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Harlequin Prompt #14, Trovommi Amor, Chapter One
Title: Trovommi Amor, or, Miss Caro Regrets
Author: dragon of winter nights (down)
Rating: currently still probably a 12 at most, heh. M! Eventually!
Warnings: Regency AU! (yep, that’s definetly worth a warning. XD) Cross dressing, sex-swap magic, mentions of gambling, violence, sex and prostitution probably all over the place, Heyer-esq regency slang, accidental medieval Italian, politicians, the aristocracy, and all those other regency-era-not-quite-Britain-as-we-know-it things.
Summary: …See the warnings? *grin* Fai Flowright, Viscount Valeria, is (for reasons which do not need exploring at this juncture) forced to disguise himself as a girl to infiltrate the staff of the Clover, a theatre which has just gone up in flames, and which counts a suspiciously large number of politicians among its patrons. Only his biggest problem may prove not to be fooling his new employers or finding the information Lady Yuuko is asking for, but the handsome dark-haired stranger glaring at him from the back of the room…
oOo
Notes: Welcome to Not Exactly Regency London. References to prostitution and gambling and politics (sorry about the politics) everywhere! Slang! Accidentally, a plot! Eventual breaking and entering, more politics, politicians, possible intrigue, Yuuko, Tomoyo, most of the cast of Clover, and hopefully not too many of the Rayearth lot but they have this habit of sneaking in everywhere. (Anyway, Oruha and Caldina are one of the most brilliant team-ups in Tsubasa, imo. *grin*)
Also, gratuitously polysyllabic words, because Fai in Regency not!London seemed to demand them.
(Please excuse the medieval Italian, Fai is putting his education to Good Use here. Ahehehehehe. It’s brief! UM. Also, everything else, and anything else, and basically everything ever. And anything which might look like a historical detail is Probably Fudged In This Instance~ or cribbed from either Georgette Heyer or Bernard Cornwell. *grin*)
(uh, tell me if I need to gloss this thing. I’ve tried not to go full-on Heyer-style slang, but getting a little bit in here and there’s half the fun of it, right? *snickering*. Translations for anything not in (some variety of) English should be at the end of the chapter.)
PLEASE tell me if you spot anything wrong, or nonsensical, and forgive this for being not much more than a first draft – trying to channel Kurogane without any actual action happening yet was INTERESTING, and I haven’t caught the tone I wanted here, but I AM ALREADY A DAY LATE so I’ll come back and poke it once I’ve finished the whole... ^^;
oOo
Chapter One : Miss Caroline
oOo
Fai Flowright, currently Viscount Valeria, and (almost certainly, though it was rather hard to be certain when his Uncle had not been seen or heard of for more than a year,) heir to the Marquis of Seresu, looked at himself critically in the slightly dingy mirror.
The pretty girl looking back at him was dressed in what might have been the height of fashion… if the bosom were cut slightly higher than precarious, and if it had been made of better material, and made up by someone who could sew a straight line. Not that he currently had as many straight lines as he was used to possessing; Fai resisted the urge to prod his chest just to make certain it was still where it needed to be to fill out the gown currently clinging to it.
He had been wearing this disguise a week, and it was still a constant source of bemusement.
Not that he had never cast such an illusion on himself before, of course. Curiosity had got the better of him on that front many years ago. But this enchantment had fixed him into the body of the woman he might have been, had the fates decided to build him so. He had to admit that while he was always fetching in a gown (as his schoolmates would attest; he had played the heroine in every work of Shakespeare they had been forced to render alive for their education), the added curves certainly enhanced the general effect.
His hair, at least, had been dressed elegantly enough to suit a diamond of the first water. Not that Miss Caroline Morton was supposed to be any such thing. While not precisely a woman of the town, or any other kind of light o’ love, this was a theatre company. One which boasted the Miss Oruha with whom half the fashionable world had fallen in love, or at least a profitable approximation of the emotion.
Profitable for the Clover Theatre, that was, until three weeks ago, and the fire which had flattened the building almost to the dirt.
Fai would never have taken any notice of this, if not for two particular circumstances - firstly, the fire had destroyed the theatre but left the buildings crowded about it near entirely untouched. And secondly, the Clover had counted among its patrons a particular section of the most important people in the country. The Prince Regent and his cronies, which was unsurprising, given the Regent’s taste for theatre girls, but also a particular set of elder statesmen who were not normally given to regular attendance of the dramatic arts. When Fai had linked the rumours he’d heard about their infatuation with this singer and the dramatic combustion of the venue, he had taken his suspicions to his patron.
If you could call Lady Yuuko a patron.
Hostess of many of the most fashionable squeezes the city had, save the stuffily respectable meetings at Almacks, Yuuko was a force to be reckoned with among the ton. No one could remember if she was a wealthy widow of some high-born gentleman, or if she had been his mistress, but somehow even the most respectable of matrons found themselves stepping through her doors when called.
She entertained all, and she entertained sundry, and she sat at the middle of a web of information which extended through the people she wined and dined, out through many contacts like Fai, whose welfare she protected in return for their... services, whatever those might be.
In this case, he had been dispatched to infiltrate this little corner of the demi-monde, and the discover why, precisely, someone had taken enough umbrage at the Theatre to burn it to the ground.
Since the fire (which had destroyed most of the building, but mercifully claimed no lives and surprisingly little of the vast wardrobe), the proprietors of the Clover had struck a deal with the gaming hell which clung, an intimate neighbour, against one blackened wall. The various entertainments of the Clover were deployed to entertain the gentlemen at the tables; in return, they were allowed to live upstairs while the theatre was being swiftly rebuilt.
Within a week of this arrangement, the rather lowly hell had gained so many well to do patrons of the very highest class that it was able to transform itself into something rather more like a Gentleman’s Club, and turn out the worst of its original clientele.
If the disparate politicians who could barely share the Palace of Westminster without coming to blows were willing to squeeze themselves together into such a place, then there was certainly something more than pretty faces and stellar voices at work. Tonight would be his first chance to see the crowds for himself; Fai patted the stone he wore on a wide ribband about his neck, trying not to rub off any of the dirt he had carefully dulled its shine with, twitched his long gloves a fraction higher, and turned.
The woman responsible for Fai’s current elegantly curled and pinned hair, as well as the arrangement with the Hell, was regarding him critically from the doorway. Fai flinched, and smiled, reminding himself that Caroline would be nervous this evening. “Will I do well enough, Miss Caldina?”
“Well enough.” Deep gold skin set off by a deeply crimson robe; Caldina’s appearance was brash as the personality needed to keep a place like the Clover afloat despite the mercurial taste of the Ton. Fai felt insipid beside her, in white virtually unrelieved by any trimmings. A deeply blue ribband about the high waist matched the one threaded through his hair, and they both matched the large stone at his throat. And his eyes, for that matter.
“I’ll give you one tip, though.” Caldina walked across, and reached out. She stopped her hand just far enough away that he could she was pointing to his neck. “That bauble would look less out of place if you washed it up. People’ll just think it’s paste and glass. Dingy like that, they’ll look closer, and see it’s the real thing.”
He clasped the pendant, cursing Yuuko, and plastered a smile on his face. “This? But this is just-”
Caldina snorted. “Don’t you spin me no Banbury tales, missy. One of my closest acquaintances is an expert at valuing trinkets, and she’s taught me enough. That stone is real, and we both know it.”
“But, Miss Caldina…” He didn’t know quite what to say. If she knew, why hadn’t she mentioned anything before this? He’d not taken off the stone since he arrived here. Could not, in fact; it was the anchor which held his disguise together.
A loan, only, of course. Lady Yuuko’s home was full of items which could be loaned out to her informants, if she decided they would need them. And if it was taken from him – Fai had a fair amount of confidence in his being able to escape, but escaping while reclaiming a seized bit of jewellery? Not so easy. He was here to decrease his debt, not double it!
“I didn’t mention it because I don’t care, and Oruha thought it best to let you settle in before we said anything, but you can’t wear it out on stage like that.” Caldina sighed at him, seemingly disappointed. “If you want to keep it hidden, it would be best to not wear it-“ Fai kept smiling, and didn’t move. “Well, if it’s like that, best clean it like I said.”
Fai turned to the mirror and pulled off one glove to rub at the mess without staining it. Drat Lady Yuuko, anyway. “You aren’t going to ask me about it?” He said, after a moment of silence he was expecting Caldina to break.
Caldina laughed. “Something powerful as that thing seems to be? It likes you, that’s enough for me, whether or not it was yours before you came to hide with us. Whatever it does.”
Fai… didn’t falter in his cleaning. He’d known before he came here that the women of the Clover were exceptional in some way, and the lack of injuries from the fire had screamed magic.
As long as they let him stay, he could still do his job. Even if they were watching him, which seemed to be the hidden message here; he would find out what Lady Yuuko wanted to know, and pay off his debts before his Uncle reappeared.
Whenever that was going to happen.
Sapphire gleaming, Fai pulled his glove back on. “I believe I am ready. Shall we go down?”
oOo
Kurogane glared at the door in front of him, in no hurry to enter. Rowdy voices could be heard within; men betting and arguing, and not a few women’s voices mixed in. There was even a fiddle reeling off ‘over the hills and far away’, though none of the people in this place were ever going to enlist as a common soldier. Few enough of them would even purchase a commission.
He could have hoped this was the wrong place, but the burnt-out gap beside it was more than enough evidence; this was the place Princess Tomoyo meant him to investigate, and so investigate he must.
Now he had lost the argument, at least.
There was still a smell of smoke in the air, and the clearing of the old structure looked like it was maybe half done, at most. Kurogane usually managed to avoid escorting Princess Tomoyo of Tomoeda to the theatre – something about his glaring upsetting the actors – so he had never been inside when it was standing. But Souma had, and reported it to be just as gilt and overdone as any of the other theatres vying for the Prince Regent’s attention, nothing special.
He tugged at his neckcloth, trying not to disrupt the folds which he had been forced to set crisply in place, Princess Tomoyo watching with that most irritating smile on her face, and spare cloths set by her side in case he rebelled against the tyranny of the waterfall, or mathematical, or whatever this particular form of strangulation was called. His collar points, at least, were not threatening to take his eyes; they were still too high, but he had argued he needed the ability to turn his head freely, and that no one was going to take him for some slave to the corinthian set at the best of times. His coat was another compromise, tighter than he would like but still giving him enough motion to fight (and if he had to, there were strategically weaker seams he could rip by moving the right way).
“All to get into a Hell!” He’d complained, when he was having to be helped into the thing. “Standards aren’t going to be-”
Princess Tomoyo cut him off by laughing, prettily as she did everything, and just as unstoppable. “It’s not like Almacks, I’ll grant you, but the people you’re going to need to blend in with are ranked as the most powerful and top-lofty men in the country. You will have to cope for an evening, much though the prospect of minding your manners must be intimidating.”
“Princess Tomoyo-“
“In fact, I think this could be a beautiful moment for you to practise your manners. After all, at some point the Earl of Suwa may need to actually converse with his peers without insulting them.”
Now, looking up at the building, Kurogane growled under his breath, and strode forwards. Princess Tomoyo’s orders had been very clear, and Syaoran had already driven the landau away. There was no escape route left open to him.
…Hopefully there would at least be something reasonable to drink. (Indeed, given the presence of the Prince Regent, there would have to be.)
Inside was a crush. Not as bad as the actual crushes – the parties the Princess went to where nearly all the furniture had been removed from the rooms of the house to squeeze as many bodies inside as possible, a slowly turning one-way only revolution through the house hemmed in by people pressed against your every side until you were pushed to the doors again and could escape, but bad enough. There were gentlemen and Gentlemen, and less gentle men elbowing their way between the others. The largest of the rooms on the main floor was furnished with tables where people sat gaming, each player with three onlookers crowded behind them because there was little else for them to do, and no one seemed willing to take themselves away to the other rooms.
Presumably, this was because of the small dias which had been erected at the far end. It was barely large enough to hold two people at once, and one corner was obscured by the pianoforte which stood before it. There was a fiddle case set on top of that, and a boy a few years older than Syaoran sat at the piano bench with the fiddle in his hands, prodding at the knobs on the top of it. Between the largeness of his hat and the length of the hair which fell from underneath it, the boy’s face was entirely obscured, but Souma had told him about the boy who was treated as a brother by one of the proprietresses of the Clover, and who accompanied their singers some nights.
One to keep an eye on, then.
The Prince Regent was not, by the looks of it, in attendance. The Duke of York was, though, and at the table furthest from him sat the Prime Minister. For them to be in the same room without any kind of skirmish breaking out - Kurogane made his way to the far corner of the room, where there were fewer people to knock into him, and where he could grab the attention of one of the servers to bring him a drink while he watched and listened in.
Dotted here and there among the evening wear were several men in uniforms, as well. Not all of them Admirals and Field Marshals, either. There was a Major not many paces from him, also leant back against the wall, a drink in his hand… and he was studying the room just as carefully as Kurogane was.
In fact, there was a Captain of the same company sat not far from the stage, and the two of them seemed, between them, to be watching the entire crowd.
Kurogane didn’t recognise the badge they wore, but noted it to tell the Princess. If it was that important, she could find out.
There was another man almost as tall and wide-shouldered as Kurogane himself stood near the door to the room, and though he didn’t wear a uniform his whole posture cried out that he had military experience, and recently, too. Privately hired by one of the others as protection?
Then he nodded, and Kurogane looked across the room in time to see the boy with the fiddle nodding back. He was with the Clover group, then, whoever he was. Which was certainly interesting, theatres not normally given to hiring military officers, and the man’s clothing wasn’t flashy enough to make him a wealthy patron. A protector.
So what the hell were they up to which would warrant such a thing?
The blend of voices in the room was quieting, and it was almost possible to follow conversations at the closer tables. The server came back with his drink, and Kurogane sipped at it appreciatively; on his way back, the server was called over by the closest table, where several of the younger lords and sons of lords were playing Piquet.
“I hear you’ve got a new lass starting tonight, eh?” one said, and Kurogane listened more intently.
“The Clover has a new singer, yes sir. She will be here shortly, I believe.”
“But the Lady will still come later this evening, won’t she?” Another asked, anxiously, and the server bowed briefly.
“Yes, indeed she will. Miss Oruha should appear within the next hour, I believe. After the new girl has debuted. Will that be all, my Lords?”
Kurogane turned back to the stage, and noted that the boy with the fiddle had finished, ah, fiddling with it, and was stepping up onto the dias, knocking his bow back against the pianoforte for attention.
“Gentlemen, for your entertainment, Miss Caro Morton!”
A short semi-hush fell across the room as the girl came out onto the stage, white dress glimmering in the lights, smiling demurely, almost nervously. But her eyes… they glittered, as if amused by the whole situation. “Well, I’ll admit she’s a fetching little thing.” Kurogane heard one of the Lordlings say. “But if you think I’m going to let you dazzle me into losing by waiting until she’s on stage before challenging me to a hand, Louis-“
“I know you better than that.” His friend retorted, and the sounds of gaming resumed, quieter, as the fiddler began to play.
Then the girl lowered her fan from her face to sing, and two things happened: Kurogane recognised the sapphire which was clasped to her neck, and also the feeling of magic beginning to thread through the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
oOo
Fai drew in a breath and flicked a coy look across the crowded room, catching the occasional curious look sent his way - a goodish percent of the room was determined upon their gaming, and not planning to let this new intrusion sway them. The others seemed content to stare at the folds of his dress over curves he arranged carefully to show to good affect against the light. He nodded slightly to Miss Caldina’s brother, Ascot.
The boy raised bow to fiddle, and began to draw music from the strings. Nothing too complex, just a background for him to linger over as he began to sing - in Italian, to suit the current craze for all things classical, though this was several centuries younger than the Roman Empire. “Tempo non mi parea da far riparo,” he sang, softly, flashing another glance at his crowd, and letting the soft hint of power thread into his words. “Contra colpi d’Amor; però m'andai secur, senza sospetto; onde i miei guai nel commune dolor s'incominciaro.”
The fool who hadn’t thought to guard themself against love; he wrote every person who glanced at him into that role, catching their eyes, catching just a thread of interest and winding it through them. Not the kind of charm he usually cast, but he was without any of the usual instruments of his magic. Fai didn’t know how to sing, as such.
But he knew how to use his voice.
His music lessons had been wrapped about the theory of mathematics and magic intertwining in sound. How a voice, a whistle, could be used to mark out intention and power the same way as a gesture, as words scratched into the air. The purpose was the same for each: to give his will power over the world. So that was what he did, here, glancing across a sea of well-dressed men. He shaped his voice, and sang a spell over them, one which conjured thoughts of whispered confessions in dark corners, of the rustle of clothing being pushed aside in a long slow motion. The undoing of laces, the catching of breath.
He sang, and the room bowed to his will, swayed to him. Cheeks flushing and pupils widening, the gaming faltered as more and more of the clients turned towards the stage, and - he hadn’t meant to work this quite so strongly. Hadn’t meant to put more than a whisper of power into it, but things were working as well as ever they do for him and the room was swaying towards him and the dreams his voice was giving them. He was meant to repeat the song, but he caught the fiddler’s eye and
Ascot shot one startled glance at him, then looked out at the room, and nodded. (The boy obviously understood power gone wrong. Which was more than a little concerning.)
The song ended, and the room shuddered awake. Thankfully, none of them seemed to notice anything was wrong - there was a healthy applause, and then they were calling for the next song, and Fai wrapped himself up in the image of Caro to smile shyly and blush at them, before nodding to Ascot.
Who must have had nerves of Sheffield steel, because he set his fingers to the strings again despite what Fai had just done. This time, Fai concentrated on the singing, and bent all his will just to sounding pleasing to the ear, not the senses. Something simpler, this time; one of the endless laments for a lover gone into the Army, to conjure thoughts of cheering the grieving wives and widows in the hearts of these men left behind.
He stared across the room as he sang, and in the mass of people listening with interest or focusing on their games, the only frowns were aimed at hands which had betrayed their holders. He breathed a sigh of relief, and began to relax.
Then the group at the back of the room shifted, and there was a darker shadow in the dimness far from the stage and the tables; a shadow which was too still to be natural, and it caught his eye like nothing else in the room.
Fai glanced up between phrases, and his breath caught.
The shadow was a man, handsome and imposing, and he was glaring straight at Fai.
He bit his lip and came in half a beat late on the next verse, and now Ascot was staring at him too, even while his bow danced over the strings. Fai focused, and turned his attention to the Duke of York, smiling down at him.
The shadow stayed in the corner of his gaze, and the glare didn’t let up for a moment.
Fai grinned to himself. This was getting more interesting by the moment, and he was beginning to have fun in spite of himself. He flicked his fan shut, and swung into his third song.
oOo
end chapter one
oOo
Translation! The song Fai sings is called Trovommi Amor (I fail titles so I stole one XD), I have a version by the Medieaval Baebes, but I suspect Fai would be singing a rather more coy arrangement. *grin* It’s actually a sonnet, one of the first. This first bit translates as “…It did not seem to me to be a time to guard myself against Love's blows: so I went on confident, unsuspecting; from that, my troubles started, amongst the public sorrows….”
Trovommi Amor itself means 'caught by love', apparently~ Not that that's happened yet. Not that MUCH has happened yet. ^^;
Author: dragon of winter nights (down)
Rating: currently still probably a 12 at most, heh. M! Eventually!
Warnings: Regency AU! (yep, that’s definetly worth a warning. XD) Cross dressing, sex-swap magic, mentions of gambling, violence, sex and prostitution probably all over the place, Heyer-esq regency slang, accidental medieval Italian, politicians, the aristocracy, and all those other regency-era-not-quite-Britain-as-we-know-it things.
Summary: …See the warnings? *grin* Fai Flowright, Viscount Valeria, is (for reasons which do not need exploring at this juncture) forced to disguise himself as a girl to infiltrate the staff of the Clover, a theatre which has just gone up in flames, and which counts a suspiciously large number of politicians among its patrons. Only his biggest problem may prove not to be fooling his new employers or finding the information Lady Yuuko is asking for, but the handsome dark-haired stranger glaring at him from the back of the room…
oOo
Notes: Welcome to Not Exactly Regency London. References to prostitution and gambling and politics (sorry about the politics) everywhere! Slang! Accidentally, a plot! Eventual breaking and entering, more politics, politicians, possible intrigue, Yuuko, Tomoyo, most of the cast of Clover, and hopefully not too many of the Rayearth lot but they have this habit of sneaking in everywhere. (Anyway, Oruha and Caldina are one of the most brilliant team-ups in Tsubasa, imo. *grin*)
Also, gratuitously polysyllabic words, because Fai in Regency not!London seemed to demand them.
(Please excuse the medieval Italian, Fai is putting his education to Good Use here. Ahehehehehe. It’s brief! UM. Also, everything else, and anything else, and basically everything ever. And anything which might look like a historical detail is Probably Fudged In This Instance~ or cribbed from either Georgette Heyer or Bernard Cornwell. *grin*)
(uh, tell me if I need to gloss this thing. I’ve tried not to go full-on Heyer-style slang, but getting a little bit in here and there’s half the fun of it, right? *snickering*. Translations for anything not in (some variety of) English should be at the end of the chapter.)
PLEASE tell me if you spot anything wrong, or nonsensical, and forgive this for being not much more than a first draft – trying to channel Kurogane without any actual action happening yet was INTERESTING, and I haven’t caught the tone I wanted here, but I AM ALREADY A DAY LATE so I’ll come back and poke it once I’ve finished the whole... ^^;
oOo
Chapter One : Miss Caroline
oOo
Fai Flowright, currently Viscount Valeria, and (almost certainly, though it was rather hard to be certain when his Uncle had not been seen or heard of for more than a year,) heir to the Marquis of Seresu, looked at himself critically in the slightly dingy mirror.
The pretty girl looking back at him was dressed in what might have been the height of fashion… if the bosom were cut slightly higher than precarious, and if it had been made of better material, and made up by someone who could sew a straight line. Not that he currently had as many straight lines as he was used to possessing; Fai resisted the urge to prod his chest just to make certain it was still where it needed to be to fill out the gown currently clinging to it.
He had been wearing this disguise a week, and it was still a constant source of bemusement.
Not that he had never cast such an illusion on himself before, of course. Curiosity had got the better of him on that front many years ago. But this enchantment had fixed him into the body of the woman he might have been, had the fates decided to build him so. He had to admit that while he was always fetching in a gown (as his schoolmates would attest; he had played the heroine in every work of Shakespeare they had been forced to render alive for their education), the added curves certainly enhanced the general effect.
His hair, at least, had been dressed elegantly enough to suit a diamond of the first water. Not that Miss Caroline Morton was supposed to be any such thing. While not precisely a woman of the town, or any other kind of light o’ love, this was a theatre company. One which boasted the Miss Oruha with whom half the fashionable world had fallen in love, or at least a profitable approximation of the emotion.
Profitable for the Clover Theatre, that was, until three weeks ago, and the fire which had flattened the building almost to the dirt.
Fai would never have taken any notice of this, if not for two particular circumstances - firstly, the fire had destroyed the theatre but left the buildings crowded about it near entirely untouched. And secondly, the Clover had counted among its patrons a particular section of the most important people in the country. The Prince Regent and his cronies, which was unsurprising, given the Regent’s taste for theatre girls, but also a particular set of elder statesmen who were not normally given to regular attendance of the dramatic arts. When Fai had linked the rumours he’d heard about their infatuation with this singer and the dramatic combustion of the venue, he had taken his suspicions to his patron.
If you could call Lady Yuuko a patron.
Hostess of many of the most fashionable squeezes the city had, save the stuffily respectable meetings at Almacks, Yuuko was a force to be reckoned with among the ton. No one could remember if she was a wealthy widow of some high-born gentleman, or if she had been his mistress, but somehow even the most respectable of matrons found themselves stepping through her doors when called.
She entertained all, and she entertained sundry, and she sat at the middle of a web of information which extended through the people she wined and dined, out through many contacts like Fai, whose welfare she protected in return for their... services, whatever those might be.
In this case, he had been dispatched to infiltrate this little corner of the demi-monde, and the discover why, precisely, someone had taken enough umbrage at the Theatre to burn it to the ground.
Since the fire (which had destroyed most of the building, but mercifully claimed no lives and surprisingly little of the vast wardrobe), the proprietors of the Clover had struck a deal with the gaming hell which clung, an intimate neighbour, against one blackened wall. The various entertainments of the Clover were deployed to entertain the gentlemen at the tables; in return, they were allowed to live upstairs while the theatre was being swiftly rebuilt.
Within a week of this arrangement, the rather lowly hell had gained so many well to do patrons of the very highest class that it was able to transform itself into something rather more like a Gentleman’s Club, and turn out the worst of its original clientele.
If the disparate politicians who could barely share the Palace of Westminster without coming to blows were willing to squeeze themselves together into such a place, then there was certainly something more than pretty faces and stellar voices at work. Tonight would be his first chance to see the crowds for himself; Fai patted the stone he wore on a wide ribband about his neck, trying not to rub off any of the dirt he had carefully dulled its shine with, twitched his long gloves a fraction higher, and turned.
The woman responsible for Fai’s current elegantly curled and pinned hair, as well as the arrangement with the Hell, was regarding him critically from the doorway. Fai flinched, and smiled, reminding himself that Caroline would be nervous this evening. “Will I do well enough, Miss Caldina?”
“Well enough.” Deep gold skin set off by a deeply crimson robe; Caldina’s appearance was brash as the personality needed to keep a place like the Clover afloat despite the mercurial taste of the Ton. Fai felt insipid beside her, in white virtually unrelieved by any trimmings. A deeply blue ribband about the high waist matched the one threaded through his hair, and they both matched the large stone at his throat. And his eyes, for that matter.
“I’ll give you one tip, though.” Caldina walked across, and reached out. She stopped her hand just far enough away that he could she was pointing to his neck. “That bauble would look less out of place if you washed it up. People’ll just think it’s paste and glass. Dingy like that, they’ll look closer, and see it’s the real thing.”
He clasped the pendant, cursing Yuuko, and plastered a smile on his face. “This? But this is just-”
Caldina snorted. “Don’t you spin me no Banbury tales, missy. One of my closest acquaintances is an expert at valuing trinkets, and she’s taught me enough. That stone is real, and we both know it.”
“But, Miss Caldina…” He didn’t know quite what to say. If she knew, why hadn’t she mentioned anything before this? He’d not taken off the stone since he arrived here. Could not, in fact; it was the anchor which held his disguise together.
A loan, only, of course. Lady Yuuko’s home was full of items which could be loaned out to her informants, if she decided they would need them. And if it was taken from him – Fai had a fair amount of confidence in his being able to escape, but escaping while reclaiming a seized bit of jewellery? Not so easy. He was here to decrease his debt, not double it!
“I didn’t mention it because I don’t care, and Oruha thought it best to let you settle in before we said anything, but you can’t wear it out on stage like that.” Caldina sighed at him, seemingly disappointed. “If you want to keep it hidden, it would be best to not wear it-“ Fai kept smiling, and didn’t move. “Well, if it’s like that, best clean it like I said.”
Fai turned to the mirror and pulled off one glove to rub at the mess without staining it. Drat Lady Yuuko, anyway. “You aren’t going to ask me about it?” He said, after a moment of silence he was expecting Caldina to break.
Caldina laughed. “Something powerful as that thing seems to be? It likes you, that’s enough for me, whether or not it was yours before you came to hide with us. Whatever it does.”
Fai… didn’t falter in his cleaning. He’d known before he came here that the women of the Clover were exceptional in some way, and the lack of injuries from the fire had screamed magic.
As long as they let him stay, he could still do his job. Even if they were watching him, which seemed to be the hidden message here; he would find out what Lady Yuuko wanted to know, and pay off his debts before his Uncle reappeared.
Whenever that was going to happen.
Sapphire gleaming, Fai pulled his glove back on. “I believe I am ready. Shall we go down?”
oOo
Kurogane glared at the door in front of him, in no hurry to enter. Rowdy voices could be heard within; men betting and arguing, and not a few women’s voices mixed in. There was even a fiddle reeling off ‘over the hills and far away’, though none of the people in this place were ever going to enlist as a common soldier. Few enough of them would even purchase a commission.
He could have hoped this was the wrong place, but the burnt-out gap beside it was more than enough evidence; this was the place Princess Tomoyo meant him to investigate, and so investigate he must.
Now he had lost the argument, at least.
There was still a smell of smoke in the air, and the clearing of the old structure looked like it was maybe half done, at most. Kurogane usually managed to avoid escorting Princess Tomoyo of Tomoeda to the theatre – something about his glaring upsetting the actors – so he had never been inside when it was standing. But Souma had, and reported it to be just as gilt and overdone as any of the other theatres vying for the Prince Regent’s attention, nothing special.
He tugged at his neckcloth, trying not to disrupt the folds which he had been forced to set crisply in place, Princess Tomoyo watching with that most irritating smile on her face, and spare cloths set by her side in case he rebelled against the tyranny of the waterfall, or mathematical, or whatever this particular form of strangulation was called. His collar points, at least, were not threatening to take his eyes; they were still too high, but he had argued he needed the ability to turn his head freely, and that no one was going to take him for some slave to the corinthian set at the best of times. His coat was another compromise, tighter than he would like but still giving him enough motion to fight (and if he had to, there were strategically weaker seams he could rip by moving the right way).
“All to get into a Hell!” He’d complained, when he was having to be helped into the thing. “Standards aren’t going to be-”
Princess Tomoyo cut him off by laughing, prettily as she did everything, and just as unstoppable. “It’s not like Almacks, I’ll grant you, but the people you’re going to need to blend in with are ranked as the most powerful and top-lofty men in the country. You will have to cope for an evening, much though the prospect of minding your manners must be intimidating.”
“Princess Tomoyo-“
“In fact, I think this could be a beautiful moment for you to practise your manners. After all, at some point the Earl of Suwa may need to actually converse with his peers without insulting them.”
Now, looking up at the building, Kurogane growled under his breath, and strode forwards. Princess Tomoyo’s orders had been very clear, and Syaoran had already driven the landau away. There was no escape route left open to him.
…Hopefully there would at least be something reasonable to drink. (Indeed, given the presence of the Prince Regent, there would have to be.)
Inside was a crush. Not as bad as the actual crushes – the parties the Princess went to where nearly all the furniture had been removed from the rooms of the house to squeeze as many bodies inside as possible, a slowly turning one-way only revolution through the house hemmed in by people pressed against your every side until you were pushed to the doors again and could escape, but bad enough. There were gentlemen and Gentlemen, and less gentle men elbowing their way between the others. The largest of the rooms on the main floor was furnished with tables where people sat gaming, each player with three onlookers crowded behind them because there was little else for them to do, and no one seemed willing to take themselves away to the other rooms.
Presumably, this was because of the small dias which had been erected at the far end. It was barely large enough to hold two people at once, and one corner was obscured by the pianoforte which stood before it. There was a fiddle case set on top of that, and a boy a few years older than Syaoran sat at the piano bench with the fiddle in his hands, prodding at the knobs on the top of it. Between the largeness of his hat and the length of the hair which fell from underneath it, the boy’s face was entirely obscured, but Souma had told him about the boy who was treated as a brother by one of the proprietresses of the Clover, and who accompanied their singers some nights.
One to keep an eye on, then.
The Prince Regent was not, by the looks of it, in attendance. The Duke of York was, though, and at the table furthest from him sat the Prime Minister. For them to be in the same room without any kind of skirmish breaking out - Kurogane made his way to the far corner of the room, where there were fewer people to knock into him, and where he could grab the attention of one of the servers to bring him a drink while he watched and listened in.
Dotted here and there among the evening wear were several men in uniforms, as well. Not all of them Admirals and Field Marshals, either. There was a Major not many paces from him, also leant back against the wall, a drink in his hand… and he was studying the room just as carefully as Kurogane was.
In fact, there was a Captain of the same company sat not far from the stage, and the two of them seemed, between them, to be watching the entire crowd.
Kurogane didn’t recognise the badge they wore, but noted it to tell the Princess. If it was that important, she could find out.
There was another man almost as tall and wide-shouldered as Kurogane himself stood near the door to the room, and though he didn’t wear a uniform his whole posture cried out that he had military experience, and recently, too. Privately hired by one of the others as protection?
Then he nodded, and Kurogane looked across the room in time to see the boy with the fiddle nodding back. He was with the Clover group, then, whoever he was. Which was certainly interesting, theatres not normally given to hiring military officers, and the man’s clothing wasn’t flashy enough to make him a wealthy patron. A protector.
So what the hell were they up to which would warrant such a thing?
The blend of voices in the room was quieting, and it was almost possible to follow conversations at the closer tables. The server came back with his drink, and Kurogane sipped at it appreciatively; on his way back, the server was called over by the closest table, where several of the younger lords and sons of lords were playing Piquet.
“I hear you’ve got a new lass starting tonight, eh?” one said, and Kurogane listened more intently.
“The Clover has a new singer, yes sir. She will be here shortly, I believe.”
“But the Lady will still come later this evening, won’t she?” Another asked, anxiously, and the server bowed briefly.
“Yes, indeed she will. Miss Oruha should appear within the next hour, I believe. After the new girl has debuted. Will that be all, my Lords?”
Kurogane turned back to the stage, and noted that the boy with the fiddle had finished, ah, fiddling with it, and was stepping up onto the dias, knocking his bow back against the pianoforte for attention.
“Gentlemen, for your entertainment, Miss Caro Morton!”
A short semi-hush fell across the room as the girl came out onto the stage, white dress glimmering in the lights, smiling demurely, almost nervously. But her eyes… they glittered, as if amused by the whole situation. “Well, I’ll admit she’s a fetching little thing.” Kurogane heard one of the Lordlings say. “But if you think I’m going to let you dazzle me into losing by waiting until she’s on stage before challenging me to a hand, Louis-“
“I know you better than that.” His friend retorted, and the sounds of gaming resumed, quieter, as the fiddler began to play.
Then the girl lowered her fan from her face to sing, and two things happened: Kurogane recognised the sapphire which was clasped to her neck, and also the feeling of magic beginning to thread through the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
oOo
Fai drew in a breath and flicked a coy look across the crowded room, catching the occasional curious look sent his way - a goodish percent of the room was determined upon their gaming, and not planning to let this new intrusion sway them. The others seemed content to stare at the folds of his dress over curves he arranged carefully to show to good affect against the light. He nodded slightly to Miss Caldina’s brother, Ascot.
The boy raised bow to fiddle, and began to draw music from the strings. Nothing too complex, just a background for him to linger over as he began to sing - in Italian, to suit the current craze for all things classical, though this was several centuries younger than the Roman Empire. “Tempo non mi parea da far riparo,” he sang, softly, flashing another glance at his crowd, and letting the soft hint of power thread into his words. “Contra colpi d’Amor; però m'andai secur, senza sospetto; onde i miei guai nel commune dolor s'incominciaro.”
The fool who hadn’t thought to guard themself against love; he wrote every person who glanced at him into that role, catching their eyes, catching just a thread of interest and winding it through them. Not the kind of charm he usually cast, but he was without any of the usual instruments of his magic. Fai didn’t know how to sing, as such.
But he knew how to use his voice.
His music lessons had been wrapped about the theory of mathematics and magic intertwining in sound. How a voice, a whistle, could be used to mark out intention and power the same way as a gesture, as words scratched into the air. The purpose was the same for each: to give his will power over the world. So that was what he did, here, glancing across a sea of well-dressed men. He shaped his voice, and sang a spell over them, one which conjured thoughts of whispered confessions in dark corners, of the rustle of clothing being pushed aside in a long slow motion. The undoing of laces, the catching of breath.
He sang, and the room bowed to his will, swayed to him. Cheeks flushing and pupils widening, the gaming faltered as more and more of the clients turned towards the stage, and - he hadn’t meant to work this quite so strongly. Hadn’t meant to put more than a whisper of power into it, but things were working as well as ever they do for him and the room was swaying towards him and the dreams his voice was giving them. He was meant to repeat the song, but he caught the fiddler’s eye and
Ascot shot one startled glance at him, then looked out at the room, and nodded. (The boy obviously understood power gone wrong. Which was more than a little concerning.)
The song ended, and the room shuddered awake. Thankfully, none of them seemed to notice anything was wrong - there was a healthy applause, and then they were calling for the next song, and Fai wrapped himself up in the image of Caro to smile shyly and blush at them, before nodding to Ascot.
Who must have had nerves of Sheffield steel, because he set his fingers to the strings again despite what Fai had just done. This time, Fai concentrated on the singing, and bent all his will just to sounding pleasing to the ear, not the senses. Something simpler, this time; one of the endless laments for a lover gone into the Army, to conjure thoughts of cheering the grieving wives and widows in the hearts of these men left behind.
He stared across the room as he sang, and in the mass of people listening with interest or focusing on their games, the only frowns were aimed at hands which had betrayed their holders. He breathed a sigh of relief, and began to relax.
Then the group at the back of the room shifted, and there was a darker shadow in the dimness far from the stage and the tables; a shadow which was too still to be natural, and it caught his eye like nothing else in the room.
Fai glanced up between phrases, and his breath caught.
The shadow was a man, handsome and imposing, and he was glaring straight at Fai.
He bit his lip and came in half a beat late on the next verse, and now Ascot was staring at him too, even while his bow danced over the strings. Fai focused, and turned his attention to the Duke of York, smiling down at him.
The shadow stayed in the corner of his gaze, and the glare didn’t let up for a moment.
Fai grinned to himself. This was getting more interesting by the moment, and he was beginning to have fun in spite of himself. He flicked his fan shut, and swung into his third song.
oOo
end chapter one
oOo
Translation! The song Fai sings is called Trovommi Amor (I fail titles so I stole one XD), I have a version by the Medieaval Baebes, but I suspect Fai would be singing a rather more coy arrangement. *grin* It’s actually a sonnet, one of the first. This first bit translates as “…It did not seem to me to be a time to guard myself against Love's blows: so I went on confident, unsuspecting; from that, my troubles started, amongst the public sorrows….”
Trovommi Amor itself means 'caught by love', apparently~ Not that that's happened yet. Not that MUCH has happened yet. ^^;
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A Regency AU with magic? THIS IS AWESOME! Not to mention majority of Clover's characters having roles. The fashion, the dirty politics. Something to do with Fai's brooch. I like how him using his magic to sing is a nod to how he avoided whistling in canon. Actually I can see this set in LeCourt then...
It's all intriguing, what Princess Tomoyo and Kurogane are set out to do. Earl of Suwa! @______@ Aieeee I can't wait to read more. :D
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I know... about half of the plot (unfortunately more the ending than the beginning ^^;;;;;;;;; My brain: fails linear everything!) so this is going to be slow going, I'm afraid! But hopefully not too slow. And, yep, the singing was meant to parallel the whistling, hee :D.
I love everyone in Clover. I HAD to have Oruha (and Caldina~) in it when there were singers involved, so it seemed a good excuse to drag them all in? Plus, dodgy power issues with politics and the military seem to fit them~ (Not that I know quiiiiiiiite what they're doing yet. ^^;)
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This is the perfect set-up, and I must admit, I'm hanging on the edge of my seat to see where you're going with this. Interesting, historical setting with a twist? Check. Magic and mayhem, with character's motivations yet to be revealed? Check. Beautiful prose, lovely writing-pace, lovely writing style? Check. The promise of being one of those few writers that could pull off a cross-dressing fic? Check.
Colour me intrigued for the rest of this! :D
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I am... admittedly not entirely certain of the middle of this thing, though I pretty much know the end-game, so hopefully I won't be too horribly slow and can keep you intrigued? *grins*
I admit, I tend not to feel like anything has happened unless I have a huge fight or an explosion or something in every chapter, which doesn't so much fit when I'm playing the politics game - thank you for reassuring me about this chapter!
And I think 'one of those few writers that could pull off a cross-dressing fic' is probably the best compliment I've ever got. I'll try to live up to your hopes!
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Pfffft, that is basically how I write everything ever, so no worries on keeping me intrigued. And I'm perfectly willing to wait forever, so take your time if you need to!
Yeah, I have problems with the "but nothing happened in this chapter!" thing too- it's like, unless someone gets naked or punches someone in the mouth, I'm thinking there's no action, you know? *throws hands in air* I'm happy to see where the politics goes- stuff like that intrigues me because I'm no good at writing it :D
I wish you luck! (I honestly don't think you'll have any problems at all ;D)
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Rayearth is my forever-creepily-obbsessed-with-it fandom, heh, and Clover has to be my second favourite of CLAMP's works, so I think you have very good taste. *grins* (I'm TRYING to keep the main cast of Rayearth out, because I spend most of my time writing them, and I want to not let them take over? but, uh, this leads to the temptation to do terribly cracky things in the background with the secondary characters. XDD)
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Standing ovations for this fic!
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