[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren wasn't sure what exactly had happened last night. Of course she'd turned over every detail in her head 50 times, recounted every word they'd said, and thought about each kiss more times than she could recall. Part of her brain wanted to scold herself. It was rash. It was irresponsible. But then again, it made far more sense than her first marriage.

Declan had been in her life for a long time. He'd been a best friend, a confidant, an ally, a companion and now, apparently a lover. More than a lover, he was going to marry her. He was going to be her husband and that was still a lot to process. Nevertheless it felt right. She was anxious about going to his home. Anxious that seeing him again after what had happened would be odd? Was the spark going to be gone? Did he regret what had happened last night? If he did and he'd changed his mind at least he was a gentleman and she could trust him to never divulge what had happened or what he had seen. However it seemed unlikely that would be the case. They both had to marry. They both needed to produce heirs. While their respective Firms might question their choice there was no denying that an Abercrombie-O'Dwyer union would be earth shattering in their tiny world. So perhaps even the worst case scenario, that their relationship fell flat, or their love never fully blossomed there were far worse fates than being married to your very rich, very well pedigreed best friend.



Whatever was to come of this journey she was optimistic. She'd told him that she loved him and she'd meant it. Perhaps it was not the kind of love that romance novels were written about but it was love none the less. She cared for him - always had. She respected him. She valued his opinion and trusted his choices. She wanted to talk to him as often as possible. To laugh with him. And though it was difficult to admit she was more than a little curious about what kind of lover he would be. If that wasn't love she didn't know what was. It was certainly more love than she'd ever felt for Clive.

There was but one thing left to do now. Pursing her lips she looked down at her hand. She still wore her engagement ring and the diamond wedding band Clive had given her. Even though it hardly felt like it she was Mrs. Rosier. Everyone that mattered knew it. So the flashy ring remained in place because she'd refused to wear an old fashioned widow's ring like she'd been advised. Tugging the obscenely large diamond solitaire and band off her finger she sat it gently in the middle of her vanity table. Perhaps she'd need to wear it in public, to not arouse suspicion amongst the chattering ladies of society, but there was no need to wear it around Declan. She had left his pearl bracelet on and she'd decided it would stay on until he replaced it with a ring.

She'd selected her favorite red day dress to wear for the day, it was the holidays afterall. Her hair was pulled up off her neck but so casually that strands were falling around her face. Her face was bare apart from a bit of mascara and lip stick. There was no jewelry, she thought after last night, seeing as he'd seen her so raw, there was no point in hiding behind makeup and jewels now. It was elegant if a bit unpolished she thought. Pulling her cloak on she took a deep soothing breath and closed her eyes.

The pop was quick, the lurch through time and space jostling but her feet landed firmly on the stone path in a matter of seconds. She had arrived at his home, Glenbally. It was bright even though it was cold, she turned her gaze up to the house before her. An impressed scoff escaped her as she took in the massive estate. Of course she knew the O'Dwyers were rich and had vast land holdings but this was their old estate and extremely grand indeed. She giggled as she headed towards the front door. Was this place to be her future home? She'd never so much as considered the possibility of living in Ireland but before marrying Clive she'd never planned to live in London either.

It was uncouth but she rapped her fist against the front door quickly only to be promptly greeted and shown into an expansive foyer by an elf. Discarding her cloak she waited for Declan pacing the foyer taking the space in thoughtfully.

[Declan O'Dwyer]

The previous night still seemed surreal to Declan. He'd come home only to find he couldn't sleep. His mind kept revolving around Farren. It was as if he had fallen into a well of stars. Being with her had been mysterious and enchanting. Everything glittered and sparkled. He'd been falling, letting himself go, sinking deeper and deeper into a something between them he previously doubted. He'd always wanted to be bold and brave, but he knew that in reality he was restrained and closed off. And yet, Farren had somehow chipped away at his armour enough to get a true glimpse of him. Did she know how rare it was that he allowed himself to be so vulnerable with another person? Did she understand just how much it meant?

After an eternity if lying awake, letting his mind spin he finally drifted off into deep sleep. At long last he had arrived in a safe place.

When he woke again, it was scandalously late. Declan couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in until noon. Maybe, as a schoolboy? Sun was spilling through the tall, arched windows of his bedroom and bathed everything in a golden glow. It felt warm and comforting and he allowed himself to idle for a couple of minutes before starting his day. Farren was supposed to come and visit. He pinched the back of his hand just to test if any of this could possibly be real. A giggle escaped him as he came to understand that the previous night had really happened. They'd tentatively started planning marriage. How strange, just hours before that he had been so very sure she didn't want him.

Getting up, he padded to his bedroom window, looking out into the garden. It had snowed overnight, covering up the green and brown mottled grass with a pristine white blanket. Even the artificial lake at the end of the terraced stairs had frozen over. Declan normally didn't like this season much. In his opinion the old estate was prettier during the other seasons, but he couldn't deny that there was a certain grace and tranquillity to the scene before him. Would Farren like it? To him, the Wicklow Mountains were one of the most beautiful places on earth, but it wasn't fashionable in the way her townhouse in London was. Yet, he wanted her to like it here.

Declan supposed he would find out soon. He got ready, called on the two house elves that usually stayed with him and explained that they would be having a visitor. Both Orli and Daithi seemed rather surprised at the idea. It wasn't often that anyone visited save Master Penhaligon or the occasional local from the nearby wizarding town. Declan had tried to blend into Glenbally and the local culture as much as he could, but the class divide between him and the witches and wizards that lived mostly ordinary lives there was hard to overcome.

His little speech ended, and the elves broke into frantic activity. While the estate was old, ancient, and noble, it was also not really fit state to receive visitors. There were only a few rooms actually in use, while many of the others were in various states of disrepair. Orli would have liked to suggest that Declan receive his guests in Dublin or preferably at Dún Laoghaire, but she knew better than to contradict her master's requests. She'd just have to iron her hands again and that wouldn't be doing anyone any good. There weren't enough elves and staff to run a noble house as was.

Declan himself seemed rather unconcerned. After all, Farren was here to see him, not to be impressed by O'Dwyer wealth and ostentation. That, and the foyer certainly looked the part. It had been one of  the first rooms he'd restored after moving into the old building. The west side too looked mostly presentable now, if one disregarded a couple of empty rooms and that one room on the ground floor adjacent to the old winter garden. There was no helping that space. Magical plants kept sprawling and infesting, much like they did all over the east wing.

His hair was still damp when Farren knocked on the door. He rushed down the stairs only to find that his house elf had beaten him to the door and had let Farren inside already. She was an absolutely vision before him. She looked more beautiful in her red day dress than in any of the formal gowns he had seen her in before. His eyes lit up as he drank her in. Seeing her stand there in the foyer he thought she rather looked like she belonged, as if she'd always been meant to be here, mistress of this estate and the lands that surrounded it.

"Thank you, Orli," he dismissed the elf, rather wanting to be alone with Farren. Within a heartbeat he had swept her up in his arms and place a gentle peck on both her cheeks. "Finally," he whispered to her, his voice so charged with emotion it sounded alien even to him. Then he broke into a laugh. Looking down, he couldn't help but notice what a strange couple they were. Even thought she had clearly dressed down, she still looked like a fairy tale princess next to him. He was dressed in a striped shirt, waistcoat, and a pair of simple trousers. Had he missed a memo? Was he supposed to have gone all out?

"Good nobody is photographing us today," he commented in-between giggles. "You look breath-taking my love. I'm afraid I'm not nearly as put-together at home. Slept in, blaming you for that." He let her go again and took a step backwards.  "Would you like a tour of the house? Have you eaten? I thought you might fancy some lunch. Or should we go and see the horses? I daresay you might like my Lord Fenian, he's quite something."

[Farren Abercrombie]

As he hurried down the stairs towards her she couldn't help but grin. He looked so relaxed, his usual coat missing, his hair damp and unstyled. Farren found it rather charming, the grand foyer she found herself in only adding to the effect. She giggled as he pulled her into him and found herself immediately returning the gesture wrapping her arms tightly around him. Laughing she shook her head a little, "Finally? It's not even been 12 hours." Smiling up at him she bumped her nose gently against his before giggling a little again.

"Well I didn't think it was appropriate to show up entirely disheveled or still in my nightclothes," she commented as he complimented her. For a moment she hesitated to say exactly what came to her mind but then quickly decided she should be open and transparent about her thoughts if he was going to understand her and how things were with her.  "If you intend to one day make me the Mistress of this place I can't show up looking like I don't know how to manage such a home can I?" She worried it was forward, to say it so plainly that she was going to rule over this massive palace one day but his affection had clearly not cooled in the slightest since last night. There was no point in risking a bad impression with the servants now only to have to back pedal in the future.  She might not speak Irish and she might not have the knowledge of the land and people in the area but she had been raised in a great country estate and was more than prepared to helm her own ship.

"It's stunning by the way," she added, "When my feet hit the flagstones out front I was a bit surprised. It's more than I expected. You've been to Dalemain. I believe it is older but smaller. This may even be larger than our other Cumbria home - Hutton. I had expected to live in Hutton after I was married but somehow ended up in London instead. Traditionally in my set the heir lives in Hutton as their personal home, it was built overtime as the family outgrew Dalemain, technically Dalemain is supposed to be just the head of the family but seeing as my father was disinterested in helming his own ship we stayed at Dalemain with Grandfather."

Smiling up at him she wondered if he loathed the idea of Dalemain on account of having been there for her wedding to Clive. Would her beloved home be tainted for him by the memories? One day she'd like to assume her birthright as the Mistress of Dalemain but if Declan hated it she was not sure how they would manage. Hutton was massive and beautiful and magical too but Dalemain was and always would be home. Though already she was amused by the idea of becoming the lady of two massive palaces, both Hutton and this place. Her mother had always resented her father for not moving into Hutton and denying her the privilege of being lady of her own house. Now Farren could claim two stately homes.

"I think I prefer a tour of the house first, perhaps lunch afterwards? I had toast and coffee less than two hours ago so I suppose I'm ok for a bit longer." She reached out and took his hand giving it a little squeeze of affection. Her nerves were more in check than when she'd departed London but this was all still new and overwhelming even if she felt joyous. "I don't know if I'm dressed for horses today but a tour of the garden might be manageable," she said reaching down to lift her skirt and show him her pretty little red silk slippers which were clearly not appropriate for stables even if they were flat. "Next time I'll need to pack my boots and outdoor skirts that I use at Dalemain. I even have a pair of breeches if we are to get truly outdoorsy with the horses."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

"Eleven hours for you and many years for me," he joked with her sweetly. "You don't even know how often I've thought of having you here with me." He pulled her a little closer yet, just enjoying the feeling of holding her in his arms. She continued talking and he was pleased that she seemed to like the house and had her mind set on how to claim it as a future Mistress. Others may had found it too forward or even off-putting, but to Declan it sounded exactly like what he would have wanted to hear. She was serious still the morning after. He wanted to melt into her, but another part of him was getting swept up in a bit of giddy excitement. He was actually looking forward to showing her around.

Her words about her father and Dalemain remained on his mind, but Declan successfully managed to keep his thoughts on either subject to himself. It was strange how they were both of roughly equal standing and yet everything about their lives was so different. An heir not helming the family business as well as not producing male issue was unthinkable. Declan's father had only been given leave to pursue his personal ambitions after the line of succession had been secured. Mr Abercrombie, on the other hand, seemed to get away with everything. Not looking after the business, not maintaining the properties, and not fathering additional children. He idly wondered why the idea of Farren's parents not having another child had been written off as impossible. Surely, they were still young enough?

He tried to brush these thoughts away, not wanting to sour the mood between him and Farren when for once they seemed to be in sync with each other. "I should warn you, while this estate is indeed grand and glorious, it's not in as good a state as it may appear on first impression. Remember, I once  told you about here and my family's history. This place was abandoned for over a hundred year and, well, it's just me and two of house elves here while parts of it are still undergoing refurbishment and reconstruction. I suspect it won't meet with your exacting standards just yet, but I am confident it will get there eventually."

Suddenly, he felt quite nervous thinking that maybe this was too soon. Hopefully, she wouldn't be too disappointed. "Anyway, this way please." He opened the door to a beautiful little drawing room. It was bright an airy, with big, arched windows and delicate white and gold furnishings. Decorating the walls were portraits of several O'Dwyer ladies, each moving and waving at the two of them entered the room. Declan rolled his eyes at the portraits and gave a little laugh.

"I think you may the most interesting thing to happen here in a very long time, please forgive them."

Declan gave a stern look to one of the ladies dressed in a sapphire blue gown. Some words were exchanges in Irish causing the ladies to abandon their portrait frames, turning their backs on them one by one.

"Sorry about that, I didn't think to ask them to leave before you came. But don't you worry, none of these ladies would dare to defy my wishes as master of this house. Our secret shall be safe with them for now."

"Anyway, this is just a drawing room, there is quite a few of these. This one was the favourite of quite a few women in the family as it affords a rather nice view of the garden." He opened the door to an adjoining room, containing an intricately painted pianoforte and a few seats. "Probably out of tune," he commented, "but you're very welcome to try it out if you want to. I'm told it has a very unique sound by an expert who was here to help with repairing it, but I couldn't say if that is uniquely good or uniquely bad."

He opened the door to yet another adjoining room. It contained the same wooden flooring but had a beautifully painted ceiling featuring lush vegetation and Celtic knotwork pattern. Otherwise, it was clean, but unfurnished. "Empty at the moment. I've been consulting some old floor plans and I believe this once was a specialised library on herbology, but none of the books were recoverable. Not sure if I should try to restore it or do something else with it. The room one down from it is currently empty as well."

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren was surprised when he revealed more about the house. However did he manage with just himself and two elves? In such a massive place. Her brow arched, her skepticism that such a thing were even possible evident. "Only two elves, in this massive place?" she mused softly. "Surely, that isn't sustainable? Not if it's to be run as a real house hold." Having come to her home in Belgravia twice now he was well aware that she had a well rounded staff. Perhaps too well rounded. But surely, he would understand, that she'd expect more than two elves? She had been with her maid since she was a teen and her butler had joined them when they bought the house but indeed she'd become very attached to him. Her elves as well, they had come along when she was wed but at this point were her allies through and through. It was too early to worry about this though, she wasn't Mrs. O'Dwyer yet and this was not yet her home to worry about.

Offering him a little smile she nodded, encouraging him as he ushered her out of the foyer. Gingerly she reached out for his arm, resting her hand in the crook of his elbow as they entered what was clearly a drawing room. It was a handsome room, thoughtfully finished. She too laughed a little at the stir amongst the portraits. Even though she had no doubt it was somehow encouraging to hear she was the most exciting thing to happen here in a long while, she took it as a sign that he'd probably not brought other women here. "If our secret was let out of the bag by a portrait of all sources I don't think we'd ever forgive ourselves. I'm sure the O'Dwyer ladies are more than ready for you to settle down and wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that."

"Tuning a pianoforte is not too difficult, with the right spells," she said observing the room, "I grew up playing a six octave pianoforte so I suppose it would be simple enough to get this one in working order if you wanted it." Pulling away from him she walked over the the instrument and gently placed her fingers on the keys and pressed out one simple cord. Indeed the thing was horribly out of tune. She giggled and moved her fingers lazily to another cord. "Oh dear," she said smirking over her shoulder back at him. "Perhaps we will require a true professional. If only we knew a master," she teased.

Rejoining him at the doorway of the adjoining room she glanced around at the empty space and nodded, already things were empty and bare. He'd not even fully re-done all the main receiving rooms. That didn't particularly bode well for the rest of the house. "Were all the original furnishings lost?" she asked once again resting her hand on his arm by his side. It seemed odd that a family like this would let a place like this fall to near ruin. They didn't seem the type to take things like this for granted. "How did it come to be like this? Your people don't seem like the kind to abandon their heritage. How did it come to this? No one has resided in Hutton since my Grandfather was there but we keep a couple elves around to make sure things don't go awry. All the furniture is covered and maintained, waiting for it's next Master and Mistress."


She wasn't judging the O'Dwyers persay but it did seem odd. Considering the room she wondered how bored he must get here in this great house all alone with but two elves. Perhaps that was why he'd taken on the humble role of a tradesman? To occupy himself and provide some sort of companionship. "If you have a catalog of the library it's entirely possible that we have copies of many of the volumes in our private library. You have never seen it, I know, but the family library is....well....it comes second only to the Hogwarts library I'm told. We've been squirreling away books and copies of books and duplicating manuscripts for centuries at this point. Even the very early texts, the manuscripts, they made copies without telling the original owners and kept them in that crypt for the last 400 odd years and what not. Grandfather said if the muggle authorities ever found out what we had hidden away we'd all be arrested on trumped up charges so they could seize our invaluable historic collection. Apparently muggles are very bad at conservation and manuscripts from the 1400s and such are worth millions of muggle currency and highly prized State treasures. I'm sure we could re-make this catalog it if you'd like, at least some of it."

"When exactly do you plan to finish this renovation and how much is left to complete?"

[Declan O'Dwyer]

He smiled at her little jokes, pleased to have Farren this unguarded and at ease. If she wanted to help with retuning the piano or restoring the library, he'd be all about it. While he was not all that gracious about accepting help in general, he could see himself being content accepting her thoughts and input. She was a refined lady or great taste, a fellow artist. She'd see things in a similar way as he did himself.

"Original plans and library catalogues, hmm, I'm sure I have those somewhere, or perhaps Fiona can retrieve them for me. If you're willing to help, I'd be excited to try. I'd kinda written off the library and as a possibility. So many missing pieces that I wouldn't even know where to start."

As much as he loved books, he wasn't really an expert on how to find rare works or where to source them. It was probably an issue that could easily be resolved with throwing money at it, but the thought of that seemed rather unappealing. He'd managed to pour a bit of himself into every step on this restoration. Solving his issues with money seemed like a cheap way out, pun intended. He wanted the experience to be personally meaningful. Potentially completing a room with her, ticked that box. 

Of course, Farren had a few questions about the place. "Didn't I tell you?" He raised and eyebrow trying to think back. "This house was cursed and the spell used destroyed much of the house in the process. There is some dark family history contained within these walls. Murder, ghosts, intrigue, we have it all. It's a grim little tale for sure. I suppose the good news is that the curse is receding wherever I put my hands and invest my magic. It's an arduous process though. Not always easy to endure either."

He shrugged, not sure how much she really wanted to hear. When it came to family history he could talk for hours on end and there was so much she didn't know about yet, or perhaps had only heard a few vague rumours about but none of the details. He left it up to her to ask him for more information, if indeed the house's history sparked interest for her.

"I don't know that I have timeline for finishing it. There was never any time pressure for me to complete it. Until now at least." He gave her a cheeky little grin as he contemplated the happy thought of one day living here with her.

"There's  an awful lot left to do. I will admit though that I have been slow in making progress. I've been taking my time refurbishing a room at a time, trying to make it as grand and beautiful as it once was, but also a functional home for the here and now. I was thinking about getting some professionals to assist, but I'm not sure that I like the idea of that. I think I'm a little too particular about how I want things done."

"Of course, it now occurs to me the future Mistress of this house might have an opinion or preference on the furnishings as well. I should enlist her help on the subject as well."

"And of course there's elves that need to be relocated too," he commented on his lack of staff. "But while it's just me here, Farren, that never seemed very urgent either. I've spent years sleeping in a small bedroom in Russia above a potion shop. I don't require much in the way of staff. Once the house is restored though that will need looking into for sure. I'd like to be able to receive guests here on occasion and it's certainly not fit for that at the moment." 

As he spoke of receiving guests he opened the door into a grand ballroom featuring beautiful  parquet flooring and painted walls. Continuing on the tour the next room was his lab. He just opened the door to show her, indicating towards the space. Of course the winter garden had to be next. He let her into the space overcrowded with hundreds of different orchid cultivars. Everything was meticulously labelled and beautifully arranged. The heart of the winter garden contained some seating arrangements, carefully tucked away between al the different plants.

Declan wrinkled his nose when he spotted a particular orchid and gave a soft laugh. The black and pink specimen most certainly didn't belong here. He gave the plant a stern look. It seemed to shake its blossoms at Declan, but eventually acquiesced by fading into nothingness.

"That one's just a handful," Declan commented as if it was entirely normal that orchids responded with gestures and could fade into nothingness. "He likes to give me trouble."

He turned to her and the way she looked where she stood amidst a sea of white blossoms captured his thoughts and imagination. Without any hesitation he stepped up to her, stole a kiss from her lips and continued from the winter garden on into the next room. This one, of course, was a bit of a mess. A sea of black orchids sprouted from every conceivable bit of surface, almost entirely engulfing the space.

"See this mess? I've got it contained to a few rooms now. Hopefully soon there will be none. I mean not that I dislike orchids... in fact I rather like them, but this is a touch excessive even for my taste."

[Farren Abercrombie]

She nodded, "Of course, if I can help I would. Surely we have many of the titles...we have almost everything it seems like?" Perhaps working on something like that, an old library, would help her feel connected to any of this. A massive sprawling house in another country, devoid of anything that was hers or her people's. If she could fix up this library with things they had at Dalemain, even if they were reproductions of the originals stored to posterity at Dalemain, perhaps it could be somewhat hers?


His tale of the house was not necessarily what she'd wanted to hear. Vaguely she recalled him explaining this place had been abandon, perhaps she even knew of the curse in some sense, but none of that had really dawned on her or had much thought put to it. It wasn't until 10 hours ago that she'd expected to see much of him ever again. Maybe that wasn't true, surely she'd expected to see him again, saying yes to everything had come so easily. Why this tale of the house, even the undetailed version, made her feel tense she wasn't quite sure. Plenty of old magical houses had -- complications. But as they moved from one vast, room to another she began to feel the warm joy and rush of being beside him wane. The dull fluttering of butterflies was returning slowl. Was she truly to be mistress of this place? Wife to Declan? Of course she knew she'd all but promised to marry him, of course she had meant it, but now putting things into motion in the light of day, it all seemed a lot.


At least he seemed to realize this place was a huge undertaking. Staff would be required and though he only mentioned elves she was already wondering what family butler and footmen she could scalp from her parents or the Rosiers. Surely her butler would leap at the chance to upgrade from a Belgravia row house to a literal palace? This place was so grand she couldn't imagine the fortune it was going to take to restore it. Not that it mattered to them but surely, he was going to end up spending far more on this house than had been spent on any kind of magical dwelling in decades.


The winter garden, its perfectly arranged flowers and tubers was no doubt charming. Awe inspiring perhaps if she hadn't been already privately engulfed in the thought of household staffs and work. This was a woman's burden she knew. Men like Declan could happily plug away at absurdly unrealistic projects leisurely. However women like her had been raised to manage things just like this and little else. "It's very beautiful," she said softly following him into the warm, humid room. It was, this place was beautiful, but it was starting to feel all so overwhelming. Declan stole a kiss and she wasn't sure if she felt more grounded or more disconnected.


Moving into the next room she was at first unsure what was happening. It was a bizarre scene, something she'd never seen, and then as her brain began to piece together what was in front of her the rising sense of anxiety became apparent. It was an infestation. Orchids, stem-y bits, leaves, dark petals, roots clinging to every surface. It should be beautiful. It should be bizarrely intriguing but somehow it made her skin crawl. She shuddered taking a step back. "Oh no...." she murmured. Her bright eyes darted to Declan who seemed quite at ease with the invasion of his home. How was he so casual about the fact that these organisms had consumed his house? Sprouting from every space like mold. The disorder of it all, the smothering canopy of the wild stems, somehow it completely creeped her out.


"I don't like it...." she said swallowing a lump in her throat her brow furrowed. "How can you live with these things? They're creepy. What if they take over your room while you sleep? What if they suffocate you? They're blocking out the natural light...." shaking her head a little she pushed her fingers into her hair, clearly extremely anxious. It wasn't that she disliked the house or disliked the plants themselves it was the infestation, the uncontrolled, the wildness of it all. "I'm sorry...it makes me feel, odd," she said pursing her lips. "Not the house, just these....they're everywhere. How can we live with this?"


Biting the inside of her cheek she moved forward and took his hand, "Let's go back to the other rooms, I feel overwhelmed at the moment," pulling his hand she tugged him back towards the room they'd just passed through, the conservatory whose neat and orderly orchids now made more sense but sat more uneasy with her now. Holding tight on his hand she led him onwards back to the empty, clean expanse that was the former library. Through the door she turned and abruptly pushed the door shut behind her dropping his hand as she did. Pausing, looking at the door for a moment, her back to him. Was she being rude? Would he be offended?

"I'm sorry. It's not you or the house. The house is lovely I just....I've never seen this kind of thing." Slowly she turned to face him, her back against the door as if she was going to physically block the plants from coming this way. "Surely you should hire someone to help get rid of them? Surely they will eat the house down to the foundation stones if you don't? How many rooms are like that? Why haven't they all gone?"  Sighing she realized she was being to forceful, rapid firing questions at him.


"Are things out of control? Should we be more rational and even tempered about all of this? What are we going to do? Live in Clive's house because yours is full of a plant infestation? Grandfather is going to lose his mind if he thinks I'm moving countries to live in a house infested with wild plants about to strangle me."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

She had a lot of rightful and valid concerns about the orchids. He nodded seriously, and tried to give her a reassuring look. "They're not aggressive," Declan said simple, "just insidious. And yes, quite creepy. But I'm slowly making progress. It's just that clearing a room takes a lot out of me and I am afraid that with the clearing it has to be me. There's blood magic involved."

He sighed, wishing he could give her an easier answer, but he would not lie to Farren. He respected her deeply and didn't just want to say something she wanted to hear for the sake of making things easier for himself.

"They won't take over my room while I sleep," Declan said with absolute certainty. "They don't usually venture back into a room that's been cleared, but more importantly I am not guilty of the crime that triggers this curse so the plants co-exist peacefully with me. And, you might like to know that they can't come for you either. You're a woman and not of O'Dwyer blood as far as I know. In fact, they'd probably try to protect you if anyone ever tried to harm you."

"Let me tell you the story of what happened here and show you a bit of how to deal with it." He gently touched her shoulder, pushing against it. "Take a step back love. When I start casting it'll get very, very bright in here. Make sure you look away if it gets too much."

He danced forward into the room, carefully making sure not to step on any of the plants.

"This story starts a very long time ago. As you might know clan Ó Dubhuidhir was one of the ancient Gaelic noble houses. We're direct descents of the High King of Leinster. There was one thing that always mattered the most. Virtus sola nobilitas. Virtue alone is noble. It's a value we still uphold, but of course throughout history we strayed. Being virtuous is hard.

When the English came to conquer our lands and steal our riches my family didn't stand with the other Irish families to fight. We remained here in Glenbally being traitors and collaborators. We sold out other families when we could, and we turned on our roots and culture. Our children didn't learn to speak Irish anymore. Everything was done in service to the English crown and the we fell from Irish society. Of course, we'd jumped into bed with an enemy we could not win against.

Our daughters would marry into English families where they would be looked down upon and treated poorly, despite the wealth in diamonds and minerals provided as dowry. But all of that was not enough. Even the Statue of Secrecy would not protect us from the war swapping from the muggle world into the magical world too. With our lands and holdings plundered, much of what we held was destroyed.

It was against that political backdrop that The Ó Dubhuidhir Mhòr of the time came to his senses and we joined the resistance. However, he didn't want to let the English know we had changed sides. His daughter, Fiona, was a very talented witch. Perhaps, one of the most powerful the family has ever seen. She was a skilled herbologist, but also a prodigy in the art of blood magic, using it mostly to heal. In order to give the appearance of continued loyalty of the O'Dwyers to the English, she was asked to seduce and become engaged to a Mr Nott.

As the war progressed we joined the defence of our island and the engagement was broken. Mr Nott felt used and betrayed. He brutalised Fiona in an unspeakable manner and then had his way with her. When it was found that Fiona was with child but not married, the family decided to burn her off the family tree and expel her from our home here at Glenbally to fend for herself on the streets.

Rather than accept such a fate, Fiona took her own life and that of her unborn child. She enchanted her orchids to drink their blood after their death and that is how the infestation started. It subsumed the house and everything in here within a few years. Since it's a blood curse, it can only be broken by someone of O'Dwyer linage. And more importantly it has to be someone who will openly acknowledge Fiona as a honourable daughter of house O'Dwyer who sacrificed greatly. It's why the curse stood for as long as it has."

Telling the tale he'd managed to climb over a lot of orchids to make the centre of the room. "Likely, there is one original plant in this room, sometimes it's two, from which all the others are spawned. I think this is a second condition of her magic. Do not harm her beloved plants and take care of them."

Standing in the centre of the room he pulled his wand and started to weave an intricate net of spells. It took many incantations to create a ball of golden light in front of him. As it's glow grew stronger the orchids started to recede and disappear into nothingness. The room around him crackled with magical energy. He kept tirelessly applying layers, the sheer magical power required to do so quite palpable in the expression on his face and his struggle to complete each wand movement.

"It's me Fiona," he addressed his ancestor in a faint whisper. "I could use your help with this. I was going to show my future wife this room." His little speech seemed to work as a ghostly figure burst through the wall and joined him casting, same spell, same wand movements as him. The light grew brighter yet, then burst into a blinding flash. As it subsided all the flowers save one where gone. Just a tiny specimen of a black and pink orchid sitting on the floor. The room otherwise remained a mess of destroyed furniture, tapestries and art. The ghost too had disappeared.

Declan wobbled on his legs, then accepted defeat and awkwardly found a way to squat on the floor, his breath coming in ragged bursts. Looking around himself he seemed surprised to find that the spell had actually worked. He hadn't quite expected it. This room had been giving him trouble for a while. Maybe, his desire to reassure Farren had helped with finally drawing enough power to clear it.

When he could breathe again, he summoned the remained orchid specimen to him and carefully cradled it. "We'll find you a nice place in the winter garden with your friends." he said to the plant.

Then he carefully looked to Farren, trying to make out how she was feeling. "So... I'm afraid this'll take a bit, but I'm sure I can manage before anything's official. Is that good enough?" He was clearly struggling to speak pushing a great deal of pain and exhaustion out of his features in an effort to give her another soft smile. The result came out mostly lopsided.

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren's eyebrow arched at the assurance that if anything these blood magic infestations would try to protect her. Thank you very much, but no thank you - she thought. She'd grown up in a house with blood magic, Dalemain was shrouded by it, nearly impenetrable under its protection. Even her own mother, an Abercrombie by marriage, was not spared it's effects and had to wear a talisman, her wedding band, to subvert it's powers.

"I know well enough to not try and cross blood magic that isn't part of my own clan's handy work, but I think I prefer to defend myself if anything," she confirmed with a little nod. However she did at least step away from the door knowing now the nasty things would not come running after them. She didn't like the idea of him opening the door again, which he obviously was about to do, but he clearly was determined to make a point.

She listened, watching him thoughtfully. Of course she knew nothing about his family history. No one bothered to teach her Irish history or the lineage of Irish magical clans. Her family could barely stomach their own Scottish heritage half the time, torn between their beautiful Scottish homelands and the hills of the Lake District they'd called home for the last several hundred years. When the family had splintered during the Grindlewald years those more moderate had returned to the family estates in Fife. Those that remained in England began to distance themselves from their long held heritage apart from their name and the more aesthetic bits of being Scottish. Gaelic was never spoken and on the rare occasion they did visit their remaining holdings in Scotland they were not exactly warmly received by the Abercrombies shunted back to Scotland with less of the fortune for refusing to fall in line politically. The idea of learning about the Irish of all people and their clans was, up until now, mostly laughable. At least the Scots had some civility in their eventual settling down.


As the tale unfolded she became interested, not so much for the history, but for what it meant for her - an English woman. This was exactly the sort of thing she expected her Grandfather to take issue with. It was bad enough her mother was half French. Now she would be marrying someone so horribly Irish he could never play that down or ignore it. Better yet she was moving into an empty palace full of wild magical plants that somehow were tied to the family betraying their people in favor of the English, only to then turn their back on the English they'd promised loyalty to.

Obviously the bit about the daughter seducing an English nobleman and then all of this violence would have to be omitted from any telling to her family. It made sense that Declan thought these creepy things would protect her as a female but perhaps they would turn against her upon hearing her accent. There was no mistaking the difference between her curt, posh, English affect and his soft, lyrical Irish accent. Perhaps these nasty things could detect blood composition or some such thing? What if they picked up on the high concentration of English blood in her? Even if her people were technically Scottish 800 years ago did that count? Her mother was half French, could that save her?

As he made his way into the center of the room Farren was torn between feeling concerned for both of their safety and incredulous about the whole story. It seemed like an incredibly childish and petty thing to do -- destroy a beautiful historic palace because your family did not want to recognize a bastard child. Brutalized or not she would never expect anyone to respect her if she found herself in such a scenario. Surely, even back then, as a talented witch there were ways to remedy such annoyances? Would these plants kill her if she didn't necessarily, fully disagree with the O'Dwyer's stance? Could these plants read her mind? Surely not, surely she was giving them far too much credit now.


Keeping back towards the door, along the perimeter she watched as he began to cast, it was rather entertaining at least. Squinting against the golden light that showered the room from the center mass he'd cast in front of himself. Farren wasn't sure if she should laugh or be horrified as Declan spoke into the room only to be joined promptly by a ghostly figure. Quickly her mind made up that she didn't like this in the slightest and instinctively her hand slid in her pocket, long fingers wrapping tightly around the silver handle of her wand. Did he really expect her to live in this place? Haunted by a ghost who had been brutalized by the English? Covered in magical infested plants? Declan was a bit mad but not so mad as this was he? Their children would be half English, they'd grow up most likely with English accents, and if he were part English by way of his family's loyalty and she were mostly English by well - birth - surely this house would eat her sons?

As the light flashed her free hand rose to shield her eyes as she instinctively tensed, her body bracing for some force unknown to come down upon them. But it didn't. It faded as quickly as it flashed, leaving the two of them alone in the messy room illuminated by the now cleared windows.

Lowering her hand she scowled as Declan nearly hunched down on the floor. She wasn't sure if she should aide him or if for some reason the dust had to settle. Expression tense she watched him for a moment waiting for her cue. She was not very reassured overall though he'd clearly exhausted himself trying. All those orchids in the conservatory were part of this - it made sense - but sat uneasily with her still. Poor Declan seemed so determined to show this place off and make her feel confident she couldn't bring herself to disappoint him.

"I suppose....." she started wondering how to politely tell him she thought this place was utterly mad and her Grandfather would kill him before letting her move in here. "We will have to see how you get on. Won't we just?" Smiling demurely, she approached him slowly and held out her hand for him to take to help hoist him up back onto his feet fully.

"Even if your house does try to kill me....that was quite impressive," she said moving closer to him. "I suppose I'd be impolite if I didn't acknowledge you are more than capable of defending me, which I am confident you can."

Perhaps that would appease him, stroking his ego to avoid further conversations about what would inevitably be a massive O'Dwyer - Abercrombie family feud, requiring at best a mediator and at worst a newly erected mausoleum. She didn't know what she was supposed to do now though. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, a peek into what was hopefully her future, but in reality it was far from what she'd imagined. Tidy, bright, empty rooms were easy enough to imagine making home. Though most things were inherited by her set it wasn't abnormal to take on an empty home and pack it to the gills with family heirlooms and pieces from other families unfortunate to have lost their own stately homes. This was quite beyond expectation though, in a negative way.

"I suppose you must be hungry now mustn't you?" she offered him a small smile. She was not particularly hungry but if lunch avoided the unearthing of further potential conflicts she could make an exception. Glancing across the room she tried not to fret about the ordeal in front of her. If he was going to have all this sorted before anything was official surely he was planning on a long courtship. Either that or this house would nay be mentioned in the process of making things official. A decoy would have to be employed, something grander than his flat in Dublin but less occupied by demonic plants than this.

[Declan O'Dwyer]

There was so much remaining unsaid between himself and Farren that it was suffocating. She complimented him, but it was easy to see her heart wasn't in it. We're they making a big mistake? It was the first time since their little high the night previous that a bad thought asserted itself. They were friends, there was no doubt about that. They also had passion. But love, love was something else entirely. Did she really understand his heart and his dreams? Did she really want the same things in life he did? Doubt flickered through his mind.

He knew she was a cold sort of woman, poised and elegant, but right now he'd have preferred her emotional. Even angry would have been better than this very sanitised reaction. She hated it here, didn't she? Reclaiming this estate was joyous and personally meaningful to him, but probably just tedious to her. It was a bit of a sobering realisation. She'd never been a dreamer like him. Farren was a realist and very straight forward, grounded in the here and now while he saw the world in shades of what if. How could he make her understand not just what this place but what it could be and represented to him. Food for thought.

He quietly thanked her as she helped him up. A felt a flicker of anger seething under his skin. Wasn't this afternoon meant to be about love and passion and romance? Hadn't they set out to just enjoy each other? Well, he supposed it was hard to shake the people they'd been asked to become. Shrewd politicians, always evaluating their next move. A sigh escaped him. "You might not understand it yet and I am sure it makes very little sense to you, but I love this old estate. It will be grand again, I don't care what it takes."

His usual yielding manner made way for something steely and determined as his grey eyes narrowed. "I have every intention to right all the wrongs of our history and remind Ireland and Britain what Gaelic nobility is capable of. I will reclaim this estate, and everyone who once stood in my way calling me soft and incapable will find themselves surprised by exactly what I can do. I am very tired of people making assumptions just because I am nice." He somewhat haughtily dusted off his clothes. "These uncultured heathens and intellectual defectives will all bow to me when I get where I am going."

Whoops, that was probably more of the ambitious businessman O'Dwyer Farren had ever seen of him. It was a side to his personality he rarely presented to anyone. Talking about power was crude and unnecessary. One either wielded it or was forgotten and he for his part was determined to be a notable head of family, unlike his buffoon of a father. He'd show his family what it meant to be a true gentleman and that it had little to do with hosting flashy parties and drinking champagne.

Hungry. Farren said the word and Declan's stomach protested the idea violently. This whole weird mood was burning through his system, making a meal the furthest thing from his mind. "Why don't I show you upstairs first and we both work up a bit of an appetite."

He continued on their tour, making it a point to carefully avoid any further encounters with the orchids and the mess in his home. Instead he showed her a portrait gallery, a study, a library that actually was filled with Irish history books, a few bedrooms and guest rooms that had been lovingly restored, some bathrooms, just the usual things. He knew there was little he could find that would impress her. She'd grown up with everything and had been surrounded by it all her life. Nothing material would ever make her gasp in awe. The only way to win her over was to make it personal.

The flitted through another space, a lady's dressing room featuring a massive selection of family jewels. A beautiful necklace with heavy emeralds had been place around the neck of a white marble bust. Pretty, but he decided ultimately boring. He was letting the tour flow towards the rooms he personally used that were actually warm and lived in rather than just perfect display pieces. Standing in another study that overlooked the lake the in the garden he paused at last.

"I'm fond of this room here," he said softly. "When the sun rises the lighting here is glorious. It's where I do quite a bit of my writing - that is if I have time. Lately, it's been rather more work than pleasure but it's still quite pleasant to be here." He stepped closer to Farren ushering her into the centre of the room. "If you look up, that mural on the ceiling is quite something." Featuring a dark night sky and playful blue and purple will-o'-the-wisp lights travelling through the space it was a pretty feat of magical engineering. "It's better when it's darker outside, though, let me show you."

Declan raised his wand again; the incantation, 'tenebris', was whispered. The light drained from the room as the shutters on the windows closed. The will-o'-the-wisp lights shone more brightly now, shedding a bit of soft light. Parts of the walls and shelving seemed to fit into the painted narrative, now appearing more like tree trunks, and strands on willow leaves swaying in a mystical scene. Stepping behind Farren, he closed his arms around her, crossing them underneath her bust.

"Better?" he asked softly, his face near enough to her neck for to feel his breath on her skin.

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren was struck by his tone and sentiment. Perhaps even she could be lumped into the people he said mistook him as one thing for being nice. All her life she'd never put much thought into who he was as an O'Dwyer. No one in her family cared much to educate her on lineages outside her own. She knew the O'Dwyers were rich, pureblood, influential, and all the things her own family were. They were equals - for the most part - being Irish was a small tick from their score in her family's eyes but not much. So it hadn't occurred to her much until now that there might be more here than she realized.


The plants were mad. This house being cursed was mad. But she could certainly understand the deep, almost biological attachment to a place. Certainly she could say she felt that for Dalemain, though she had the excuse of having spent all her life there since birth. It never occurred to consider how he felt about status and blood and all these things. He'd never much seemed to care but clearly, part of him did. Clearly there were ambitions here she'd never seen nor considered.


It was not surprisingly attractive. Though her ambitions for power, recognition, and status paled in comparison to some in her family she'd been brought up to strongly consider and appreciate such things, though respect was typically given to her as a default. Especially now, as a widow, a Rosier widow no less, there was no need to prove herself so far as power and status. The fact that Declan did seem to care about such things pleased her more than she realized it would. He was nice, he was quiet, reflective, and gentle -- he didn't really fit the mold of powerful, elitist, pureblood heir. So perhaps she was just as bad as the people who had disregarded his actual power and weight to throw around about such things.


Coming here was shifting her perspectives quickly. Last night had been so sudden, so overwhelming, she had spent almost no time considering things other than her feelings. There were many things she was realizing she didn't know. Her fear that they were being rash lingered. The concern that just because they'd been best friends as kids didn't mean they'd be a good match. Worse yet, the concern that he'd made it clear he wanted to be in love, it was something she'd never really experienced, and she had never prepared for such a thing. Love was a nice idea but not something she'd been brought up to expect in a marriage. It seemed to good to be true to accumulate wealth, power, status, and love in one swoop.


"Sure," she said nodding as he suggested they see some other rooms before eating. Deep in thought she followed him through the rooms he presented. They were free of plants, clean, some even furnished. It was easier to imagine things being normal in these spaces. It relieved her concerns a little bit though the plants still creeped her out and she worried how much of the house was just as bad as the room he'd just cleared. She assumed he was hiding that from her now that he realized how creepy she found it.

Not wanting to seem too distant or lost in thought she made sure to comment on the rooms they saw, perhaps it was hollow, but she didn't want him to think she was upset with him. The wheels in her mind were turning though, running through a million things about what was unfolding between them. Her mind and heart were a mix of emotions and worries. It wasn't that she wasn't confident about her ability to be a good, dutiful pureblood wife. It wasn't that she wasn't capable of running a household or being the matriarch of a young society family. There was no concern on her part that if he wanted to reassert himself as a powerful member of society and garner more respect that she would be able to help him. All of those things were easy.  Everything was emotional -- something she'd never once worried about previously in her first marriage.


At last they entered a space he seemed more keen to explore. It was a beautiful room. She liked how he seemed excited about it. With a little giggle she followed him to the center of the room as directed and turned her face towards the ceiling. It was beautiful. Smiling she nodded, "Incredible artistry," she said softly. He dimmed the lighting with his wand and her smile widened at the display over them. Magical soft lighting dancing the room coming to life in the mural almost. "Fantastic," she said her smile evident in her tone.


He stepped up to her wrapping his arms around her. At first her mind wasn't sure how to react but her body eased, melting into his arms a bit, at ease. "Yes," she said nodding. "It's a perfect space, perhaps it can be our little sitting room or something? Private. Quiet. Relaxing."


There was so much she felt but she didn't know what she should or shouldn't say. What was too much too soon or what was too little. "Dec...." she said, turning her head slightly so her cheek nestled against his nose. "I don't know how to say what I'm thinking, but...." pursing her lips she paused for a moment before continuing, "I think I'm scared. This is a lot. A lot of change. I've only ever lived outside of England for Conservatory. I felt like a stranger in my own house in London until Clive died and I had it all to myself. Everyone told me what marriage would and wouldn't be. At first they told me I'd fall in love with him eventually and we'd be happy. Then when it was clear that wasn't happening everyone assured me marriage was political and being in love was pointless so long as babies were still had and power and money fixed."

Sighing she looked up at the ceiling, the crown of her head falling back against his shoulder. "I always assumed, when I re-married, it would be low stakes. Someone pureblood, rich, English, another Londoner or a country estate like Dalemain. I thought I'd just carry on with my life as it is now with the exception of laying my head on a different pillow at night and popping out a few kids. This is much more. It's a fantasy. I literally thought something like this was a fantasy - something I'd basically decided wasn't possible. Now you're asking me to move to Ireland, to a house that's a bit mad to be frank, to a family I don't know, to be a loving companion. I've never done any of that. I'm more than prepared to be a general and run a household and family from a social and political standpoint. I'm prepared to be a broodmare for whichever family I end up marrying into, and my own. I'm even prepared to stand beside some man on his quest to obtain more power for us as a unit. But everything we want in addition to that -- I'm not even sure I know what to do."


There she'd said it. She hated the bloody plants but maybe that wasn't the root of her fear. Of course it wasn't. If he said he'd have them gone before she moved in she trusted him to do that. They were just a scapegoat for her other fears and worries. Declan wasn't irrational. He'd not make her move into a place full of mad plants and he didn't seem likely to let a real estate argument split them up. So it was silly to place the blame on that. The blame was entirely her worries about hurt and failure. "Maybe I'm just tired from last night, or maybe this is in fact all a bit mad? I don't know how you're so certain about it, at least you seem so cool from my standpoint."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

At last, Farren seemed to ease a little. As she relaxed into him he felt his tension melting. Declan was fairly confident she couldn't fake feeling comfortable in his arms. She genuinely liked him. Maybe it wasn't quite the searing kind of passion he'd been hoping for, but there was potential. Something about the way her body felt against his made him sure that whatever doubts had plagued him just moments before were essentially of no consequence. They had something together that defied convention and description. He wasn't imagining it. His hold tightened and he pressed a gentle kiss into her hair.

Ah, and here it was. Of course, she was worried. It always left him speechless how she could flick from cold and composed to fragile within a breath. Blink, and you missed it. Under all those layers of bravado she was just as vulnerable as him and nervous about what all of this meant. He obviously hadn't been through a prior marriage, but it sounded liked she'd been through something quite terrible. Of course, he'd known she'd not been been happy, they'd talked about it before - but something about how she told her story grabbed his heart.

She'd believed she'd fall in love with Clive and it hadn't happened for her. That must have been heartbreaking. She had to have felt trapped in a farce of a life. He wasn't sure he'd have handled it as stoically as she had.

"I'm certain how I feel about you," he said to Farren. "It's easy to be sure when you've felt the same way about something for a very long time." He paused for a moment struggling to find the right words to express himself. "But I'm worried and terrified too, even if I may show it less. I don't want either of us trapped in an unhappy life of nothing but obligations. I couldn't let you go through that again. You're right, I want so much more than that from life."

"But no, I don't have it all figured out either. I've never married because I couldn't  stand the thought of being a tied to a woman who doesn't enjoy my company potentially for life. And I could never picture myself with a woman I don't love. I don't know that I can promise you that I will be everything you ever wanted. But I'm willing to try." In fact, he was pretty sure there were a good number of things he probably fell short on. He wasn't as handsome or fit as her former husband had been. He certainly didn't fit into the way the Abercrombies liked to operate.

"However, I don't think you will ever need to worry about not meeting my expectations. I don't need you to be perfect, Farren. I just need you to be here. It's okay if we don't agree. It's fine if we mess up. I don't care if something goes wrong. All I want is that at the end of the day, no matter how bad it was, no matter what we had to deal with I'm still the person you want to see and spend time with. If you can be sure of that, we'll figure out the rest."

 "I mean how often did Clive try, and I mean really try, to make you happy. If nothing else you can have my promise of that. I'll try. And if I don't get it right, I'll try again."

[Farren Abercrombie]

All of this was stirring things in her she didn't recognize. It wasn't normal for her to be this candid or vulnerable, it was uncomfortable, even if it was with Declan. Maybe now, especially because it was with Declan. Everything felt so serious and yet she felt like she could do nothing to stop the bubbling up of emotions.

It made her feel relieved to hear him say he too was scared. He too didn't know how to do this. He too was unsure about how to actually be married. Frustration mingled with the swell, if he'd felt this way for so long, why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't he come to her after her engagement announcement and begged her not to do it -- or better yet warned her? Of course Farren knew the answer to these questions, she knew him far too well to actually seriously ask these things but standing here, in his arms, under his magic ceiling, being told he'd do everything in his power to make them work, she wished he had. Not that she would have listened.

Clive had been dead for 3 years and in that time she'd both failed to process how deeply miserable their year and a half of marriage had been and convinced herself that marriage for love was a joke. Even though she saw happy marriages in front of her eyes all the time, Bellona and even her own parents had married for love, or at least pretended to. Here she was, at the tip of it herself, and instead of running full steam over the crest of the peak she found herself sliding backwards, back tracking, scared and worried. She was frustrated with

The swell of emotion inside of her was coming on quick though. A lump had formed in her throat and she swallowed it down, biting her bottom lip, as he told her he didn't need her to be perfect, he just needed her to be here.  No one had ever told her that as long as she was there, that was enough. Clive had not even wanted her around making it perfectly clear he was bored of her - always. Her own mother made it clear that even her best was painfully average, and as much as she loved him her darling Pyxis retained high standards for her on all fronts as well. It was surely going to be impossible for Declan to maintain this sentiment for the rest of their lives?  Was it possible that everything he said was truly genuine and the fact that they were together was it for him?

Sighing heavily again she swallowed another lump in her throat. All the feelings were pressing on her like they were trying to burst out from inside her. Happiness, sadness, joy, excitement, fear, affection, everything was there and assaulting her in a way she'd never experienced.  When he asked her how often Clive tried to make her happy and promised to try and try and try it was more than her cold little heart could take. Tears welled up in her eyes. Biting her lip harder trying to distract herself and disappear the tears she stared up at the magical ceiling, keeping her eyes wide, hoping the tears would just evaporate.

"Oh Dec," she said softly, quickly giving up on the tears drying. Shifting she turned to face him, staying close enough that he'd not have to fully let go of her, her body bumping and sliding against his as she turned. Sighing heavily she looked up at him, it was quite dark in the room, perhaps he'd not see the tears pooled in front of her bright eyes. It was not in her nature to be open and communicative about feelings or intimate things, it seemed logically the best thing to do was tell him all the details of where she was coming from. Then in the event she could not express herself at least perhaps he'd know where she was coming from.

Where to even begin though? Clinging to him, her arms wrapped around him she found the answer quickly. Leaning forward she pressed her lips against his. Her hand moved to cup his jaw, pulling him into her, allowing him no space to pull away from her or hesitate. Her kiss was deep, she wondered as she kissed him if it was possible to pull the promise he'd just made from his body and trap it. Probably with dark magic that was possible but somehow she was sure her kiss was more powerful than dark magic right now. Her tears slid down her cheeks onto his and she didn't even care, she just pulled him closer to her and didn't let go. Like someone had lit a match she felt herself burning to pull him and his promise into herself and trap both of them there.

She didn't know how long she kissed him, long enough that her lips began to feel smooth and tight, the hint of stubble on his face almost irritating them now. Her arms had a dull soreness from holding him so tight. The tears she'd shed had dried. In her core she felt something warm and tingly radiating towards him. It was so much to feel and think about she was nearly light headed. Slowly she pulled her lips from his, her grip on him easing but she did not let go. Affectionately she nuzzled her nose against him, an almost tired smile on her face, for a moment she just rest, cheek to cheek with him.

"He never tried much," she conceded finally. "I think, initially, he wanted to try. For the first couple months he at least feigned an interest in trying. But it became apparent quite quickly we were poorly suited for each other in every way. He didn't seem to mind not being in love, he had his women, the quidditch groupies, to adore and please him. I was a duty, a formality. I'm quite sure he grew to have resentment towards me. I think he wanted to want to try. But apart from being physically attracted to me he didn't care and I had lost motivation to try as soon as I'd realized that after but a handful of months he'd gone back to his girls."

"So soon we were just stuck, he was never cruel about it but it was clear within a few months, how it would be. Formal, political, unemotional. He was good at putting on the public show of it all, he never embarrassed me in public - thankfully. But apart from that our lives became rather separate, rather quickly. He kept track of my month and made sure to be home on the nights most likely to render us an heir. His efforts at those times were....vigorous. I came to dread these days, when he left after a handful of days I would fall into a depression, nothing to do because he'd expected me to quit working and playing publicly. No one in the house except our servants. I would try to go back to Dalemain for half the month and my mother and grandmother would send me back to Belgravia to wait for him. They told me if I made myself open and available and played to his better nature and interests it would happen, we'd fall in love. They assured me this was just new marriage difficulties."

"Ten months in we were successful. Things seemed to improve slightly. He spent more time in Belgravia. He started saying he loved me. We still had nothing to talk about, no shared passions, no passion for each other but at least we had done something right. Everything got better, instantly, I thought everyone had been right, that finally we were falling in love. Then I lost it. He was at first heartbroken, then just more annoyed with me than ever. They told me I had to try harder to please him and that if I just made it a job, a contract to uphold I would be able to bear it just fine. To make myself open to him, have four children as quickly as possible, then plan on spending the remainder of my days being a mother and individual in private and a happy, dutiful wife in public. So I did what I was told. Nothing got better. There were no other pregnancies despite extensive attempts. Then he died."


She sighed heavily pursing her lips before lowering her head to rest her forehead against his chin, eyes closed. "Surely you see why. I'm so bloody terrified I'll get it all wrong again. You have tried harder in the last twenty minutes to make me happy than he ever did. You're my oldest friend apart from those that are my blood. I can't stand the thought of us ending up like that. You're telling me nothing has to be perfect, that if I try and you try and we both want it that will be enough. But will it?"


Looking back up at him she tried to offer a smile but it was weak. "This is what I want too. But I'm petrified of it going wrong or us getting lost." For a moment she paused, thoughtful, her brow heavy with concern, "No one has ever told me just being was enough. It has never been enough before, for the people whose love I wanted so badly. You will have to be patient with me. I want this and I promise I will try but -- it's a lot. It's something I had not been preparing for. I'm not used to being unprepared, it will require a lot of learning curves, but this is what I want." Smiling more brightly she leaned forward and kissed him quickly, "I also want the plants gone before we live here but other than that, this is exactly what I want."  

[Declan O'Dwyer]

Was it something he'd said? Suddenly, Farren turned around in his arms, her eyes filled with tears. He gently stroked his fingers over her back. Before he could ask what was wrong, she was claiming his lips in a passionate kiss. He'd not expected that at all. He sighed into her kiss and melted into her. He probably should have stopped her to talk about what was going on with her rather than giving into this, but the vulnerability and intensity of emotion she showed him in this moment was everything. The part of him still struggling to accept her feelings for him as real had been gnawing at his convictions. With each brush of her lips against his, she was eradicating these unwelcome thoughts from his mind. She wanted him. He tried to hold onto that feeling with both hands and sear it into his memory.

For a while they seemed lost in each other. His lips where starting to hurt, but rather than distracting him it just kindled his passion. The ache made it real, genuine and true. Even as it happened he knew how he would remember this moment; like a dream, but the stinging in his lips meant he couldn't have imagined it. His fingers tangled in her hair. It was the strangest thing, sometimes, a kiss could be more intimate than lovemaking. This was one of these times.

As the heat of the moment subsided, he realised that maybe this had been the right thing to do after all. Something had turned a key inside of Farren and she opened up. The deluge of words, hurts and pain than poured from her was a little overwhelming, but certainly explained why she felt so so overwhelmed by the situation. He knew she hadn't been happy with Clive, but getting it spelled out to him in detail felt harrowing. It was so obvious to him that all she'd really wanted was to be loved. How ironic that the girl who had it it all should be lacking for this one thing.

She'd lost a pregnancy? Merlin, he had no idea how anybody was supposed to deal with that? He felt his throat constricting. Her husband had blamed her from the sounds of it.

"My love isn't conditional," he said when her words finally ebbed. "You had it all along and you will have it going forward. If you marrying another man wasn't enough to eradicate that flame, I don't think there can be anything that will. It'll be enough if you're there. My life... well, let's just say very few things worked out perfectly for me or on the first attempt. I don't expect that. But I know if I put in the necessary effort that will go a long way. Now, if you put in some effort too I think we'll be a true force to be reckoned with."

He placed a light kiss on her lips just to reassure her. Another quickly followed, just as soft, just as careful. He was slow and deliberate in his movements, soft, but not shy. He didn't usually take charge, and he certainly didn't want to now, but he needed her to understand that she was desired and that he was sure of his feelings for her. He parted lips and poured himself into their kiss until he was starting to feel breathless. He pulled back reluctantly.

"So I take it I shouldn't gift you orchids for yourself birthday?" he couldn't help the little joke. "I guess I'll have to replant in a hurry then until April."

Declan let go of her at last, but was quick to interlace his fingers with hers. "Shall we try to continue this tour?" He used his free hand to slowly let the light back into the room without blinding them both. "My personal rooms are next to this one," he explained. "I'd show you, but I'm vaguely afraid if we go in there we won't leave again. You said something about food a little while back. Would you like to see the kitchens then?"

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren was relieved that her admission had not ruffled him. Instead he took it in stride, as she would have expected were she herself not all hopped up on emotions and anxiety. It was all she could really manage to nod in response at first. "I wish I'd known," she added softly, "How you felt, even if it didn't change things, but I suppose all things happen for a reason." Sighing she nodded as he said if they both made effort they would be a great pairing. Of course she agreed with that sentiment. She wouldn't try just a bit, she would try a lot. Her previous marriage had been an utter failure but now she had a chance to make a life she could be happy in. Maybe happier than she was now even.


"Of course I will try," she said with a small smile, gently running her thumb along his jaw tenderly. "I know relationships are never easy, but I think, we have a good shot of being very happy. At least so far as I can tell we shall." He kissed her sweetly, tenderly, to reassure her. Quickly though they were wrapped up in each other again, their kiss deep and passionate. Kissing him was unlike any kiss she'd ever had. It made her light headed, her lips tingled from the pressure and sensation of his, and her body started begging for more contact. It was a bit like being drunk but in a much more pleasant way. For a brief moment she imagined him hoisting her off the floor, her legs wrapped around him as he walked her to a sofa and laid her out on it before sliding on top of her. It was devilish, they weren't even engaged, such behavior was not becoming, but her mind ran wild as he kissed her. She couldn't help herself, a small moan of desire escaped her as he kissed her and she pulled him closer to her even though there was no possible way to bring him closer without knocking her over entirely.


Reluctantly she let him pull away when it was clear he was too becoming a bit overwhelmed. Her gaze darted away from him for a moment, despite knowing Declan would never judge her enthusiasm and desire, it was still rather new to her to be this charged this early. Scoffing at his little joke she shook her head. "If you give me orchids for my birthday you will regret it, this I am certain of," she said with a smirk.

Taking his hand she felt a slight blush rise in her cheeks when he commented on his personal rooms and them never leaving if they entered. It was a polite way to dodge the obvious. There was a charge between them, a deep and quickly growing affection and attraction. She wasn't sure if they were to enter his chambers, to walk past his bed, if she could resist the urge to fall into it and pull him with her. That was certainly unbecoming of a lady. Though they'd not discussed it yet she assumed such intimacy would be reserved for later. Either after the wedding or close to it, when they were sure it would be happening. Either way, just now was pre-mature for such things, even if part of her was eager.

"The kitchens will do," she said with an encouraging nod. "Not that I know much about kitchens to know if one is good or bad. I'm afraid kitchen running has always been left up to my housekeeper. My visits to and skills in a kitchen are quite limited for our modern era of people going it alone in their home kitchens. I hope you're willing to let me bring my elves from Belgravia. Their cooking is unparalleled in my experience." Of course Declan would never assume she knew anything about cooking, thankfully. As they headed out of the room she couldn't help but glance towards the rooms he'd suggested were his personal quarters. Biting her bottom lip she shot him an impish glance. "Though....if you change you mind about these rooms I don't think I'd have the will power to decline."