Afraid of Greatness - Twelfth Night Fic

Chapter One

The letters were piled up on Lady Olivia's desk. 3 from lords in Italy, several from kings and dukes in France, and one from a nobleman in England. Wax seals littered the dark-stained wood, and torn envelopes were strewn across the floor. Malvolio, her loyal servant, was dutifully sorting through her mail, discarding the letters from suitors who were not worth her time. All the letters contained talk of how beautiful she was, that she was the fairest lady in all the land, but none mentioned her cunning wit or compassionate nature.

The Lady Olivia stormed into her study, heaving a loud sigh. She slammed the door behind her.

"My Lady–" He froze.

"Malvolio, Sir Toby is incessantly trying to convince me to pursue Sir Andrew, and I-" She paused, noticing him going through her mail. The guilty look on his face said it all. "Why are you looking through my private correspondences?"

"My lady," he stood and bowed in her presence, finding his confidence once again. "I was merely ensuring that the men you spoke to were worthy of your time."

"Is that not for me to decide?" She walked over to her desk and snatched the letter from his hands. As she read it, her face fell.

"My lady, these men, they are not–"

"Another letter about how stunning I am," she rolled her eyes, tossing it in the trash.
"Yes, my Countess, that is what I was trying to say to you. These men, they do not understand the first thing about your passionate nature. Your intelligence! Your excellent sense of humour."

"Right?!" She groaned. "I am growing tired of courtship. I wish I could just be left alone."

Malvolio watched as she paced around her room. She was wearing her pink dress, so presumably, she visited her parents for tea, meaning she most certainly crossed paths with her perpetually drunk uncle, Sir Toby. She flopped down onto her large four-post bed and let out yet another sigh.

"I mean, my own uncle will not stop pestering me to court his friend. Sir Andrew is crude and vulgar!" She turned to her side and faced Malvolio. "Malvolio, do any of the men seem decent?"

"I... I apologise, my lady, but at this time I believe it is prudent to wait for a better selection."

"My father is pestering me. He says that if I do not find a suitor soon, I will no longer be his heiress. It will go to my brother."

He gasped. "My Lady Olivia, that is horrible news."

"I desire a husband. I truly want a lifelong companion, but I do not want to be miserable because I settled. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my lady, I... I feel for you." Malvolio walked awkwardly to the other side of the room and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew not what to do.

"Draw me a bath," she ordered, sitting up. "I need to relax."

"Yes, my lady." He paused, bowing to show her his undying respect. "A-Am I dismissed?"

"Hie thee, Malvolio, you are dismissed."

Malvolio stood in the bathroom, watching the pots of water he was warming over the stove. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he considered possible options he could suggest for her. Several men find her looks enchanting, even bewitching. Her thick brown hair, pulled effortlessly into an updo, was always coiffed and shiny. Her green eyes matched her fair complexion and rosy cheeks. She matched every single beauty standard of the time, and yet that was the least striking thing about her. She was emotive and honest, and while these were not qualities many men sought, Malvolio certainly thought they should be celebrated. She would make an excellent and empathetic mother, a loving wife, and an overall trustworthy and reliable life companion. She was always on time, very polite, and graceful beyond her years. He would be honoured to be seen in public by her side.

If her humble servant could see it, why couldn't anyone else? he thought. Her kindness was evident to him even though she treated him with the least respect of all. He adored her humorous tone and embraced even her most volatile emotions.

"MALVOLIO!"

He jumped. Panicked, he trusted the water would be okay if he left it for a few minutes. He ran up the dark stairwell and flew down the hallway to the large wooden door that led to her wing of the castle. He gave the wood a sharp knock. "Lady Olivia?"

"You may come in."

He entered and bowed, as is customary for a head steward when he sees his lady. Her desk was still in disarray, but she had moved to the small couch by the window. The sunlight illuminated her face as if she were in a painting, eyes shining as she looked forlornly upon the courtyard. His breath caught in his throat. "Um... My lady, your water for your bath is on. What is it that I may help you with?"

"I have decided to lie to my father."