Chapter Text
When the two ladies are lying in the sun trying to dry themselves from the water, Imogen gazes at Karlach. She's going to be such a beautiful bride. They’ll put her in a lovely gown she can actually walk in and put flowers in her hair, her bright eyes are going to shine with so much love. It’s enough to make her want to cry if she thinks about it too much. “I wish I had known you when you were a child,” Imogen says casually, “I bet you would have made amazing mud pies.”
“Oh, the best!” Karlach barks out a laugh, “I bet your worm church would have loved to break for that.”
Imogen hopes Wyll is as good of a man as everyone says he is, her friend deserves a good happy marriage.
—
Astarion is still pondering the question of the ring when he returns home. He hands the reins to their stable master and goes inside. Naturally, Cazador is waiting. "You're serious about the Mikage girl? Truly?"
"Yes, father. Must I fall to my knees and declare my undying love for her before you'll believe me?" He rolls his eyes and makes his way to the parlour where he assumes his mother will be. Hopefully she can take some of the scrutiny off him.
"Have you bought a ring yet? I've not seen anything on the accounts." Cazador continues, following close behind his son.
"God, no, I haven't!" He responds, genuinely annoyed now.
"Leave him be, Caz." Minthara says in her usual slow drawl, not even looking up from the book she's reading. "The boy isn't a simpleton. The Duke’s son has been most taken with his beau, I've no doubt Astarion is simply waiting so that he doesn't upstage his friend."
"Thank you, mother." Astarion sighs, turning hard eyes to his father again. "Wyll is going to propose to Miss Cliffgate tonight. I will propose to Imogen, but not until a decent enough amount of time has passed since Wyll's proposal. And I'm yet to have dinner at the Mikage's. It would look uncouth were I to move too quickly at this stage." He hopes his reasoning will get through to Cazador, before either of them loses their temper. "The butcher is making you blood sausage from the deer we hunted today." He adds, hoping that it will turn his father's mind away from proposals.
"Hmph." Cazador’s face softens the tiniest amount. "So that's where you were. You should really let me know your plans before you go gallivanting off. It would save so much worry."
Astarion purses his lips, trying not to laugh. As if Cazador had ever actually been worried about his wellbeing...more likely worried that his least favourite son might find a way to break free of him without marrying.
—
“Did you hear? The Duke is going to propose to Karlach,” Zoella seems so excited when Imogen arrives back home alone. “I do love the season,” she adds giggling, “seeing who will pair up and the pageantry and all!”
Imogen smirks just a little and nods, “It is quite fun. We should have known it would be her to have the first marriage of the season.”
Flopping down into the settee next to her mother, Imogen waits for Plum to jump up before settling in. “You’ll be next,” Zoella says giddily, nudging her daughter in the side with her elbow, “Then your mother and I can finally breathe a little easier.”
Imogen shakes her head but keeps quiet. The desire to see her married is obviously coming from a good place, but she doesn’t want to rush anything. Though, she won’t deny, the prospect of being alone with Astarion unobserved feels like more than enough of a reason to run to church.
That night when Imogen is tucked into bed, she imagines she’s walking the Acunin estate. It doesn’t feel like she’s visiting, instead her step is practised and familiar, like she’s never lived anywhere else.
Entering a room she finds Astarion stretched out with his sketch pad and his charcoals. The tips of his fingers are covered in soot and there’s even some at the roots of his hair and on the tip of his nose. Smiling, she leans down and kisses the side of his face.
No pressure, no additional eyes on them, no rules. Just the two of them relaxed and happy.
—
The whole night he is thinking about rings. A diamond, surely. But what else? Amethyst, topaz? He can't decide. He rolls over in his bed, restless. He thinks about Wyll and Karlach. He can't imagine she would have denied him, but he hopes for his friend's sake that she said yes. He's going to have to ask someone about rings before the thoughts drive him mad, he thinks. Maybe even his mother...she might be able to give some insight that he's failing to grasp. Tomorrow is Friday. Saturday is the dinner. Maybe...maybe he should have a ring by then? Just in case it feels like the right time? His anxiety is so great that he's chewing the skin off his lips. He flops face down onto his pillows and wills sleep to come.
The next morning's rags have the big announcement up top, front page, the Duke has found a bride! The first wedding of the season is well on its way.
Imogen grins looking at the paper while still lying in her nightgown stretches across the bed. Taking out her pen and paper she quickly starts writing out nonsense to Astarion. She's finding he’s one of the few people she wants to share all her little thoughts with as soon as she wakes and before she falls asleep.
‘Dearest,
Hope you slept well and your hunt was successful. I just received the announcement in the paper about Duke Ravengard and Lady Cliffgate; it’s all terribly romantic. I must confess, I did let my friend know that her wedding night isn’t supposed to be something approached with fear, just like you said to me. But it was hard to not explain anything further than that.
You were on my mind last night. I pictured us in a new place, a tangible one where we could actually be one day. Alone. The two of us finally free from watchful eyes. It made me understand why people rush these sort of things at times.
She scrawls out a little heart at the bottom of the note before adding Devotedly yours, Imogen’
When she goes to get her pigeon, she snorts, thinking of how he won’t know if she gave the girl a little kiss on the top of her head before sending her off.
