So Say The Seasons – Chapter 5

            "Hey, Natalie…"

            "Hey there, Elwen!" comes the friendly and cheerful voice from those heart-shaped lips behind the mask.

            Elwen feels Maronette’s hand touch her back from behind, gently guiding her a few steps away from where they stand and towards a column which hides a corner of the ballroom from the view of most of the party. Long conversations with a servant are not the sort of thing they want to be spotted doing, at any rate. Elwen moves along with her lover’s guidance, but she is visibly uncomfortable as the copper-haired, tiny-framed woman joins them. Especially as she thinks she caught, from the corner of her eye, a lingering gaze from Maronette to the servant's exposed shoulders and neck.

            "So… What’s going on here… And what is she doing here?" Elwen inquires, her head bobbing towards Natalie, though her question is directed at Maronette.

            "I asked her to be here…" Maronette confesses.

            Elwen can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. A thousand questions flood her mind: When did they meet? And for what reason? Are they in constant touch with each other? But she asks none of them, knowing that they will all make her sound insecure and possessive. And she is a little bit of the former and a lot of the latter, but she does not want to give Natalie the pleasure of knowing about either.

            "And you know, it's a good opportunity to stuff my pockets with shiny things," Natalie says in her unshakeably cheerful demeanour.

            "I see, and here I thought maybe you had procured a new career, maybe got tired of cutpursing."

            "Oh, no, absolutely not," Natalie says, unshaken, as if she has not realised the disdain Elwen meant with those words or is deliberately pretending not to. "Business has never been better. This is just a profitable return and, you know, lending a hand to an old, very close friend."

            Elwen furrows her brow. She does not like the way Natalie hits the 'very close' part of that sentence, and it seems to her that Natalie can tell she is getting under her skin. For a moment, Elwen closes her fists, and the mission is the furthest thing from her mind as she just wants to punch Natalie right in her stupid face.

            It would already be bad enough to have another run-in with Maronette's former lover like this, but now she is also being asked to work together with her for something extremely dear and important for both of them. It is when Maronette’s hand on Elwen’s back curls, briefly grazing fingertips against her through the dress, that Elwen is reminded of her lover's presence and the actual reason they are there. A deep breath is taken, and she dips her head.

            "Very well then. But aside from stuffing your pockets, why are you here?"

            "I think it will be better if we let Maroonie explain," Natalie offers.

            "Maroonie?" Elwen hears herself ask before she can hold herself.

            The cutesy nickname is a notch too much. A part of Elwen that she isn't particularly fond of immediately wonders if that’s something Natalie would call Maronette in their intimate moments as a couple years before. But she takes another deep breath, and the bodyguard is graceful enough to pretend she doesn’t notice her interjection.

            "Well, once I knew we had to deal with Blackwell and what was at stake, I wanted to be sure we showed up as prepared as we could… I trusted your charms to work on that sleazeball, really, but just in case we needed extra persuasion, I asked Natalie to…"

            "Dig up some earth," Natalie interrupts and then bobs her head to encourage Maronette to proceed.

            "Yes, well… That’s a good way to put it… I asked her to see if she could investigate him and find anything we could use."

            "Well… Has she?"

            "Oh, she has," Natalie smirks triumphantly, talking about herself in the third person as she steps forward and removes her mask.

            Inside the mask, there's a small compartment carved into it, from which she pulls a small rolled-up piece of parchment. Handing it to Elwen, she waits. The singer accepts the piece of parchment and unrolls it slowly, finding it to be some sort of note penned in fine calligraphy and signed M.B. It doesn't take more than that, in the context, for her to know this is some illicit correspondence from Blackwell, and as she reads the words, she feels her heart race in a mix of excitement and nervousness.

            The letter is directed at one of Blackwell's lackeys, asking them to make sure that a woman by the name of 'Claire', and her daughter, named 'Brienne', don't come anywhere near the estate ever again, and to inform him immediately if they do. Elwen feels like she has the full picture, but her eyes turn to Maronette and then to Natalie.

            The redhead thief has a pretty face, she has to admit, as she looks upon her, with her rounded features, big green eyes under vividly expressive eyebrows, and a row of freckles under those eyes that hop over the bridge of her nose. Thick but short lips, a small button nose and an elegant neck connect it all to her petite and slender frame. But the self-satisfied expression on that pretty face only makes Elwen want to punch her, and again, she has to hold herself.

            "So, you see… Blackwell had an affair with a servant and sent her away when she was pregnant. He paid her for her silence for years. And she gave birth to a girl named Brienne, some eighteen years ago…"

            "How does this… Help us exactly? Do you plan to blackmail him with this piece of paper? It proves nothing…"

            "You're right, it doesn't," Maronette agrees, "but Natalie dug some more dirt after finding that… Turns out, Claire was notoriously a redhead, and Blackwell has never laid eyes on his bastard daughter."

            "Alright and…?" Elwen asks, unsure where the two women are getting at.

            And then it dawns on her, like the first day of spring coming to thaw the ice. Her eyes dart to Natalie and her coppery red hair, and then her small physique, which could easily let her pass for someone a handful of years younger. And then her eyes travel again, this time to Maronette, who offers a nervous shrug that asks, ' What else can we do?'.

            “Oh, no… No, no, no…”

            "Look, I don't like blackmail any more than you do. It's messy, leaves loose ends and can backfire… At best we end up with a bitter enemy for life," Maronette says, taking a step forward to stand halfway between Natalie and Elwen as she turns to the singer, hands on her waist. "But we aren't exactly swimming in options or time."

            "I don't care about blackmail! But we can't involve her to this degree in this… It's one thing to ask for help, Maron, but… This? This is too deep. And can go very wrong."

            "Maroonie is right…" Natalie interjects, and that nickname cuts Elwen like a knife, especially as Natalie places a hand on Maronette's shoulder. "We don't have many choices and… You know, it's not like we have any goodwill left with him after you…"

            Natalie doesn't finish the sentence with words; instead, she mimics a punch in the air and produces the accompanying sound effect with her mouth. Elwen frowns. She doesn't like it, not one bit. But if she sets aside her pride and the fact that she would rather not have Natalie around more than strictly necessary, she has to concede that they are not faced with an abundant array of choices. She sighs and dips her head.

            "Fine… So, what's next on this cockamamie plan of yours?"

            "Oh, this is not mine, this is all Maroonie."

            Maronette clears her throat as if trying to suppress the last mention of the nickname, flushing slightly.

            "We will need to dress Natalie convincingly. I will infiltrate the house with her, help her steal a dress, and then we can bring her back to the ballroom to introduce her to Blackwell as our recent find… After that, not to risk public shame and a fractured marriage… He should concede."

            "No. No way." Elwen frowns. "We can bring her out, but she doesn't speak to him. Best if she's far away, even, enough for him to see her, not enough for him to get much detail before I demand an answer."

            "Aw, I was looking forward to putting an estranged daughter act!" Natalie pouts.

            "One more reason why we should not let you speak to him," Elwen says, adamant.

            "Very well, then, wait around and try to avoid running into Blackwell until we are back?" Maronette inquires.

            Elwen has never had a reason to distrust Maronette, and she still trusts her with her life. But even though she harbours no doubts about her loyalty and faithfulness, she doesn't trust the pretty girl, Natalie, as far as she can throw her. And she reckons she can throw such a small thing a fair distance, especially if she uses magic, but that is beside the point. The idea of the two sneaking around the Eutarion Villa to steal clothes so Natalie can change out of the servant uniform is not something Elwen is very fond of, so she shakes her head.

            "I'll go with Natalie."

            "What? But… People are more likely to notice your absence than mine."

            "Yes, but I need to be absent until Blackwell calms down," Elwen justifies, knowing fully well she isn't being honest.

            "Alright…" Maronette sounds uncertain but dips her head. "Then, uh… Take care in there."

            "Oh, I will. Shall we, Natalie?"

            Elwen makes a point of sliding quite a dose of disdain in the name, but Natalie again either misses it completely or actively decides to pretend like she did. Maronette offers a few more words of caution, which are frankly unnecessary, and Natalie once again puts on the mask, departing from behind the large column before the other two and taking a tour around the ballroom. Elwen follows her at a distance with her eyes until she spots the girl stopping briefly by an unremarkable door at the far end, and she kicks it with her heel, causing it to open slightly.

            Elwen recognises it as the signal it is, and she crosses the crowd of guests, offering a few pleasant smiles and waves, but making sure she isn't caught in Blackwell's line of sight before she reaches the door Natalie has opened. She moves through, finding herself in a much less well-lit area, a narrow corridor leading into what seems to be a storage area filled with unused decorations from previous celebrations. However, there's another exit out of that room, aside from the one Elwen used to enter, and after a few moments, she hears footsteps, and Natalie walks in, smiling and ditching her servant's mask aside to pull a pair of lockpicks from the folds of her dress.

            "Sorry… Ended up having to refill a tray," she offers, kneeling by the opposite door as she begins working the locks.

            "What is this place?"

            "From what I gathered, it's where they put all the crap they don't need after a party or between parties. Imagine being so rich that you have a room in your house just for trash to live… And it's bigger than any place I ever called my own, too."

            Elwen doesn't respond to that, knowing that while it's not a majestic villa, her townhouse is rather spacious and comfortable, and she is well-off in life. But the idea of rubbing it in Natalie's face feels wrong, so she just remains quiet, much as she dislikes the girl.

            Natalie takes a moment to unlock the door, and beyond the dim room, there's a well-lit marble floor corridor with white wood panelling and bright blue wallpaper on the walls. Tall white marble plinths topped by rare vases with beautiful flowers are evenly spaced across the corridor, and between them are paintings of a variety of artists and styles, mostly depicting rural, idyllic landscapes. Elwen gasps at the sight of the Eutarion riches, and she does so, regrettably, loud enough for Natalie to hear. The redhead chuckles.

            "Yeah, I know. I don't even feel bad stealing from them."

            "Do you ever feel bad stealing from someone?"

            "Sometimes…" Natalie says with a shrug and then gestures towards the corridor. "Shall we?"

            Elwen nods, and they walk out of the storage room, closing the door behind them and sneaking through the brightly lit, lavishly decorated hallways. Natalie seems to know where she's heading and, for most of their route, they encounter no one. Expected, as most of the servants are likely busy either serving guests at the party or working in the kitchens and other necessary precautions. But just as they climb the stairs to the third floor of the massive villa, the sound of footsteps causes Natalie to freeze and Elwen right after her. They press against the wall and watch the shadow of a man approach. Judging by the stomping boot steps and the jingle of metal, they can conclude it's a guard with a sword on his belt.

            "Shit… Alright, let's go around him and…" Natalie begins, placing her hand on Elwen's stomach to press against the wall tighter as she begins to align a plan.

            Elwen frowns, not at Natalie, but at herself, as she feels a slight blush touching her cheeks and a vague tingle on her chest at the touch against her stomach. She has no idea what that is about, but she doesn't want to take the time to explore it either. Instead, she pushes Natalie's hand away from her stomach and, taking a deep breath, places a single finger in front of her lips in a demand for silence.

            Before Natalie can protest further, Elwen weaves her fingers, and the air around them shivers and distorts as if they are looking through the walls of an aquarium into water. Natalie opens her eyes wide at the sight of magic but says nothing as the guard approaches them.

            "Stay within…" Elwen tells her, using a normal conversation voice instead of whispering.

            The guard doesn't seem to listen and walks towards them, and then right by them as a paralysed Natalie watches first in horror and then fascination. As soon as the man bends a corner, Elwen dismisses the spell and smiles.

            "See, we both have tricks."

            "Not bad, not bad at all…" Natalie praises with a smirk. "What was that?"

            "Basic concealment spell… Illusion magic. Fools the senses of sight and sound to make it seem like the area inside is empty. Easy to learn, tricky to master."

            "Well, that's pretty darn handy."

            Elwen almost feels some kinship towards the thief for a moment before she remembers in which circumstances she and Maronette have met. And then that sympathy disappears in an instant. Natalie, unaware of Elwen's inner workings, gives her a squeeze on the shoulder and begins to walk towards the end of the corridor. Elwen follows, and soon both women are emerging through a set of double doors into a massive room, arranged around a really impressive canopy bed whose pillars are sculpted with sea imagery, including tentacles carved so life-like they almost seem alive, hugging the wood.

            A pirate ship weathering a storm in a large dark wooden frame adorns the wall above the headboard, and a ship's helm hangs from the ceiling as a chandelier. The room is entirely dark, and Natalie pulls a small flint and steel from her pocket, planning to light a couple of candles. Elwen smirks, snapping her fingers rhythmically, each snap causing a different light across the room to turn on. She doesn't light the whole thing, only a few by the headboard and wall, keeping the room a little dim to make their presence less conspicuous from the outside. The dimness accentuates as she closes the doors behind her.

            "Well, now you're just showing off," Natalie comments about the candle-lighting trick.

            "That?" Elwen half-scoffs dismissively. "It's barely magic, almost a parlour trick."

            Elwen's eyes study the room around as Natalie grunts in response and opens one of the closets. The nautical themes are everywhere, and she almost doesn't notice the feminine touches here and there. A dresser, a comb, a few sewn busts wearing tiaras and necklaces. This is a girl's room. A girl enamoured with the idea of the sea and a rich enough daddy to pay for it. 'By the Four! This is Amarantia Eutarion's room,' Elwen realises.

            Amarantia is a petulant nineteen-year-old socialite who has all the unearned arrogance only the scion of a rich family can have, mixed with that self-confidence that comes with beauty. She has a reputation for being infamously difficult to deal with and rather unforgiving. Elwen had no idea the little brat had a pirate obsession. She walks towards a bookshelf, finding several cheap adventure tomes, all related to explorers and the seas, and she quietly wonders if there is any use in that information.

            "Alright, I think this one will do…"

            "Which o- "

            Elwen turns around to see which dress Natalie has picked to disguise herself as Brienne, but even before her eyes reach the other woman, she spots the servant's dress discarded on the floor.

            So, she is mildly less shocked when she finds Natalie standing stark naked, holding an aquamarine dress. Only mildly less shocked, but that is still plenty. She's wearing absolutely nothing aside from heels, thigh-high white stockings that end in lacings, and a leather strap containing thievery tools and three throwing knives attached to her thigh. Instead of holding the dress over her body, she holds it beside herself, giving Elwen a plain view of the pink folds between her legs, entirely hairless but marked by a tattoo on her mons, depicting a coiled snake. Her inner thigh has inklings of a dagger, and a few more places around her body, mostly her stomach, collarbones and below her breasts, are marked by those simple, thin black lines. Tattoos are common in prisoners and sailors, Elwen knows.

            But it is the shape of Natalie's body that catches her attention. Fit, tight and small, with perky breasts that are barely there, tiny button-like nipples and smooth, almost milk-pale skin painted gold by the few candles that light the darkness. Immediately, Elwen is assaulted by the sight of Maronette's strong hands running through that small, skinny body, gripping her and pushing her legs aside to dive between them. And the thought fills her with the expected jealousy, but also with something else that she can't explain. No, that is a lie. She would be perfectly able to explain the tingling between her legs, but she chooses not to think about it in any rational way.

            “It’s… Uh… Great…”

            "Nice. I knew Amarantia would be the only bitch in here tiny enough for me to steal clothes from…"

            “Uh… Yeah…”

            Elwen can't stop herself from staring, but, fortunately, Natalie has turned around to begin sliding her stocking-clad legs into the dress. The singer admires the firm, round, peach shape of her buttocks and the words 'Umbra Invicta' written across her back, the first just below her neck and across her shoulder blades, and the second past the dimple of her lower back and touching the top of her buttocks. The space between the words is occupied by a massive skull trespassed by a dagger, a snake tail emerging from its mouth and the head coming out of one eye.

            Elwen feels her cheeks burning, and she is suddenly very aware of her nipples pressing against her brassiere before she turns around to give the girl some modesty to dress. She can see why Maronette was once into her, at least physically, but she decides she would've been better off remaining ignorant.

            "Can you help me?"

            "Uh?"

            "Close this."

            Elwen turns again to find Natalie standing right in front of her, offering her tattooed back to the singer, expecting her help closing the lacing on the back of the dress. Elwen hesitates and then leans in to help her close it up, avoiding touching Natalie's skin as if the girl is made of red-hot steel, and she is trying to avoid a burn. As she does so, Natalie balls up a couple of expensive silk socks stolen from a drawer and stuffs them into the dress' bosom. Once done, she turns, proudly displaying the well-filled chest. She has done it in a way to push her small breasts upwards to fill the little space allowed for cleavage, and with the socks there, it causes the illusion of a very full chest.

            "Huh? Not bad, right?"

            "No… It looks rather convincing."

            "Yeah!" Natalie says, excited. "Plus, I get to walk out of here with these socks. They are really soft. Might not even sell them after."

            "Right, you do seem to be lacking in undergarments," Elwen says, unable to resist the chance to poke at her rival.

            "Ha! Nobody made you look, you know?"

            Elwen blushes deeply, having been caught in her taunt. She doesn't respond to it; instead, she mutters something about them needing to return to the party, and Natalie kicks her discarded servant dress under Amarantia's bed before they begin to make their way back to the ballroom. The journey there feels shorter than when they made their way in, and they manage to avoid being spotted by the two guards that crossed their path, thankfully without Elwen needing to use her magic in either case.

            By the time they emerge from the door to the storage room back into the party, Elwen nervously taps her foot and looks around until she spots Maronette hanging out with another bodyguard. Their eyes meet across the floor, and the three girls gather again behind the same column where they had hatched the original plan.

            "Blackwell still at the party?" Elwen asks as soon as Maronette arrives at their semi-secluded spot.

            "Yes, he's around," the bodyguard offers before she lays her eyes on Natalie.

            Elwen notices how Maronette's cheeks gain a light flush gazing upon the redhead in her admittedly very beautiful aquamarine dress and the full bosom that Natalie props up with her posture.

            "Eyes up here, Maroonie," Natalie teases, and Maronette's blush deepens.

            Elwen clears her throat.

            "Alright, I'll go find Blackwell and…"

            Before she can finish her thought, they hear a low brass gong. And then chamber music starts playing louder than before. There's a commotion of steps and voices, quiet and slow boiling, as the guests move towards the centre of the ballroom, and the servants go around putting out the largest torches to leave the room mostly lit up by the coloured floating lanterns.

            "The dance's starting…" Maronette frowns. "Crap."

            "No, no… This works. This works perfectly," Elwen decides.

            "Huh?"

            "Trust me…"

            Elwen pulls them together and whispers the final details of the plan before she slides onto the dance floor, leaving Maronette and Natalie behind. She floats from one partner to another for a couple of songs, knowing the band would play five before taking a short break. The traditional fall dance has a couple of lulling pauses in the melody that goes with it, allowing the women to whirl along the dance floor towards a new man to dance with, representing the autumn winds as they represent the trees. By the third song, she has made her way to Blackwell, but he doesn't realise her presence until she has already grasped his hand and, although it disgusts her, brings his own to her waist.

            The pause on the song ends, and they begin to move together as he eyes her furiously. A light bruise is visible on his nose. She feels proud of it but contains her smile. Blackwell squeezes her side nearly painfully as they dance, having to put up a well-mannered front, which she is counting on.

            "You have some nerve, whore," he whispers, forcing a smile, as he stretches her arms for her to twirl before she slides back close to him. "Coming to dance with me after that humiliation… I'll make sure you're destroyed, you hear me?"

            "No. You won't," Elwen says categorically.

            Blackwell is taken aback and nearly loses his rhythm, but he recovers, and they continue to move across the floor, swaying with the crowd. Finally, he speaks again, after a long break, his pipe and whisky breath making her want to vomit:

            "Why wouldn't I?"

            "Because… I can destroy you, too. Or at least your marriage."

            "Ha!" Blackwell laughs a bit too loudly, drawing a few eyes from the other dancing guests before they turn their attention back to their partners. "Because I grabbed your buttocks? Please, my wife knows better than to believe the words of a theatre hussy…"

            "It's not words that I have, Blackwell… I have Brienne."

            "Brie-… What? No… You don't know what you are saying!"

            His eyes betray fear even if his face shows disdain. Elwen looks at him with a cocky, victorious expression and doesn't bother elaborating further. All she does is wait, in silence, for another rotation until she's between Blackwell and the door towards the balcony where she had punched him. And then she says:

            "Over my shoulder."

            Blackwell's eyes go wide when he sees Maronette standing there next to the redhead girl in a fancy aquamarine dress, waving at him excitedly, and even taking a few steps as if meaning to approach him, before the bodyguard holds her in place with a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. The dance causes them to turn again, and Elwen guides them deeper into the crowd. Blackwell can't see the balcony door anymore, and he keeps trying to steal peeks to see where his bastard daughter is, but as much as he rubbernecks and tilts his head, there are too many things moving in between them.

            "What… How?"

            "Never mind the hows and whys. She doesn't know you are her father; you see… All I told her is that you are a silent benefactor, helping to pay for her education… Which is coming out of my pocket. So, only fair that you let Jinzo's business thrive to cover the expense, is it not?" Elwen proposes. "Do it, and I won't have to educate her in her true parentage."

            Blackwell's pride makes him angry. He squeezes Elwen's side even more hurtfully. She knows he is furious. And yet, he is powerless to act while she holds such a card. And his powerlessness amuses her greatly.

            "And, if something happens to me, of course, I have it arranged so that your secret gets out all the same… So, pray for my continued good health, as well."

            "You… You whore."

            "I may be a whore, but I'll never be your whore, Blackwell," Elwen hisses. "Song's almost over, and with it, the offer for my silence. What's it going to be?"

            "Fine… Fine, I'll do it. I'll approve your shitty business."

            "Lovely."

            Blackwell's face is red with rage, and his brow is covered in sweat. He pulls her close, pushing his stomach against hers, to whisper in her ear:

            "You made a powerful enemy today, woman. I hope this shitty business is worth it."

            "More than you can imagine," is Elwen's only response. "You better hold your end. Know that I'll hold mine."

            And then, just like that, the song is over, and they separate. Elwen twirls away as she sinks between the rows of other dancers, and then she walks away. Blackwell can search the whole house and the whole party; he will not find Maronette or Natalie, as they have already left during the dance. She almost wants to giggle, thinking of his desperate, frantic search for the three women who hold his reputation in their hands.

            A moment later, Elwen emerges through the door out of the secret garden, outside the Eutarion Villa, having navigated the maze to reach a small, almost secret route used by servants to carry deliveries to the homes in the area without using the front entrances. There, Maronette and Natalie are waiting under a lamp post, lighting the unglamorous service footpath.

            Natalie must've said something funny, as they are both laughing when Elwen approaches. Maronette quickly stiffens and stops laughing at the sight of her lover, as if she has been caught doing something untoward, but Elwen dismisses her concern by planting a kiss on her lips and then passing a possessive arm behind Maronette's shoulder.

            "It's done," she says proudly.

            "Well… That's great, so… We did it, right?"

            "We did our part. Now, if Blackwell and the... Uh… Club, hold their end, everything is set."

            "Seems like you guys had a great evening," Natalie says, pulling a pillowcase that jingles, filled with assorted silverware, jewellery, and the like, no doubt.

            "Seems like you had a great one too."

            "Oh, I did," Natalie says, giving the pillow another jiggle and seeming pleased with how full it sounds. "How about I go drop this on my stash, we take a silver candelabra to my fence, and I buy you both drinks at the Hare 'n' Hog?"

            "Hare and Hog?" Elwen tilts her head.

            "Uh… Very sleazy tavern Natalie and I sometimes drank at back... Uh…”

            "Back when we were both crooked… Instead of just me," Natalie finishes in playful self-loathing.

            "Yeah… It's a shady place. Probably a bad idea to go there," Maronette informs.

            "Yeah, probably a bad idea," Elwen agrees.

            Then she pulls her lover into an intense, passionate kiss, having a sense that Natalie winced at the sight at the corner of her eye and feeling a small joy in taunting her like that. As she breaks the kiss, she finishes the thought:

            "Let's do it anyway."

            "What, really?"

            "Yeah, what the hell… I sure need a drink. Didn't get much of that in there," Elwen notes.

            And then, the three of them begin to walk down the service footpath, planning to make their way to the seedy part of town. Maybe a stop or two on the way to get rid of loot and those very flashy clothes. And as Elwen and Maronette walk side by side, Natalie steps up her pace to catch up with them, holding that pillowcase over her shoulder.

            Then Elwen feels a hand on her ass, delivering a soft, playful squeeze. But it isn't the crude, sleazy hand of Blackwell. It also isn't Maronette's firm but gentle touch. Elwen opens her eyes wide in surprise and turns to Natalie as an oblivious Maronette looks at the stars above. Natalie winks.

            'This girl is trouble,' Elwen thinks to herself. And together, they walk into the night.