It is early morning; Maddie's in classes already, and breakfast is just being served to various members of the family who don't have to be up with the dawn. Fiona is not one of them. She is already dressed, in an off-white gown of heavy cream fabric with a green and gold pattern chasing itself along the hem and cuffs. It's loose enough to allow her to move, but snug enough to show that she's rather rotundly pregnant - no wonder she's here instead of in London.
     She smiles to the guards as she approaches your room. She's aware of their orders to keep young women away from your chambers; she's also quite confident that, being your grandmother (no matter how youthful she looks), she'll get a pass. And if somehow they didn't get the memo, she's probably still safe to pass - she can hardly claim, after all, that you debauched her when she's in this state.
     "Balthazar?" Fiona calls from the other side of the door, voice cheerful and melodic. "It's your aged granny. May I come in and rest my bones? I'll try not to have my water break on your floor..."

     He had returned to his chambers just after sunrise, last parting kisses made among the coats and dresses in a magically joint closet, to shower and face a day of exercise, strategy, and the preliminary runs of the Grand Contest. There are afternoon races to determine starting positions, among others.
     He looks at the itinerary of his day, his calendar and appointments as he sips coffee on the veranda. It is chilly, but portable chimneys and fire ovens have been moved to the porch to create a balmy, greenhouse effect. Dressed in red lounging pants and nothing else, he leans forward at the voice and, surprised, stands.
     "Come in, nainie," he calls out, his voice reaching the door easily, even from that distance. And by the time the door is opening, he is shutting the verandah door, his schedule in hand. His amber hair is dried from the shower to hold a slight wave, short though it is. His honeyed eyebrows are lifted in curiosity, and his wings are folded at his back, still warm from the ovens and heaters.
     Immediately, he summons a service of breakfast tea. "This is a surprise," he says and he approaches to give you the greeting you deserve, a kiss upon your cheek.
     He has become enormous, bigger and grander even than in summer. Balthazar smiles. "I am surprised you are not being followed around by medics, nainie..."

     "Oh, they'd like to," she retorts, kissing you in answer and patting your shoulder. "I keep giving them the slip. It's twins again," Fiona sighs, "your grandfather doesn't know his own strength. I hope he'll be able to cope when it's boys again. I'm going to sit down, if you don't mind, but I may need your help standing up again!"
     She smiles at you, looking you up and down consideringly, then nods. "You're growing up," Fiona announces. "I'm glad. I've been a little concerned about you for a long time, you were so easily bruised. Mind, you aren't out of the woods just yet. Sit with me, if you will, and let's chat about where your life's been and where it's going." Her smile reappears, crinkling her features into an unvoiced laugh. "I wanted to visit you before the boys come. Once they do, I'm not sure how things will get to be arranged, and you are coming up to your busy season, soon."

     His eyebrows remain up, opened outward. Is this the dreaded Birds and Bees conversation? "I'm growing taller, this is true," he says. He offers you a hand, a thoughtful escort to the sofa. "I'll gladly help you up, nainie. Twins again?" Balthazar shakes his head a little. "He is lucky you let him near you. A lesser woman would have banished him by now, I'm sure. So.... a talk about Life, The Universe and Everything?"
     He glances to you as you take a seat, and he pours you a cup of lavender tea. A hint of honey, a hint of cream. "My busy season? I have a ways to go for that. It's autumn. I have the long, cold winter to get through first. But... sure..."
     Balthazar takes a seat, leaving the tea to you for a moment. He looks at you. "You've been concerned about me?" He half smiles at that. "I do bruise easily. A little less than before but... I'm still a sensitive guy under all of this gold and fluff."

     "I like the sex too much to do that," she answers, eyes sparkling with female mischief. Too much information, no doubt, but you did open it up! But it's not why she's here. Fiona accepts the tea with resignation. Pregnancy and tea, always endless cups of tea. "The long cold winter," she agrees. "But you are finally putting together a kingdom of your own."
     She smiles at you, and her expression softens, becomes loving, doting for just a moment. "I've been concerned about you since you were a little boy, my darling. I do watch over you, all of you, you know. When and how I can. And you've always had a trouble with dividing lines, and feeling yourself on the wrong side of them. No secret where you get that from." Fiona sighs. "Your grandfather gave that to several of you."
     She sips her tea, then leans over to pat your knee. It's about what she can reach, in her current state. "I don't expect you to stop being yourself, and I don't want you to stop being yourself. I want what every parent and grandparent wants; I want you to be able to grow, and to be happy, not just now but in the future. It's uncomfortably like gardening, you know; sometimes you have to pinch a leaf off here, or separate some roots there, and it's not much fun for the garden, I'm sure, and phrases like 'this hurts me more than it hurts you' just adds insult to injury, doesn't it? But you're almost grown, now."
     She smiles again, and there is fondness, and something a bit moister in her eyes now. "It's very difficult for your parents to let you go, you know. Do you know which child is always a parent or grandparent's favorite?"

     Balthazar sits back, his wings tucking away to dissolve against his skin, into the aether. He looks at you curiously, bending forward after a moment to pour his own cup of tea. He looks into the lightly lavender colored tea, his golden eyes warm with his own emotion. He chuckles a little, more an exhale of amusement than a laugh. "He also tells me he's the reason for my good looks. I think he just likes to take credit. I suppose he's due that much."
     Cup cradled in his large hands, strong hands that dwarf the cup, Balthazar looks to you again. His eyebrows knit together. He listens, and he is curious. Where is this going? "Is something the matter, nainie? I'm not dying or anything. I'm just becoming a king..."
     Smiling, he sips at his tea, sitting back a bit. "I'm happy. I'm still trying to adjust to responsibilities that I didn't really plan for. That's on me. But... you know, I learn, I listen, I make mistakes, I learn again." He shrugs.
     To your comment on favorites, he smirks. "You'll say the one you're speaking to at any given time. But we all know who the favorites really are. I don't hold it against anyone." Balthazar is quiet after that, peering at you. No, he's really not sure where you're going with all of this or how difficult (or not) it is for a parent to let go of a child. His parents seem more than ready for him to get a clue so they can let go.

     "No." Fiona smiles at you fondly, shaking her head. "The favorite is the one in the greatest need at a given time. The one who crawls into bed with us, frightened of a nightmare; the one with the colic, in pain and there's nothing we can do about it. It isn't about proximity, Balthazar. If it were only that, then it'd be down to greed, wouldn't it? In a way, it was your poor luck to be born into a titled family. You'd probably have been happier in a farming community, or - well, I'm getting off track. I do that!"
     She laughs, but her gaze is still tender, and she leans forward again to pat your knee. "There is no just about becoming a king. It's painful, it hurts, and it's a lot of bloody hard work. Becoming a queen's a pain, too, but in different ways. But I'm glad that you've reached this point, and I'm proud of you. You'll go on to build a grand kingdom, and that's how it should be. You, of all people, should never step in on something that's already been there; the Sun King needs his own place, where he can sit and feel everything, in fullness of time. You will make it real."

     "Farming?" he blurts out. He laughs. "I'm not a hippy. You've the wrong child. I'm not ..." he pauses. "...ungrateful to have been born to a title. I just... don't see why it has to be that big an issue. Anyway..." He cedes the floor back to you, his tea set aside and his head resting on his hand. His smile is winsome. There is poetry (and lust) in the curve of it. He would make a good painting.
     Balthazar agrees with your sentiments in his eyes. He acknowledges it quietly. "It hasn't always been the most comfortable of processes. I haven't felt very well equipped for it at times. At other times, I've enjoyed it." He shrugs. "I guess it's all a part of finding out what it's...what I'm...all about." He offers a short "Thank you" after a short pause. "I ... don't know what it's going to be yet, or what I'm going to do. But...at least there are islands now. There's a start to it." He pauses, his winsome smile appearing again.
     "You seem worried about something or... concerned about something. Or maybe I just need to let you finish so you get to the end of your story. Sorry, nainie. I keep interrupting."

     "I was referring more to the purpose-driven nature of it than to the actual purpose itself, silly," Fiona retorts with a chuckle. "The trappings of court have always frustrated you a bit, my darling grandson." She shifts on the sofa, resting a hand on her belly with a wince. "Hey, you two in there, stop kicking or I'll evict you! It's against the landlady's rules of order."
     The tea is put on her belly so you can see it vibrate, and she makes a comical face. "Oh, well. Soon enough, I imagine." And then you ask your question, and Fiona considers her answer. "I suppose that I am concerned, in a way. About you, but not about you. I'm more concerned about your girlfriend, and about your future happiness with her. Which is bound to make you feel defensive, but I'm hoping you'll try not to take it that way. Are you up for discussing it, or is this where I kiss you fondly and toddle off to mind my own business?"

     "I like the clothes of court, and the music." A pause. "And the food and theater. But I could do with less of the 'he said, she said' and the 'who are you dancing with' and the cattiness. You should have seen it last night. I had to have a bodyguard...at a dance. It is ridiculous."
     He smirks as he brings his cup of tea back for a sip. He looks to you more seriously, however, as you do voice your concerns. "I would rather know than not know, nainie. I will try," his lips make a cupid's curl, "...not to take it personally. It'll be good practice for me, at the very least. What's your concern regarding Madison?"
     He says it as if there are others (perhaps even he?) who have concerns. What's your concern, he said...

     "I don't give a damn about who her family is, or her money, or any of that," Fiona answers you frankly. "I hope that you do realize that. I may be a snob, darling, but not about those things!" She chuckles again, then sighs, picking up her tea.
     "My concern is her lack of drive," Fiona says finally. "She might be growing, but it isn't on a par with your growth. She not only isn't keeping up, she's not gaining ground; she's coasting, to be quite honest, and that just isn't good enough. Oh, I know," she smiles at you, "I'm not here as much as some, but I do keep my hand in, and I do keep tabs. And I have met the girl, and people talk to me. I am not the only one with concerns, although mine are further along, shall we say, and being older and so on and so forth, it may be that I feel more strongly about this, from a more judgmental point of view. However."
     The smile is put away, and Fiona sips her tea, resting a hand on her heavy belly as she mulls over her choice of words. "She is doing very little to explore her own universe, Balthazar. She's been given a great and powerful gift - several of them, in fact, if you count things like this world, this city, this country. And while she's explored the corner of it which she personally is interested in - dance, the Academy - she's done nothing to learn about her magic, nor about her own limits. She's coasting along, and while some of that's forgivable at seventeen... it's been going on too long for me to be comfortable with it. And I really think something should be done."

     Strangely, perhaps, you're not telling him anything he hasn't already realized. Balthazar looks down to his tea, setting the cup aside to grow ever more tepid. "I have been giving her time, nainie," he notes quietly. "Applying a little pressure, but... to be frank, she hasn't been here all that long. Perhaps long enough. A few weeks, which in her universe has been a day. Tops. So... I've been keeping a bit hands-off. Well," he colors a bit as he grins, "... at least as it comes to those areas."
     Balthazar exhales in thought, his mouth neither smiling nor frowning as he sits forward. "I have tried to ... in my own way," take it for what you will, "... open or touch off her abilities in the hope that she'd have to deal with it, or investigate it. I thought... certainly the kama sutra would set her on fire." He chuckles. "And ... it did, but ... I agree... there hasn't really been much movement there. Does there need to be?" He pauses, nodding to answer his own question. "Yes..."
     Rather than defensive, he's thoughtful. "I just don't know what to do or how to help her, or push her as the case may be. I've tried a few things, worked with Sabira to guide her toward dance hoping that it would open her outward. But ...neither sex nor dance has had the desired effect." He smiles quickly. "In that regard."
     Balthazar settles back into a comfortable sprawl. "I'm fresh out of ideas. I thought... perhaps I should just let the flower open when it wishes to. So I decided to be patient instead. She has shown herself to be compassionate and politically savvy. So... I think she certainly has the potential to be a queen. I love her." That's obvious. "I want her to grow and to be fulfilled..."

     She is sympathetic; she smiles at your slight blush, at the implications behind it. "Being patient is one thing. But now you're talking about marrying her. Marriage is always a risk, Balthazar, but under the current circumstances? I'm not saying you'd be making a mistake, we can't know that for sure, but I am saying that I don't think it's a good idea." She sighs. "And, speaking of poor ideas..."
     I am going to drop to silence for a moment for this, my darling grandson, because this is something for your ears only. You'll take it and do with it what you will, but you know I'm an opinionated old biddy; that's why you all love me, or so I hope.
     Fiona smiles at you with that hint of tenderness again, but it is with some deep emotional pain and regret. Understand that this is my opinion, what I see in this, and take that for what you believe it's worth. But ... I don't think that Madison is the right girl for you. I think that her sister is, still, the one that fate's intended for you; that when you met her, the time wasn't quite right, you weren't ready, she wasn't ready. I won't pull out the bar graphs and charts! Well, unless you want me to. But I don't believe that Bran is right for her anymore than Madison is right for you. On my word of honor, and now you know she's serious, for she uses that phrase so seldom, and only when she means it very somberly indeed, I am not saying this intending to take action to make things one way or another. But there are reasons, and this is what I believe... and I think there will be a great deal of pain and disappointment coming, or at the best, lasting regrets.
     Aloud, your grandmother remarks, "If you wish, I could attempt to break through to Madison. I have certain powers and resources which others lack, and a bit more distance than some. I've been hands off throughout all this to a great deal, my darling, because you needed to find your way through. The Sun King has to, you know; I help where I can, but I have a fear of ruining things for any of you by paving the way for you too much. Even nainies have to resist the urge to spoil their grandchildren sometimes, I suppose."

     The universe parted and there was Gillian. I made an honest go at it, nainie. And however I might have felt about her there is still one irrefutable fact: she is not and never was attracted to me. Now, I don't know what this deal with her and Bran is. I'm trying to stay out of it. I have problems enough on my own. But as far as fate is concerned? Fate can take a flying leap.
     He exhales on your word of honor and looks away. If you felt this way, how come you assisted Bran in proposing to her? Ignoring my advice not to in the process. Balthazar smirks at that, his hands on his thighs as he looks forward a moment. Golden eyes are warm when they look to you. He's not upset, really. Well not that you spoke your mind. But it does make him stop and think. At least he's doing that instead of throwing fireballs.
     "If you feel that strongly about it, I can't really deny you, nainie. If there are things that you can bring to bear to help awaken Madison, that would be welcomed. I will do whatever you feel is necessary. But I think the ship has sailed on the other matter."
     I released her in my heart. The thought of taking her back in it is far too painful. Besides which, there's the matter of your son's heart and the fact that she... simply isn't into me. I've seen her a few times since. I'm not smart enough for Gillian West, and she knows it. I'm also not the challenging, pushy sort of brute. And obviously, that's what she's attracted to. The Bad Boy. Balthazar smirks. And that has Bran written all over it.

     There's a big difference between 'never' and 'not enough', Balthazar. I'm a woman myself, although I suppose I likely fall somewhere between those two girls on the personality spectrum. There is a smile for it, taking a sip of tea. At the time, my darling, your heart was - as far as I knew then or know now - bound up in a new love. I don't deny that I got caught up in romantic imaginings. Bran's had so much pain and difficulty in actually revealing himself to any girl that I was delighted that finally he was at such a crossroads. That doesn't change the fact that, the longer I look at things, the more I realize that it is most probably going to end in even greater pain all around.
     "I will meet with her, then, tonight," Fiona says out loud, expression tranquil, betraying none of the turbulence of the other discussion - the one which cannot be overheard, by accident or by eavesdropping. "And I'll work with her, as the current Queen Mother," she grins impudently, "to get her into shape."
     She doesn't rise to her feet; it's questionable whether or not she can without help. You have always undersold yourself, and that is one of the reasons why I've always worried about you, darling. Yes, women are attracted to the Bad Boy. But it isn't who or what they marry - not women like Gillian West. Or, to put it another way, darling - when she went out with you, you offered yourself as a rock and roll musician, not as a King, present or future. You had nothing which you were building, other than a band, and music. You had room for her in your heart - but the sort of woman she was, and is, where would she fit in that life? And she is, I believe, a woman with deep-rooted insecurities as to where she belongs. She is very driven, and she feels the need to climb as high as she can possibly go, and build the best possible legacy she can. She can improvise to reach her goals - but at the end of the day, she does not want improvisation. She wants security, and stability, and to put the adventures in the past until they are next needed. And ... that is not what Bran is. It is what you are.
     She grunts, rocking as she tries to get up, moving the tea out of the way. "I think when I meet with her I'll remain standing. Or possibly leaning up against a wall." And silently, Fiona adds, I won't push my point. I could go on, but you have the gist of my reasoning. It's up to you to look at things, and to see if I'm wrong or right, Balthazar. I will do my best for you, for Madison, for your happiness - but I cannot sit on the sidelines and not say anything. That would be dishonest, and it would go against everything that I am.

     Balthazar is quick to rise, and quick to offer gallant aid. His face is now a mirror of his perturbed soul, mixed emotions, even confusion. There is pain of love remembered and pain of a love that is felt deeply but that might be rended again. The heart is guarded, fearing further injury.
     Perhaps she is transformative for him. To bring what is good in his nature out. I don't know. She wants him, nainie. Not me. She's made that abundantly clear. And Madison brings joy to my life, not challenge. Gillian needs a mind of her equal. She needs challenge and push-back. She needs the Immovable Object. But... I value your opinion and trust your judgement. I just... don't feel I'm her type. She leaped off my lap like she was struck by lightning. I might be a bit dense, but... I can take that hint.
     And then, what is he to do about it now? Even if it were true? He has moved on (as Tanira all but forced him to do). He remained open to the universe, and in pranced a fire maiden. And now he loves her.
     "Make Sabira help you," he says quietly, his expression quiet, guarded. The warmth is out of it now. He nods. "I will do what I can to support you, of course."
     Every time he thinks he knows something, the universe returns to tell him: No, still you do not know and still you do not see.

     I'm not going to argue with you, darling. But I will tell you this... when I met your grandfather, I was a virgin. And I leaped out of a lot of laps, even his, because I knew on some instinctive basis that losing that would change who I was. You don't leap out of a boy's lap unless you're afraid of what might happen, Balthazar. And you're not afraid of that unless the boy in question's a rapist, in which case you had no business sitting there in the first place - or because you might let it happen.
     She smiles, rising to her feet with your aid, leaning up to kiss you where she can reach. "I'll have her help me," Fiona agrees. The look she gives you is full of love, and full of concern for you. No, she does not want to see you hurt, in pain. But sometimes the lesser pain can offset the larger. "And, Balthazar?"
     She turns to begin waddling away. "Talk to her. Find out if your fears and beliefs are true."
     Unless you are afraid of the truth...

     His wings unfold with a sigh, and strong hands go to golden hair as you turn to waddle out. I'm not afraid of the truth, nainie. But when it keeps changing, how am I to know what is True?
     Truth: I love Madison...
     Truth: I loved Gillian...
     Truth: Now I'm really confused...

Posted by rowan at January 04, 2010 03:28 PM