Age Doesn't Matter

Roseann, the second-oldest, resembling her father's pride, excuses herself from the room, not caring enough about her younger siblings to spend extra time with them.

Myra turns to look at her other siblings, a lingering hope that either one of them will look up to acknowledge her.

Mariene's eyebrows crease upon noticing Myra's unwavering stare, spitting with distaste, "Why do you look at me like that?" Myra shakes her head, trying her best to clarify that her staring was not intended to be rude.

"You've forgotten all your etiquette during your nap, sister," she cuts off and leaves, calm footsteps tapping against the ground until they are no longer heard.

Myra's gaze falls into a cold one, hands clenching into fists as she comes to the realisation that nobody cares and nobody will. If she expects to find her purpose and survive, she's going to have to do it with her own wits and intelligence. Her chair screeches hoarsely when she stands and Jalen watches her with blank curiosity, fiddling with a fork.

"You gonna ignore me, big sis?" he calls out and Myra turns quizzically.

"What? You were out playing all day, weren't you? Get to bed if there's nothing for you to do and speak to me another time," she replies coldly, trying to focus on the unending thoughts that hombard her mind regarding her situation.

Her words aren't intended to have as much bite as they do and Jalen freezes, the cutlery clattering to the ground in surprise.

Myra's expression contorts into one of annoyance as her thoughts vaporise and she's left feeling empty, unable to figure out where exactly her mind had left off. "I have a lot on my mind, Jalen, now's not the right time for your antics."

"The maids have been going on and on about how you've changed. I don't care enough to listen to rumours which don't matter nor do I bother about anything that the helpers have to say. Perhaps you have gotten colder," Jalen stomps against the ground, the fallen fork, crafted with firm silver bending under the sheer force of his foot.

Clicking his tongue with annoyance, he storms past Myra, shoving her roughly and deliberately before disappearing into the hallway. Myra, stupefied, looks back to his distancing silhouette, left utterly confused by his unprecedented tantrum.

'God, everyone in this house has anger issues', she grumbles to herself. Upon turning the corner, she spots Margaret standing there at her attention, waiting to attend to her.

Myra, not having expected her presence, feels as if her heart has leaped straight out of her skin. Eyes widening in shock, she frowns at Margaret who dips into a bow.

"My apologies for startling you. I'm here to escort you back to your bedroom so Leia and Jen may get you prepared for bed," she explains in a formal, aged voice. Myra disregards this, already losing interest halfway through the sentence.

Giving no answer, she sashays past the maid, returning to her bedroom in hopes of not getting lost for her own dignity.

Leia and Jen are already standing outside the bedroom door by the time Myra arrives, flashing her warm smiles in greeting. Myra, exasperated by the multitude of burdens on her mind, doesn't acknowledge them and instead pushes through the door roughly.

The handmaidens flinch, clearly fearful as intrusive thoughts bombard their minds with the worst. They exchange quizzical, almost wary looks towards each other until Margaret warns, "My lady seems to be in a sour mood right now. Do be wary."

Myra halts mid-track in the centre of the room, eyes darting around the room as she realises that she's unfamiliar with her night routine. When turning to ask Leia and Jen for advice as to what she's supposed to do, she shoots an unintentionally cold stare at both, causing both of them to fold over into a terrified bow.

"My lady, we're required to dress you into a nightgown so you may retire to bed. Please allow us to do so," both blurt in a panic, hands clasped in front of their waists. Myra's expression softens and she sighs.

"I don't appreciate formalities. Seeing you stiffen up so much around me is suffocating," she criticises, running her hand through her hair. Knowing neither Leia nor Jen will argue, she guides herself to the changing room, waiting for them to pick themselves up and follow her once they've managed the courage.

Myra scans her options lazily, looking for a nightdress she'll like, ultimately deciding that it won't matter which she chooses. Leia and Jen mumble in a forced tone, trying to raise their voices so Myra can hear them from across the room before they let themselves inside.

Leia trembles as she chooses a dress off the rack, something which Myra notices with her careful stare. She scoffs, glancing over at Jen as a gesture for her to help her out of her dress. "Is it possible for me to go to town?"

Jen hesitates as she helps Myra loosen her corset, fumbling with the strings as she re-thinks her answer.

Myra shoots her a pointed glare, to which Jean quickly removes the corset, answering in a meek voice, "Er, my lady, you might be required to spend the day at home and complete administrative work regarding the conflicts in the far west. As Master Cole has taken his leave, only you may complete the work in his stead."

"What? Isn't Roseann older than me?" Myra shrugs the dress off her shoulders, covering her breasts with her arms once it falls to her ankles. Jen helps her into the night gown, slipping it up to her shoulders, careful not to touch her lady.

"If Cole's inheriting the house once Father steps down as the Duke, shouldn't Roseann carry the family name alongside him? It's typically how it works with nobility, isn't it?" she argues.

Jen holds back a questioning look, trying not to be disrespectful. Hiding herself behind Myra so her expressions won't be seen in the mirror, she tightens the waistband and ties a ribbon knot with the satin ribbons.

"I thought you were aware that your father does not go by age, rather merit and favouritism."

"I don't understand," Myra repeats, consciously admiring herself in the mirror to make sure that the dress fits well on her. She hums in satisfaction for a moment, briefly distracted by the concern at hand.

Remembering her initial intention, she turns, placing her palms on either side of her hip while Jen thinks of a proper explanation. Noticing the silence, she begins to doubt her choice of asking a commoner maid about the private matters of the house.

"Since you and your siblings were born at one-year age differences, the Duke believed that it was fair to rightfully prioritise your roles based on your abilities. You are the most talented and organised lady in the entire region, dare I say, country. I would never underestimate your skills," Leia speaks up for Jen, taking a step forward.