so only Minthara can hear him. She chuckles low in her throat.

"Who knows, son? Ask both. It can't hurt." She does him the courtesy of responding as quietly as he asked, knowing Cazador would be awful about any such questions. "Just do what feels right." She squeezes his arm in an uncharacteristic show of solidarity.

—

Imogen spends the whole day in a giddy mood, sighing as she lays in bed looking at her flowers, unable to focus on her books.

She feels just downright silly for all this but she can’t help herself. Soon, this charming rake is going to be hers. Several times she found herself with her eyes closed and her hand up under her gown, just focusing on the few kisses they shared. The sly ways his lips curl when he knows he’s being improper. The sparkle in his dark red eyes when he says her name.

‘Cruel’ might be the best word to describe how it feels to not be able to rush to his side at that moment and pull him in for more kisses. At some point she gathers the flowers he sent to her face as she touches herself, just wanting to be close to his declaration of devotion as she brings herself to climax. Petals fall into her hair and into her dress, stealing away for later when they can fall and remind her of the pleasure. Even after she’s done, she wonders what he’s doing as well - if he’s thinking of her too. Surely he has more to do with his day than what she’s doing currently.

—

He takes the flowers up to his room and sets them on his bedside table. He sits on the bed and stares at them for a while, thinking. So they were really doing this. He flops onto his back, smiling. She'd really surprised him; he really did think his initial plan would work, but she'd picked it apart skilfully just by being herself.

Speaking of which...He remembers the handkerchief she tucked into his pocket and gets up to retrieve it. He settles back on the bed and brings it to his nose, his eyes closing and mouth turning up at the familiar scent of lilac and honeysuckle. There's something else too, a slight earthy smell...probably a little sweat. That has him imagining her with him in this bed, her curls spilling over the pillow as her breath catches, his hand sliding up between her thighs. The way her pretty grey eyes would widen as he touched her for the first time, how her moans would sound. His hand slides down his stomach and takes his hardness in it.

His breathing speeds up as he imagines kissing her properly, their tongues dancing. Her gasping as he bites her neck gently. How tight and warm she would feel around him. He takes more of her scent in and his hand speeds, his org*sm pooling low in his stomach. He wonders if her thighs would shake around his hips as she org*sms around his co*ck, and that does it. He c*ms hard, muffling the sound of his moan in the handkerchief. He lies, panting, like that for a while, before extricating his hand and wiping it on his pyjama bottoms. They were already ruined, he chuckles to himself as he pulls them off and cleans up with them. The handkerchief he refolds and puts underneath his pillow.

He sits up and touches the flowers. He had better go to the jewellers. He grins and gets up, almost forgetting he's naked from the waist down and still half hard as he goes to leave his room for a bath. He grabs a towel and wraps it around himself, trying to hide the soiled bottoms in his top before throwing them into the laundry chute.

Chapter 13: The Necklace

Chapter Text

Imogen is basking in the afterglow of her 3rd session blissed out on her floral sheets when there is a knock at the door. “sh*t, sh*t, sh*t…” she whispers, trying to gather herself up. Quickly opening the windows and fanning out her cleavage and shaking out her hair. No one needs to suspect she’s spending all her time in the bedroom abusing herself.

“Immi, darling.” Zoella coos at the crack of the door. “May I come in?”

“One second mother!” She calls back, rubbing a little perfume on her neck.

When she does swing open the door, her mother is standing there, beaming softly with her hands clasped together. “Oh look at you! You’re glowing!”

“R-radiating with love,” she laughs quietly, “come in!”

Zoella steps in cautiously, ever since the girl was a child she was fiercely defensive of her personal space. She’d stand still in a corner while someone was in her room, just waiting for them to leave. Afraid to make a move for fear of being judged.

The older woman sits down on Imogen’s bed and smiles, “I wanted to speak to you. About marriage. And what will happen on your wedding night.”

There she goes again, stiff and stunned like a doe in bright lights. “Oh mom, you don’t-“

“I care about you Imogen, and I want you to enjoy wedded life but…unfortunately… a lot of men don’t think we can feel things. Especially there.”

Imogen wishes she could turn to smoke and blow out of the window. She stands quietly, eyes wide as she watches her mother.

“And Imogen, as much as you care for this man… he is still a man. It won’t be right away, but he may learn how to….make it mutual.”

Oh, she wants to die. “Uh huh…”

Zoella sits quietly for a moment before popping back up, just as awkwardly, “That’s all. I’m glad we had this talk!”

—

When he's dressed, he goes downstairs to find his mother. She's reading in the sitting room, and looks up when he comes in. "Good morning, Star." He sits across from her.

"Morning, mother." He shifts a little. "I...I'm going to buy an engagement ring today. And perhaps a necklace, just as a gift for tomorrow."

She smiles and closes the book, placing it in her lap. "That's good news." She says, then furrows her brow at his anxious expression. "What's the matter?"

"I just...don't know what she would like." He admits, sighing. She laughs gently.

"Son, you'll know when you see it. She's a sweet girl, she will love whatever you give her. You could hand her a piece of coal and she'd probably be delighted; I've seen the way she looks at you."

Astarion chuckles. "You're right...I just don't want to get it wrong."

"You won't. Show me, when you come back with it. I'll be your critic." He nods, knowing she is all too prone to brutal honesty. He does feel better, bids his leave and takes the carriage to the jewellers.

She was right, he does know it when he sees it. A pear shaped diamond with opals either side, on a twisted platinum band. He picks out a matching necklace that he'll give her at dinner tomorrow. In the carriage on the way home he stares at the ring, twirling it between his fingers. He was really going to do this, wasn't he? He feels a bit lightheaded. Maybe he's rushing...but he's going to wait until next week. Is that long enough? Wyll had already proposed, but he had wanted marriage. Astarion puts the ring away and presses a finger and thumb into his eyes. He's overthinking it, he knows. But it doesn't stop his stomach twisting into knots.

When he shows Minthara, she beams. "It's perfect, dear. I knew you needn't have worried." She even pulls him into a brief hug. "I am proud of you, son. And happy that you seem happy. I expected the whole season to be a fight with you clawing to stay a bachelor." She laughs, and so does he.

"Me too, honestly." He shrugs.

There’s a gentle tapping at his window when he finally gets back to his room. Another bird, this time with just a dollop of lip stain on the top of its head - not a kiss - just a tap with a finger to make him laugh. It hops in and turns three times before sticking out its little leg for him. The perfumed, lavender coloured note seems to have been written in a hurry before she could forget.

Fire of my heart,
Just now, mother came in to warn me that my wedding night might be a disappointment. I wonder how they can suspect that with a person like you? How you move alone suggests you know far more than they ever will. It is sweet that they are concerned, but it is misplaced. Just your voice alone could bring me where I need to be.
Did you see the ring Wyll gave Karlach yet? I’m excited to see it! But I’m most excited for tomorrow night. Perhaps if we can steal away a little after the meal, I could feel your lips once more and satisfy myself another day or two being apart from you.
-Yours in nearly all ways (soon to be rectified!) Imogen

He laughs at the splodge of stain on the bird's head. "What is she doing to you all, poor things." As he reads the letter his lips curl up. They certainly didn't know him, but that was for the best. He'll have to make sure his parents go back to Devon the night of their wedding, as he's planning on making sure neither he nor Imogen get much sleep. He sits at his desk to write back.

'My Love,
I think that's quite cute, actually. They have no idea how you'll be begging me to never stop touching you. I rather think we won't want to leave the bed for a week or longer once we're wed.
I have seen the ring, and it is beautiful. I'm sure it will look lovely on her. I'm excited for tomorrow too, my sweet, especially now. You are so naughty… what would your mothers say if they could read this? But I can't say no to you.
Forever yours, Astarion'

He dabs some of his cologne onto the letter and sends the pigeon back, chuckling, imagining it accidentally delivering to Paula or Zoella. They'd be mortified, and their engagement would be happening yesterday. He also writes back to Wyll, accepting his invitation to the soiree he is holding on Sunday to celebrate his engagement to the lovely Karlach. It would also be easier for him and Imogen to sneak off to be alone in the Duke's huge estate, with all the festivities going on. He grins wickedly to himself and goes back downstairs to get lunch with his parents. Cazador seems satisfied now he knows the engagement ring has been bought, so he barely gripes while they eat - just a few comments over the cost, which Astarion rebuffs by explaining that it would look badly on their family if he skimped on the ring. Cazador purses his lips, but doesn't argue further.

When Saturday night dinner comes around, Imogen has spent a long time getting ready. Her lilac gown is cut in the newest French fashion and there are several little bits of hyacinths woven into her curls. Butterflies are absolutely rioting in her stomach, she wishes this whole courtship thing could speed up. Being alone with Astarion is the only thing on her mind lately, and it’s not just wanting to know his body. She quite likes the moments where he can speak freely and tell her childhood stories. She imagines him reading with her as well; things that you can do with a friend that polite society only allows with someone of the same gender before marriage.

“You look like a little nymph,” Paula jokes as her daughter flits past her to make herself comfortable on the settee.

“Perhaps I am one tonight,” Imogen smiles, grabbing her book. “Just for tonight.”

Astarion arrives at the door, a little nervous despite how well everything has gone so far. Not to plan, of course, but well nonetheless. Zoella opens the door, beaming at him ear to ear.

"Lord Ancunin, do come in." He smiles back, bowing to her as he enters their home. He sees his bouquet is on prominent display in the hall and isn't sure whether to be embarrassed. He meant it, but seeing it there for everyone else to see was slightly exposing. He'd have been more comfortable naked in front of them than baring his feelings to her mothers like that.

Imogen is waiting by the door to the dining hall, looking absolutely stunning. Flowers in her long curly hair, the lilac of her gown complementing her pale skin perfectly. "You look...wonderful." He says, slightly awestruck.

"You don't look too bad yourself." She giggles and takes his hand, leading him to his seat. With her beside him, he feels more at ease. He relaxes into his chair as the staff pour their wine out for them.

"I hope Anna got the venison from the butcher?" He asks, taking a sip of wine.

"Oh, she was delighted with it." Zoella responds, grinning.

"I'm looking forward to seeing what she's done with it." Paula adds, quaffing her own wine.

Imogen takes a moment to rub the back of her fingers against his hand in his lap, smiling more to herself than to him. Just being close feels amazing, like there’s colour in the world again.
“I think she made a Wellington,” Imogen notes, slipping one of her fingers under his hand.

“Lovely, I can’t wait.”

When they catch eyes she smiles warmly, lovingly. “What have you been keeping yourself busy with, Astarion?”

He raises an eyebrow and squeezes her finger, silently telling her that she doesn't want him to answer that entirely honestly. "Oh, just a spot of shopping." He says, reaching into his jacket to pull out the box containing the necklace. He passes it to her, and waits, slightly anxiously, for her reaction when she opens it.

Imogen freezes suddenly with her eyes wide. “Star…” He can see her fingers trembling a little as she takes the box. Opening it slowly she gasps and snaps it shut again, “you really shouldn’t have!”

“Come on now, let us see!” Zoella calls out, absolutely delighted at all of this. “I want to see!” Her blue eyes are dancing in the candle light, but Imogen looks like she might cry.

“Astarion, it’s so pretty, I don’t know what to say…” She whispers, opening the box fully. She just stares for a moment - stunned that someone would care so much for her to get her something so beautiful.

“Can he put it on me?” Imogen asks suddenly, looking at Paula, who hesitates for a moment before nodding.

Astarion smiles, glad to know she does like it after all, and takes the delicate necklace from its box. She turns so her back is to him, and he gently clasps it around her neck. His fingers linger on the back of her neck a few seconds longer than is necessary, trailing down her back surreptitiously as he removes them.

Zoella gasps. "Oh my, it's beautiful! It so suits you, darling." She gushes at Imogen.

"Very generous," Paula says, her eyes flicking between the necklace and Astarion's face - checking that this is simply a gift and not a bribe of some sort. When she realises his eyes are soft, as they usually are when looking at Imogen, she relaxes. "It's really very lovely."

Imogen turns back around to look at him, her fingers on the necklace and her grey eyes wide, almost tearful.

Chapter 14: I've Been Hearing That You're Freaky

Chapter Text

“I love it, I’ll cherish it always.” Imogen insists. She wants to lean forward and press her lips to his. But she can’t. So she just has to sit there, looking at him - hoping he can see in her eyes how much it means to her.

Men give jewellery, her mother told her, for as much decorating their bride as it is for their security. Women can’t hold estate, but they can have jewellery. And jewellery can get you by when you need to.

“You’re far too kind to me,” Imogen says softly, touching the pendant gently like she’s afraid it might break, but she can’t stop herself.

"I'm glad you like it." He says, trying to keep his voice level, despite his emotions threatening to overtake him. "As soon as I saw it, I thought of you." He wants to reach out and touch one of the stones, to touch her cheek, to press his lips to hers, but he can't, so they just sit there...looking at each other. He feels her desire in her gaze, and he hopes he is passing it back in turn. "It's not kindness, my love." He mutters so her mothers won't hear. "It's me showing you how I feel, without flowers this time."

“It is kindness. There is kindness in your every move, whether you see it or not,” Imogen says softly. She's forgotten her mothers are there, it just feels like it’s them alone in the room for all she knows or cares.

She slips off her glove and places a bare hand on his. Her mothers gasp quietly, but no one moves to stop them. She squeezes his fingers, her thumb grazing over his knuckles. “You are a kind, and lovely man. And I’m happy to know you.”

"I'm happy to know you too, my love. But your mothers are going to explode if you continue on like this." He says quietly. He picks up her glove and hands it to her. "How are we to get time alone if you're being like this before dinner has even started?" He smirks at her, hoping she will take the hint. They have to be subtle while prying eyes are on them.

“Apologies,” she blushes and grabs the glove. She slips it back on and clenches her hands in her lap. There’s so much she wants to say and show without words, it sets her teeth on edge - the social rules.

If she had it her way, she’d be alone with him in her room right then and there kissing him until his eyes are crossed. But instead she must suffer through dinner.

He's discussing books and plays and art he’s seen, describing it vividly and she can close her eyes and follow him. One day he'll be able to take her with him, to see the plays and the music.

'Perhaps you’ll find a nice merchant or a politician', her mother had told her when she was younger. But no, she’ll have herself an artist to see the world with, someone to enjoy the decadent parts with.

When the wellington comes out, he stops talking about the things he's seen, and Zoella and Paula regale him with stories from Imogen's youth instead. Worm church he finds particularly funny, laughing almost to tears. "You're precious, my love." He says, squeezing her hand underneath the table. She smiles shyly up at him, her cheeks pink as always. The wellington is delicious, the venison moist and perfectly cooked. He remarks on it and Zoella beams. "I'll make sure to let Anna know you enjoyed it, my lord. Thank you for supplying such delicious meat."

He waves a hand. "Not at all, glad I could do something to help." By the time dessert is served, he and Imogen are both a little antsy to get away from the table, but they downplay their enthusiasm well enough. The glances between them become more frequent, but nothing more obvious than that - or so they think.

“You two may take your leave. The tension at this table is palpable,” Paula says with a heavy sigh, waving them off, “Just stay in the nearest room. And I will be checking on you every so often!”

Imogen looks at Astarion with wide eyes. “We will be absolute angels.” She stands and takes her beloved’s hand before leading him to the music room where the two can be alone. As soon as the door is closed, Imogen stands back against the door looking up, “I could hardly eat for excitement!” She holds up one finger before beckoning him down. “Let me kiss you.”

"You're too much," he says, but he moves towards her anyway, taking her in his arms and lowering his mouth to hers. "I don't think she was lying about joining us." He kisses her, softly. Then his hand moves to take her chin, and his tongue is meeting hers, his other hand bringing her waist closer to his. He bites her lip gently as they pull away. "You're going to ruin me, my love." He whispers against her lips, giving her one last peck before releasing her.

“How would I ever have the power to do that, my dearest?” Imogen giggles, touching her bitten lip. To be in his arms is a joy after so long. “You awaken something in me, I wish you to bite me like that again, in a moment of passion or perhaps when you are merely bored. I quite like the feeling.” Swaying in his arms, she pauses to listen at the door. “It may be a few moments more before she arrives. Hold me a little longer, dearest.”

He does as she asks, and envelops her in his arms once more. He breathes in the smell of her hair. "You know you smell like how I imagine heaven does?" He says, swaying her gently to imaginary music. "Also...I might have lied a little the other day about my musical abilities." She frowns and pulls away just enough to look up at him.

"You did?" She asks.

He laughs. "I play a little piano." He says, taking her hand, and sitting her down on the piano bench next to him. "Every time I've played this recently, I've thought of you." His slender fingers test the keys at first, before launching into a deliciously sensuous melody.

“Why would you ever lie about this?” She asks, leaning her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and listening to the notes. That is until he begins to sing quietly into her ear, which makes her gasp just a little. Listening to what he’s whisper-singing in her ear makes her pause and blush deeper. “Is that how you truly feel?” She asks quietly, opening her eyes slowly and scanning his face before her eyes rest squarely on his lips just gazing. “Because I feel the same way,” she whispers, “and I fear if I do not have you soon, I might spontaneously combust.”

He laughs. "Of course, my love. It's killing me to do the decent thing and leave your virtue intact, you have no idea." He kisses her gently and moves quickly away before Paula bursts through the door.

"Who- what are you doing?" She asks, confused. She'd heard the unfamiliar melody and wanted to investigate.

"Astarion was being modest before, mother." Imogen says, pretending her entire face isn't pink. "He can play piano."

"Just a little." He admits. "Sorry...I just- when I heard Imogen play, I thought what I can do barely counts in comparison."

Paula looks between them, attempting to find the scandal. Imogen frowns, looking down at her hands, lips twisting in frustration. So badly she would like to be treated like a woman who is allowed to have desires and needs. So far, the only one who’s recognised and respected this in her is Astarion, and she can’t be alone with him.

“You two shouldn’t sit so close,” Paula notes, and Imogen sighs dramatically, picking herself off the bench to go sit a few feet away on the settee. Astarion can clearly see she’s becoming defeated and depressed by this whole thing. Her eyes focus on the floor and she plays with her fingers. When he starts to play again she closes her eyes and tries to smile, but the fact that they’re not alone anymore has really taken a hit to her mood.

He plays something else now. A more jaunty tune, hoping to cheer Imogen a little. When it doesn't work, he pretends to fluff a few notes and sighs too. "Sorry, I did say I could only play a little." Paula nods sympathetically, like she would if he were a child simply learning. "Oh! Imogen, I have something for you in my carriage, if you'll accompany me?" He hopes Paula won't insist on coming with them, because he absolutely does not have anything in the carriage for her. To his delight, Paula encourages Imogen to go with him alone. He helps her up into the carriage and considers their options. "We can ask them to take us for a ride." He says quickly and quietly, climbing in behind her. "And just pretend they thought it was me returning for the evening?"

Imogen smiles so warmly, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Thank you,” she whispers, settling in, “just a little ride. Nothing too long or they’ll grow suspicious.”

As soon as the horses take off, Imogen sighs and rests her head on Astarion's shoulder. “It’s not that I don’t love them, I do. And I’ll always need them. But I can tell they will always see me as a little girl.” She turns her chin on his shoulder and leans up to kiss his cheek. “You don’t see me like that.”

"No, I don't." He says, giving the instructions to the driver. He draws the curtains quickly, takes her face in his hand and kisses her. In the relative privacy of the carriage, he allows himself to pull her to him as he deepens the kiss. She's sat across his lap now, but he doesn't want to take it too far. His hands do grasp at her hips though, and she gasps into his mouth at the unfamiliar contact. "Too far?" He asks, pulling back for a second.

Imogen looks wild, her eyes large, her hair slightly a mess. She settles into his lap and shakes her head, “Not far enough,” she whispers, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and kissing him as hard as she can, with all the passion she had bottled up in the past few days.

"Hmm," He groans against her lips. "You are testing the limits of my self control, Imogen." She can feel his hardness against the side of her thigh, and she reaches for it, completely brainless in the moment. He catches her wrist before she can touch him, and places it between her own legs. "Hitch your skirts up, my love." Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Touch yourself. Right now."

Imogen's eyes are the size of dinner plates, her stomach doing flips. Their eyes are glued to one another’s as she does exactly what he says. She moves to the other side of the carriage and hoists up her skirts so he can see her soft white thighs. One shaking hand covers the small thatch of public hair and her fingers begin to move just for him.

"You're so good for me, love." He says, eyes flicking between her eyes and her fingers. He sits up a little more, his lower lip caught in his teeth as he watches, entranced. "Show me how you do this while you're thinking of me."

She starts slowly, trying not to hurt herself from all the times she’s touched herself before. “Keep talking to me,” she whispers, swirling her fingers around the little bundle of nerves between her lips. “Hearing you will help me, I swear,” she hisses and he can see her thighs shake.

"f*ck..." he mutters, his dick jumping as little as it can inside his tight trousers. "I can't wait until it's my hand there instead. I want to hear you moan for me, love. So much." His blazing eyes meet hers again. "I want to hear you cum. And I can't wait to feel you do it while I'm inside of you."

Imogen lets out a little cry of a moan, she closes her eyes and bites her lip, “Every moan is yours whether I bring it forth by my own hand or not.” He can see her toes curl in her slippers, her breasts heaving against her corset, “I’m sure it will feel so much better with yo-” her legs begin to shiver and her thighs move to close around her hand. She folds in on herself, trembling, her forehead meeting her knees as she tries to recover.

He gets to his knees in front of her and brings her face to him for a kiss. "Thank you, darling. That was...incredible. Now, we'll be back at your house soon." He takes the hand she used to touch herself and brings it to his nose, then his lips. He sucks the juices from her fingers and savours her scent, ignoring her wide, shocked eyes. "I'll remember this." He says, getting back into the seat opposite her. "For later." He smirks as the carriage slows again. "Now… we just have to pretend nothing happened."

Imogen looks incredibly stunned, “W-what about you? Can I do something for you?” She whispers, looking absolutely distressed that the carriage is slowing again, “Oh this isn’t fair…quick, stolen moments when I feel both in control of myself for once - whilst also completely lost - and then I’m back to where I was before.” Before the driver can get off the riding seat, she comes closer and kisses him once more before attempting to straighten herself up again and look presentable.

"Not tonight, my love." He says, getting up to help her out of the carriage. Zoella and Paula are standing anxiously at the door.

"My apologies, my ladies. We meant to just get the package I'd left, but the carriage took off with us quite unexpectedly, assuming I was on my way home. When we realised what was happening, we redirected back here at once." He glances up at the carriage driver, whose lips are pursed. He pays him well to absorb his lies, but apparently not enough for him to ignore what he hears inside the carriage. "It turns out I had left it at home all along," he says, sighing with fake sadness. "I can be forgetful at times."

“It is alright my darling, maybe next time,” Imogen says softly. She feels a bit distraught at the whole thing, but does her best to smile, “perhaps you can bring it to the party tomorrow night?” She asks, tilting her head, giving him a gentle reminder that he'll see her once again at the Wyll and Karlach’s engagement party.

Chapter 15: The Tree

Chapter Text

"I'm sure he'll be there to greet you, love." He whispers as she steps out of the carriage. She blushes, as always. How she'll fare upon actually seeing or touching his dick is yet to be determined. He wonders if she'll be scared. "I should bid you goodnight, as we will probably have quite a late night tomorrow." He addresses them all. "Apologies for absconding with your daughter, my ladies." He nods to her parents. "I'll see you tomorrow, my love." He says, taking Imogen's hand - specifically the same one she touched herself with - and kisses it. "Sleep well, ladies."

Imogen does her best not to look scandalised before twisting her lips into a bemused smirk.

“One thing I know is that he had better propose soon; he’s taking far too many liberties.” Paula says abruptly as the front door is closed. “Now he’s taken her on a ride in a closed carriage.”

“That could be quite the scandal if anyone found out, Imogen,” Zoella agrees, taking Imogen by the shoulders, gently guiding her towards the drawing room, “we will have to discuss how soon he wishes to propose, if he’s going to act like that.”

“It was an honest mistake and he rectified it in a few moments, there is no scandal mama. We didn’t even sit on the same side of the carriage, out of respect.”

As the carriage takes off, he can't help himself. He unbuttons his trousers so his hard co*ck can spring free. His fingers curl around it, the musky scent of her org*sm still lingering in his nose. He didn't expect her to be so willing to show herself to him like that; it was better than he'd fantasised. The little mound of pubic hair...the way her fingers worked against herself for him. The small cry she made when she came...God, that was something else. She managed to surprise him every time.

And now she wanted to touch him too. He quickly fumbles his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket to catch the cum that spills from him, his eyelids fluttering shut with the force of it. He gets dressed again, tucking in his shirt and redoing his cravat before the carriage pulls up outside of his house.

—

The engagement party is honestly one of the most beautiful things the ton has seen in years. Wyll seems to have spared no expense on showing how much he loves his bride to be.

Everything is in romantic shades of cream, pink and red like it’s a Valentine’s Day celebration. Imogen arrives, gift in hand, ready to celebrate Karlach who seems to be radiating love and excitement.

“I’m so happy for you!” She tells her friend once more, taking Karlach’s face in her hands, “you will make the most beautiful bride!”

“Stop it! You make me blush!” Karlach giggles, “I’m just happy everything seems to be going well!”

“Don’t start stressing now, you’ll bring about the doom too early.” Imogen laughs and kisses her friend's cheek before grabbing a glass of lemonade.

She chose one of her pale silver gowns so she doesn’t stand out too much amongst the golds and reds of the party. Her mothers are happy to be socialising and since Astarion hasn’t shown up yet, they feel they can leave her to her own devices for a bit.

—

As their carriage pulls up to the door, he is taken aback by the lights and colourful decorations. He steps out, a little dumbfounded. He's not seen anything so extravagant that wasn't held by the queen herself. She'll probably be in attendance, he thinks idly as they enter the large hall of Wyll's estate. He looks around, trying to find Wyll, Gale or Imogen. He finally spots Wyll on the stairs, and beelines for him.

"Amazing, Wyll. It looks so amazing." He says, still gazing around in shock. "If this is anything to go by, I am a little scared of how lavish the wedding will be." He claps him on the shoulder. "Where is your bride to be? I've yet to even meet her." He says, still looking around.

"Oh the ladies are gossiping in the garden, no doubt." Wyll grins. "Glad you're here, friend."

"I wouldn't miss it." Astarion beams at him, genuinely happy for his friend. "I think I'll find your bride to be and see if I can't put her off you yet." He grins.

Wyll laughs. "Good luck with that. I heard your beau is quite close with her. Maybe that's who you're truly seeking?" He nudges Astarion in the ribs. Astarion rolls his eyes. He does genuinely want to meet the famed Miss Cliffgate, but he can't deny he wants to see Imogen more. All the better if they're alone together. For a time, at least. He does want to steal Imogen away for a private moment or ten, while everyone else is distracted by the party. He makes his way back downstairs and out to the garden.

Imogen is sitting under the wisteria quite alone, nursing her lemonade. She waves and smiles at people but they are very much in their own world, talking about weddings and children and who’s going to be debuting the next season. And of course, they’re all admiring Karlach in her nicest dress, with her hair done up all pretty.

When she spies Astarion entering the garden, she feels her thighs clench slightly and her heart flutter. They make eyes for a moment, but he goes to speak to Karlach first - as is expected. She will just have to wait for him and not seem too eager.

"Miss Cliffgate, an honour to meet you at last." He says, bowing to her.

She giggles. "Astarion, I presume? Sorry- Lord Ancunin." She corrects herself, looking chagrined.

"Ah no need for the honorifics, dear. Wyll and I go far further back than I'd care to admit, and you're to be his wife... so of course, we should be familiar." He laughs easily and she relaxes.

"I'm no good at this stuff...and yet here I am, with the son of the Duke as my soon-to-be groom." She says, playing with her nails.

"You'll be fine." He says - then realises that's not enough. "Better than fine. He's been enamoured with you since before your first dance. I'm happy for you both." He looks back at Imogen, sitting pretending to drink her lemonade off in the corner. "Best wishes to you...if you'll excuse me?" He darts past her. Karlach looks to where his eyes were and grins as she sees him take her best friend's hand and lead her off into the darkness beyond the torches in the garden. She does hope he's not just being his rakish self and means well, but Imogen seems smitten either way, so she's happy for her friend. Plus, if things take a turn for the worst, she could snap the pretty silver-haired rake over her knee like he was nothing.

“Where are we going?” Imogen asks as she sets her lemonade glass down on a table while he pulls her out, past the gardens and into the dark. He seems so determined, like nothing could stop him, for a brief moment, she’s worried he might be angry. Did his parents find out something? She’s trying to keep up with his pace, her brows furrowed. “Astarion?”

He chuckles, turning to her. "We're going away from prying eyes. I think Karlach saw us, but I doubt she'd say anything, even if she wasn't so busy being congratulated every few minutes." He takes her jaw in his hand and kisses her, pressing her back against the tree. "We can be alone for a while now." He says, his lips finding her neck. "No one will come looking...not for a little while at least."

Imogen gasps, the sudden forcefulness is exciting. When his lips find her neck, she trembles slightly against the tree. “What do you want me to do? How much time do we have?” If he let her, she’d do whatever he asked - as evidenced by the night before.

In the dim light his burgundy eyes are sparkling and she feels that familiar twinge between her legs, causing them to clench, “You’re really so beautiful,” she mutters almost breathlessly.

"I don't know, but hopefully enough time for this." His hands hike her skirt and petticoats up until he can get one beneath them. Her eyes go wide as his fingers slip into her underclothes, her breath hitching beautifully.

"We shouldn't-" She starts, breathlessly.

"No, we shouldn't..." his fingers move against her, sliding between her folds and finding her cl*t. "But tell me to stop, and I will."

Imogen whimpers, she can’t wrap her tongue around the word ‘stop’ when his fingers move so nicely. She looks up at him, full of wonder and confusion. Just the other night he wouldn’t touch her himself, and now he’s moving his fingers like they’ve been lovers for years and he knows exactly what to do to make her eyes flutter and her breath catch in her chest. “Star…” she whispers, a squeak of a moan escaping her lips. “f*ck….” She’s breathing heavily against her corset, her breasts rising and falling quickly.

His lips find hers again. He pulls away just long enough to say "Cum for me, Imogen. I've waited so long." There's a touch of desperation to his voice, and his fingers continue their work, then his lips and tongue are against hers again. He feels her tremble harder, one of her hands gripping tight to the shoulder of his jacket.

Her lashes are wet and she's whimpering against his lips, mouth open, unable to think properly. He says cum and she does, her whole body shakes and her voice rises just a tad more than it should. He can hear her practically tearing at his clothes with her nails as she gasps for air between kisses.

"So perfect." He mutters against her lips. "Just as I imagined." He withdraws his hand and yet again sucks her wetness of his fingers. "You taste amazing." He says, almost conversationally.

“Please...” she laughs and takes her opportunity to place her hand over the bulge in his trousers, moving cautiously lest he smack her hand away. “You keep talking about the taste and licking your fingers, just take from the source.” Her fingernails are scratching at the back of his neck and she gazes up into his eyes.

He raises an eyebrow. "If my lady insists." He drops to his knees, hitching her skirt again. He grins up at her before hiking one of her legs over his shoulder and then his curls are gone beneath the fabric. She feels his tongue skate against her. She's already a little overstimulated so her hips jump forwards at the touch. He wonders if this is how she imagined it, but he doesn't care. He slides it between her folds, moving against her gently.

Imogen nearly screams at how surprised she is that he's actually done it. She immediately covers her mouth and her legs tremble like she might slip down the tree. “Astarion!” She hisses, her eyes wet, “Please!” For a brief moment she thinks she can hear the party goers growing close and she fumbles with her skirts for a second to grab his hair from under her skirt, pushing him away out of fear of being caught. She takes several steps sideways from the tree, panting, “I can’t keep quiet…”

He chuckles, still on his knees. "No one's coming this far out, my love." He stands up, sensing her discomfort. "Hopefully you understand a little more now, though." He says, offering his arm for her to take, acting for all the world like they hadn't just defiled Wyll's garden with their antics. "We can go back, if you wish."

She stops him and puts her hands on his chest. Her face soon follows and she’s cuddled up on him, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry, I’m just scared. I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” She hugs him tightly to her and nuzzles her cheek to his chest as she deflates a little from submitting to him. “That…was intense.”

He laughs quietly and kisses her. She can taste herself on his mouth, and understands a little of why he's so intoxicated by it. "Do you think me all talk and no action?" He says, squeezing her waist in his arms. "I do admit, this isn't the best venue for it...but still. I mean what I say. We promised we'd be honest with each other, remember?"

Imogen laughs a little, “If I’m being honest, I think I just want to sit down with you for a moment,” she pants. Licking her lips a little, she furrows her brows as she plops down on the grass in front of him and rubs her temples, “I didn't mean to say you were not a man of action, my love. I shall never doubt you again.”