She is nervous. She can't help it, but she is. She should be exhausted, between the publicity work and the rescue work and the hours upon hours upon hours of rehearsal; instead, she's managed to barely pick at her dinner and despite physical exertion, she's wide awake.
"Maybe if I bring the introduction - no, that's not - maybe if I don't speak," Maddie says out loud. She's clad in a thin dressing gown of gold silk as she brushes her hair with more vigor than it needs. "Maybe if I just let them think my dancing speaks for me. ...That's kinda pompous, though."
She scowls at her reflection, putting the brush down harder than necessary. "Ugh! Why can't this be easy, like saving people was? But I have to make it look easy, or else! I hate this! I wish it were tomorrow! No, I don't, I take it back. I'm not," she sighs, flopping her hands forward on the dresser and putting her face down on her hands, "I'm not ready."
He will never get used to the one-legged wardrobe. It would be easier (though certainly not more dignified) to simply go without than to constantly tear, roll up or otherwise mangle perfectly good garments. And though his pain has lessened for simply sitting, getting around is no easier. And so your nervous energy, and the speed of your conversation, is a challenge to keep up with.
But then, even if he had two good legs, he realizes he would be constantly behind...
Clothed in fitted lounging trousers of scarlet cotton, one leg cut off mid-thigh to make room for the large cast on his left leg, Balthazar moves forward, his crutches clattering. He's gotten much more proficient in his two and a half days of limited mobility -- he's far faster, if not more graceful, able to cover the distance of his large chamber much more quickly. His golden hair, cut short and layered, is mussed from a day mostly off his feet. And as he approaches, your mirrored scowl is backed by his sun-kissed form, his upper body bare.
The mirror reflects his expression, loving, supportive, and he places a hand upon your hair. "Be yourself," Balthazar says, "... just be your beautiful, engaging self." His words are thoughtful, soft, steady, where yours are bursts of firecracker-thoughts and worries. "You have prepared. You have done all you can do up to this moment, honey. The only thing now that you can do is rest, knowing that, Hmm?"
Bending, balancing on his two crutches, Balthazar places a kiss upon your head. "If you make it look too easy, you will look like you don't need to be in the academy, hmm? They are not looking for perfection. They are looking for expression. Very different. And you are talented, and you are charming," he smiles to you, his smile reflected -- not as shimmering before. No, he is not as golden as he was -- the air does not sing around him, it is not filled with honey, but the light is steady in its equinox. His hand drifts down to rest upon your shoulder. He lightly rubs your back. "Come to bed," he murmurs. "It is getting late."
She turns towards you, and she smiles, expression softening as she sees you approaching. "You shouldn't be out of bed," Maddie scolds, "but ... I'll forgive you, since it's my fault." She hops up to her feet, moving to hug you with a sigh, leaning in but careful not to push her weight into you the way she usually would. "You're so sweet to me. And so much more optimistic about my chances than I am! But okay."
She frees you, carefully so as to try and avoid bumping into your crutches, looking up at you with lips puckered. She wants to kiss you, but she is a bit afraid of catching you off guard. "Bed," Maddie agrees, expression wavering with irresolution. "Okay. Sure. I guess. Are you sure you don't need anything first? A bath? Maybe some snack or dessert? I could run down to the kitchens if you want, it's no problem at all."
Who could resist that puckered offering? His smile is the soft sort and he bends to kiss you. It is gentle, a simmering sort. "I never thought I would ever say this: but I'm getting bored being in bed. Unless you're with me. And I've had plenty of rest. You, on the other hand, need to be still, try to relax. Those butterflies in your stomach need to be harnessed for your benefit. And they need to be fed. You barely ate. That's right, I noticed. No, no," he says softly, "I'm fine for now, thank you."
Crutches clatter as Balthazar backs up, maneuvering out of your way and turning back toward the bed. He waits for you, half-turning on those devices to look to you. "I am supposed to be optimistic about your chances. I love you," he grins. "Besides, I've watched you dance. I fell for you watching you dance, remember? I just think that you are going to do better than you fear. Now is the time for faith and positive thinking, right? You have put in the work, the hours, the study. Now you are going to pull all of that together into your performance. It doesn't matter what the panel believes, or even what I believe, however. It only matters what you believe. So... start believing," he grins.
He has been instructed not to use magic, among other things, but he can't behave all the time. A fresh round of food, healthy and savory, appear on bedside tables. Balthazar winks at you, his golden eyes a bit darker, deeper -- like amber stones now. "Shh... don't tell the doctors." And for him, a plate of baklava. "I look forward to the day when I can actually get all the way in the water," he notes off-hand. "I am tired of the doctors' sponge bathing. I'm starting to think he's flirting with me," he dryly remarks.
"I'm not hungry!" Maddie protests, but she doesn't really argue, not really. "Okay," she relents, moving with you towards the bed. She is barefoot already, so that's all right. She sinks onto the edge of the bed, kicking her legs up and over, scooting towards the middle, expecting to join you there.
"Did you really?" That tickles her, the thought that you fell for her because of watching her dance. "I didn't think you had, not yet. I don't know, I thought maybe the surfing helped, but I didn't think you really were that interested until I showed up in your room that night, y'know? I mean... I wasn't sure."
She admits her insecurities to you, reaching across you for a bite of your baklava and giving you a minxish, naughty smile. "Well, you could tell them to just teach me how to do it properly. Unless you'd rather I not sponge-bathe you?" She is teasing, of course, and trying to sublimate her fears. It isn't really working, and she surrenders your plate back to you with a sigh.
"Do you really think I'll do well enough?" Maddie asks you more quietly. She looks sidelong at you, then down at her knees. She makes a face at her knees.
He is quiet as he begins to negotiate returning to bed. He takes one crutch, leaning it against the bedside wall, while balancing himself on the other. He turns around, getting in to position. He has become a pro at getting up and getting back down. It is a bit of a rigamarole, but he manages without complaint. The bed shifts as he pulls himself onto it, careful not to move his left leg. It rests on the outside edge.
Twisting to set the other crutch against the bedside wall, Balthazar glances to you with a smile. "I did. You were dancing with Loki, and I was having to stand there, trying to mask my interest and excitement, while entertaining your brother. I couldn't take my eyes off you." Hands to the bed, Balthazar pushes upward, his hips and bottom lifting from the bed, allowing him to scoot over. He looks to you, smiling, reaching for the baklava as you return it. "And then later that night, you were in my room. The bikini got my attention, yes, but the dance caught my heart."
He leans over, giving you a honeyed kiss. "And you've been mine ever since. So... yes... I think you will do well enough. You will have to let me know if I have any new romantic rivals when it's over, is all." Balthazar kisses your temple. "You will do well. You cast a spell when you move. And I will make sure to have sponges delivered after your big day. You can rinse me off and tell me all about it. What time is it tomorrow, anyway?"
Leaning back and giving his body to the pillows, Balthazar settles beside you. He sighs, making a face as he starts to get comfortable (or try to), his wings flopping out. They are no longer fiery, but remain golden. It is an autumnal gold, like metal, but the feathers are soft as silk. One surrounds you, sheltering you, his other hanging off the bed.
She sighs, kissing you in return and leaning against you. "I was yours even before then," Maddie confesses, voice quieter, smaller. "I fell for you the minute I saw you, Baz. In London, I mean. And I was terrified you'd think I was too young, or too - too Westish, or something. I mean, you could have any girl you wanted, y'know? So why would you want me?"
She turns on her hip towards you after grabbing her own plate, snuggling in while trying not to make your discomfort worse. "Oh, you won't have any rivals," Maddie retorts blithely. "How could you? I mean, c'mon, you're Prince Balthazar, General Balthazar, who's going to want to mess with you? But," she scowls at her plate, "probably a lot of people are gonna think I'm the new money getting uppity. Or, well. The little dancer chick who caught your eye." She shrugs. "I'm not going to pretend I won't care, but I'm going to try to pretend I don't care. And I'm going to work as hard as I can to be everything I have to be to keep up with you. I'm sorry," she looks up, and her eyes fill suddenly with tears. "I know I'm not - I mean. I'm not as smart as Gillian, and I'm not as cool as Pres, and ... I know I don't have their potential. But I'll try to make you proud of me. Okay?"
She blinks a few times, then wipes her eyes quickly, picking up whatever's on her plate without looking and stuffing it into her mouth.
"Hey," he says softly, his eyes narrowed in concern as your eyes go wet and shiny with emotion. He sets his plate aside, turning his upper body to look at you, and he brushes a hand against your face, moving your hair back. "None of that talk," his voice is gentle but there is a firmness to it. "I don't know which of your parents is to blame, maybe both of them, for this thing you have. Of not thinking you're worthy or capable or talented, when you are clearly all of those things, Madison. I have always told you so, yes? But you are going to have to see it, and believe it, for yourself." His fingers move through your hair gently.
"And you don't have to make me proud of you. I'm already proud of you. You don't have to earn my love like it's some prize for bringing home a good report card. You have it because I give it to you. You have it because I love you and I care for you. I'm not your mum and dad or... whomever else has convinced you that you're not good enough. You are potential personified, honey." He smiles at you, with a slight shake of his head. "You are this beautiful, magical creature that they cannot even comprehend."
He tilts his head, bending to place a kiss upon your forehead, your eyelids, and then your mouth. "You are right: you can't control what people think about you. I can't either. All you can do, love, is your best and to be the best person you can. The rest is out of your hands. And," he smiles, "... I think people know you as more than just some dancer chick by now. You are one of The Rescuers. And if they think that, so be it. I will concur. Yes... the sexy dancer chick with the wonderful flexibility did catch my eye. And the rest of me." Balthazar grin, kissing you tenderly again.
"You have." Maddie sighs and curls up against you after forcing down a mouthful of pastry. She slinks an arm around your waist, eyes closed as she rests her cheek against your chest. "It's just - I work hard, y'know? But... but it doesn't come as naturally to me, I guess, as to Gilly. She's brilliant, she always could remember things well and read fast and stuff. It wasn't mumsie and dad so much as getting stuck with the same teachers year after year. 'Why can't you do as well as your sister, Gillian would have aced this test, Gillian would have gotten an A'." She mimics her teachers and grumbles. "Let's not even talk about parent-teacher conferences."
She turns, resting her chin on the edge of your chest, looking up at you mournfully. "I just - I know I'm not that smart. I do okay, but you're smarter than I am. Heck, Sabira's smarter than I am. I just, I want to keep up with you, but I know I'm not. I'm too - I'm too bouncy, I can't sit still, I'll never manage to memorize all this etiquette stuff. I manage okay for an American, I guess, but that's about all. And I get scared, sometimes, that ... in the long run, that won't be good enough for you. And I want to be, y'know. I really do."
His hands trip through your hair, lightly brushing, lightly playing. He bends, placing a kiss upon your head. "I understand. I had to follow Gruffydd," he smiles. "But Gruffydd isn't perfect, and neither is Gillian. She has to work hard at what she does. She doesn't think she's attractive. She practically starves herself. She thinks she's brains and that's probably it, just like you think you're physical and that's it. Neither of those is true. When one is as sweet and big hearted as you, and Gillian too for that matter, it's easy to believe whatever anyone in authority -- parents, or teachers, or whatever -- say is true. Most of it is coming from their own faulty point of view. You're more like your sister than you're not like her. Both very lovely, both very talented, both try too hard."
Balthazar tilts his head to look at you, meeting your mournful look with steady warmth. He isn't condescending; your fears are real. "I do okay," he notes. "I'm not as smart as Gruffydd, but then intelligence is relative. It isn't an absolute. You are intelligent. Gillian is intelligent. You know more about music than she could ever hope to. She knows more about history that most people, period. Fine, so she is smarter than you in history. So Gruffydd is a better politician than I am. You are more free-spirited. Bouncy," he smiles, "... as you say. I like you bouncy. I like to watch you bounce," he hand lowers, his fingers sliding down your side. "You are you, Madison. Love who you are and what is important to you. I think if you, Gillian and Preston stopped comparing yourselves, one against the other, you'd be happier, closer. If there is anything i would like to see you change or do, it would be to begin speaking with your family more, especially your brother. You should be leaning on one another now. Not that I mind supporting you -- of course I don't. But... you could use a big brother, could you not? And he could use a little sister too."
He doesn't mention Gillian in this equation. She's not here, not yet. But you and Preston are.
Balthazar exhales a little as you speak your fears, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. "Don't be scared. I don't have a measuring stick." He smiles and bends, kissing your mouth. "I love you and I love who you are and I'm excited to see what happens for you here. What you will become. What I will become, for that matter," he grins. "I just want you to be you, to be happy, healthy. You're leaving girlhood behind, and it is scary, I'm sure. But you have nothing to worry about regarding me, love. I'm not grading you," he murmurs. "I love you. You don't have to apologize to anyone for who you are. Be yourself. Who then could not love you? I'm glad I've found my inner... and outer... warrior. Think of all the men and boys I'm going to have to blow up in your honor?"
The plate is nudged further away, and she drapes her thigh over your good one. "Pres and I had plans, but the storm kinda eclipsed them. I ... didn't recognize him at first." Maddie sighs, kissing you quickly and then dropping her cheek to your shoulder. "He's changed. It hasn't even been that long, but he's totally different from how he used to look! And I can't help but wondering if that's good or bad. I mean, I haven't changed. Am I going to? Am I supposed to? You did. Does everybody?"
Her palm rubs against your belly, and she sighs again, then smiles at you, a little bit wistfully. "I won't apologize, and I'll try to be myself. But it's hard. I thought I knew who I was, but maybe I was wrong. Am I wrong? I don't know. I'll do my best, Baz, I always do, you know that. But," and she makes a face, "I don't think there's any guys you'll have to blow up in my honor. I mean, why would you?"
The hand on his belly makes an eyebrow quirk and the amber eyes turn smoky as incense embers. He smiles, his hand back to your hair, twining auburn around his fingers. "Everyone changes, whether it is visible or not. You grow, you become more of who you are, you learn more about yourself. I have. As has everyone who has ever come before us. I've changed tremendously over this year, and am changing again. Some of that is magic, but isn't it just a manifestation of what we all do? We grow up, we become."
A gilded wing lifts to cocoon you. Balthazar smiles to you. "Who you are and what you know about that is always going to change, to develop. That's just part of it, I think. If anyone had told me five years ago that I would be where I am right now, and doing what I'm doing, loving who I'm loving, I would have called them insane." He laughs at your look, golden eyebrows creeping upward. "You haven't watched yourself dance, have you?" Balthazar smiles. "I am going to have to constantly battle your would-be boyfriends and admirers."
His golden wing lightly embraces you. It is the best blanket one could ever own, and softer than any known man-made material. "I think you should contact him, even before your audition. Just send him a note. And then you should meet with him as soon as you can..."
She laughs at that as well, shaking her head and curling around you, closing her eyes. "Pfft. Nobody notices me, silly! But it's okay. I got the attention of the only boy I wanted." She hugs you tightly, then nuzzles your armpit. "I'll send him a note, okay? But I don't know, I guess he's busy or something."
She shrugs, then sits up, still restless, reaching up to tug lightly on your wing. "Baz? Are you happy?"
"Plenty notice you," he counters. "And... I'm sure he is busy, as you are. But... family is family. You both shouldn't be too busy for one another." As you sit up and tug upon his wing, Balthazar looks to you. But it's not the tug of his wing that gets your attention. It's your question.
He pushes himself to sit up, both hands to the surface of the bed, bracing as his hips lift for a quick shift, and he folds his wings against his back. They dissolve in a shimmer of sunlight. "I am," he says simply, reaching for one of your hands. "Why would you wonder? I'm called Captain Obvious for a reason," he smirks at that. "I don't have the best poker face in the business. What I feel is usually pretty obvious. But," he says seriously, "... you are worried. I don't mean to poke fun at that. What's the matter?"
She laughs, rolling off of you so that you can put your wings away. You say men look at her, and she takes you at your word; it just isn't that important, really, as long as you're watching. Her vanity lies in other areas. "It's okay. Really, I just - I wanted to make sure. I'm nervous and a wreck about it and I'm worried about being all that I can be, to steal a line from the advertisers," Maddie makes a face, "but ...I can only be as happy as you are, really, y'know?"
She tilts her head back to look up at you, sitting loosely cross-legged and bracing her weight behind her on her palms. "Because I love you, and it'd be a pretty bad relationship if I could really and truly be happy if you weren't. I'm not saying I have to be miserable if you are, but - if you're not happy, I want you to tell me, or I want to notice enough to ask so you don't have to figure out a way to break it to me." She lifts one hand, running it through her hair and shaking it back over her shoulder again impatiently. "And, well. You're hurt, and stuff. So it'd be easy for me to not notice, or figure you just don't feel well, and ... well, I don't want to discount things, so I'm asking. That's all."
Sitting forward, Balthazar looks at you seriously. "You must be," he notes quietly. "To be nervous at all about us. But being in a relationship, being in love, doesn't mean that you are happy or unhappy based on what the other is feeling. Your happiness is your own. If I am anything, I'm just an additive to your life. You are a good addition to mine," he explains quietly, "... I love that you are here and in my life. I want you to be happy for your own sake, or unhappy for your own cause. I won't rejoice when you're upset, like now, but it doesn't mean that I am nervous or unhappy because you are. Does that make sense? You are putting too much pressure on yourself, sweet. That is that West Affliction," he smiles a little. "Way too much pressure."
Sitting back, Balthazar motions for you to return to him. "Come here," he quietly beckons. His right arm is extended, and the right wing re-appears to guide you back over. "You are not mistaking anything, you're not missing anything. I am happy. And what about you? Obviously, you're nervous but... is there something else? Something more?"
"I'll try not to put so much pressure on myself if you really think I am, but I don't feel like I'm under that much pressure." Maddie frowns, then swats your arm playfully before sagging against it. "I'm only dating a prince and trying out for the most prestigious academy in a whole other world from the one I was born in, y'know?" She sighs. "Maybe I'm pressuring myself more than I let myself realize. I don't know. I don't know. Baz? Is there anything I should be doing that I'm overlooking?"
She looks up at you, but she is busy snuggling in against you. She needs snuggles, right now.
His arms are so much stronger than they were when you first met. He has completely changed; an entire paradigm has shifted. And you are racing to keep up. An arm around you, holding you, Balthazar shifts, his right side turning slightly toward you. "You've had a universe pulled out from under you," Balthazar says quietly, his gaze is compassionate, affectionate. He holds you to him, his arm and wing cuddling. He would curl around you if he could.
"I know this isn't what you signed up for." He smiles a little, but it's a smile of acknowledgement rather than joy. "You were going to be the girlfriend of a would-be rocker, and then the game completely changed on you. It hasn't been fair." His hand lifts, fingers sliding through your hair, curling and uncurling against your scalp. "You are doing more than enough, Maddie. More than I should even ask of you."
Balthazar tilts his head to look at you. "I think you are feeling the pressure of fitting into a new society with what must seem like very antiquated, strange rules. I guess they're the same as everywhere. People are people, magical or not, imaginary or not." He smiles a bit warmer this time, not so humbled. "I just want you to be happy and content in yourself. That you are enough. That you are worthy. That you are going to go in tomorrow and show them who you are and what you can do. Not for them, certainly not for me, but for yourself. And one night after the coronation, remind me that I need to apologize to you for all of this." Balthazar grins a bit, leaning up to allow a kiss upon your forehead.
"It's not like I mind," Maddie protests, even as she snuggles in, closing her eyes with more or less contented sigh as you stroke her hair. "I mean, it's kinda Princess Grace only not, y'know? You weren't looking for a wife and I didn't pay you millions, so..."
Maddie turns towards you, kissing the corner of your mouth. "It's not easy," she admits. "But it wouldn't have been easy if you'd turned out to be a prince there, either. There's a lot more royalty and nobility here than there, or seems like it, anyway. But I'll do my best, hon. But you don't have to apologize. What'd you be apologizing for? Being the man who I'm in love with? That'd be silly." She wrinkles her nose.
"Not immediately, no," Balthazar grins. "I wasn't really looking for anything. You just sort of showed up," he chuckles. "With pasta." He grins, turning his face to slide the corner kiss to a full one. "Who's Princess Grace? I'm not familiar with that story. It's not a fairytale with a bad ending is it? It probably is," he smirks, rolling back to lie flat on his back."
His large hand balances and blesses the back of your head, tugging lightly at your hair in silent request for another kiss. "Well, it's not like this was planned. I had no idea that what has come to pass was going to...come to pass," he murmurs. "Or I would have warned you." His full lips -- no longer bruised! -- pull in a warm smile.
"I won't be able to be there," Balthazar says. There is an exhale for that. He is tired of resting! "But I will send a seneschal to wait for me," he smiles at you. "And send me messages. You need to let me know as soon as you know. I will be here, pacing a rut in our bed."
"Actress from ... the nineteen-forties and fifties, I think? Mumsie would know. I think she wants Gillian to be her. Grace Kelly." Maddie nuzzles in against your shoulder. "She married this guy, the crown prince of Monaco, and they had two or three kids, I guess. But she had to give up acting, and y'know - she was American, too... so it had to have been a weird adjustment."
She shrugs, then, then smiles at you fondly. "You don't have to, y'know." She hugs you tightly, then lets go abruptly. "Sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I? But really, you don't have to. I mean, either I get in or I don't. And if I don't," she adds bravely, "well, there's always next time, right? I won't be able to audition again for six months. But that'll give me tons of time to practice."
"I would never ask you to retire to be my princess," he says, grinning in the hug. "Hmm... no, no... you're fine." The arm around you draws you back into a hug, his other joining in the squeeze. "Come back here." A golden wing becomes your canopy. You are bowered in his arms.
"I think you are going to do just fine. But yes... if for some insane reason they don't recognize your beauty and talent, then you try again. But," Balthazar looks to you, "I really don't think that's going to be an issue. Let's not even think about it. You are going to go there tomorrow morning. And you are going to dance beautifully. And they will see it and admit you to the academy. That's the story I want you to tell yourself, okay? That is the only story we are going to read right now."
His hands brush your hair from your face, stroking your skin. "I am going to call the doctors in tomorrow to check the progress. My sister and I have been working on it. It's not as sore." Balthazar bends, his mouth plucking at yours. "I miss you," he murmurs. And then the plucking kiss blossoms. Balthazar parts it with an audible sigh, a kiss placed upon each of your eyelids.
She is drawn back willingly enough, smiling at you and lifting a hand to rub your cheek. "Okay," Maddie agrees equably, voice softer. "I love you lots, Baz. I'm glad to be here with you - I don't ever want you to think otherwise." She nuzzles against your shoulder, then answers your kiss with fervor and heat. "I miss you, too."
I want you well and in one piece, and not just for my own selfish reasons but because it scares me when you're hurt. It scares me to think that you could have bad things happen to you, and there's nothing I could do...
Balthazar smiles to you. Don't worry. It isn't so bad, really. It's really more annoying than anything. He kisses you, suckling at your lips, spreading your mouth in savoring pleasure. Tilting his head, he nuzzles your neck, his mouth and breath warm against your skin.
"I love you," Balthazar murmurs at your skin. "And you need to rest for tomorrow. As much as I would like to do nothing more than taste you until we collapse," he sighs as he lies back, his smile lopsided, "... you need to conserve your energy. But... after your audition..."
His tone leads to the curve of his grin. "I am going to make sure we have time in the afternoon, all to ourselves..."
She grins at that, blushing and burrowing in against you. "Later," Maddie whispers, tone making the words a promise. "But okay. I should sleep. So should you." She closes her eyes, snuggling in against you again. "I love you, Baz. You're wonderful." Her skin is pink where your mouth has been, a hint of rose blush in her cheeks.
She is still nervous. How could she be otherwise? But she remains as determined as the day you first met her. And that will have to do.
Posted by rowan at November 14, 2009 07:27 PM
