The proposal—for that is what it was, in every sense of the world—took Tatiana aback, and she remained silent for several long moments, not wanting to react in any fashion until she had truly considered the weight of it.
It would have been the easiest thing in the world to say yes.
She would no longer be a Lestrange, of course, but that opportunity had left the table the day Claudius had married. She would be a proper Macnair, would bear at last the surname of the household that had raised her. Not only that, but she would be the wife of an heir, a firstborn son, set to inherit the accounts and properties that had been passed through the family for generations. There would be no mother-in-law to impress, only her own maternal figure, with whom she was already incredibly close.
Of course she had thought of it, over the years; no young girl could grow up surrounded by male cousins and not ponder the possibility of marrying one. Valerian would not make a bad husband by any stretch. Indeed, Tatiana was certain that, for the right woman, he would make a good husband. She could be settled at last, could have the uncertainty removed from her life and proceed as though she hadn't remained on the shelf for two years longer than she should have. Tatiana knew that Valerian would give her comfort and security.
But would he—could he—give her advancement, give her power?
What's more, did he even want her or merely to appease a mother who no doubt had been angling for the match for years?
"I am fond of you, Valerian," she voiced at last, the corners of her mouth quirking upward in the ghost of a smile, "but do you truly believe we would find happiness together?"
It was not a refusal, but it was a far cry from acceptance.
It would have been the easiest thing in the world to say yes.
She would no longer be a Lestrange, of course, but that opportunity had left the table the day Claudius had married. She would be a proper Macnair, would bear at last the surname of the household that had raised her. Not only that, but she would be the wife of an heir, a firstborn son, set to inherit the accounts and properties that had been passed through the family for generations. There would be no mother-in-law to impress, only her own maternal figure, with whom she was already incredibly close.
Of course she had thought of it, over the years; no young girl could grow up surrounded by male cousins and not ponder the possibility of marrying one. Valerian would not make a bad husband by any stretch. Indeed, Tatiana was certain that, for the right woman, he would make a good husband. She could be settled at last, could have the uncertainty removed from her life and proceed as though she hadn't remained on the shelf for two years longer than she should have. Tatiana knew that Valerian would give her comfort and security.
But would he—could he—give her advancement, give her power?
What's more, did he even want her or merely to appease a mother who no doubt had been angling for the match for years?
"I am fond of you, Valerian," she voiced at last, the corners of her mouth quirking upward in the ghost of a smile, "but do you truly believe we would find happiness together?"
It was not a refusal, but it was a far cry from acceptance.
— graphics by mj ❤ —