Timeo Danaos et Dona Ferentes

She had always known that her father wouldn’t go down without a fight. Even though the court had locked him away, it couldn’t keep him from getting the last word. Michael Davenport did not go down easily. Nor was he going to let his children have a moment of calm in their lives. That’s when he sent her.

Rowan had only known Beatrice Davenport through photos. Brown hair, long and neat but with a look of rebellion in her eyes. She was a history professor. Young, educated, rich and, above all, she was 100% human. Why her father had chosen her, Rowan could only guess. Maybe it was because she was unmarried with no kids, completely unattached. Maybe there was a strictness behind those mischievous looks. Maybe none of his other half siblings would even speak to him.

She came on a Sunday three weeks after Rowan had thought her father to be gone for good. No phone call. No letter. Just the sound of a car pulling up their driveway, and a woman with windswept hair stepping out of a very expensive car. She dressed like an eccentric art teacher, wearing a long floral cardigan over a white t-shirt and ripped jeans. Her whole expression screamed carefree.

Rowan watched her from the front step. One of the staff rushed out to help her, but she shooed him away, pulling out one of the boxes that seemed to fill the small car. Beatrice seemed to reconsider after looking at all of the boxes she had brought, and motioned for the staff member to grab one of the larger boxes from her trunk.

She looked over to the front door and waved at Rowan. Shouting across at her, “Are you Aspen or Rowan?”

Rowan waited for her to get closer before responding tentatively, “I’m Rowan. Aspen’s the older one.”

She waited for an explanation, but got none as Beatrice went on, “I might have only had to drive from San Francisco, but boy, it felt like a long car ride. It took fifteen minutes for those kids at the gate to let me through. I eventually had to bribe them with twenty bucks each. Then I had to find my way to New Rome. Little did I know, secret cities don’t appear on google maps. I had to ask three people where the Davenport residence was. One of them sent me in the complete opposite direction.” Beatrice paused, pushed up her sunglasses, and looked at Rowan curiously, “You look confused, my dear.”

“I am confused,” Rowan responded. She had no idea why Aunt Beatrice was at their house. She had never even met Aunt Beatrice.

“Did your father not tell you?” She asked curiously, pointing another staff member to the car.

“Nope,” Rowan answered simply. She hadn’t spoken to her father directly since, well, she stabbed him. She had no intention of speaking to him for a while either, not until the whole situation had died down and she was completely certain that he was gone for good.

“Michael has put me in charge of the Davenport estate while he’s in prison. Everything from the financials to the house itself.” Beatrice explained, “I-I’m surprised he didn’t warn you.”

Well shit.

Liam was laying in bed, leaning up against the wall. Technically if he wanted to he could get up and walk over to his desk, and work on his homework there, but he had just gotten back from a physical therapy session and every muscle in his body hurt. Including his brain, if that was even possible. Not that he was complaining or anything, three weeks ago he could barely lift his head off his pillow, least now he could walk around the house without help, most of the time, stairs were still tricky, and gods did their house have a lot of stairs.

He tapped his pencil against his textbook, and looked up at his window. He could hear faint voices traveling from the outside, curiously he pushed himself off the bed and made his way to the open window. He pulled the curtains to the side, and looked out. His sister was talking to a woman, who looked familiar, the happy singing voice of the woman was also familiar. Nah... it couldn't be...

Liam Davenport had met his Aunt Beatrice once, when he was three, at the one and only family reunion his immediate family was ever invited too. He remembered her solely for the reason that she had snuck him and Aspen cookies under the dinner table, when Michael wasn't looking. The rest of his memory of her, was in the picture book Michael kept in his office.

Which brought up the million dollar question; Why was she here?

Liam pulled the curtain shut again, and walked/fumbled/something into the hallway. He made his way down the steps, carefully, trying not to fall down them. He figured by the time he made it down the two flights of stairs, that his sister would've led their aunt into the house already, but that wasn't going to stop him from demanding answers anyway...

Beatrice's smile faltered, "I have no idea why he wouldn't tell you of my arrival. After all, he went to the trouble of making sure the estate was cared for." Another staff member appeared, walking out to the Tesla to grab another one of Beatrice's boxes. Although Rowan didn't say anything, she knew exactly why her father never told them about this. One reason was that they were currently refusing to talk to him, except for a certain visit that Rowan had paid her father not long after he was incarcerated.

"Be a dear and grab a box, won't you?" Beatrice said, "and then we can go inside and talk about all of this. Are the other three around?"

Rowan shrugged, "I think Liam might be home." To be honest she wasn't good at keeping tabs on her siblings' whereabouts. Nowadays most of them just came and went as they pleased, only really telling the others where they were going if they were planning on being gone for the night.

Rowan went to the car to retrieve a very large hat box. By the time she had returned, Aunt Bea had already wandered into the formal living room and was admiring a glass vase that sat upon a side table.

"You know," She started, glancing over at Rowan, "This was your great-grandmother's. She loved collecting art. Most of it was god awful. 'Tacky.' was the word that my mother used. In reality, Grandma Dora just really liked bright colors. I don't think it was tacky at all."

Rowan was about to reply before Beatrice looked past her and smiled "Well, we've found another one! You must be Liam."

Liam had finally gotten past the last step, and leaned against the railing for a minute in order to catch his breath. Gods they needed to install an elevator in this place. What, so they had an elaborately set up training room in the basement, his dad owned a helicopter, but no one in their family could have also invested in an elevator? He would never understand this family... or at least he'd never understand where their priorities when it came to things that were way more important than having a place to train vs. paying to install an elevator.

Once Liam had gotten his breathing under control he wandered the few steps from the hallway into the formal living room, where he could hear his aunt and sister talking. The formal living room was his least favorite room, probably because it was overly decorated with very fancy and expensive things. He wondered if his aunt knew how many times that vase had to be super glued back together... many times... he stood in the doorway, and leaned against the wall, waiting for them to finish their conversation and notice him.

"Hey Aunt Bea. Haven't seen you in years... How ya been?" Liam asked, he smiled back at the woman, kind of awkwardly, but also trying not to act like he was being awkward. He hadn't seen the woman in eighteen years, and the only reason she was here was because their father had picked her to take care of the estate. His only memories of his Aunt Beatrice was of how nice she had been the one any only time he had even met her, and the idea that her and their father had been close enough for him to leave her the estate unnerved him a bit.