25 December, 1894 — Dempsey Estate, Galway

Christmas morning. Don Juan was not hungover but was pretending to be, so that he could nestle into one of the big armchairs with a cup of coffee and not be asked to get up to do anything or help with anything, and so that he only had to engage with the conversation when he wanted to. He loved his family, but there were a lot of them.

Breakfast was eaten. Gifts were exchanged. Don Juan was mostly interested in watching people open the ones he'd procured, because nothing material was as satisfying as being lavished in attention, however briefly. Things were going smoothly until Endymion opened his. It wasn't anything particularly special: a bottle of nice alcohol, which was the standard I have to buy something for a man and have no idea what else to do gift. But something twigged his memory about the label; had it always been that color? He thought it had been different. He couldn't exactly sneak a closer look when he was supposedly the one who had carefully selected it, but he did lean in a bit when his brother showed it to someone else and tried to puzzle out what seemed off about it.

He'd wrapped the wrong bottle, he realized. This explained why the brandy he'd had two weeks ago which was meant to induce hallucinations hadn't seemed to have much affect. He must have spent the evening sipping down all of the liquor he was meant to be gifting to Endymion, while the actually-laced substance lay hidden beneath the tree. Well then.

He didn't say anything in the moment and let the parceling out and unwrapping of gifts continue, but he did begin thinking up how he might reasonably get it back from Endymion without too much fuss. He could try to just take it — his brother probably would not even notice its absence, much less miss it, he guessed — but that might not even be necessary. He was sure Endymion didn't want it; he could just explain the situation (or hint towards it) and probably have it sorted relatively quickly.

The gift exchange finished, attentions turned towards brunch — the entire day would be spent either eating or celebrating, or both, if tradition was upheld. Don Juan wasn't hungry yet but did make himself a cocktail. With orange juice, so that it seemed appropriately breakfast-y.

"So," Don Juan said to Endymion when they next crossed paths. His tone was conversational; if he was anything other than casual about this he was afraid his mother would start listening in, and he'd rather not explain this little mishap to her. "I'm going to need that gift back, actually. I think I gave you the wrong bottle."

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MJ made this <3

Thus far, Christmas had gone off without a hitch. There were times when Lowri had longed for the more energetic Christmases with the children. When they were little, sitting back and seeing them open their presents with such enthusiasm, one would think they could overpower the sun; it was one of the highlights of Lowri’s year. Now, Christmases were no less joyful (or chaotic, which Lowri truly didn’t mind) but some how more mellow. She’d suspected after the excitement from the Christmas masquerade ball that this time would be no different. Nestled back in her favorite plush chair in her best morning dress with a cup of tea hovering at her side, Lowri enjoyed watching her family open their presents with a certain smug and prideful air about her. It was always so satisfying knowing that she’d guessed right when they had opened a present that they truly loved. And if they didn’t like it, then she just figured they would learn to eventually. Mother always knew best, after all.

After the gifts were all passed around, Lowri roused herself for brunch after having finished her cup of coffee. When brunch concluded, she knew she wanted to work some more on the manuscript her editor had sent back, however she’d left both manuscript, her spectacles and her special quill back in her bedroom. Not wanting to make Millie get it as she’d just gone up to the room to fetch one of Lowri’s shawls, Lowri made her way to the bedroom herself, humming a carol as she went along.

The sight that met her when she walked into her bedroom was a peculiar one. A rather impatient looking owl stood there, glaring at her. When Lowri made her way over to the animal, it stuck its leg out for the letter to be removed. “Curiouser and curiouser,” Lowri murmured to herself as she took the roll of parchment from the owl. It ruffled its feathers before taking off out the window. Sighing, the witch sat down at her vanity, tucking the letter into her sleeve before riffling through the drawers to locate her things. Once everything was in hand, Lowri meandered back downstairs. “I’ve just received a letter from someone.” She announced to the room at large, knowing it was likely not of interest to anyone but preferring to narrate her day. “Haven’t the foggiest who, though I think the writing looks familiar. Ah!” She’d put down her things and begun to open it as she walked over to the brunch table buffet the servants had laid out. “Yes I do remember, a young poet who wanted my advice. Very forward young thing, seemed eager to make their mark on the world. Perhaps they want more advice.” The first paragraph of letter was put read and put down in increments as she gathered her things on her plate.

It was only when she’d gathered everything and was headed back to her seat that she began to read the second paragraph. She presumed that the rest of the letter would contain perhaps a revelation that the writer was someone with whom she was already acquainted. Instead:

You are my grandmama…Don Juan Dempsey is my father…He doesn’t want me.

She wasn’t even aware she’d finished the entirety of the letter before she gave a cry and her plate crashed to the floor as she clutched the parchment in both hands, staring at it in horror. Then, her gaze whipped up to land on her son.

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Lycoris had been in the midst of admiring this years bounty when her mother announced she had gotten a letter. Her mother was correct in her assumption that this was of no interest to the youngest of the Dempsey children as she was more concerned with her new belongings. It was no surprise to her that a young poet had reached out but was also of no personal concern to her.

Lycoris had just been opening the pages of the personalized sketchbook someone had gifted her when her mothers cry and the plate crashing had her attention whipping to the older woman. "Mama?" She called out in concern. Had the letter come with some sort of terrible news?

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   Lowri Dempsey

Don Juan had been focusing on trying to surreptitiously corner Endymion and hadn't been paying attention to what his mother was doing except to ensure she wasn't standing at either of their elbows, so he had entirely missed her mumbling about the letter. Like everyone else, he looked up with a start when she cried out and dropped the plate. Unlike everyone else, he immediately made eye contact with her. He knew at once that it was not a good thing that his mother was looking at him and not at anyone else. He didn't know precisely what he'd done — it could have been any number of things, to be frank — but he had the sinking feeling that he knew what he was about to do, and that was to ruin Christmas Day.

He pursed his lips and took a small step to the side, positioning Endymion's shoulder between himself and his mother as though this had any chance of helping.

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MJ made this <3

Lowri’s mind spun at such record speeds. She almost would have keeled over if it weren’t for the fact that she had placed a hand on the table to steady herself. Her gaze went back down to the letter in her hand, currently shaking like a leaf. Of course she had no proof; and she was certain Oz had mentioned something about blackmail a long time ago. But there was something about this letter that was genuine. And of course, Lowri liked to think of herself as someone with good intuition, and this one didn’t carry any sort of sinister undertones to it; no, it was from the young poet who had communicated with her earlier in the year, she was certain that was true.

Well, there was only one way to find out what was true and what was false. Facing Don Juan, Lowri steeled herself. He was her son. Perhaps he would be good at covering for himself, but something told Lowri she’d be able to tell if this was true or not. “Don Juan.” She said, her voice shaking. She brandished the letter, her attention only on him. “Would you kindly explain to me who this Kaatjie girl is?” Her tone conveyed that absolutely no funny business should be attempted, and she watched closely to his reaction at the name she said.

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Kaatjie! Fuck's sake. He thought he'd closed that chapter earlier in the week when he'd sent her home. He'd even written her later and apologized. He had not expected eleven year olds to be capable of vindictive scheming, but the daughter of Adriana Spaans was apparently the exception to the rule. Perhaps he should have known.

He'd gone half a shade paler, but his mother was still staring at him, intent on an explanation. He didn't know what Kaatjie had written in the letter, so trying to equivocate his way out of this one seemed like a losing battle. And what was his mother going to do to him, anyway? Force him to parent the girl? Clearly not; no one wanted that.

"A very foolish Dutch girl," he answered. "Who, to her great misfortune, happens to be my daughter."

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   Lowri Dempsey

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MJ made this <3

Endymion’s mind had been on the bottle, mostly, trying to recall anything particularly of interest or value about it, if his brother had the gall to want it back (rude, honestly), when he found himself awkwardly positioned, hovering in the middle of something that he was fairly certain was nothing at all to do with him.

He could feel Don Juan so near he might be breathing down his neck. Endymion, gaze caught on his mother’s hand and the way it was shaking with the parchment in it, was certain of only one thing, which was an inclination to remove himself from the crossfire as swiftly as possible. Before he ended up as accidental cannon fodder.

So he shifted sideways, away from his brother (and conveniently towards the side buffet), when the finer points of their conversation caught up to him. “Uh. What?” From this safe vantage point, Endymion gaped, dumbfounded – and struck by the odd temptation to laugh, which felt like a bad idea. (And also became instantly more tempting, upon that feeling.) “Since when does Don Juan have a daughter?”

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   Lowri Dempsey

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At his mother's cry Oz had glanced first to her, then immediately to Thomasina. Doesn't count, he tried to convey through a raise of his eyebrows. They'd taken bets yesterday on the likelihood of something dramatic occurring to derail the festivities while the presents were being unwrapped; Oz, feeling fraternally good-spirited, had taken the position that they'd make it through. And he'd won the bet, fair and square; the gifts had been exchanged without incident. An incident following less than twenty minutes later didn't invalidate the win.

On the revelation that the letter centered on yet another of Don Juan's scandals, he straightened up. "Do they have evidence she's his bastard?" he asked, crossing towards his mother and holding out his hands for the letter. He assumed this was another blackmail attempt, or something like it, and at the same time assumed it would fall to him to meditate it; his entire family was too fanciful to be involved in negotiations of any sort. "It doesn't matter if it's true if they can't prove it."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

His daughter! She stared at DJ in horror, the pallor of her own skin matching that of her son’s as he realized what had just happened. She could see the wheels turning in his head; the letter in her hands crumpled a fraction as her hand tensed. Merlin help him if he tried to explain himself out of this one. His reaction might as well have been a beam of light shining on him from down below, illuminating his guilt.

She was too gobsmacked to even take in the reaction of her other children (later she might consider finding solace in the fact that it seemed the others weren’t privy to their brother’s sordid secrets) other than Ozy who blessedly had a logical question prepared on the tip of his tongue. “Yes! Yes!” She gasped in relief as she finally felt her body burst back into motion. That's right! Oz had asked her about any attempts to blackmail her not that long ago. It was the life raft she clung to in this turbulent sea the letter had just thrust them into. “Don Juan, what evidence is there? How do you know she’s truly your daughter?”

She brushed away Oz’s second statement, however. Like hell it mattered. If, at its core, it was true, she intended to do something about it.

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   Don Juan Dempsey

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Don Juan had been inclined to roll his eyes at Endymion and offer up a dry, sarcastic response along the lines of Since eight years ago, that's what they mean when they describe a child as eight years old, didn't you know? Except that he didn't recall exactly how old Kaatjie was, at least not without figuring out what year it was she'd been born and doing the math. On the off-chance that this detail had been included in the letter to his mother, he thought it was in his best interest not to hazard a guess and be wrong. That was almost certainly the sort of thing that would have been held against him. But he didn't like that both of his brothers in their reaction had decided to talk about him rather than to him, as though even when he was the only one with any relevant information they didn't care what he had to say.

"Because I was married to her mother when she was conceived," he said, tone decidedly petulant despite knowing that this would help his case with his mother not at all. "D'you reckon that's evidence enough?" If it had just been Oz to contend with (if this had been another summons to his London house to be lectured about how Don Juan's problems were now becoming Oz's problems and Oz had bigger and more important problems to spend his time thinking about) he might have gone on to offer up some more specific evidence, but he did at least have enough shame to spare his parents and sisters that.

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MJ made this <3

“Kaatjie,” Phyri mused, not leaving her position across the room, where she was perching comfortably on a wide windowsill. Kaatjie, was, as far as she could parse it, not much of a Spanish name. Catalina, maybe, but not that.

Her brother confirmed this himself, when he said Dutch girl. Porphyria’s eyes narrowed at this mystery.

His wife, alleged-wife, whatever that fuss had been, had been Spanish, no? And Phyri had been sorry for Don Juan having married once. She had thought Don Juan like her, in having no respect or need for the institution, whatever he got up to in spite of it; she had thusly actually had some respect for him, as a brother, until that point. But his evidence made little sense in that regard. Unless..

“Hell, DJ,” she said to him, with a pitying expression and a shake of her head. “You can pass off marrying once as a mistake... But twice? That’s just tragic.”

I expected better of you, she might have said. Whatever had possessed him? Why couldn’t he have just settled for living in sin, Romantically?

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   Ozymandias Dempsey

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a sublime set by Lady! <3

Sina was disappointed having lost the bet, and was eating pieces of melon while she tried to come up with an argument that this new event meant that she ought to be able to win, anyways. Bastard children, Lowri breaking a plate — all of this was more excitement than Sina had anticipated even when she bet against them making it through presents.

She finally reacted audibly when Don Juan said he'd been married to her; Sina began to cackle, covering her mouth with her hand not because she was embarrassed but because she didn't want the sound of her laughter to interrupt the episode unfolding in front of her while she sat at the table.

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   Ozymandias Dempsey

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set by MJ

"Twice," he repeated, utterly incredulous. He had glossed over the detail about ethnicity and assumed, fairly reasonably he thought, that this was part of the same sprawling scandal he'd been forced to deal with over the autumn. The alleged daughter might have been part of the evidence the alleged wife was holding back when she'd first tried to negotiate; he'd wondered at how little she'd offered, but this perhaps made a sort of sense; people were sentimental about children. But Phyr had said twice and Oz had taken the lack of immediate clarification from his brother as confirmation. He could hardly be expected to deal with an entirely separate scandal — unlike the rest of them (save Endymion) he did have a job.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

"The second doesn't count," Don Juan protested. "It wasn't legal." He had not expected to be lectured by Porphyria, and thought he ought to offer up a defense. If Endymion, romantic, and Porphyria, Romantic, represented two edges of the spectrum of Dempsey family members, he could very easily bear being lectured by one half if he could continue to have the support of the other.

In terms of what counted he could have argued the first shouldn't have counted, either, on the grounds that he had been eighteen and on tour. In a just world he doubted anyone would have to answer to any decisions made while they were eighteen and on tour — but this was, he acknowledged, probably not as sound a legal defense as he had for the second.

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MJ made this <3