How she got through classes she really isn't sure; the first morning class being at six am sharp doesn't help, no matter how much people talk about discipline. It's six long hours before there's a break for lunch, but at least the lunch break's a long one; almost two hours before the dancers have to be back in for the next session.
     Maddie's not bothered to change out of her leotard; like most of the dancers-in-training, she's opted to pull on a simple robe, in her case in bright yellow with a green and yellow belt twisted round her waist. Her hair's bound up in a messy bun, and she slips into the taberna somewhat subdued. She doesn't know if you're here yet or not, but - she has to eat. Her instructors are very firm on that point. Dancers can't afford to gain too much weight, but neither can they afford to skip meals, lest the body begin to cannibalize itself. (More than one student's been put on strict diets of one sort or another already, and not all of them have been girls.)
     "Yes, I think - I'm not sure, but I think there's a table reserved?" Maddie offers to the host with a small smile. She pushes sticky stray strands of hair away from her face with one palm. "And I'll definitely want a menu, thanks."

     Although on Philosopher's Island off of the main island, the taberna does brisk business with the stadium crowd. It is due, in part, to Adriano's constant marketing -- the taberna is always the first place mentioned when any plans are made. It may also have something to do with the empanadas...
     The crowd is, therefore, a blend of the academic and the military, with members of the flight corps, including Adriano, seated by the fireplace. There are pockets of seating areas, sofas and tables and curtained booths, the curtains currently drawn back, that are still available.
     The hostess, Miranda del Castillo, smiles, her hair black, eyebrows black, clothing black and her lips painted a wild orchid red. "The name, miss?" she asks, opening the book of reservations. Beside Table 7 there is not a name, only a golden crown stamped upon the page.
     The wearer of that golden crown is at Table 7, his helmet tucked beneath the table by his feet. He has come from the preliminaries for the battles, where the field was narrowed to three of the best overall teams, but he is remarkably free of dust. The chain sparkles like sunlight on yellow glass, and his hair is cut short enough for the wave to be tamed, if mussed. Where the dampness of sweat and the subsequent toweling off has lingered at his nape, his hair begins to curl. If it were longer, it would be as curly as Gruffydd's.
     Balthazar's amber eyes lift from time to time to glance around, but mostly his attention is on his drink and notes from today's match as he waits.

     She has not met Adriano, although by now she's seen him perform. She is an innocent as to his identity, although she's heard his name mentioned. "Mine? Lady Elaine," she answers promptly. She does not know if you made the reservation, and if so, what you might have said. So she hopes for the best. "I ... believe I'm expected..."

     Miranda smiles. "Yes, Lady Elaine. You are. Follow me please." She is a graceful woman, perhaps a dancer herself. Tallish, her black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wears black leggings with a simple black fitted top. Her shoes are ballet slippers, but they are the same color as her lipstick. She stops well of the table, it is in the VIP area and somewhat secluded. No one will be seated around you. "Enjoy your meal, my lady," Miranda says quietly as she gestures to the table.
     But you do not need the gesture, surely, for he cannot be missed. Nor can your arrival. Looking up at the sound of Miranda's voice, Balthazar sees you. He rises, Golden Apollo and Mars, removing his gloves. And he smiles. It is not a large smile; it is tinged with the emotion of the past day. But it is loving and it is true. He tosses the gloves aside as you arrive. They land with a metallic, chiming thud.

     "Thank you," Maddie murmurs. She follows Miranda without further comment, gaze lowered. She is still feeling subdued, it seems, although her eyes are dry, and if there was evidence of tears, it's been concealed carefully with cosmetic artistry known only to women and stage magicians.
     You rise, and she offers you a small smile in return, trembling with a hint of uncertainty. It is ridiculous to have to play such things out on center stage. But your position makes it so, and she accepts it. "Your highness," she murmurs, dipping a small dancer's curtsey.

     Balthazar waves for you to rise and he shakes his head, offering you his hand. "None of that from you," he says quietly. "I'm tired of playing other people's games. I'm now playing my own. And my rules are mine to make... the first is: no one dear to me need bow. And you are the dearest of all."
     He kisses your hand, not caring of the consequences. And thereupon your skin he murmurs: I'm sorry, love. Balthazar frees your hand with a squeeze, gesturing for you to enter the booth. "How was practice?" he asks you warmly. And he cares. He gives the full of his attention to you.
     A waitress appears, politely waiting for all to be seated (and he waits for you to be seated first, as a gentleman should). She holds the menus of the day. She looks very like Miranda: same build, same coloring, same style, but her eyes are hazel instead of brown.

     She looks up at you, rising and giving you another small, doubtful smile as you kiss her hand, allowing you to show you to a chair. "It was okay. A few people seem to've dropped out already - Joanna and Lady Imogen were there, so was Sabira of course, and Bethany. But Delilah wasn't there, and neither was Melissandre. No word on why not."
     She accepts the menu with a smile of thanks to the waitress, then drops her gaze to begin reading the printed lines on it. "...I'm keeping up, which is what matters. I do want to do well. How was your day?"

     I am the cause for those small smiles. And I am so sorry, Maddie. Balthazar looks to you as he takes the seat across from you. "Well, people are preparing for the big event. So, it is getting suspiciously quiet," he murmurs, glancing to the menu briefly. He sets it aside, though, and looks to you, his arms folding on the table. "My day? Loud," he smiles a little. "My ears are ringing a little. We are the lead team for the battle, and I am currently in second position for the championship race."
     The server politely waits for you both to sit and for a pause in the conversation. Sensing one, she steps forward. "My name is Mirabelle. I will be your server. First, I will bring cool spring water. Would you care for anything else to drink? Coffee or tea?"
     Balthazar looks to Mirabelle, "Coffee for me. And a starter of the bread with olive oil and balsamic."
     "Of course, Your Majesty." She turns to the young woman. "And for you, my lady?"

     "Just the spring water for me," Maddie tells the server with a brief smile. "I have to get back to the academy after, and caffeine'll mean a nasty crash in the middle of class. Thanks."
     She returns to her scrutiny of the menu, not in order to shut you out but because she is all too conscious of time ticking by. One hundred five minutes; one hundred minutes. Ninety. "I'm glad," she murmurs, looking up with a slightly brighter smile. "You should win, y'know. I mean, it's your brother! Are you on the same team with his friends? Pres - I mean, Arian - said some of your brother's friends are in the battles too."
     She isn't sure what to say. She skirts around the edges of the more important (to her) topics, because what should she say? What can she say? She sneaks a glance at you, then looks back to her menu. "The tomato bisque - if I'm reading this right - sounds good. And I'll need a salad. And maybe some bread and cheese, for the protein. What do you think?"

     Mirabelle nods to them both and leaves to get the water and the starters.
     Balthazar chuckles a little, warmly but softly. "Oh, my brother becoming King garners no pity or favoritism whatsoever. I'm not guaranteed. I hope to be victorious for the team, at least. And, yes. I know Adriano and Aediles very well. Adriano, who is..." he pauses to lean forward and back, "is over there somewhere. He is in my squadron for the tournament. Adriano and I have known one another since we were nine. Well, I was nine; he was six."
     Balthazar smiles to you tenderly as you mention the bisque. He doesn't really care about the bisque. "Order whatever you want," he says, his voice warm and quiet. He looks at you, and then he reaches for your hands. "I did a very poor job yesterday representing myself," Balthazar begins. "I am so sorry, Maddie. I didn't mean for it to sound as ...final as it sounded. I love you. I want to be with you. And I don't intend on being with anyone else. Can you forgive my mishandling? For not being a good boyfriend yesterday...?"

     "I didn't mean that. I meant you should win because he's your brother, not that you will win because he is!" Maddie wrinkles her nose, then turns to peer around for Adriano. After all, her brother mentioned him too! "Who's Aediles? Pres didn't mention him."
     She turns back towards you, eyes large and guileless. She sighs, surrendering her hands to you and shaking her head. "You know I love you," she says quietly. "I mean... who else is there? I know it's stupid to feel like - like just because we're going out, it'd be the end of the world if we broke up, or - or whatever, at least that's what I keep trying to tell myself. But ... you're really, really, really, really important to me, Baz." Her smile is a little lopsided and wistful. "I guess that's why I just - never stop to think about things. Like picking up and following you here, when my entire life's been back in New Hampshire and Massachusetts."
     She sits forward in her seat a little, head dropping a little to one side. "I just ... we need to be able to talk about this stuff. Without it always - smacking us around this way." Maddie sighs again, letting her head tilt backwards as she looks heavenwards. "I'm a little mad at you," she admits. "Not really mad. But it hurt."

     "Aediles is Adriano's partner, and a captain in the royal navy. He is my brother's... probably his best friend, I would say. Other than Arian, that is," he tacks on with a smile. He doesn't explain more, or what little he knows.
     "Well, I think your anger is valid and deserved," Balthazar replies, his hands lightly stroking your own. "I ... am trying to be less extreme. I never used to be this way, well not to this extent certainly." His golden gaze is on you squarely, earnestly. "You... are important to me too, Madison. And you are right, we do. I didn't realize until after arguing with your sister, which is Apology Number Two today," he notes with a dry smile, "...that I sort of ... leapt ahead a bit. I didn't mean to make a decision for you, but with you. And I realized that I didn't really handle that well. I do think we need to be able to focus on our paths and our lives as individuals; that is still critical. But ...I'm not breaking up with you to do it." He smiles a little. "And now that I'm a king, I intend on ... acting like one. Ergo, the new rules. I have been trying to conform to what I thought I needed to be or do. I know now that it is mine to decide and determine; in fact, until or unless I do, I won't truly be a king. So... my apologies for taking you on a bit of a wild goose chase of formalities as I ...try to sort myself out."
     The water arrives, and the bread and the olive oil and vinaigrette. She also brings salad and a selection of fresh fruit. She smiles a little at the joined hands. So it is a tryst. But she remains politely detached. "Are you ready to order your meal?"

     "Gillian didn't really say what happened, but she was pretty upset," Maddie admits. "She said she'd wait until she knew I was okay and she'd seen Pres, and then she was going back to Oxford. She sounded like she might break up with Bran, too. She calmed down a little, but ... I don't know what's up with her right now. She pretty much headed to the library and said she'd see me after class."
     She goes silent while the water and bread arrives, turning a trifle pink as she looks up. "I'll have the bisque, and the cracked pepper salad, and the small cheese plate with fresh bread, please." Maddie smiles, waiting until you've ordered and the waitress departs again, breaking hands to reach for some fruit. "...I just - I know I'm not perfect, Baz. And if I'm - if I'm not who and what you need, well... I'll try to catch up, but I don't know if that's really fair to either of us, y'know?" Her forehead creases into a furrow. "I mean, I can't make any promises there. And you shouldn't have to wait for me to catch up, anyway. It sounds like a bad idea. But I don't want us to break up, so ... I kinda don't know what to do."

     Mirabelle takes note of the lady's order, turning to the Sun King quietly, even regally.
     Without looking at the menu, and still holding your hands, Balthazar tilts his head to her. "I will have the pheasant empanadas, dates wrapped in serrano, the quail and mole with the corn tortillas." He pauses. "That will do for now I think. Oh, and if you would, please give Adriano's bill to me."
     Mirabelle smiles to him, bowing her head, and then to you. "It shall be done."
     Balthazar watches her go, waits until she is out of earshot, and then he turns back to you. "We argued. Fairly violently actually," he admits it quietly and with obvious upset and regret. "I was ... well, we were, actually pretty disrespectful to one another, but the bigger burden of that lies with me." He looks at the table and at your hands for that. "I doubt she will accept my apology. I'm rather surprised I have yet to hear from your brother. And if what you say is true: Bran. I'm not who I'd less like to face. Neither?" Balthazar smirks a little, but it is joyless. "She defended you well. I will say that. And I came out the worse for it."
     His golden gaze is back to you, looking at you directly. "I'm far from perfect," he chuckles. "Let's not keep score. I'll suffer by enumeration." He sits back as you free his hands. He breaks off a piece of the rustic bread, dipping it into the olive oil and balsamic vinegar. He listens to what you say, eating sparingly. "The most important thing... for me, Maddie, is that you are striving to be the best person you can be. Even as I do. I fail a lot," Balthazar smirks at that, mouth twisting to a half-frown. "But I endeavor today to be better than yesterday, and so on. That you follow your dreams, however many you have. That you are happy. That's what I what. I... was rushing things a bit. I do that. I am sorry. I think we can dial it back a bit. I don't think we have to make a decision now, or should. I know you can't make any promises. I just... have been ...meteoric, I guess you could say. A volcano poised to blow its top, since becoming King. I was pressuring myself to set up my court, make my kingdom." He pauses, smiling to you -- and in his smile there is something revealed. "...ask a girl to marry me. I just need to slow down. Do it in my own time, when it's right. And...there's only one girl I'm interested in asking and so... I hope it works out. I don't want us to break up either. I just wanted us to ... take a break. But mostly... I think I was talking to myself. I've been the only one pushing."
     He rolls his eyes at himself, chuckling with a roseate blush. He shakes his head and dips the bread into the oil and vinegar. It quickly begins to disappear.

     "I figured you guys fought. I don't remember the last time she was that visibly upset. She - well, she tends to bottle it up, y'know?" Maddie chews absently at her lower lip, picking up her knife and neatly cutting a pear into sections, then reaching for the bread and olive oil. "So, um. Not to be rude or pushy, but ... why're you in such a hurry?" She cocks up an eyebrow. "I mean, is there some reason that I don't know about, or...?"
     She sits back, pairing the pear to the bread and olive oil and taking a bite. She swallows before she goes on, blushing. "I don't - I mean, I know I'm happy with you and all, but yeah, I don't think we should rush into getting married. I ... think maybe we should dial it back a little bit - I mean, you have stuff to do and so do I ... but ..."

     Balthazar smiles and shrugs. "I don't know. I ... am moved by passion these days. Sometimes rightly. Sometimes wrongly. Right now, I seem to be more wrong than right. I am learning. I love you... and I wanted to declare it. And then I got a bit wrapped up in what declaring it meant actually. Or what I thought it had to mean."
     Balthazar looks to the bread, dipping it into the golden, fragrant oil. "I lay in bed this morning, thinking about it all. How I got here, how we got where we were yesterday, how Gillian and I quarreled. I didn't determine how I was going to proceed. I was...everything was on this trajectory straight to Heaven in a massive fireball. I put pressure on myself, once crowned, to have everything in place. But... it doesn't need to be. I determine the rules of my court. I build it. So... why was I rushing? Rushing to what? Infinity? That's the beauty of infinity: it's always out there."
     He smiles to Mirabelle as she returns with a tray of food. He is quiet, looking to you as she sets your dinner before you first, then his. She leaves the two of you alone to eat without further commentary.
     "I just wanted to legitimize my relationship with you to the best benefit for you, as part of establishing an identity for you here. And then the choo-choo jumped the tracks. My fault, completely. I apologize." Balthazar settles in with an empanada. He takes a taste of everything. "And I am sick over how things went with Gillian. I want to speak with her in person. I don't know if she will see me. I've pretty well blown up that bridge. It's beyond on fire..."

     "Well... some of it, I think, is that I haven't gotten used to the idea of caring about what other people think," Maddie admits. "Oh, I know how to skate around people's opinions and 'public' opinion. It's not hard." She sips her water, then sets the glass down and picks up her sliced pear again. "But that's different from really paying attention to it. I do that on autopilot."
     She picks up her fork, fiddling with it for a moment, then looking up at you. "I'm not sure," she says slowly, "what really needs legitimizing. I mean, from what you said, you don't really care what other people think, right? So if that's the case, as long as we're not, y'know, making out in public, what's anybody going to think of me? But, maybe I'm looking at it wrong. I probably am." She sighs. "Gillian's better at this kind of stuff than I am. But then, Gillian's like ... in a whole other universe from me."
     Maddie kicks your ankle lightly under the table. "Stop it. You know Gillian better than that. I mean - she's really thin-skinned, she's not like me, she actually cares what other people think. And okay, she has a temper, we all do, but it's hard for her to stay mad. I mean, how mad, really, did she get at me when I was being such a brat to her? She didn't stay mad, so what makes you think she'd stay mad at you?" She grins a little, reluctantly. "I guess as your girlfriend I probably shouldn't tell you to grovel to her, huh."

     The empanadas disappear as you speak. As much as he eats, he has impeccable table manners. It's quite extraordinary really. His eyes widen a touch as he sits back. He didn't even feel the ankle kick; that's what armored boots are for. "Well," he chuckles a little, dropping the napkin onto his armored lap, "...maybe a little groveling isn't out of the question. And I'm glad you and she are working through or already past, perhaps, the earlier issues. You, she is more obliged to forgive; you're family. Me? I'm some bloke that bought her drinks in a bar, wrote a song about her, then ran off with her sister." His mouth pulls in a cantwise grin. "She's not similarly obligated. Though maybe she's cooking up some really good revenge," he teases.
     But he has heard you. "I do want to apologize in person. She's due that and owed that by me. I am going to see if I can't find her after lunch." Empanadas done, he sips at his coffee before setting his cup aside again. Onto the next conquest...
     "It's not that I care what others think; I don't really. But with you being so new here, and this being so foreign to you, I wanted to make sure you had the best possible interest. I didn't want you painted as a... palace-wrecker or dream-smasher in the first day of your arrival," Balthazar smiles a little. "But then... as I said... I sort of lost perspective on what I was actually trying to do and got on the ride of: Well, we need to establish her; okay, I need to prove that I'm serious; and then, well, if I were serious then... And so on, oes? It took on a life of its own, and it took me jumping off my own cart yesterday to understand that. I'm sorry you were hurt and that Gillian was hurt in the process. I wasn't super conscious of it at the time, if that's any sort of consideration."
     Another plate of tapas is about to be consumed. Balthazar looks to you, knife and fork aside. He sits back once more to look at you seriously. "But the essential question from yesterday remains the same, in the end. Eventually, being with me means that you will be a queen. And while what that means is largely up to the queen to determine, it does come with accountability and responsibility. There's a cost, right, to glorious wealth and influence. And beauty. That is all. So I think that is something you do need to think about. Whether or not you're even remotely interested in that."

     She eats more slowly than you, although steadily, putting calories away to be burned of later. "You're a lot more than that, and you know it. Anyway, I don't think there's anything you could do to keep me from being painted as a dream-wrecker by some people." Maddie makes a small face. "Any girl you date is going to be painted that way by the rest of the pack, Baz. Yeah, your being a prince - and now a king - is part of it. But it would've been that way even if you'd stayed in London and I never found out about any of this. Rock stars have groupies too, y'know? And that's all they are. Their families might have more money and standing, but they're groupies. And y'know, who cares what groupies think? Some of them maybe could make my life a little uncomfortable, I guess, but..."
     She lets it slide. It's getting off topic, anyway. "I realize that now," Maddie tells you, gaze dropping to her plate. "And - I don't have a good answer for you, Baz. I mean, you know how I feel about you. But I don't know anything about queens. It just wasn't a real part of my education or upbringing. Gillian knows more about that stuff than I do, believe it or not - all her history studies paid off, I guess, huh?" She looks up and smiles at you, but it is a bit of a tremulous smile. "I've been thinking about it. But I guess - I'm not done thinking about it yet. I hope that doesn't disappoint you too much. But it's just a lot for me to wrap my mind around."

     "I'm not disappointed at all," he softly notes. "I'm not expecting an immediate answer. It's just...something you have to consider, I'm afraid. But, you're right. It would have been similar to marrying a rockstar in its own way. Challenges are there. They'd be there if you married a popular butcher," he smiles.
     "I just don't want you to think that I don't love you, or that I'm out there scanning the stands for a queen or looking to anyone else, actually. I'm not, Maddie. That, I promise you. I didn't mean for you to think I didn't love you. You know, I hope, how I feel about you by now? So... yes... dialing it back," Balthazar says quietly.
     He nibbles at the bread and olive oil again, his eyes on you as you eat. "How do you want to move forward from today? Apart from slowly," he chuckles at himself, golden eyes slightly rolling. The mole and quail is next, picked at more slowly than the empanadas. "We should talk about that. I don't want to pressure or rush you. I want you to be able to be free to achieve whatever you want, Maddie. There or Here."
     He doesn't mention Gillian, apart from needing to apologize to her. But in his gaze, Balthazar registers how often you mention her and in what way, as it pertains to him. Lady 52 may as well be sitting at the table now...

     She is self-conscious, and still off balance, compared to how she was before. Her older sister is here, not someone else, and how can she possibly measure up in comparison? "I don't know," Maddie answers softly. "I guess... I do need to focus on my schoolwork more than I have been. How about - we spend only three nights a week together until I've caught up? We can still meet for lunch and dinner on the days we're not together, and that lets me focus on my stuff and you on your stuff. And - I'll try to figure stuff out."
     She is so afraid of losing you. And in her heart of hearts, no matter how many times you tell her you love her and she tells you she loves you, she thinks she has already lost you. The previous afternoon will take more than a day to erase.

     Unseen by anyone else, a feather reaches through the aether and across the other side of the table to brush invisibly against your cheek. It cannot be seen, but you know the feel of it. "That sounds reasonable," Balthazar says. "And I will ask Anierin to provide you with a smart phone that works in both worlds, like mine. That way, you can begin to navigate the time differences and manage your schedules. And you can call me, and I you. And you can use it to communicate with your family while you're here or there. All expenses paid."
     He wants to kiss you, to reassure you. But there is the stroke of the unseen feather, to kiss where he cannot. Not without interrupting lunch completely, that is. It seems like strands of your hair are gently flowing with some ambient breeze. It is the motion of feathers that makes it so.
     There is still discomfort. But at least there is also progress.
     The quail and mole are finished, and Balthazar sits back with a sigh. "I'm actually full. It has to be a mirage. I'm never full." He smiles quietly, slightly, watching you as you eat. "I wish there were something else I could say to help assure you," Balthazar murmurs. He can tell you are still ...upset? Nervous? "Is there anything else I can do, Maddie? Anything else I can say?"

     Don't pick my sister over me. It isn't said aloud; it isn't even shared with you from her mind. It is just the rebirth of all her old fears. And she had been doing so well, too. Aloud, Maddie smiles and shakes her head and answers, "I think it's all either of us can say. We're not quitters. And we - we care about each other."
     Just maybe a little less than we thought we did, yesterday morning. Again, she doesn't share it. It stays locked away in her mind. But there is a sadness that shows in her eyes, that she cannot entirely banish. She puts down her napkin with a small sigh. "I'd better get going for now. I still have to get back to the academy and warm up. Is there ... is there anything you'd like from me?"
     She tries to hide her hope, tries not to signal in any way or influence your answer. She gathers her hands together under her chin, looking at you, her heart still in her eyes.

     "Yes," Balthazar says quietly and with a small smile (small but deep in emotion), "...yes there is, Maddie." Hand on the table he rises and leans over, and he kisses you. If it makes the papers, so what. It was not platonic but platonic-seeming: a gentle kiss on the lips, followed by a brushing of his mouth to her cheek.
     "Try not to worry," Balthazar whispers. "Remember I love you. And that you are beautiful, kind, smart and graceful. Be kind to yourself when I'm not watching." He sits back, surrendering to the tapas with the flash of his white cloth napkin. "How about I come by to see you tomorrow. We can have dinner in the atrium on the rooftop. I'll provide the heaters," he smiles. "Shall we make it a date?"
     Balthazar rises, standing out of love and courtesy. He offers you a hand to help you out of the booth. "I will speak with Ani today about the phone..."

     She blushes, and she smiles. It is tremulous, but it reaches her eyes, lighting up her ace from within. "I'll try," Maddie answers quietly. "And dinner sounds great." She accepts the hand up, resisting the urge to hug you and not let go ever. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow night, then."
     She turns to go, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. Not to see people's reactions; she has eyes only for you. After all, every girl has trouble letting go of her first love, even if she has class to get to.

Posted by rowan at January 09, 2010 12:31 PM