#without immediately being teased or even shamed for being invested in a make-believe world

[5ftboy]

How is Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves different from other blockbuster action films?

[icy-warden]

ZevWarden Week 2020 Prompt Day 1 : Eye of the beholder

Identity || Admiration @zevraholics

Also on AO3

It’s refreshing to see fluid grace of a warrior, when he makes a noise on purpose and Alistair leaps from his spot, book forgotten, hand reflexively closing on the sword leaning on table beside armchair. He suspected the king had grown soft when all the fighting ended, the battles changing from physical to intellectual games.

“Show yourself!”

He lets out a chuckle, stepping out of shadows, heavy curtain falling behind him with soft thud.

“Ah, it’s you.” Alistair’s shoulders relax slightly, and though he watches him warily, his sword lowers. “Here to stick poisoned knife into someone? Just so you know, I won’t go down without fight.” The hand on sword’s handle grips it a bit tighter before his fingers uncurl to deceptively lazy hold. Easy to change with right speed and momentum.

Zevran’s eyebrow goes up. “It’s private visit. Besides,” he grins, spreading his arms with palms open, “I’m out of Crows’ business, I don’t kill kings anymore. Unless, you have someone in mind, I could try to find a spot in my schedule. I’d even give you a discount.” He winks, glancing around the room. Alistair rolls his eyes and puts the sword on the table in reachable distance. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“And what is the point of your visit, if not assassination attempt?” 

Sharp golden eyes narrow slightly. “Had many so far? Fresh lines are always so fragile and easy to uproot, many would leap for a chance.” Zevran drawls lightly, watching Alistair shift and trying to keep neutral face. He has to work on that more if he wants to be successful.

“All my tips for upping the security not used. You tempt fate, my friend.” Zevran tuts.

“Are you my friend, Zevran?”

“Oh, I hope so. After all, saving the world from horrible monsters brings people together, or so I’ve heard.”

Alistair snorts, his unfriendly composure falling. “I guess,” he murmurs and rubs the back of his neck, looking down for a moment and Zevran uses it to look him up and down properly, noticing how very nicely shirt stretches over his chest. He hums softly in his throat. Still in shape it seems. Alistair shoots him a look, “Not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but why are you here? And how did you even get here? It’s second floor.” 

Zevran shrugs, undoing clasps of his cloak, draping it over the back of second armchair and casually sitting down.

“On my way to Keep. I’ve been in the area, thought I’ll see how king is faring. And wanted to test attention of your guards. It was this or pose as a servant and I wasn’t exactly in mood to dress up. You should think about replacing them, by the way.” He glances up at Alistair, still standing and gestures for the armchair he sat before. “In king’s palace not a mouse should be able to pass and here you can carry entire sheep and no one would bat an eye.” Zevran leans back, making himself comfortable. “Or I’m just that good.” He purrs and Alistair shakes his head, going for heavy wooden cabinet and sitting down with two goblets and bottle of wine. 

“It’s good to see your manners didn’t stay in woods, dear Alistair.” Zevran teases, watching him closely. “Did you offer the same courtesy to Vergil last you’ve seen him?”

He stiffens immediately, grip on his goblet making his knuckles whiten. “He ordered city to burn.”

“And did you talk about it with him? Surely there was a reason to do so.”

“Because he’s always about reason and logic.” Alistair snaps through gritted teeth. Rich brown eyes squint at him, “You really don’t know anything?”

“Only bits and pieces.” The wine in his goblet swirls with flick of his wrist close to spilling, but not a drop leaves it. “It’s hard to keep regular correspondence when one tries to avoid being tracked down. Besides, he’s careful with what he says in his letters.”

“There was a hearing.” 

Zevran tilts his head, keeping quiet.

Alistair takes a long gulp of his wine, putting down the goblet with more force than necessary and reaching for the bottle. “Few of my advisors were there as well to hear Arl’s reasoning of taking down entire city, when it was his duty to protect it. As well as break important trade route,” he stresses the words, grimacing when the wine almost sloshes out of his goblet, “crippling one of Ferelden’s most crucial ports for years to come.” He stares into the goblet before he brings it to his lips, sipping it more carefully. Zevran drinks as well, keeping his gaze on Alistair when their eyes meet. “There were voices to strip the arling from him before he even came to the hearing.”

“Did you have a hand in it too?” 

“With how many rumors and conspiracy theories spreading about him and Wardens? I wanted to.” Alistair huffs, “I wanted to take it away and let him see consequences of his actions. Show him he’s not always right and he’s able to fuck up.” He nearly growls and drinks again.

Zevran leans forward, both of his elbows digging on his thighs as he staples his fingers. “But you didn’t.” He watches Alistair closely, noticing the slight slump on lines of his shoulders.

“I didn’t, even if I really wanted to.” The bitterness carries in his voice. “I shouldn’t hold grudges as a king, should I. Even for backstabbing brothers in arms.” 

“I think backstabbing is important part of any friendships.” Zevran smiles briefly. “Why didn’t you do it then?”

Alistair sighs, “Amaranthine is a mess and he’s sitting right there. It’s his mess and he should sort it out. And Order needs its own land.” He’s silent for a moment, brows furrowed. Short beard rasps under his hand when he rubs at his jaw. “He brought Howe with him, apparently made him Warden. We talked a bit,” slight smile plays on his lips, “Nathaniel’s nowhere as his father, it seems.” 

“So I’ve heard. Have you talked with Vergil as well?”

Alistair’s jaw works upon hearing his name. “Commander Surana hasn’t requested for an audience.” He says flatly, fingers drumming on low table. 

“You haven’t talked at all for over a year? Somehow it’s hard to believe.” 

“Official correspondence sorts most of what we have to talk about.” Zevran hums at the curt tone and decides to let it go, for now. He leans back again.

“What was this hearing about then?”

“Questioning reports, considering petitions, some petty power plays and looking down at the one you’re talking with. The usual.” 

Zevran rests his cheek on his fist. “I suppose it didn’t go so bad, as I haven’t heard about Warden Commander enjoying hospitality of Drakon again.”

Alistair scoffs. “Don’t be absurd, I wouldn’t put him in dungeon and risk another bloodbath. I have a reputation to keep and he’d only embarrass me more. Maker only knows who’d come after me then.” Corners of his lips twitch as he fights down a smile, gaze wary and Zevran nods. 

“Wise decision, my friend. As much as I like you it’d be a real shame if I’d have to choose.” He says and Alistair shudders like he’d been doused with cold water.

“See, you’re saying you’re out of business, but that glint in your eye says otherwise. Assassins.”

Zevran’s smile has too much teeth to be called entirely friendly.

“You don’t have to worry though. No one put him behind bars, no one touched him in any way. I think most of them were secretly intimidated by how calm he was when they hurled accusations at him. He had answer to almost every question. Brought full reports not only on Wardens’ past actions about darkspawn activity, but few important documents about situation in Amaranthine before he razed it down to the ground. It seems few decisive nobles did the city good,” the sarcasm nearly drips on the words, “some not so openly working with smugglers, most evading taxes or taking money from crown for investments that didn’t happen or were mysteriously postponed.” There’s a reluctant regard in Alistair’s tone. “Of course there are voices saying those documents are false and these voices are loud, I tell you.”

“The lady doth protest too much.”

“Exactly.” Alistair sighs and slowly swallows a mouthful of wine.

“You wanted to see him on his knees, no?” Alistair coughs at the sudden question and narrows his eyes at him. Zevran’s smile stays playful but sharpens with his next words, “To punish prideful man like him and see how he reacts, knowing he’s dependent on you.”

“He had to answer for what he did. Crown contemplates helping with rebuild, but won’t give money just because someone asks.”

“Oh? But you watched others pick at him without remorse because they could. What you did was to humiliate him for your own satisfaction.”

“He traded honor for murderer in his ranks.” Alistair spits, though Zevran sees it doesn’t carry the same fire it did a year ago.

Zevran tsks, “That’s talk you should have with him after sharing few bottles of good vintage, I think. And how honorable is your own court, I wonder? Vergil’s elven mage in power, Chantry can’t touch him because he’s Warden and one of saviors of this country, but it’ll always be a struggle for him to stay that way. And they’ll keep biting at him from every angle, with or without your help. Including few failed assassinations attempt.”

“Someone wanted to kill him? Who?” 

Zevran rolls his shoulders to shake off the tension creeping up his nape. “My guess is as good as yours, but I’m sure it’s nobles who disagreed with Arl’s politics on their turf. It got handled, pretty well, I’ve been told. One of his Wardens tried to kill him before he was conscripted.”

Alistair almost chokes on his own spit, “And he got him through joining?” Disbelief paints his words, as he looks Zevran up and down. “It’s a pattern, I swear. Does he sleep with him as well?”

He barks a laugh and Alistair smiles at his own joke too. “I hope I’d have been told if he’s doing so. Wouldn’t mind bit of fun with fellow professional.” Zevran waggles his brows meaningfully and Alistair shakes his head with small smirk, “You’re impossible.”

“Well, you already know him, I believe. It’s Howe.”

His eyes widen, “Nathaniel?! Really?” Alistair’s silent for a moment, “He seemed silent, serious… intense eyes though. Completely different from you.”

“Your flavour of a man?” Zevran snickers at baffled expression on Alistair’s face.

“I have a wife, you know.” He says flatly, though a bit of blush darkens his cheeks. 

“How is it going with your wife then? I can give you few tips for performance in-”

Alistair interrupts him, purposely raising his voice, “Oh no, we are not talking about any performance, not now, not ever.”

Zevran sighs, hand going to his chest in mock display of hurt. “You wound me my friend, I only want to be helpful in case your wife finds you lacking-”

“Shut up Zevran.” The tips of Alistair’s ears are a wonderful shade of red and he can’t help but chuckle at his expression. Alistair busies himself with drinking rest of his wine, “Not a word.” He points at him and Zevran rolls his lips with murmured “Fereldens”.

“Thank the Maker Vergil’s far from being such prude.”

“I have no idea what you see in him,” Alistair quips in between sips.

Zevran’s eyes lock with his. “Oh I think you do, after all he’s marvellous to look at. And this thing he does with his fingers when he uses magic to-”

“I’ve heard enough of you two during Blight, thanks. I really don’t need to hear it again.”

“Have you?” His smile is impish, eyes narrowed playfully. “But I could swear there was always some spell in motion preventing others from hearing… though you’ve got templar training, no? I guess it’d be easy to dispel if you’d wanted to spy on us.”

He watches how Alistair’s throat works when he swallows. “I’ve never dispelled a thing he casted and definitely not on purpose of spying you two having… your time alone. Can we drop it now, I have no idea how you’ve even come to this idea.”

“Easily, if you do it right.” He laughs when Alistair’s mouth thins.

“I should kick you out for making fun of king.”

“I think you miss people joking with you. Being so serious all the time, how do you manage that?”

Alistair groans, rubbing his face, “Barely. But it amuses me greatly knowing he has as much paperwork as I do.”

“Hmm yes. Remember our little meeting during last fight? You probably haven’t seen it, but he was very glad to see you there. King out in the field, fighting monsters that plague his people. Equal to his soldiers. Inspiring.” 

“I couldn’t exactly stay and take a nap in palace when Denerim was overrun with darkspawn. Too much noise.”

“Outside or in your head?” Zevran asks and tilts his head to the side when Alistair’s gaze sharpens.

“He told you about it?”

“Didn’t have to. I’ve noticed both of you had this particular scowl just before darkspawn would spring at us. Nearing end of battles the look was almost permanent on Vergil’s face.”

Alistair bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. “All of it feels like yesterday.” He mumbles and they stay quiet for rest of the bottle.

“You could stay here for a night, you know.” Alistair says, standing up and stretching after they finished their drinks. The shirt rides up a bit and it’s a fine sight for someone who can appreciate one’s body.

“Are you ready to risk being seen with man walking out from your bedroom in the morning? And so early in your reign, bold, Alistair. Just imagine the scandal.” He gets up as well, working out few kinks before he tries himself with walls again. Alistair scoffs at his words, more amused than offended and Zevran suspects alcohol helped him relax.

“I’ll stay in Pearl. It’s a wonder how half of city was raided by darkspawns and brothel stayed in one piece. It’s a sign, don’t you think my friend?” He winks. 

“For what, investment? Can’t see it going well.”

“At least it’s steady source of income.” Zevran puts on his cloak, securing the hood over his head and pulling on mask covering half of his face. “By the way, wine wasn’t poisoned.” 

Alistair isn’t surprised, scratching at his nose. “Yeah I’ve noticed. No burning tongue or sudden choking. Just some sour fermented grapes.” He makes a face, “Still prefer good ale better.”

Zevran’s smile is pleased, even if hidden behind dark thin fabric. “I see you took my advice to heart with sampling poisons. Good.”

“Yours have run out some time ago. Leliana sent fresh set. I checked if it’s from her, don’t worry.” He adds hurriedly when Zevran’s eyes narrow. 

“I guess she has her ways too.” He strides towards window, gracefully hopping onto windowsill, crouching on it. Zevran turns to Alistair, seeing how he came closer to peer out of the window. “See you soon, my friend. Maybe even in different company.” 

Alistair crosses his arms and rocks on his heels, “Maybe.” He lengthens the word and Zevran laughs quietly under his breath as he opens the window, glancing around for threats.

“Fereldens. Stubborn as their dogs.”

Faint offended “Hey!” behind him makes his smile stretch. Then he notices a spot he’s been looking for, free falling a bit and gripping it in time to avoid flattening himself on cobblestone. It’s a quick way after that and he’s out of premises faster than it took him to get in. Alistair really should do something about guards, he thinks, walking through Denerim's streets, shadows easily swallowing him up as they belong to him.

[nebucat]

i’m very empathetic. i know i am

i’m able to easily imagine another’s perspective and how i would feel if i were in their position, and if i don’t right away then i try my best to do so

the issue was that i could see their perspective, i could understand where they were coming from, but i knew their perspective was skewed by insecurities and that they were too wrapped up in it and stubborn to think critically or have faith in me.

i didn’t... want to validate those insecurities, or i guess i didn’t want to reinforce that sort of thinking. i wanted to help them out of it! but i guess i just... didn’t know how. i didn’t know how to reassure them besides explaining my perspective. i didn’t want to just dismiss how they were feeling! i payed far more attention than they realized. to the point that i immediately understood the problem and felt how they were feeling because i’ve been there before. in some ways, i still am. feeling replaceable or insecure. and i know thats just what it is. i know insecurity obscures our vision. and it made me uncomfortable because the fact i knew it wasn’t true. the accusations of ‘ignoring’ them or losing interest in our writings was not true. but i didn’t know how else to tell them that.

especially because i shrink so much under accusations. my knee-jerk reflex is to accept fault for something as a fawner. the number of times i rolled over for them didn’t help my mental state because i genuinely did let myself be convinced of the things they were telling me. that i ignore them. that i’m dismissive. that i’m inconsiderate. and i am trying to unlearn all of that shit that got ingrained in my head. and it didnt... help either? that they would guilt trip me when i did try to share my perspective, only reinforcing the insecurities.

it was never... enough. i was never enough. i could never make them happy and there was always something i was getting criticized for. no matter what i did, now matter how hard i tried, i was ALWAYS doing something wrong. and they would rub it in my face with their cruel, vindictive comments.

‘if only you payed more attention’

‘you don’t want to disappoint your cool new friends’

‘you’d rather disappoint me than them’

‘you want to stop being as important to each other? fine. i’ll start giving you as equal amount of attention as i do everyone else. you want me to give you reassurance for things i’m not even aware of? ok. i’ll start showering you in those meaningless compliments everyone else throws around in this rpc’ 

‘it’s hard to care about setting off your anxiety when you clearly don’t care about setting off mine’

and i... i wanted to move IN with this person. i wanted a relationship with them!!! i genuinely saw a future with them. because i thought they were changing. i thought they cared. i thought they loved me back.... i wanted to be with them so badly and yet this person was so cruel to me. i was so naive to believe that was what real love looked like.

i don’t even want to think about what could have happened if i stayed. if i continued down that path with them. if i actually did move in with them. i was already so isolated from everyone in our community with them. but i would have been even more isolated if i moved in with them and i would have had no way to escape. thinking about it makes me so nauseous and freaked out.

im so fucking glad i left. i’m so thankful for the friends who helped me get out before it was too late. that week before shit hit the fan, i was such a fucking wreck. i was starving myself because trying to eat made me throw up, having anxiety induced nightmares and was crying literally every single day multiple times, pacing up and down the street at night trying to talk myself down and reason with myself, sleeping all the time because i’d rather be unconscious than awake. i wanted to die. i really wanted to fucking die. it was like highschool all over again. and seeing them groom another person and treat them the same way they treated me when WE first met... seeing how much they praised that person and flattered them and gave them so much positive attention, yet knowing how abusive and neglectful they’d been to me...

i was convinced i was a broken person. i remember saying that to myself, “i’m broken. i’m so broken” as i cried and cried and cried. they didn’t make me feel loved or safe. they made me feel broken.

and thats what narcissistic abuse is. they’ll appeal to you with sweet talk and praise and attention, shower you in compliments and make you feel like the most special person in the world. and once they have their hooks in you, they’ll slowly break you down and groom you into tolerating the abuse. the guilt trips. the manipulation and gaslights. they’ll provoke you to get you to fight with them so they can pick apart everything you say and poke holes in you in order to garner control over you. they’ll humiliate and use hostile humor to tease you in public spaces in order to keep you off balance and install shame inside you.

they do this because they need their narcissistic supply. it doesnt matter if its positive validation or negative validation, they do this because theyre deeply insecure to the core and have to depend on external validation in order to feel anything. and because they’re living in their own delusional reality, they think this is NORMAL and OKAY and that they aren’t wrong for acting like this. a narcissist can never be wrong and will NEVER hold them self accountable for their actions without dragging others down with them.

even the last MESSAGE this person sent me just goes to show they literally are incapable of holding themself accountable for anything. they’ll only apologize to convince you to give them another chance. and thats what that note was--- an attempt to convince me otherwise. but their actions speak louder than the sweet talk and sob stories. and i knew this for certain when i confronted them after calling the police for the suicide baiting. they denied it was a manipulation tactic and had the gall to shame ME for getting worried about them! LMAO. “i’m sorry YOU felt that way” “i’m sorry YOU felt pressured”. not a single apology for literally trying to manipulate me. not a single apology for being the one to use their suicidal idealization to keep me tethered for so long. because narcissists can’t hold themself accountable and will find any reason not to.

i used to have narcissistic behaviors. sometimes i still catch myself falling into old toxic patterns. but i KNOW i’m not narcissistic. i have empathy, i AM considerate and kind, i TAKE accountability for my actions without using self deprecation or excuses, and nothing good and nice i tell people is fake or forced. i have so much love in my heart for people and i’m proud of myself for how far i’ve come and how hard i work to grow and better myself.

so i guess there is one thing i can thank them for. for getting me to fall in love and realize how much i truly have to give. i’m going to invest that love in the people who actually love and respect me, and respect my feelings. and continue working on myself for the benefit of my and those around me.

and who knows, maybe one day i’ll find someone as funny and charming who’ll treat me better. someone i can share as much of myself with as i did with them, who wont take me for granted. until then, i just want to learn to be content with myself.

[lolcat76]

An Alignment of Interests

For @okaynextcrisis​, who wanted a Bill/Laura arranged marriage fic, and for @cassiopeiasara​, who enabled her.

“You should be happy,” her mother said, “that a man of our station wants to marry you. Most girls in your situation would wind up in a closed sisterhood, and be glad of it.”

Happy. She should be happy, she supposed, that a man of their station found himself in such desperate straits that he’d condescend to marry the oldest, most definitely soiled daughter of the ruling house of Caprica. Frankly, the thought of a closed sisterhood sounded far more appealing at the moment. She could tend goats and weave cloth, and never, ever, ever again have to worry about finding herself hung out to dry thanks to a man’s political ambition.

Things must be dire on Tauron indeed, if the mighty Adama family were stooping so low as to extend an offer of marriage to her. Things must be even more dire on Caprica if her mother were so eager to accept on her behalf. No matter how proud the Adamas were, or how many generations they’d ruled Tauron, they were still dirt-eaters in the eyes of most of the Twelve Colonies.

Things were indeed dire on Tauron, a fact of which Laura was very well aware. Her mother, Gods bless her, had no interest in politics, but Laura had cut her teeth on the scrolls of government. Her father had dragged her to every parliament meeting and off-world visitation since he ascended to the the ruling house of Caprica, and after 20 years under his watchful eye, she could name every dignitary in the twelve colonies, as well as name every lowlife said dignitaries were bartering favors with - or worse- in seedy taverns throughout the colonies.

Some of which she knew only too well.

Laura had seen more than her fair share of dingy bars with Richard in her younger, stupider days before her father ordered him executed for treason. Richard’s execution was enough to restore the semblance of honor to the name of Roslin, but not nearly enough to stifle rumors about the oldest daughter of the ruling house. Rumors that had quite nicely and conveniently put an end to her marriage prospects many years ago, which had been just fine with her.

Fortunately, the Roslins had two other daughters, far sweeter and more agreeable, to trade on the Colonies’ political marriage market. Cheryl had married the son of the ruling family on Libran, and Sandra was currently expecting her second child with Picon’s prime minister. Laura should have made the first and best match, no doubt to the crown prince of Aerilon, even after her role in Richard’s downfall was front-page news all over the Colonies.

Fortunately, their colonies had worked together for far too long, and their fathers had been far too close for Edward Roslin to waste his favorite daughter on a match with Gaius Baltar. Or for Gaius to think her a naive, fuckable fool like the peasants he liked to welcome in his bed. Oh, he’d do business with her family and he’d lean on her sharp mind for help when the farming class refused to grow crops without fair compensation, but he wouldn’t risk his massive ego by wedding - or worse - breeding with her.

Fine with her. She tolerated Gaius because it was expedient, teased him because it was entertaining, but the thought of him laying one of his overly manicured, overly soft hands on her body made her want to throw him, and possibly herself, out of one of the airlocks in her father’s military defense ships.

Still, marrying Gaius couldn’t have been worse than the other prospects across the system that her mother had tossed her way. Gaius was an idiot, but he wasn’t a fool, which definitely gave him points in her book. Also, she was relatively sure, none of the other candidates her mother worried over late into the night would ever have been suitable - the Virgonese never married outside their planet, and the Cancerons, pristine and pure of blood as their children might be, weren’t quite learned enough to be a match for the eldest daughter of Judith Roslin, back when the eldest daughter was still a prize to be won. That left her with the holy rollers on Gemenon, and even her desperate parents weren’t quite desperate enough to sink so low as to align themselves with the Gemenese.

Or the thugs that ran Tauron, and Judith Roslin would never in a million years sink so low, so Laura was safely assured of living out the rest of her life in vaguely shameful spinsterhood, free to do and say what she pleased, as long as she stayed away from treasonous bastards who used her father’s name to gain power.

Or so she’d thought. Apparently, her mother was getting more desperate than Laura had ever suspected.

“A man of our station,” Laura mused. “Funny, Mother, but the last time you tried to marry me off, I don’t recall you ever saying that the Taurons were equal to our station.”

“Well, things change.”

Indeed.

***

“You want me to what?”

“Get married, Bill. It shouldn’t be that difficult for you. As I recall, you’ve done it before.”

The evidence of his first marriage was currently playing tag around the heavy wooden dining table in his father’s dining room, and any second now, one of his sons was going to wind up bleeding on the floor.

Having already told them he wasn’t cleaning it up if one of them knocked their brains out of their head and dumped them all over his father’s prized Gemenese rug, Bill turned back to Joseph Adama. “You weren’t exactly pleased with my first marriage, as I recall.”

Joseph shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? You ran off with the first girl who smiled at you. And look how well that turned out.”

Sure enough, Zak ran face-first into a chair and immediately started howling. Look how well it turned out indeed.

“I’m not getting married again,” Bill grunted over his shoulder as he made his way to his sobbing son.

“Yes, you are,” his father shot back. “And what’s more, you’ll get married to the person I choose this time. A son respects his roots.”

Given that his sons had no respect for anything, least of all gravity and basic physics, Bill was inclined to disagree. He pulled Zak’s hands away from his face and was relieved to see that, other than a rapidly swelling goose-egg, it didn’t look like any permanent damage had been done.

“Are my brains falling out, Daddy?” Zak whimpered.

“No, son. You don’t have any brains to fall out, or else you would have listened to me in the first place.”

“I told him to slow down,” Lee said, and Bill wondered how a six-year-old could be so damn bossy. Lee was standing with his fists balled on his hips, glaring at his brother, and Bill realized just how a six-year-old could be so damn bossy, because his own father was staring him down across the room in exactly the same way.

He should have run like hell the first time Carolanne winked at him and found the nearest priesthood, cloistered himself up with vows of poverty and celibacy, and saved himself from being bookended by two generations trying to kill him. Too bad he never believed in the Gods, because if he did, he’d know for sure they were laughing their asses off at him.

“Lee, go read a book.” Lee opened his mouth to argue, but Bill shut him up with a glare and a pointed finger at the library. “Zak, you’re going to live, so go get some ice on that. And you-” he glanced back at his father, “stop trying to control my life, or I’ll walk out of here with my sons and you won’t have any Adama heirs to replace the ones you lost.”

“Bill. Bill! Willie, damn it, LISTEN TO ME!”

The long-forgotten nickname stopped Bill in his tracks. He pushed his sons out of the room, then turned to face his father. The two of them glared at each other, but Bill wasn’t going to back down. Not now, not when he had kids of his own to protect.

“Willie’s dead, Dad. I’m not him. I was never him. You’ve gotta accept that.”

Joseph Adama sighed, for once looking all of his 62 years. “I know that. But I also know that losing one love doesn’t mean you’ll never have another.”

“That’s a pretty shitty argument, forcing me into marriage just because you got lucky enough that my mother loved you.” Bill looked over his shoulder as he said it, because Evelyn had an almost uncanny knack for showing up just when Bill laid into his father. He might not like Joseph Adama much, but he adored his mother. Even if he questioned her taste in men.

“How about I make you a deal, huh?” Great, a deal. As much as he tried to stay away from politics, Bill at least knew that his father’s deals were always weighted in favor of the house. “You meet this woman. If you hate her, we walk away and pretend like nothing ever happened, and you can go back to letting your sons try to kill each other and building your model ships.”

“And if I like her?” He wasn’t going to like her, but he was willing to humor his father just to hear this argument. It should be a doozy.

“Then you consider marrying her. And in doing so, use her family’s money to help Tauron find a way to fight the drought that’s killing off our people.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. No matter how many times Bill told his father he wanted nothing to do with governing the people of Tauron, he couldn’t turn a blind eye to the consequences of the five-year drought on his planet. The fact that his father’s strategy had gone from investing in infrastructure to marrying him off for money could only mean one thing.

“You’re not seriously asking me to consider marrying Laura Roslin?”

***

Knowing what she did about Tauron’s rapidly depleting finances, Laura was shocked that the delegation from Caprica was welcomed with full honors. Including, to her dismay, the pomp and circumstance of the Caprican anthem playing as she made her way down the shuttle ladder, knees locked together in every effort to keep what was left of her dignity intact while photographers snapped photos of her from below.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she hissed to her mother, as the Adama family lined up to salute them.

“Add it to the list, Laura.” With that, Judith Roslin tucked her hand into her husband’s arm and went to greet their hosts.

While her parents were busy air-kissing the Adamas, Laura sized up her potential future husband. Dressed in ceremonial garb, he looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt. He tugged at his starched collar, then glared at his gloves, then glared at her with a look that clearly said You better be worth all of this.

Oh, she could have said she wasn’t, if anyone had bothered to ask. Still, she may not have had much in terms of reputation, but she still had her Roslin pride. Laura marched over to him and, ignoring protocol that she must be introduced to him by one of their hosts, extended a hand. “William Adama. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Miss Roslin. Likewise.” He took her fingers and shook grudgingly. She was surprised he didn’t immediately wipe his hand on his trousers.

“Please. Call me Laura.”

“We’ve prepared a welcome dinner for you. Follow me.”

So much for calling her Laura. She had no intention of marrying the man, but she’d expected to have to work a little harder to turn him off. She was half-tempted to head back up the ladder, because mission accomplished, he apparently wasn’t going to marry her if she were the last woman standing in the Twelve Colonies. Her mother’s manicured nails dug into her shoulder, stopping her retreat. “Come along, Laura, I believe dinner is served,” Judith hissed in her ear.

***

Knowing how her mother hated spicy foods, Laura found dinner to be quite enjoyable. The wine was tolerable, the noodles a little boring without any fresh produce, but watching her mother break a sweat and chug down three glasses of water made this little Tauron adventure almost worth it.

“You haven’t eaten anything. Don’t you like it?” came a small voice from beside her, and Laura had to force herself back into the here and now. One of Bill’s little boys - Lee, the older one - was staring at her. Measuring her up, it seemed.

He looked nothing like his father, save for the blue eyes. Laura remembered the press coverage from Bill’s hasty marriage to the former Carolanne Saville, and she could recall enough of the photos to recognize that Lee had his mother’s nose, coloring, and cheekbones.

His attitude, though, that had to be all his father’s doing. She was used to people staring at her and finding her wanting, but to have it come from a six-year-old…that was a first.

“I do like it,” she assured her tiny host. “But you know what I like better? Watching everyone else eat. There’s so much to learn.”

Lee perked up. “About what?”

“Well,” she said, pointing to her mother. “What about her?”

“It’s rude to point.”

“It is,” she agreed, “but it’s also rude not to answer a question. Now look, and tell me what you see.”

Lee wrinkled his little nose as he studied Judith Roslin. “She hates it.”

“She does,” Laura agreed, “but why?”

Her mother waved to the waiter holding the pitcher of water, then dabbed at her brow with her napkin. “Too spicy,” Lee said.

“Very good! Now, what about him?” Laura gestured to her father.

“He’s not eating because he’s too busy talking to Grandpa. Every time he tries to take a bite, he stops and says something else. And that’s good, because Grandma tells me not to talk with my mouth full.”

“And what about your Grandma?”

“She’s already done, because she’d rather eat than talk to that lady.” Since that lady was her mother, Laura couldn’t help but sympathize.

“And your father?” Laura prodded. “He’s already done too. Why?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Lee scoffed. “He’s done because he wants you all to leave.”

Well. Out of the mouths of babes, indeed. “Why does he want us to leave?”

“Daddy said he’s had enough of women.”

Laura choked on her sip of wine. “He said that to you?”

“No, he said that to Grandpa. I was supposed to be reading.”

She had to give Bill Adama credit for that. If his idea of punishing his kids was making them read, he couldn’t be all bad. “Why weren’t you reading?”

Lee sighed, looking every inch a weary old man. “I’ve already read everything in Grandpa’s library that I’m allowed to read.”

Just what was in Grandpa’s library, she wondered. She’d have to check it out before she left this godforsaken planet. “And you’ve never read something you’re not supposed to read?”

For the first time since they’d sat down, Lee looked distinctly uncomfortable. “You have!” she crowed. His eyes shifted between his father and grandfather, guilt written all over his face as he slid down in his chair. “It’s ok,” she whispered. “I won’t tell. I used to read things I wasn’t supposed to when I was your age.”

Relief swept across his face, and she couldn’t stop herself from brushing the sandy-blonde bangs that fell across his forehead out of his eyes. “I like you, Lee.”

Lee grinned up at her. “I like you too. I wish you were the woman my dad was supposed to meet instead of her.” He jerked his chin at her mother, who had gone from red in the face to a little green around the gills.

She could explain the situation to the little boy beside her, but honestly, what was the point? Come tomorrow, they’d be gone, and she’d never see him again. She didn’t expect the thought of that to sting quite as much as it did. “I wish I were too,” she sighed, and resumed picking at her plate.

Unobserved for the most part, Bill watched as his guest leaned down and whispered to his son. In the three years before Carolanne left, he’d never seen her show as much interest in her son as Laura Roslin had in the last ten minutes. He still had no intention of marrying the woman, but watching her with Lee…his father might have been right. He should have held out for better.

***

Laura  never could sleep in a strange bed, and even in the finest accommodations Tauron had to offer, she was wide awake and sighing as she tossed from side to side. Finally, she gave up and threw a robe over her shoulders. If she were going to be awake, she might as well make it worth her while. She’d likely never get another chance to explore the forbidden corners of Joseph Adama’s library.

She was leafing through the pages of a treatise on socialism when the slight rush of cool air on the nape of her neck warned her that she wasn’t alone. She slammed the book closed and turned, but the apologies died on her lips when she got a good look at the man who interrupted her late-night literary adventure.

“Bill,” she sighed.

“Miss Roslin.”

So much for Laura. “Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked. She couldn’t stop the smile teasing at the corners of her mouth as she watched him shift from foot to foot under her gaze. She liked this Bill, half yawning, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and trying to smooth down his unruly black hair. Looking incredibly uncomfortable as she gave him the once-over. Yes, she liked sleepy, rumpled Bill so much more than the perfectly dressed man in ceremonial uniform she’d met earlier in the day.

The son of the ruling house of Tauron wore ratty slippers and rolled up the cuffs of his sweatpants. Who knew? Aware of her own bare feet and her tousled hair, Laura tugged her robe a little tighter. “Your son spoke so much of the library that I just had to see it before we left.”

He took the book from her hands and leafed through it, dragging his index finger along certain passages here and there, his lips moving along with clearly memorized text. He closed the book and shoved it back into the case. “So that’s what you were talking about?”

“Among other things.” She shrugged. “Mainly we talked about manners and how unfortunate it is that you’re going to have to marry my mother.”

Priceless, the look on his face. This, right here and now, this was worth the trip to Tauron.

“My son - he misunderstands things.”

“Clearly, otherwise you’d be facing down my father at dawn with pistols drawn.” She shouldn’t be enjoying this, but oh…she was. Poor Bill Adama, unsure whether to apologize for his son or for the circumstances that brought them together.

She decided to let him off the hook. “Your son seems desperate to get his hands on the books you won’t let him read.” Laura dragged her finger along the spines of books that had been banned decades ago, spines of books that were forbidden to more than little boys. “Once he learns how to climb up these bookshelves, you’re in for a world of trouble.”

“You’re no stranger to trouble,” he grunted.

Ah. There it was, time to recount all her past sins. “I suppose not,” she agreed. “Well, this has been a lovely visit to Tauron, but I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”

He caught her elbow as she swept past him, his fingers pressing in to the sensitive skin of her forearm. Any tighter, and he’d leave marks. Any tighter, and she’d leave her own when she slapped him silly.

“You slept with the man who was trying to bring your father down,” he said. Blunt and unapologetic. At least, back in the day, the reporters had tried to be more circumspect.

“I slept with a man, and he was trying to bring my father down. The two were not related, or have you never fucked someone who didn’t have your best interests at heart?” If he could be blunt, so could she.

“I never fucked someone who tried to overthrow the government of my colony.”

No, he just fucked someone who tried to take him for his wealth and power, then dumped him and their children when something better came along. He wasn’t the only one who knew where all the dirty laundry was aired. “And I bet you never had to call the authorities on the person you’d just fucked, the person who told you that he loved you, when you overheard him telling your father’s worst enemy that he’d gotten you into bed, and the rest would fall into place?” He blanched at that. Of course he hadn’t. “No? So, until you’ve been sold out like that, don’t you dare judge me.”

Bill released her arm and took a step back. He couldn’t have looked more shocked or apologetic if she had slapped him, which she still hadn’t ruled out.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Of course he didn’t. Nobody did, because the story of the sullied daughter of the house of Roslin was far more palatable than the story that her father’s closest aide was actively plotting his downfall and not a single member of the parliament, the cabinet, or the Roslin security detail figured it out before a 19-year-old girl. Throwing the blame on her was far easier than admitting publicly that the Caprican government was weak. “Well, now you do,” she snapped. “So you can make up whatever reason you see fit that a match between us just won’t work, but by the Gods, don’t you dare say it was my fault.”

She swept past him - or tried to - but her borrowed robe was just long enough that she tripped over the hem. She would have fallen face-first into Joseph Adama’s bust of Themis if Bill hadn’t caught her.

“I’m sorry,” he echoed. “I didn’t know.”

“You still don’t,” she said, pushing his hands away. “And I”d like to go back to bed now.”

***

His father hadn’t spoken to him since their guests had returned to Caprica. All well and good, but Bill couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d judged Laura too quickly and too harshly. In the three weeks since their dinner party, Lee hadn’t shut up about his new friend Laura. Laura reads books, Daddy, Lee said. Laura never talked with her mouth full. Laura didn’t like your uniform.

Laura, Laura, Laura. If Bill hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind himself, he might have locked his oldest child in the library and not let him out until Lee was 18.

Laura, Laura, Laura. Laura read books, and Laura had lovely manners, and Laura was perhaps not guilty of the crimes the entirety of the Twelve Colonies had judged her for, these last twelve years.

Laura liked his kid, and for a minute there in the library, Bill could swear that Laura liked him as well.

“We have a new backer,” Joseph said, “from Sagittaron.”

No women of marriageable age from Sagittaron. Fine. “Then take it. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“It’s Tom Zarek,” his father said.

Godsdammit.

***

A nice, quiet cloistered Sisterhood. Perhaps up in the mountains, next to a lake. A lake so clear, it’d be like looking through glass. Laura could leave family and Colonial politics behind and make cheese. Tend goats. Live a simple life.

It had to be better than watching her parents fall apart. Her father had tiptoed around her for the last three weeks, but her mother…holiest of all that was holy, Judith Roslin was working her last godsdamned nerve.

“You didn’t have to be rude,” Judith said.

“I wasn’t the one who embarrassed us by not being able to eat Tauron food,” Laura shot back.

“You hardly spoke to him.” Oh, if only her mother knew. “You could have smiled at him, Laura. You have such a pretty smile.” She could have kicked him in the balls as well, and it would have been much more satisfying. She’d bet her substantial inheritance that Joseph Adama wasn’t telling Bill that he should have fucking smiled at her.

“I worry about you,” her mother said. “I just want to know that you’ll be happy when I’m gone.”

“Mother, I’d rather you’d worry about knowing that I’m happy when you’re still here.”

Judith opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut and walked away. Typical, Laura thought. She turned her attention back to her book, the same book on socialism that Bill had known so well when they met in the library.

She hoped that as Lee grew up, he’d figure out ways around his restrictions to read the books in his grandfather’s library, just as she had done. She also hoped it would work out better for him in the long run.

Then again, why wouldn’t it? The male heir to the House of Adama, even if the House of Adama was Tauron, would definitely fare far better than the daughter of the House of Caprica.

She slammed the book shut and hugged it to her chest. “I should have just run away and lived in a tent in Delphi,” she muttered.

“Laura?”

Her father’s sharp summons snapped her to attention. “Yes?”

“You have a visitor.”

***

Even in the last stages of their bitter divorce, Carolanne had looked a hell of a lot happier to see him than Laura Roslin did now. He figured his welcome was already worn out, so he might as well get to the point. “You know Tom Zarek?” he asked.

“Not personally, no.”

Bill grunted at her evasion. “But you’re familiar with him.”

Of course she was familiar with him. Everyone who had an ounce of civic interest in the Twelve Colonies was familiar with Tom Zarek. She probably owed him a debt of gratitude - bombing that building on Sagittaron had finally gotten her off the front pages of Colonial newspapers all those years ago. “I suppose you could say I’m familiar with his work,” she agreed.

“Did you know he’s taken a seat in the Quorom representing Sagittaron?”

Her head snapped up. “He’s what?”

“Yep. Apparently, after being released from prison, the Sagittarons rewarded their freedom-fighter hero with a position as minister of trade, which means that as a high-ranking official, he’s eligible for the Quorum.”

“No wonder my father has been in such a bad mood,” Laura muttered.

“I thought you kept up with these things?”

“Lately, I’ve had a change of heart,” she sniffed. “I’ve been thinking that a quiet life, somewhere up in the mountains, would suit me better.”

Laura Roslin, hermit? “Hiding out in a cabin by a lake somewhere? I can’t really see you settling for that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He stepped close enough to get a glimpse at the book she was clutching to her chest, and he couldn’t stop the grin on his face when he saw the title. Maybe she was having trouble forgetting their little tête-à-tête in the library as well.

“Not nearly as surprised as I was when Tom Zarek proposed uniting Sagittaron and Tauron under one government.”

“Good Gods.” She slammed the book on the desk behind her. “You cannot tell me that your father is seriously considering it?”

“He is. But he did say that there was another proposal he’d rather accept.”

“Ah.” She leaned against the desk, crossing her arms again and glaring at him over the rims of her glasses. “I see. You’d rather get in bed with Roslin the tramp than Zarek the terrorist?”

Given that she’d just reignited all of his childhood schoolteacher fantasies with one look, he would absolutely rather get in bed with her. The sooner the better. “Maybe we were too hasty.”

“Hasty is rushing into marriage with a woman you don’t respect to fix a temporary financial setback,” she pointed out.

Temporary, his ass. The drought had already lasted longer than his first marriage, and the Tauron government was running out of options. “Better marriages have been borne of worse reasons,” he pointed out.

“You’re a lousy salesman, you know that?”

And an even worse husband, if Carolanne were to be believed, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “Think of it as less of a marriage and more of a business merger,” he suggested.

“Thank you, but I’ve already merged enough to last me a lifetime. You can show yourself out.”

Bill had no interest in forcing his attention on a woman who so clearly wanted nothing to do with him. He couldn’t blame her - as unromantic as he was, even he knew that “Hey, you’re better than the terrorist alternative, so what do you say?” was hardly the proposal of a little girl’s dreams. He’d find some way around this Zarek problem, or he’d come back here and see if her secluded lake had room for a cabin big enough for himself and his boys. Maybe a dog, too. He could fish. Teach the boys to live off the land without the endless worry about water running out. Steal a few quick peeks at his neighbor’s legs as she tended her plants.

He was halfway through the open door when he stopped. She was still propped up against the desk, her delicate ankles crossed, one shoe dangling from her toes. “Laura? Do you have a green thumb?”

“A what?”

“Nothing,” he said, and smiled to himself. “I’ll see you next week.”

Laura snorted. “What for?”

“To change your mind.”

***

“I’m not going to be good at this,” she hissed.

Bill shrugged. Fair enough; he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be good at it either.

“You’re just trying to get one up on Zarek.”

Not at all true, but he did enjoy Tom Zarek sitting in the third row of the chapel, looking like he’d choke over every So Say We All. Gods willing, Bill muttered under his breath, then caught himself. He might not believe in the gods, but even he knew that wishing death upon one of his wedding guests was hardly good manners.

“I’m going to make you regret this,” she muttered. Bill laughed, then caught himself. The temple was filled with dignitaries from the Twelve Colonies, all of them staring at the two people who were very uncomfortably pledging their vows. “I said we should elope,” his bride continued, spitting out each word just low enough that only he could hear her.

“Laura,” he whispered,” pulling the hand he held into his chest, “I’m not going to regret this.” It had taken him a year to convince her to even talk to him after their disastrous meeting on Tauron, a year of showing up each week with a new book from his father’s library, only to have it returned to him the following week. He’d have given up if he hadn’t noticed a few ratty pieces of paper serving as bookmarks tucked into each returned book. Another six months to let him kiss her. A year after the drought officially ended, she still wouldn’t admit to her family that they were more than just casual acquaintances, and even now he still wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t turn tail and run down the aisle if someone in the temple dared to breathe too loud.

If she could run at all, which, these days, wasn’t happening. “You’d better not,” she muttered, her other hand idly rubbing the swell of her belly. “Because otherwise this baby is going to kick your ass.”

He still wasn’t sure how shotgun wedding was better than business merger, but he didn’t care - all that mattered was that she finally said yes. And it had only taken three years, almost the entire contents of his father’s library, and a small cabin two hours’ drive up into the mountains, built by his own two hands.

The priestess Elosha asked him to say his vows, and he happily repeated them, one hand still clutching hers, the other resting on the baby girl kicking up a storm inside Laura.

He’d stand by her, and support her, and love her, love her even more as their family expanded. His oldest son slipped his hand into Bill’s and squeezed, ready to say his line in the ceremony. “So say we all,” Lee proclaimed, puffing out his little chest at his vow to protect his siblings.

“So say we all,” he echoed.

“So say we all,” whispered Laura, because this woman, his wife, she always had to have the last word.

He could live with that. For the rest of his life, he could live with that.

[yasuda-yoshiya]

EP2 reread notes, Part 1

It’s been a long time, but my Umineko reread has been slowly progressing! Here is a long-overdue update.

My readthrough of Episode 2 has actually been complete for months. This episode is both particularly important to me and covers a lot of particularly sensitive material, and as such I was hesitant to just post my rough notes in mostly unedited form as I did with the first episode; I really wanted to make sure I could properly express a lot of things about this episode in particular, and to that end I’ve been fleshing out my notes into a more substantial commentary this time.

As such, it seems appropriate to split this one into multiple posts. I’d like to hope I can get the others out fairly soon, now that a lot of the draft has been fleshed out! But for now, here’s the first part of this episode, focusing on Shannon’s half of the flashback arc.

Prologue

* The way George's narration in the intro is worded really does emphasise just how much he values his relationship with Shannon primarily as feeding into his own self-worth, making him feel like he can play the part of the "guy teasing the girl he likes" when that's always been something that he's only been able to look at enviously from the outside before. It practically comes across like he's using her to act out his own pre-existing personal script for his "dream romance" a lot of the time. It always bothers me that Ryukishi captures these disturbing nuances so well, but doesn't really seem interested in following through on critically exploring them with George the way he does with his other characters...

* Well, I suppose you could say that Yasu values George for basically the same reason, that he makes her feel like "someone who can know love" when she sees that as an unattainable dream for herself. It's sort of interesting to me in theory to think of the George/Shannon relationship through the (very cynical) lens that it basically amounts to two people both using the other as a piece to achieve happiness for themselves, but it's hard for me to really see that as an equal thing when the whole dynamic is so transparently skewed towards George happily getting to achieve his dreams and play out all his personal fantasies with no worries while Yasu is quietly making all kinds of agonising internal compromises with herself in the background.

* The metaphor that Shannon uses about the huge tank at the aquarium "being no different from an infinite sea to the fish swimming inside" always really gets to me. I think the whole concept of being able to define your own reality and the idea that "if I just believe I'm happy, then I am happy" is one that feels very personally familiar and important to me, so Yasu's particular idea of "magic" and the way Umineko is built around exploring that is a big part of what makes it resonate so much with me. I always have mixed feelings about what Shannon expresses here; I think there's a lot of genuine truth and power in the sentiment (a lot of the value of life really does come down to what you perceive it to be), but at the same time I sort of feel like if you've reached the point of consciously telling yourself "my world is complete to me as long as I don't know what I'm missing" as a coping strategy, then by necessity that means you've already kind of gone past the point of being able to wholeheartedly believe in that illusion. In a way, that's what Beatrice ultimately breaking Shannon down represents. But at the same time, I still sort of find myself wanting to say that consciously struggling to "build a self-contained world for yourself" in that way can still lead to a valid and genuine sense of fulfilment, even so - and in a broad sense I think being able to find peace and satisfaction in something that you know to be imperfect is a skill that everyone has to learn to an extent.

* This idea also pretty much sets the stage for one of the main themes of the episode as a whole. The fish tank metaphor represents Shannon's attitude to her relationship with George that amounts to "This love can obviously never really happen, but I can create an illusion of love that will be real to us", and trying to convince herself that that's fine; much of the conflict between Shannon, Kanon and Beatrice that follows in the rest of the episode is centred around Yasu fighting with herself over whether she really can feel content with that much or not. In contrast, George's immediate thought in response is basically "However big it might be, it still just looks like a tank to me", which...well, it's no surprise that Yasu is so afraid of what might happen if he finds out that his relationship with her isn't really his dream come true, but an attempt to create an indistinguishable illusion of that dream being possible. It's vital for him to remain ignorant of the fact that their "tank" isn't actually an infinite sea.

* God, George is awful. That's all I've got to say about the rest of this sequence. I'm tired of talking about George.

* The whole scene at the shrine is really powerfully written, and possibly the first part of the series where we really hear the unfiltered voice of "Yasu" speaking. The symbol of the shrine mirror as a metaphor for Shannon's unchanging fate and the obstacle to Beatrice's resurrection takes on all kinds of new dimensions given everything that mirrors mean to Yasu; the thing that Yasu needs to destroy in order to become "human" in her eyes is "her self", her own reflection in the mirror. The physical reality of her own body prevents her from being the person she wants to be - a sentiment that goes way back to Yasu's feeling as a child that the reality of her own pitiful face reflected in the mirror was a threat to her image of herself as the great witch Beatrice. The way Yasu translates these pre-established parts of her personal mythology into a new context to convey how she feels about her present situation always feels very authentic to me.

“Furniture”

* And now we flash back to the origins of Shannon's feelings for George. I do find it a little easier this time to understand why George noticing and unobtrusively helping to smooth things over for Shannon when she made mistakes was so touching to her; she's so used to being unnoticed and taken for granted as a servant that it would mean a lot when George showed consideration for her as a person. And I do appreciate that his "humble-bragging" moment afterwards is framed as totally transparent and that he's willing to laugh at himself when Jessica mocks him for it too; I can see why a little flaw like that could seem endearing and humanising to Shannon from her perspective at the time, in the sense that it makes him feel approachably human and not just "admirable".

* Well, like I think yumeta said on Goats, Shannon and George's dynamic actually seems okay when they're allowed to mutually acknowledge and laugh about each other's "childish points" together, but it's when George gets in the creepily patronising role of talking about "rules" and "orders" and gleefully enjoying one-sidedly making her uncomfortable that it gets really gross to me... Unfortunately, George is really specifically invested in feeling like he's "becoming an adult" and "overcoming his childish phase" through this relationship, so it feels like he ends up actively working to stay securely in control of their dynamic as much as he can to prove that he's "a real man" or whatever. Being honest about his immature aspects and letting Shannon poke at his "cute points" too much probably hits too close to his insecurities for him to be willing to keep it up for all that long - which is a shame because I think that's probably the kind of relationship Yasu feels most comfortable with, as you can see from BeaBato.

* The way the narrative transitions between these two scenes gives a lot of insight into how things like this must have influenced Yasu's current view of herself. The memory of Eva's whole "you're not worthy of George, know your place you servant" rant in the past becomes a reminder to Yasu in the present, something she uses to reinforce to herself that she was foolish to think she could be anything more than furniture; this scene really makes it easy to see how Yasu finding out the truth about her body would have just fed even deeper into reinforcing these kinds of messages about her "inferior, unworthy, subhuman" position that she'd already been receiving her whole life because of her social status. Those two parallel aspects of her seeing herself as "furniture" definitely feed into each other a lot, and the subsequent scene with Natsuhi abusing her just goes on to further hammer this home; the idea that Yasu is less than human is something that her environment has drilled into her for a very long time, even without taking into account the issue of her body.

* At the same time, though, I think it's important to note the implication that Yasu evidently refused to meekly accept Eva's words at the time and did keep pursuing her relationship with George regardless. It's clear that Yasu's lifelong mistreatment as a servant alone *wasn't* enough to totally crush Yasu's sense of self-worth; continuing to pursue a relationship with someone so "far above her station" shows that despite everything around her reinforcing her inferior position, Yasu was still able to believe strongly enough in her own right to happiness that she was able to actively reject that deeply ingrained impulse to resign herself to her current misery on the grounds that she should just be grateful for what she had. A big part of the tragedy here is that it feels like Yasu having her status as subhuman and unworthy of love physically "confirmed" to her when she solved the epitaph really pushed her straight back into those terrible thought patterns, just as she was starting to cast them off.

* But even after enduring all of that, Yasu still can't bring herself to totally give up and accept that she can do nothing but resign herself to a fate of being furniture - instead she ends up fighting with all she has to overcome that subhuman status in a different way, as portrayed through Shannon's use of "Beatrice's magic" here. Much as it might be easy at first glance to dismiss Yasu's concept of herself as furniture as passive and self-defeating, I think it's important to note that her narrative is specifically centred around her desperately fighting AGAINST that perception of herself and trying to overcome it in whatever way she can, even with everything around her constantly trying to push her back down into the resignation and stagnation that "Shannon" represents. I feel like it's really missing the point to frame Yasu's pessimism about herself as primarily a problem of her own innate personality, rather than a problem of her initially strong hopes for herself being slowly crushed and eroded as an inevitable consequence of her brutal circumstances and the awful environment she's had to adapt to.

* The particular way that Beatrice tempts Shannon into breaking the shrine mirror - in other words, into going through with testing the explosives - is very illuminating in terms of what pushed Yasu over the edge. If love is the all-important "single element" and the only thing that can make a person's life worthwhile, then continuing to live in her "body incapable of love" would be dooming Yasu to a hollow and meaningless life, as far as she's concerned. On the other hand, if Shannon continues to "deceive" George by hiding the truth about her body, using "magic" to make that illusion real, then she can live as if she was a real human for a time - but the further she goes with that, the further she goes past the point of no return and commits herself to having to create the catbox in the end to preserve that love, because it can't last indefinitely. But as Beatrice puts forth, isn't that still better than living a hollow life forever?

* And of course the wonderful Kanon-kun comes to the rescue, driving Beatrice off and telling her to stop trying to lead Shannon astray. But Beatrice isn't concerned, because she knows her words have left their mark - as evidenced by the butterfly marks on Shannon and Kanon's hands. Even the framing of the narrative itself is designed to reinforce that sense of inevitability; at this point we've already witnessed the scene where Shannon breaks the mirror, so we "know" - as Yasu "knows" - that Shannon isn't going to be able to resist in the long run. Yasu just isn't able to resign herself to being unhappy forever; she'll take her chance at happiness even knowing it's likely to lead to ruin.

* And honestly, even though Yasu frames that as Shannon giving into an evil temptation, is it really so evil to want some level of happiness? What Shannon wants is only what any "normal" person would automatically be entitled to. I think Yasu's "Beatrice" in this episode generally becomes a lot more sympathetic when you understand that her anger at Shannon basically comes down to her refusing to accept her assertion that her miserable situation is fine as it is, and that she doesn't need or deserve anything more - because, frankly, Shannon *is* wrong about that. That genuinely is a messed up attitude. But of course, the other side of that is that, in the course of arguing that Shannon isn't fine as she is, she's also putting forth that her current state is truly miserable and pathetic and unfixable without resorting to drastic measures - and there's obviously a ton of unealthy self-loathing in that too, in a different way.

Wonderful Utopia

* Aaand then we flash forward into the future to show that George and Shannon's relationship is going smoothly, and Jessica and Shannon are talking together happily about it. This is a little dark when you consider the implication in light of the preceding scene (because Shannon gave in and accepted Beatrice's "magic", everything is going fine).

* This is really yet another thing that shows a huge amount of courage from Yasu when you think about it; Yasu was totally aware that going on an overnight trip with George could easily lead to her body being exposed, but she still went along with it. She was willing to risk "breaking the magic", even though that should have been unthinkable if she totally believed Beatrice was right about her relationship with George. Like Ryukishi said in the Answer interview, it must have been a very complicated feeling for Yasu when she found out that George booked separate rooms for them after all; of course she'd be glad not to be exposed in the short term, but in a way, it might have been a relief for her to have been "forced" into confessing the truth and taking the reaction as it came, to have the choice taken away from her. This is pretty much the same mindset on which Yasu ends up building the whole mystery roulette - deep down, she wants someone to stop her and "make her confess", so she gives the survivors all kinds of openings to "expose her", but she still needs someone to corner her into revealing everything. The fear of the consequences makes it impossible for her to step up and do it of her own accord. Even so, taking that kind of gamble with George here at all must have taken a lot of bravery...

* In contrast with Beatrice's mockery and derision of Shannon in the previous scene, now that Shannon has "accepted her" Beatrice is very friendly to her. The whole arc here, with Beatrice acting at first like she's truly happy for Shannon and George and has their best interests at heart and Shannon coming to see her as a friend, but then eventually revealing her true nature as an evil sadistic witch who was deliberately tormenting Shannon by making her know a happiness that she couldn't ever really be allowed to have...it totally works as its own story on the surface level, so nothing seems "off" about it on first read, but it really does hurt so much when you understand that it's Yasu reflecting back on her decision to keep pursuing love despite knowing she's "furniture", and how she tried to pretend to herself that that was a pure and noble thing when it really ended up being just a cruel way to increase her pain and deceive both George and herself with the false promise of a relationship that could never be fulfilled.

* The way Beatrice is so persistent, even while still maintaining her friendly facade, in reminding Shannon not to "get too full of herself" and forget that her love is only possible because of Beatrice's magic - in other words, not to delude herself into thinking that George and Shannon's love might actually go deep enough to survive the revelation about her body - is extremely upsetting. I don't actually think she's wrong about this (that George is really in love with an "illusion" of Shannon rather than Yasu herself), though to me that's more a testament to George being a jerk than to Yasu being fundamentally unlovable - but I think the genuine truth in what she's saying makes it a lot harder for Yasu to shrug it off.

* This part makes it clear that Shannon's attitude has changed quite a bit since we saw her hopelessly lamenting earlier. She concedes to Beatrice that her relationship with George could only have started because of her magic - but she wants to believe that, now that their relationship has progressed this far, she doesn't need that magic any more. She wants to believe that their love has become strong enough that it can survive George finding out the truth. And that “should” be the case, right? If everything George says about the strength of their love is true, it should be able to overcome that kind of barrier easily. That's why Shannon was willing to take that risk of going on an overnight trip with George. Beatrice sort of indulgently agrees for now, but she also insists that Shannon keeps the brooch around just in case she does want to use it again; as much as Yasu would like to totally believe that George would accept her, she can't abandon the catbox as a fall-back option.

* It really hurts to read this because Yasu obviously really, really wanted to believe in what Shannon is saying - it's really easy, and heartbreaking, for me to imagine Yasu originally choosing to keep going with George knowing that she was only constructing an "illusion" and that the magic would have to end some day, but then as things went on, to start to let herself believe that, you know what, maybe love could conquer everything! Maybe there's hope for her to live as a human after all! But it also makes perfect sense to me that Shannon ultimately "loses" to Beatrice on this, because the reality of the signals George was giving her (laughing off and dismissing any tentative attempts Shannon made to bring up her issues or to question his perception of their relationship and the picture he was painting of their future) make it very, very hard to believe he would really react well to hearing the truth.

*Another aspect of this is that...well, from Yasu’s perspective, the longer she goes without revealing the truth to George, the more chance there is for George to become strongly  invested in her as a person and to develop the kinds of resilient feelings that could theoretically withstand the revelation about her body - but also, the more devastating the potential fallout becomes when George finds out about her “keeping this secret for so long” and “letting things proceed this far without telling him”. I’m hesitant to talk too firmly about this, but I think that kind of uncomfortable balancing act in terms of considering "when to tell your partner” is probably something a lot of people in similar situations to Yasu can relate to, and it’s remarkable to me that Ryukishi is able to capture the stress of that kind of situation so well.

* The way Shannon reflects on Beatrice's underlying loneliness and how she becomes a lot more approachable when you get to know her is really sweet and endearing! The way Yasu writes Beatrice's character here in her "friendship" with Shannon is very consistent with the image of Beatrice we get from Maria's (and even Natsuhi's) scenes with her later - of someone who seems like an intimidating, all-powerful witch on the surface, but actually has a lot of endearingly cute and childish traits once you get to know her, getting all excited over the sweets Shannon brings her from Okinawa. It really comes across here, just as it does with Maria, that she's really desperate for company and genuinely overjoyed to have someone to talk to since she's been trapped on the island for so long - she may be "all-powerful" in magical terms, but the loneliness of living in an environment where no one else can recognise or acknowledge that power, and the unexpected joy of having someone who can actually see it and be grateful for her use of it, is also evident.

* I really like how those things that Beatrice's character expresses about Yasu still translate so strongly when she's being written into a completely fictional, metaphorical scenario - the person who Beatrice is enjoying being able to help with her magic and receiving gratitude from here is...well, uh, herself, in pure physical terms, but the reaction that Beatrice would theoretically have to Shannon as a separate person in this fictional narrative also expresses important things about her character. Aah, I just really love the unique way Yasu is characterised through these constructs, it's so clever and multilayered and I could gush about it endlessly, ahaha.

* And once again, Kanon comes along to break up this chat and scold Shannon for listening to the witch. God, Kanon and Beatrice's mutual antagonism in this episode is really intense. I'll talk about it a lot more when we get to the more Kanon-centric parts of this episode, but they really do hate each other a lot, and the things that mutual hatred expresses about Yasu's self-loathing always hit me particularly hard.

* It's amazing how easy it is in hindsight to read this scene as Yasu wrestling with herself; it all flows very naturally once you understand what they're really talking about. Yasu really wants to believe she can overcome her being "furniture" by achieving love, but Kanon represents the part of her that remains cynical about that possibility; he believes that she's letting Beatrice delude her into mistaking the illusion of love she's created for something real. He's kind of right, too; though I absolutely don’t believe it’s impossible for a strong love to withstand something like Yasu’s secret in principle, Kanon is right that George and Shannon's relationship isn't really the perfect fairytale love that Shannon would like it to be, and Shannon really has put herself in a very dangerous and precarious position by letting her relationship with George proceed this far. At this point, though, Shannon seems stronger than Kanon; she's optimistic enough about George right now that she wants to believe she doesn't need Beatrice's magic any more.

* It's sort of important to note that Kanon and Beatrice are pretty much aligned on their view of Yasu's situation - yeah, it sucks and it's hopeless, she's totally furniture, George won't accept her at all - but their opinions on how Yasu should respond to that are very different. Again, though, that's probably best saved for when we get more into their interaction...

* Regardless, for now, while Shannon is in this positive frame of mind, she decides to give Kanon a chance at Beatrice's "magic" too, lending him the brooch. And note the implication here - if Yasu is really so happy and optimistic about Shannon's relationship with George, as this scene tries to push so hard, then why does Kanon still need to be given a chance? This sort of implies to me that Yasu's not as confident in George's acceptance as she might want to admit; it's kind of ugly to say that Yasu might have been partly thinking of Jessica as a "backup plan", as Confession puts it, but there is an element of that in here. But I'd also argue that Yasu wants Kanon to try to pursue love because the idea of gaining happiness as Kanon specifically is so important to her that she needs to check out that possibility too.

* Kanon grudgingly decides that "maybe he might learn something if he tries this magic" - in other words, despite his skepticism, maybe if Yasu did seriously try living as Kanon, it could make him happy in a way he didn't foresee. This gains even more weight in light of Confession - we know that hearing Jessica express interest in Kanon gave Yasu a totally unexpected rush of euphoria. This new gambit, to give Kanon a chance of "magic", is informed by that - Yasu has to try to pursue and explore that new sense of happiness she experienced back then, even with Shannon already being in such a committed relationship with George.

* In a way, it's sort of interesting that Yasu's decision to pursue love with Kanon comes at a point when Yasu is feeling more optimistic about herself - at the point where she's able to try to tell herself that "love can overcome being furniture", and where she's willing to take risks like the overnight trip with George on that basis, even though Kanon and Beato's words of warning obviously represent her lingering doubts about that. Kanon normally shows so much pessimism about himself that trying to achieve love himself would be unthinkable - if Yasu's unable to even fully believe in Shannon being able to achieve love, when Shannon is so intentionally designed to be lovable and to compromise Yasu's internal self to that end, then how could Kanon possibly have a chance? But when Shannon momentarily experiences hope through her own relationship and becomes more optimistic about herself for a while, that sort of serves as a stepping stone to letting herself believe that maybe Kanon’s chances might not be so remote either. I guess you could say that's something good that came out of the George/Shannon relationship, although when all was said and done Yasu probably regretted making things even more complicated for herself by opening up this avenue too...

* And that’s as good a stopping point as any. Next time, I get to talk more about Kanon-kun, which is always very exciting!

[tobns]

                               𝒮𝐸𝒱𝐸𝒩 𝑀𝐼𝐿𝐸 𝒟𝐸𝒞𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅

“Alexander paid for our first apartment’s rent when we decided we wanted to get out of the NYU dorms,” I remind her.

“And that was an incredibly nice thing that he did for us, but that was also four albums and two personalities ago.”                 

                                                    ALEXANDER

The first time I met Sawyer Olivia was the same night I won Entertainer of the Year for the first time at the CMAs.

Isabelle, ironically, had been the one to even put her on my radar because of how particular she was about the country artists she listened to. I always teased her about it; the wife of a country star that didn’t even like country music much to begin with, and she’d argued that the majority of us sang about the same trifecta of things: drinking, girls, and trucks. Sawyer, however, was one of the exceptions. Isabelle liked the stuff she put out, thought she was talented, and had dragged me along with her at an after party as her ticket to go up and say hello without appearing like a rogue fan. They’d hit it off almost immediately, completely forgetting about me within the first five minutes of their conversation.

I suppose that’s another ironic thing about the entire situation – Isabelle and Sawyer were friends, more or less. They were compatible, much more so than I was with Sawyer, and the only reason I took a chance in investing in her was because of Isabelle’s persistence. Isabelle believed in the girl, and by default, I would too. Sawyer had only just come out with her debut album about the time that I was getting ready to go off on tour, and I put in a word through Jen and Mark that I wanted to take Sawyer on the road with me. Jen, ever the skeptic, had been apprehensive towards the idea – I’m sure she saw the dozens of warning flags sticking up out of the ground – but when Isabelle asked one night at a group dinner when we were going to announce Sawyer already, the wheels started turning and things began moving forward.

Touring is my favorite part of the job. When I’d first broken onto the scene, I’d been advised by a few people that country music wasn’t like some of the more mainstream genres; touring was what would make or break your career. Sure, you could put out a couple of decent singles that trapped themselves inside people’s heads, but that wasn’t how you maintained longevity in the industry. It was about your charisma when in person, your stage presence, your ability to connect with and hold an audience. I’d been doing talent shows and festivals all throughout grade school, because despite being the oldest of four children, I had the largest need for attention myself, so the idea of touring didn’t daunt me. It was the part of the job that I wanted the most. I was hitting the road with any artist that would take a kid with only two singles out on the radio because I craved being in the presence of the people listening to my music. I needed that physical validation, and badly. Touring was where I was most comfortable in my music, and it was hallmark to who I’d become. My greatest moments were on tour. I met Isabelle when I was touring college campuses.

Again, all roads (or at least, the ones in my life) lead to irony.

Taking Sawyer on tour with me, on all accounts, should have gone exactly like every other tour I’ve gone on. I’ve been on plenty of them, opening for other people and headlining my own, and there’s never been an issue with any of the other acts on the road with me. Even before I met Isabelle, I’d been a kid too consumed in the music to ever look at anyone as anything other than a colleague. Isabelle loved to come on tour with me when it was just us; she’d moved to take the remainder of her coursework online so she could be on the road with me, but her lack of presence had never been much of an issue, either. It didn’t place a strain on our relationship. Especially once Noelle entered the picture, it was hard for Isabelle to tag along, and I didn’t hold that against her. If anything, it made the heart grow fonder like all of the sayings promised it would.

Because of Isabelle, Sawyer had become something like a protégé of mine. I saw the same kid chasing the music in her eyes that I knew had once been in mine, and Isabelle, as per usual, had been right. There was something about Sawyer that was different from everyone else on country radio even with only one album under her belt, and she was special. I wanted to see someone that passionate about their craft and that dedicated to the hard work succeed, so I did what I could. I showed her the ropes. I let her sit on a speaker at my rehearsals and watch, I invited her to come play songs with us. For the first handful of shows, every night Sawyer would linger in the wings during my sets and I’d do my best to come watch hers.

I don’t know where along the lines it started to blur. Shitty of me, but true. I’d been the type once upon a time who found it completely ridiculous that musicians would have hookups or affairs when they were out on the road – how did anyone have time for it? If it wasn’t performing, it was rehearsing; if it wasn’t rehearsing, it was doing promotion, and if it wasn’t any of those three, then it was trying to catch up on sleep. That wasn’t even when there was another person involved, because to me, infidelity was inexcusable behavior.

Cheating, hypocrisy…the vices just stuck to me and stacked themselves up all on their own.

Sawyer was just there, and that was the flimsiest excuse I had in my arsenal. Sawyer and I would talk a lot on the bus or in our down time about different things: the music, the industry, life itself. I got to know her, more so than I’d gotten to know anyone else that I’d toured with before. It went beyond a surface, professional level, and perhaps that was the problem within itself. It would have been easy to pin the blame on her for making the advances, because heaven only knows it’s been done before. Up and coming musician needs a leg up in the industry, goes hot after seasoned professional despite having a wife – it’s the plot of god only knows how many shitty erotic novels that line the shelves of Walgreens and beach bags of middle aged women, or a National Enquirer “special”. I could have written it off entirely onto her throwing herself at me, but it’d be a lie. It was a mutual sort of collide.

The first time left me nauseous. I knew what I’d done, and I knew that it was wrong. At that point, I’d stopped taking Isabelle’s calls, too overcome with my guilt and shame to even look at the pixelated face of the person I swore I’d never hurt through my phone screen. Instead of trying to resolve my pain, I kept piling it on and maneuvering back towards Sawyer in the moments I needed someone. Isabelle is much more intuitive than I’d given her credit for, though, and she knew something was up when all of her calls kept hitting voicemail, all of her texts were going unanswered, and everyone else on the tour that she was in contact with was confused to hear of my detachment. Touring is lonely, and even though I was using Sawyer as some form of company, I was wallowing in the emptiest feelings I’d ever encountered. I started distancing myself from everything but the time when I was slotted to go on stage and perform. If I knew I wouldn’t have been shit at it, I perhaps could have made it as an actor the way I played it up, but it was easy to hide behind something like the music.

Sawyer took things differently. The guilt weighed on her conscience heavier than it did mine after the first several times – where I started feeling less and less, Sawyer started feeling more and more. She was only twenty-one, supposed to be friends with the woman of the man she was having an affair with, trying to keep her career from tanking with a scandal attached to her name, and she broke underneath the pressure. She’d had a rough set in Alpharetta, from what I’d been told (I’d stopped going to watch her sets, and she’d stopped coming to see mine), breaking down in the middle of Disposable and hurrying off the stage as soon as her final song hit the last note. And in the midst of what most would deem an anxiety attack, Sawyer picked up the phone, called Isabelle, and came clean.

That’s when the world seemed to start moving at an unnatural pace around me. My entire team was whispering behind my back – they were all bigger fans of Isabelle than they were of me in those moments, which was understandable – Sawyer couldn’t be within fifty feet of me, and everyone back at home was ready to strap me to a stake and watch me go up in flames. But the show was going to go on, whether they wanted to move past this or not. I extended the tour to everyone’s chagrin, traded Sawyer in for nameless girls milling around the show that desired nothing more than a night with the Alexander Ludwig, and braced myself for the inevitable impact.

It’s as though I’ve been moving along by the sheer push of a force beyond me throughout the days, living someone else’s life. Hiding behind the music is easy, because it often towers over me. It’s much bigger than a single man, and it’s vast enough to get lost in myself. And now, it’s been stripped away from me, and I’m defenseless.

Not to say I don’t deserve that, because in my heart of hearts, I do, but at what point does the numbness fade?

I still haven’t reached that point, the bitter wind of New York City enough to chap my face the closer we encroach to the holidays. Noelle’s hand serves as a tiny anchor as she pulls me along behind her into Magnolia’s Bakery, the one place she’s requested we go – Jackie and Jack fulfilled the promise of taking her to the Disney store solely to spite me.

Ice blue eyes gaze up at me as we enter, rush of warm air hitting my face and bringing a flush into Noelle’s cheeks. “Can we get red velvet?” she inquires as we shuffle in line, tugging at my wrist and pointing towards the glass display case of cupcakes.

“Sure,” I respond, my eyebrows furrowing together. “I didn’t know you liked red velvet, though.” Noelle’s the only child in existence that I know that isn’t crazy about chocolate. For her fourth birthday, Dayo, who is ever the kitchen whiz behind closed doors, made her from-scratch chocolate chip cookies – she’d waited until after he’d left to break the news to Isabelle and I she didn’t want them because she didn’t really like chocolate, and while we’d stared at our child like she’d grown three heads, we’d been more than happy to take them off her plate and put them away ourselves.

Her eyes are fixated at the glass case, locked directly on a row of white-frosted cupcakes. “Yeah,” she informs me casually. “Uncle Jack made one for Aunt Jackie’s birthday, she let me have two slices.”

I’d missed Jackie’s birthday this year, so the timeline makes sense. I’ve missed so much that I’m sure anything’s possible at this point. The stinging sensation that pricks at the edges of my heart at the realization I don’t even know what my daughter likes or dislikes anymore is much more than I can bear to feel while surrounded by dainty little cupcakes with flowers on them, so I push it down as far as I can manage.

“Did you and Uncle Jack and Aunt Jackie have fun yesterday?” I try, attempting to run where the road of conversation keeps winding. Usually, I have no trouble talking to Noelle, but today seems to be a day where I’ll be responsible to prompt her as much as possible to keep conversation alive.

She nods, somewhat disinterestedly – it comes as no surprise, seeing as how cupcakes are much more enthralling to my daughter than my slapped-together game of 20 Questions.

The line keeps moving, Noelle up on the balls of her feet as she watches the girl behind the counter fix orders and hand them out to people. I order Noelle a red velvet cupcake and a serving of the chocolate banana pudding for myself, Noelle taking the small cupcake box from the girl in such a delicate and revered manner that it could have been mistaken for a national treasure.

We sit down at a small table pushed up against a window, and I watch as Noelle methodically opens the box housing her cupcake. She’s precise as she removes it from the box, careful not to let the insides of her fingers touch the icing and mess it up. I submerge my plastic spoon inside the cup of my banana pudding, doing my best to get both an Oreo and banana on my spoon. Magnolia Bakery has the best dessert in the city as far as I’m concerned – back when coming to New York was only something that occurred because of a tour date, Mark would always order an entire chocolate banana pudding for us after the show and we’d all sit around the hotel room or tour bus with plastic forks and tequila. It tastes like a simpler time.

“Daddy?” Noelle punctures through my reverie, my eyes lifting back up and landing on her. She’s unwrapping her cupcake, looking at me intently.

“What’s up, jellybean?”

“Why didn’t we get Momma anything?” she asks innocently. It’s a good thing I’ve yet to find a banana lurking in the cup, because if there was anything in my mouth, I’m sure I would have choked on it.

“Well,” I start off, trying to find words that will not, for the life of me, come to the forefront of my mind. “I didn’t really know if she would have wanted anything or not.”

Noelle’s eyebrows furrow – she might be six, but she can spot my bullshit from a mile away. “But we always get Momma coconut cake slices. She loves ‘em.”

Magnolia Bakery was Isabelle’s favorite place in New York City, too, and once I discovered this, I’d always call her in coconut cake orders whenever I was gone to surprise her and brighten up a long week of classes ahead. Like mother, like daughter.

I bring my spoon up to my mouth, taking a bite and shrugging, trying my best to maintain the last few shreds of my nonchalance that are fading fast. “I’d hate for it to go bad,” I tell her, hoping that it’ll be excuse enough.

Instead, Noelle’s face falls entirely as she finishes chewing, red velvet crumbs littering the corners of her mouth. “Is she not gonna be home? Where’s she going?”

Fuck. “I don’t know if she’ll be home tonight or not, jellybean,” I try to diffuse. Lately, when it comes to opening my mouth, I seem to only make things worse. “She might go see some of her friends.”

“Different friends?”

I nod. “Yeah, different friends.”

“Are you gonna go see some of your friends?” she asks me, mouth full of cream cheese icing.

“What, you want to get rid of me already?” I tease her, and she breaks back out into a smile.

“No!” she squeals. “You just got home, you can’t leave again.” She pauses, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. “I don’t want you to leave, ever ever again.”

Going without Noelle on the road was never easy in the beginning, and the older she gets, the more and more it tears me in all sorts of different ways. It’s not the most conventional way for a child to grow up, following their dad around tour, and it’s just as lonely for everyone else as it is for me – it doesn’t mean I don’t want her there, though. I wanted my family there every second that they wanted to be there, too. She’s been to a few shows before, when Isabelle would take a few days off to come travel with me, but Noelle was still very little. They never stayed for more than a few days in a row; it’s draining for anyone, and it’s even more draining for a child.

“I wanted to come see you,” she tells me, as though it’s news to me. I’m not unfamiliar with it, not in the slightest. “Momma said I had to stay for school.”

The school part was true for a little while, as Isabelle didn’t like to disrupt her homeschooling schedules; after the Sawyer thing, though, Isabelle made it crystal clear that Noelle wouldn’t be coming anywhere near me.

“I know, Noah-Kate,” I reassure her. “I know you would have been there if you could’ve.”

She goes back to picking at her cupcake, blue eyes very briefly flashing up at me. “Daddy,” she says in her clear little voice. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You always say that if something’s wrong, I should tell you, ‘cause it’s what family does.” I knew that one of these days, having a daughter that inherited Isabelle’s brains would have come back to bite me in the ass.

I swallow, nodding. “That’s right, jellybean.”

“So why won’t you tell me what’s wrong with you and Momma?”

Well, shit.

Lying to my daughter is not an option, but as far as telling her the truth goes, I’m wary. Even I don’t know what the truth is. I’m sure she can see right through the smokescreen, but I do my best to act nonchalant and take another bite of my pudding. “Right now, Momma and I are just…figuring some stuff out,” I say. “We haven’t seen each other in awhile because of me being gone, so we're just having to get back into our routine.”

“But you’ll be okay?”

I force a smile onto my face. Again with her asking questions even I don’t know the answer to – maybe this is a sign she’s been hanging around Jackie much longer than necessary. “’Course it will.”

The smile seems to return to her face as she puts the last bite of her cupcake in her mouth. After she swallows, she reaches across the table and grabs my wrist, her mechanism of comforting me. “Duh,” she informs me proudly, as if I could have been crazy to think otherwise. “That’s what happens after we say what’s wrong, ‘s all alright after.” She then wastes no time into launching a conversation about her Halloween costume this past year, which was Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and how Jack was the accompanying Beast since she absolutely refused to go out without the other half of her duo in tow.

Sometimes, I wish I could bottle up my daughter’s optimism and then distribute it out. Surely to God it’d have the capacity of energy to light the damn world on fire.

                                                       ISABELLE

I am a mess, therefore the only suitable place to go in my time of crisis is Jack and Jackie’s apartment.

Jack and Jackie live in Lower Manhattan - it’s not as far as I’d like to be from mine and Alexander’s place on the Upper East Side, but it’s far enough that I’m confident I won’t bump into him. Chances are, he knows better than to enter the same zip code as Jackie without invitation. Jackie wouldn’t live in the financial district if she had it her way to begin with, therefore any other infiltrating evils have to be screened by her.

Jackie’s sitting on her beloved loveseat when I come stumbling in, Macbook nestled in her lap and her hair escaping out of its makeshift bun. She looks just as worse for the wear as I feel, which is signal that she’s pulled an all-nighter for work. Jackie does something super political, something I will never be sober enough to fully comprehend; back in college though, she never seemed to sleep. Adulthood has treated her the exact same.

“Is this the walk of shame?” she asks, not even bothering to glance up from her computer.

“Define shame,” I grumble, collapsing down onto the couch and throwing my bag into the floor.

“Shame as in you’re coming from Leven’s.” I can’t hide anything from Jackie, and vice versa. That’s how our friendship has always gone.

My hand comes up to cover my eyes. “Are your fluorescents always this bad?”

“Avoiding the question means I’m automatically right,” Jackie chides, still not looking away from her laptop.

I groan, tilting my head and shooting her a pointed glare. If she takes sight of it, she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Nothing happened.”

Jackie snorts. “Yeah, and I’m marrying Jack solely for his strikingly good looks.”

“I’ve taken notice as to how you didn’t say anything about his annual salary.”

Finally, Jackie pulls her eyes away from her laptop screen, the glint of it reflecting in her glasses. “Look, you can front around Jack, he’s too oblivious to be any the wiser, but not with me, Iz. I’m not an idiot. I know you were with Leven.”

“And I told you, nothing happened.” Jackie’s head tilts to the side, her nonverbal challenging of that statement, and I recoil. “What?! It’s very possible to not jump someone's bones after a date. Just because you didn’t believe in the practice...”

Jackie then lobs the throw pillow she’s got tucked between the loveseat’s arm and her leg at my head. It barely misses me.

“Rude!”

“Right back at you!” Jackie mimics me.

“What time did Alexander come pick her up this morning?”

Jackie refocuses her attention back to her laptop. “I don’t know, maybe around nine? I wasn’t allowed to be a part of the welcome committee, Jack didn’t trust me to be left alone with him.”

“At least you’re marrying a smart man.”

Jackie snorts. “On occasion.”

I drag my hands down my face, a long exhale pushing through my throat. “Jackie, what am I going to do?” I sigh.

“You already know how I feel about it.” I shift my eyes over in her direction to give her a look. “You just don’t like hearing what comes out of my mouth.”

“I don’t want a divorce,” I remind her. “Nick and Elina’s divorce scare did enough of a number on me, and I couldn’t bring myself to actually put Noelle through that.”

“Kids can tell when their parents aren’t happy, you know,” Jackie reminds me. “Staying together for her sake won’t do anyone any favors. You don’t wanna be with him, you don’t want to sit down and try to fix things, I’m not sure what to tell you at this point, Isabelle. Either swallow your pride or let it take you to a courthouse. You don’t get it both ways.”

“You should have pursued law in college; some white-collar criminal could have really benefited from your brashness.”

“Eh, I’d rather change the laws than try to defend them.” Jackie either reaches her finishing point on what she’s working on or with me, finally closing the lid of her Macbook and setting it on the coffee table. “Look, I know why you’re refusing to go one way or another; you still see that glimmer of Alexander before he was Alexander Ludwig in him. That Alexander would have kicked this one’s ass if he found out he’d done so much as look at another woman. But that’s just not him right now.” She shrugs half-heartedly. “Really, I don’t know if that’ll be him ever again.”

“Again, you are brutal.”

“Well, if you’d wanted a best friend that sugar coated everything for you, you should have gotten out of the room more in college.”

I frown a little, my silence concession enough. Jackie clasps her hands together, letting them fall in her lap as she looks straight on at me. “I love you, but you’ve got to woman up. He either stays, or he goes - and you know what my thoughts are. Good riddance, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Alexander paid for our first apartment’s rent when we decided we wanted to get out of the NYU dorms,” I remind her.

“And that was an incredibly nice thing that he did for us, but that was also four albums and two personalities ago.” She shrugs halfheartedly, a lopsided apology smile forming over her lips. “I just don’t think that guy is in there anymore, and if he is, it’s gonna take a lot of heavy lifting to uncover him. You shouldn’t be left to waste your time and energy to sift through the wreckage if you really don’t care either way.”

I’m sure Jackie is making great points, and if I was fully sober perhaps I’d agree.

For now, I grab the throw pillow Jackie threw at me and cover my face with it, letting out a frustrated groan before I make my request for an entire bottle of Advil and a trough of water.

. . .

FROM: MARK REARDON (mark@iconicmgmt.com)

TO: ALEXANDER LUDWIG (ludwigar@gmail.com), ISABELLE FUHRMAN (fuhrmanig@gmail.com), AMANDLA STENBERG (amandla@iconicmgmt.com), DAYO OKENIYI (dayo.okeniyi@gmail.com), JENNIFER LAWRENCE (jenl@iconicmgmt.com)

CC: ICONIC MGMT (minutes@iconicmgmt.com)

SUBJECT: MEETING

All,

Per higher up’s request, we will be holding an action meeting at The Capital Grille on E 42nd Street on Friday (11/9) at 6pm. Absences, to my understanding, will not be permitted. Ask for Reardon party at maître’d.

Thanks,

Mark Reardon Iconic Management 

. . .

Action meetings for Alexander are often the equivalent of a militia strategy meeting, one that I’m sure would hold mappings for D-Day to a very pale comparison. I’ve been to a few in the past, mostly the ones where I was relevant to what was going on, and most of the time, Mark and Amandla and the rest of Alexander’s team would talk right over my head (and Alexander’s, for that matter). I’d grown a little disinterested in them as time went on, and any time I was required to show up, I’d make sure my phone was stocked up with ridiculous time-killing apps.

I haven’t been to one of these meetings in ages, and I’m not sure why I’ve all of a sudden been summoned. I know it’s not because Mark’s simply missing me, and I sure as hell know it isn’t per Alexander’s request to rally me with the rest of the troops.

I get ready at Leven’s apartment, since her place is close to the restaurant Mark’s chosen - it’s barely been seven days since Alexander’s been home, and I’ve quickly taken up living on the road. I only stop by the penthouse when I know Alexander won’t be home, and any other time I stay on the move. I camp out on Jack and Jackie’s couch, I visit Leven, I set up shop at some obscure coffee shop I know Alexander wouldn’t be able to find even given a map. It has become a game: dance ‘round and around one another, first one to catch sight of the other loses, and the fallout that accompanies it is a burden neither of us wants to carry.

She sits on the edge of her bed as she watches me finish spraying perfume on my wrists, hint of a smile on her face. “You can have that dress,” she informs me softly. “It looks way better on you than it does me.”

“This is a Givenchy,” I remind her, eyes slightly bugged-out as I meet her eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

She waves her hand around in dismissal, no big deal. “I bought it at Nordstrom,” she deflects. “And I wore it once. Seriously, Isabelle, take it. You’d be doing me a favor.”

I’m not sure what else to say to her, so I just offer her a bewildered smile and go back to examining myself in the mirror. Whatever I'm walking into tonight will mirror war, this much I'm certain. Everything else is a giant, gaping hole of unpredictable chaos. 

My eyes meet Leven's again, and she takes that as her cue to speak back up. "So what's the plan?"

"Well," I exhale shallowly, tugging on the hemline of the dress to straighten it out. "The Uber picks me up, I sit through this meeting and whatever levels of hell it brings, and then when I can, I bail out of there. Where to, I'm not quite sure." I turn around, offering her a thin lipped smile. "I'll let you know, though. I know you've got work to do."

"Nothing I can't handle with company," she reminds me. She stands up off the bed, placing a hand on either of my shoulders. "Breathe, okay? You look like you're about to pass out."

"I feel like I'm going to pass out," I admit.

"You don't have any reason to. Mark and management called this meeting, not him. They don't have any sort of power over you. You're probably just a courtesy invite." While Leven's reassurance is nice, it does very little to comfort me. 

"Yeah, I suppose."

"It'll be fine." Leaning forward, Leven kisses my forehead. "Call me if you need me."

My lips press together as I force them back up into a smile. "Yeah, sure thing."

The Uber is waiting for me outside of Leven's apartment complex, a middle aged man named Karl sitting behind the driver's wheel. He tries to make small talk with me as he ushers me towards the Capital Grille, and I have very few, succinct responses that probably make me come off as egotistical and unable to be bothered with him. My nerves are currently plucking themselves, threatening to snap at any point with the anxiety building in my chest. Normally I have no problem with things like this.

Everything changed, of course, the last time the unknown came around to kick me in the teeth.

The Capital Grille is one of the nicest places in Manhattan to have a meeting, which puts a couple of red flags down in the dirt right off the bat. This is more than likely Mark's incentive of sorts for things not escalating - placing us in one of the nicest restaurants to keep us from potentially drawing a crowd and embarrassing ourselves. It's a middle ground, too, and seeing as how this is a situation where people have more than likely taken sides, the best thing to do is put us somewhere where having a explosion is out of the question. Karl drops me off by the front door, and I'm happy to tip him extra as compensation for being perhaps the worst Uber passenger in history. 

Inside, everything is dimly lit with soft piano music playing overhead and waiters in all black scurrying every which way. I approach the reception desk, the girl working behind it lifting her chin only ever so slightly as her way of addressing me. "Reardon," I tell her.

The boy standing next to her, who seems to be much more people friendly, smiles at me. "Right this way, miss."

He takes me through the restaurant, weaving through tables towards a back room that I can only imagine is reserved for us. He stops right in the doorway, motioning for me to go ahead and enter without him and what has to be the most painful smile on his face flashing right at me. I offer him a toothless smile, the best I can muster as I walk in.

Alexander's not here yet, thank goodness, which alleviates some of the pressure - Jennifer, however, already is, and gets up from her seat the minute she sees me. "I really didn't think you were going to come," she whispers as she pulls me into a bone crushing hug. 

"You read the man's email. No bowing out, no matter if you've got valid excuse to do so or not."

She tugs me down into the seat next to her, and I instantly feel a little better knowing I've got Jen in my corner both figuratively and literally. Jen was my most outspoken ally on the road, and while I sometimes wonder if it's because I took such a liking to her when management hired her, I know that she is one thing that'll remain a constant despite how anything else plays out.

"You're not gonna like this," she warns me in a lowered voice before I even have the chance to ask. "CMAs are coming up, and I'd bet that hundred-dollar bottle of wine this is why we're here. Amandla and I don't get called for the same meetings very often, and when we do, it's usually got travel written all over it."

"Okay, so why me? This has absolutely nothing to do with me. I bowed out of this stuff long before last tour."

Jen shrugs. "Mark's the secret keeper here, not me. I'd tell you up front and spare you this whole ceremonial business." Even though it's still just the two of us, she leans in a little closer to me. "How's...you know?"

I shake my head. "Not good. We're, uh, not really speaking at the moment. Kind of just dancing around each other at this point." She nods.

"Well, I think it goes without saying, but I'm in your corner here. Most everybody is."

The sentiment is nice, but it's not enough to relax my nerves by much.

Jen and I are very quickly not alone; Amandla comes in, and then Dayo, and then Mark and a few of his friends up at management that help run the circus that is Alexander's career. I start to feel very small the more people that come ushering in the room, but Jen's personality is so much larger than her physical being - sitting next to her is like sitting next to my own personal bodyguard. Not that anyone would, but very few people would dare to take her on.

Alexander finally comes walking in, and the dynamic in the room subsequently shifts. Jen is on edge, so much more so that I can feel the prickliness radiating off of her. From across the way, Mark sits up a little straighter in his seat. Whatever's about to come our way, I can only imagine is going to be infinitely more uncomfortable than this. 

He sits down beside Mark, diagonally across from me, and I stare directly at the beads of condensation rolling down the side of my water glass. This is not ripping off a band-aid, this isn't even rubbing salt in the wound: this is creating whole new wounds entirely and letting me bleed out.

After a few moments of awkward silence and waiting for our waiter to pass out the drinks accordingly, Mark clasps his hands together and marking the symbol of this action meeting's start. "CMAs," he opens with, and internally I wince. There's not much beating around the bush with Mark. "Two weeks from Saturday, and there are a lot of things we all need to discuss before we get to Nashville."

His phone materializes out from underneath the table, clutched in his left hand as he grabs his wine glass with his right. It takes him a moment to find whatever it is he's looking for on there, setting his wine glass down once he finds it.

"I guess I'll start with the biggest problem we have," he exhales. "Sawyer Olivia is a confirmed performer, and her people have submitted that it's a new song. I hate to be one to jump to the conclusions, but I'd rather be looking stupid than off-guard. We have to assume that we're getting a song about Alexander." Somewhere inside of me, a weight plummets straight through my stomach.

Mark continues on, not bothering to address my obvious discomfort. Jen's hand finds mine underneath the table and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Amandla can only do so much damage control, and we've been fortunate that Sawyer or her people haven't spoken about any of this, it's been mostly speculation that's gotten shut down. But, if anyone's going to want to get the first word, it'll be them. They've got the upper hand, and I certainly wouldn't blame them if they tried to use it. We need to stay ahead of this, and that's why I wanted you here, Isabelle. Right now, the tentative game plan is to have you go with Alexander to the CMAs."

I feel like Mark has picked up the glass of water and thrown it right in my face. "Sorry?" I repeat, and Mark frowns.

"CMAs. You. Alexander's plus one. We've done this enough, it's not much of a new tactic."

I exhale through my nose, trying to keep my composure. "What if I don't want to go?" I try.

Mark shakes his head. "Not an option." The brashness of his statement nearly knocks me back in my chair, and he scrambles to fix things. It's moments like these when I remember just which side Mark is playing on - his own. "A strong front is key. If you show up there with your husband, it dispels anything that might suggest otherwise. We're out of the woods, Alexander can work on his fifth album and not worry about having to throw in some random track dedicated to Sawyer to appease the vultures." Those words sting more than his first statement; it's a good thing Mark went into representative work and not anything even remotely service-based. He's terrible with people.

"Or it starts more rumors, especially if she gets up there and sings something that might as well say I had an affair with one of country's biggest names," Amandla counters. There's a look of annoyance on her face, as though she's irritated everyone's doing her job for her and not giving her a say on how it's done. "The only thing tabloids love more than a scandal is a cover-up."

"Isabelle's marketable, though; she's the wife of famous country star Alexander Ludwig who everyone fawned over the minute she let us send a wedding shot to People. She's scrappy, independent, cut from her own cloth, she's the breath of fresh air. If this is going to become some sort of war zone, people aren't going to care much about Alexander. They'll empathize with either of the two women involved. We sell her as the faithful wife who believes in her marriage and we're golden."

"Wait," I interrupt. "What are you saying, that you're just going to shape me into something that fits your narrative and expect me to go along with it, not give me a say? Even if it can't be farther from the truth?" Mark doesn't respond, which I take as a yes.

My eyes cut over to Alexander, who looks as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, and his complacency angers me more than anything. "I never agreed to this," I say, my voice low. "You wanted this, it was your dream, whatever. It was your life and I was okay to tag along for the ride, but I did not consent to being some...piece of the equation, ever. Especially now."

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "It's just how it has to be."

"Noelle will-"

"No," I growl almost instantly at Mark, and Jen's hand moves to my thigh to restrain me. "You leave her out of it. Period." 

"Family front," he tries again weakly, and I shake my head.

"Don't fight her on this," Alexander pipes up. "I'm with her on this one - Noelle stays out of this. I don't want her there." 

Mark frowns, but he concedes without another word.

"Anything else you want to spring on me?" I ask, one of my eyebrows quirking. The phone resurfaces, Mark resuming his scrolling as he probably looks for bullet points that have my name all over them. The silence gives the gravity of the situation a moment to catch up with me, and I suddenly feel nauseous. "Actually, you know what? I'll uh, I'll be right back."

I slide back from the table and get up, Jen's concerned eyes following me out of the room. I stumble into the bathroom as fast as I can, not daring to look behind me as the thoughts in my head start swimming together faster and faster.

The bathroom is abandoned, dimly lit, and elevator music crooning out over the speakers as my hands collide with the counter top. Nothing about the situation is getting easier - if anything, I'm living in denial. It's hard enough, being at odds with Alexander, but getting moved around like a pawn on the Alexander Ludwig chessboard is the equivalent of watching as the rubble continues to pile itself on top of me and suffocating me slowly. Jackie was right.

 With shaking hands, I pull my phone out of my bag and find mine and Leven's texts, fingers poised over the text field.

ME: Call Madeline. 

[unify-my-universe]

More of Mikey goodness...

She was just about to go back to sleep for a bit when someone knocked on the door.

Surprisingly enough the knock didn’t wake Michael up so Penny had to answer the door. It was John.

“Oh Penny wasn’t expecting you to answer the door.”

“Yeah I’ve slept with Michael the past couple of days. You okay?”

“Oh yeah, fine, fine. I’ve been summoned by Terry, well Terry Jones to get you and Michael up. Apparently we’re filming The Witch Village Scene so that’ll please Mike.”

“Why would it?”

“Well the scene involves having our faces covered in dirt, I suppose it won’t be too bad.”

“Oh no, well people in the medieval times were quite dirty! Hygiene was limited after all!”

“Yes, yes that’s very true. Anyway I’d hurry up getting ready if I were you, you know what Jonesy’s like for punctuality!”

“I will do, see you in a bit John.”

To her surprise, Michael was still asleep so had the job of waking him up. She really didn’t want to disturb him!

“Michael? John’s just been at the door, we gotta get up now. Terry Jones’s orders!”

“Mm? Oh okay love I’ll let you go and get ready.”

Penny went to go and get ready in her room and accompanied Michael in the car to the film set.

“Ah there you are Mike, Penny. Mike I want you to put as much dirt on your face as possible and Penny if you can go to Hazel, she’ll sort you out with your costume for today.” Said Terry J.

Penny’s costume didn’t look particularly flattering but the thing she really wasn’t looking forward to was having her face covered in dirt! She put the bare minimum of dirt. When Michael came up to her, she laughed in his face.

“Michael I get people in the medieval times were dirty but don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?”

She noticed that John too had gone a bit crazy with the dirt whereas Eric on the other hand had like her put the bare minimum of dirt on his face.

Penny’s lines were simple in this scene. She had to shout lines like a witch, a witch! And burn her, burn her!

Today however Eric, John and Michael had got the serious case of the giggles to the point where Eric had to bite into his scythe to stop himself from laughing! Penny for once was being completely professional although it was hard not to join in with the giggling!

She hadn’t got a clue what they were even laughing at but it was nice to see them having fun for a change as opposed to bickering at each other.

Still they managed to film the scene in one take so filming was over pretty quickly. Penny couldn’t believe it was going to be her last day in Scotland. Back to her dreary flat for a few months…

She supposed the wait would be worth it since she was going to marry THE Michael Palin. She wondered what kind of house Michael lived in. Probably a lot nicer than her flat! That wasn’t exactly difficult.

“Honestly what is up with you guys? You’ve been giggling throughout this entire take!”

“Well gotta make light of the situation!” said Eric.

Michael was also aware that this was Penelope’s last night here. He wanted to make sure it was one to remember.

With thanks to a recommendation from Eric on a French restaurant complete with the perfect romantic ambiance, Michael treated Penny to a posh meal topped by a romantic walk by one of Scotland’s many lochs.

Like where Michael proposed to Penny only a couple of days ago, they had the loch to themselves.

“Can’t believe you’re going back home tomorrow…”

“I know. The time has gone so fast but I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”

“I’m glad love. I will miss you Penelope. When I want to really strangle the guys I’ll be thinking of the next time I see you.”

“I’ll miss you too Michael. When I’m stuck at a boring desk having to deal with silly members of the public, I’ll be thinking of you always.”

“Oh, well since we’re here do you fancy a dip?”

“Uh with our clothes on?”

“No naked silly…”

“I don’t know Michael…”

“What you scared of? The Loch Ness monster?”

“No for goodness sake Michael, that’s only a legend and even if it was real it’s been sighted in the Scottish Highlands not round here…”

“You know sometimes Penelope you really put me to shame with your historical knowledge. What period of history did you study in your degree?”

“Modern history like yourself I believe?”

“Yes I did study modern history. Though who knows? In about 30/40 years time, people at university studying history could be learning about the Two World Wars.”

“Yes perhaps…”

“So you gonna join me for a quick swim?”

“Won’t it be cold?”

“Well yeah a bit but I’ll keep you warm.”

“What if someone comes?”

“Penelope no one will come, we’ve got this place to ourselves!”

Michael at this point had started to undress himself until he was completely naked. Penny marvelled at the sight. And it was all hers to enjoy…

Michael jumped in and flinched out how cold the water was.

“Bloody hell it’s as cold as the shower at the hotel! Come on Penelope, you know you want to…”

Michael’s tone of voice had immediately convinced her.

God damn it why did he have to be so persuasive?

Penny slowly took off her clothes, looking each direction to see if anyone was coming. It seemed Michael was right and they’d got the place to themselves.

“Wow my wife-to-be really is a sight to behold!”

Penny slowly jumped in and was caught smoothly by Michael.

“Oh my god, oh my god Michael! It’s so cold!”

Michael wrapped his arms around Penny’s waist pulling her close to him.

“I know love but you’ll soon get used to the temperature.”

“Do you usually do completely mad things?”

“No only when I’m with you. It seems you have that effect on me…”

“Well I’m flattered Michael but I guess I already knew you were completely and utterly mad!”

Michael encouraged Penny to swim with her and after a while she didn’t feel so cold. Begrudgingly she accepted Michael was right.

She quite enjoyed the swim, it had been ages since she had been swimming! Swimming was one of her hobbies when she was at university. The only good thing her parents ever did was invest in some swimming lessons for her!

“Well, well Penelope I have to say I am impressed by your swimming technique!”

“Not bad for someone who hasn’t swam since she left university! Probably the only good thing my parents ever did was to pay for me to have swimming lessons!”

Just as they were getting into the groove of swimming a few lengths in the loch a torch shone in both their faces.

“Everything alright, sir? Madam?”

It was a police officer. Penny gave Michael the dirtiest look ever.

I’m going to kill you Michael.

Penny let Michael do the talking.

“Um yes, yes everything’s fine officer.”

“Hey don’t I know your face from somewhere?”

“Umm you might do?”

“Yeah I know your face, you’re from that TV programme Monty Python! You’re Michael Palin aren’t you?”

“Yes yes I am. Are we trespassing officer?”

“Oh no, no not at all. I was just checking that your wee lass wasn’t injured at all!”

“No no I’m fine we’re just um, going for a quick dip?” said Penny.

“Aye so I see… Well I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it then.”

As soon as the police officer had gone, Penny punched Michael in the arm hard.

“Ahh that hurt!”

“Oh there won’t be anyone about, goes to show how much you know! I had visions of us being arrested for indecent exposure! That would have looked good front page of the newspapers, Python Michael Palin arrested for skinny dipping in Loch! Honestly Michael I could have killed you.”

“Oh calm down Penelope, you have to admit it was quite funny.”

“Oh well I’m glad you found it so amusing!”

Michael then started to laugh uncontrollably. Michael’s laugh really was infectious so Penny found herself laughing with him till she too couldn’t stop laughing.

“Honestly Michael you’re such an idiot.”

“Ah but you love me.”

“Yes I do, very much!”

She kissed him on the lips and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You really shouldn’t do things like that Penelope…”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because it’ll be very hard for me to resist temptation!”

“Oh well we can’t have that Sir Galahad can we?”

Penny wrapped her legs even tighter around Michael’s waist, she started stroking Michael’s now wet hair.

“No I’m sworn to chastity!”

Michael and Penny had promised each other that no sex would happen until they got married which was very hard when one was prone to tease the other. Penny didn’t want any unexpected surprises before she got married!

“Well Sir Galahad we’d better get back to the hotel, early start and all!”

“I agree my fair maiden! Right well I uh better get the towels out of the car.”

“What like this?”

“It’ll be fine, it’s not like anyone will be about.”

“You said that last time and you saw what happened…”

To Penny’s surprise, Michael came back with the towels without anything out of the ordinary happening. Penny breathed a sigh of relief!

Penny and Michael dried themselves off with a towel and put their clothes back on. They headed back to the car and straight to bed.

Both woke up relatively early so Michael could help Penny pack and load up her car.

“I don’t really want to say goodbye.” Said Michael.

She put her hand on top of his and squeezed it tightly.

“I know.”

“Don’t miss me too much!”

“I’ll try not to.” Said Penny.

“Michael?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure you tell your mother the good news.”

“I will love.”

 Penny got into the car and wound the window down. She reached over to Michael, gave him a kiss and drove off.

The next few months were pretty boring for Penny. She worked a lot of hours at the library even though she got quite a good wage packet for her part in The Holy Grail. Probably down to Michael, she thought.

Michael also had a boring few months. The arguing amongst the Pythons had gotten worse, especially between the two Terry’s and John and Terry G. It had got so bad between John and Terry that John had told him to piss off. So for a while they stayed out of each other’s ways!

So Michael was quite glad when his scenes were over and he could go and visit Penelope. Before she went Penny had given him her phone number and address.

Therefore when Michael got back home he rang her up straight away.

“Hello?”

“Oh Penelope am I glad to hear your voice!”

“Michael hi! God I’ve missed you. You okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, just glad to be home!”

“I bet! So when are you planning on coming over?”

“Tomorrow if that’s okay?”

“Sounds great, any idea what time?”

“Mid-morning?”

“Okay well I’ll make sure I’m up early! Can’t wait to hear about the rest of your filming!”

“Mm I bet, anyway love I’d better go as I’ve just got in and I want to unpack and have a proper shower!”

“I understand that completely love, see you tomorrow!”

Penny put the phone down and smiled. How she loved hearing Michael’s voice, she couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow.

She immediately started tidying up the apartment the best she could, dusting, hoovering and cleaning the kitchen and bathroom. She didn’t know why she was making such an effort for him… Like he was going to notice!

She supposed it was because she wanted to prove to him she was capable of making a nice home for him. Though Michael didn’t give the impression he wanted her to be a housewife!

Michael couldn’t wait to spend a few days with Penny, he deserved a break after putting up with the Pythons for the past two months! The wedding was already booked, the honeymoon too now all they had to sort out was what they were wearing!

However Michael wanted to make the next few days absolutely perfect for Penny. He knew she had been working really hard as of late and wanted to treat her. The big problem was, he wasn’t too familiar with Birmingham so how could he spoil her if he didn’t know where to take her?

He reckoned Eric might know of good places to take her as he was pretty knowledgeable on the best places to take girls! There was a reason why Eric had a reputation for being a lady’s man!

So he decided to ring Eric up.

“Hello?”

“Hi Eric it’s me.”

“Oh hi Mike, got back alright then?”

“Oh yeah fine, listen Eric I need your advice.”

“Go ahead Mike I’m all ears!”

“Well I’m going to see Penelope up in Birmingham for a few days and I want to treat her and—"

“You don’t know where to take her?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I know there are probably some nice restaurants in The Bullring you know the shopping centre?”

“What about local attractions?”

“Well you could take her to see a show? There’s the Birmingham Hippodrome and since you’re both into history take her to Kenilworth Castle, that’s not far from Birmingham.”

“Thanks Eric, I just want to make the next few days really perfect for her.”

“I understand Mike, well I’ll see you soon!”

Perfect. Michael had got the next few days all planned. Tomorrow night he’d take her to a fancy restaurant, maybe a bit of shopping, the next day take her to Kenilworth Castle then a show of her choice at The Hippodrome and finally to Shakespeare’s Birthplace in Stratford-upon-Avon.

The last day would be spent sorting out their wedding outfits. Maybe they were leaving it a bit last minute but they had been so busy with work, they just hadn’t had the time to find a dress and suit.

Penny still hadn’t sorted out her bridesmaids. It was a difficult job as she hadn’t got any friends. Well except Carol and maybe Connie.

She decided to ring up Carol first.

“Hello?”

“Hello is that Carol? It’s Penny.”

“Oh hi Penny, I heard the good news. Congratulations! You’re certainly a lucky girl bagging Michael!”

“Thank you. I’m very lucky! Anyway I wanted to talk to you about the wedding.”

“Oh yes?”

“Well I’m estranged from my parents and I haven’t really got any friends so I wondered whether you wanted to be my bridesmaid and help me find a dress?”

“Why Penny of course I will! What day were you thinking of buying a dress?”

“Friday morning? I imagine Michael will be sorting out his suit on the same day as well. I think he’s asked Eric to help him.”

“Yes that sounds fine.”

“Great well I’ll see you Friday then! Oh don’t suppose you could meet me in Birmingham? I can just meet you at the train station and we’ll go to The Bullring?””

“Yes yes of course, Birmingham New Street right?”

“Yes that’s the one.”

“Yep so meet you at the station at about quarter past 10?”

“Yes that sounds great!”

Penny put the phone down and called Connie. She really hoped John wouldn’t answer the phone… She hadn’t told Connie about John having some form of feelings for her as it wasn’t like he’d tried it on with her.

“Hello?” answered a soft American voice.

“Hi is that Connie? It’s Penny, Michael’s fiancée?”

“Oh yes hi Penny. What can I do for you?”

“Well I was wondering whether you’d be one of my bridesmaids? I’ve already asked Carol you see and well you’re the only friends I’ve got other than the Pythons.”

“Why yes I’d love to Penny!”

“Great!”

Penny definitely felt more organised now. She ran herself a hot bath before heading to bed. She fell asleep with the thoughts of seeing Michael again and becoming his wife.

Michael couldn’t sleep as he was too excited about seeing Penny tomorrow. He remembered that he hadn’t sorted out who was going to be his Best Man so he rang up Terry J.

“Alright Terry?”

“Mike why on earth are you ringing at this time for? It’s nearly midnight!”

“Sorry Terry, having trouble sleeping I’m seeing Penelope tomorrow you see so I’m really excited! Anyway the reason why I was ringing is I wanted to ask you whether you could be my Best Man?”

“You rang me up at this time to ask me to be your Best Man?”

“Yes I know it’s late but I just wanted to feel organised. Penelope will go mad if I haven’t sorted out one of the most important parts of the wedding!”

“Mm but Mike you don’t even need to ask course I’ll be your Best Man, now go to sleep!”

“Night Terry.”

Michael and Penny were up very early, with Michael making the drive to Birmingham from London and Penny doing some last minute cleaning of the flat.

To make the long journey more bearable, Michael blasted some tunes with the windows down. Before he knew it he’d reached Birmingham. He spotted Penny’s car a mile off and parked next to it.

He walked to the building and pressed the buzzer.

The buzzer went and Penny immediately knew it was Michael. She gave him a few minutes to come up the stairs and he gently knocked on her flat door. She let him in.

He was stood at the door in a white shirt and flared trousers. His hair looked like it needed a bit of a cut as his fringe was longer than ever. She went up to him, wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

“Bloody hell give me chance to get through the door!”

She started to mess with his hair.

“Your hair needs a cut. Hope it’ll be cut in time for the wedding!”

“Don’t worry love it will be.”

Michael inspected the flat. It looked immaculate but then again he didn’t expect anything less from Penelope. Everything was all open plan which made the flat feel bright and airy.

“Wow Penelope it looks very tidy in here!”

“Haha you sound surprised! Actually it’s extra tidy today because I wanted to make an effort for you.”

“So just a one bedroom is it?”

“Yeah I have no need for another bedroom well except for like a storage room or something. But I don’t have that much stuff so moving out should be easy.”

“Mm so can I have a grand tour?”

“Of course dear.”

Though there wasn’t much to see Penny gave as much of an extensive tour of the flat as she possibly could. Then she got to her bedroom. Oh shit, she forgot about the many Michael posters on her wall…

“Well, well this is a turn up for the books. It seems I’m marrying a woman who is completely and utterly obsessed with me.”

“I was going to take the posters down before you came but it just completely slipped my mind. I was worried you’d think I’d got a screw loose somewhere.”

“Now why would I think that?”

He put his hands around her waist.

“I don’t know because I’m worried about losing you?”

“Penelope I love you for god’s sake. Actually I’m rather flattered if not slightly embarrassed that my future wife has pictures of me in her bedroom. Well least I know you’re definitely in love with me!”

“Of course I am Michael. Now what did you want to do today?”

“Well first my love I want to unpack then you could give me a tour of your hometown?”

“Alright then, sounds good!”

So Penny helped Michael to unpack and they set off into the city centre. Penny quite enjoyed giving Michael a guided tour as every time she went past a building of significance Penny told Michael about the history of the place. Local history was Penny’s speciality!

After the sightseeing, they went into The Bullring only for some window shopping because Michael wanted to spoil her later after the meal then they headed back to the flat to chill for a few hours.

Penny put the television on and they both sat on the sofa. Michael put his arms around her and started to gently stroke her shoulder.

“You know if someone was to say to me a month ago that I would be marrying my favourite Python I’d think they’d gone mad!”

“Well I suppose it has been a bit of a whirlwind romance hasn’t it?”

“Yes it has but I don’t regret any of it!”

They sat watching the telly for a while until Michael said that he was taking her somewhere nice for dinner.

Penny therefore made a great deal of effort in her makeup and outfit choice. Michael did the same, he was fully suited and booted!

She’d never seen Michael in a suit in person before. Of course she’d seen him wear one in many of the Python sketches but seeing him wear one in person was much nicer!

“Mm aren’t you the most handsome man in the world?”

“Mm aren’t you the most beautiful woman in the world?”

Penny tousled up his hair.

“Oh Michael you’re so sweet!”

Luckily Penny’s flat was within close proximity from the city centre so they just walked there. Penny had never been to the restaurant Michael was taking her probably because she couldn’t afford it. She wondered how Michael even had knowledge of restaurants in Birmingham then she guessed that Eric might have had something to do with it.

Michael insisted on paying for the meal, saying that she deserved to be treated.

“Honestly Michael this is the nicest meal I’ve ever tasted but you should have let me pay my half!”

“Penelope I’ve told you, this is my treat!”

“Hm well okay Michael.”

Then they went shopping, Michael took Penny into a jewellery shop and told her to pick any piece of jewellery she wanted. After much reluctance from Penny that she wasn’t worth spending this much money on, she decided on a necklace. A gold necklace with a love heart on it. It was quite expensive!

After some more shopping, they headed back to the flat. It gave Penny chance to try on her new necklace.

Michael did the honours of putting the necklace on Penny, he started to kiss her neck delicately. She had to admit she was pretty turned on!

“Oh Michael don’t do that…”

He carried on kissing her neck, slowly and softly. Honestly he was such a tease!

“Why not? I know you love it.”

“Yes I do but how am I meant to save myself until marriage if you tease me like that?”

“Alright love I’ll stop. That necklace suits you, didn’t think you could look any more beautiful but as usual you surprise me.”

“It’s beautiful Michael but so much money. You shouldn’t be wasting your wages on me.”

“If I can’t spend money on my fiancée then what can I spend money on?”

“You’ll have to let me make it up to you.”

“Well that’s up to you love but you don’t need to buy me expensive gifts to prove you love me.”

She stroked his face.

God he really was perfect.

“Hm okay then, well we’d better get off to bed!”

“Yes I am feeling pretty tired and Penelope darling?”

“Yes?”

“Can you perhaps get rid of that picture of me right by my side of the bed? I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night to my face staring back at me.”

“Haha okay love.”

Penny put what she considered a very cute photo of Michael back in her drawer.

Well I suppose I don’t need all the photos of Michael if I’m going to be marrying the guy!

Both headed to bed straight away, it had been a long day!

They woke up mid-morning and had a shower. Luckily Penny’s flat had an ensuite in her room and a separate bathroom! Michael had been quite secretive of what their plans were for the next few days. This morning all he had said was that they were going to be experiencing some local culture!

She realised where she was straight away. Kenilworth Castle. Although Penny was interested in local history she’d never been to the castle before and had always wanted to go.

The place was stemmed with so much history and Michael took a lot of photographs of the castle and of Penny outside the castle. She really enjoyed herself and being with Michael had made the day pretty perfect.

It had been really nice weather which was to be expected in June. However they were in Britain, where the weather was very unpredictable!

Michael and Penny had even got a slight tan from being out all day. They got back to the flat and Penny decided to cook them both a meal. It was her way of making it up to Michael for spending so much money on her.

Although Michael spoilt her out of love, she was so used to being spoilt as a way of shutting her up. So it was safe to say she wasn’t a fan of people treating her.

They were lying in bed when Penny decided to ask Michael about how the last bit of filming for The Holy Grail went. She was surprised he hadn’t mentioned it earlier! Which made her think that the experience hadn’t been very enjoyable.

“You haven’t told me about how filming went yet, thought you’d be dying to tell me!”

“Ah well the experience hasn’t exactly been the most pleasant. I mean Terry G tried to get me to eat mud for one scene!”

Penny raised her eyebrow slightly.

“Mud?”

“Yeah I was meant to be a mud eater and they were like oh you don’t have to eat real mud we’ll put some chocolate there for you to eat. I went how am I meant to know which is the mud and which is the chocolate? And Terry was like oh you’ll know and I thought what is the point? We had to do so many takes for the bloody thing and I just lost it. Jumped into the mud, started throwing my fists about shouting what is the fucking point. Course Gray and John found it hilarious and started clapping. Don’t think they’d seen me so angry before!”

Even Penny found it funny as she was laughing very much. She wished she’d been there to see it!

“Oh dear, poor baby! So I’m guessing the tensions between you lot hadn’t improved?”

“No, John got even more difficult to work with. Him and Terry G fell out completely at one stage! It’ll be weird doing Flying Circus without John.”

“Well you don’t have to do another series do you? I mean your last series was very good!”

“No but I suppose once it’s out the way I can spend more time with you. We’ve only got enough material for six episodes anyway so it’ll be over before you know it!”

“I think it’s because you’ve been in each other’s pockets for so long you’re sick of each other’s company. It’ll probably do you good to have some space from each other.”

“Yeah I think you’re right love. So do you fancy going to the theatre tomorrow?”

“Ooh yes I’d love to! Haven’t been to the Hippodrome in years! But what do you want to see?”

“Whatever you want to see.”

“Hm well I really want to see Phantom of the Opera.”

“My you are a depressing soul!”

“Oh shut up, the book is really good, so full of emotion and well I like my musicals.”

“Alright well Phantom of the Opera it is!”

In the morning Michael cooked themselves a nice breakfast. To Penny this meant he was very self-sufficient! Was there no end to his talents?

“Right well I’ve booked the tickets for the theatre. 2:30 matinee, thought it would be better for you than in the evening.” Said Michael.

“Oh Michael you’re a star!”

“Yes I suppose I am being a Python!”

“Anyway have you sorted out Terry being your best man?”

“Yes I sorted it out a couple of days ago my love. What about you? You sorted out your bridesmaids?”

“Yep Carol and Connie are going to be my bridesmaid. I’m meeting Carol on Friday to sort out a dress.”

“Connie eh? You might be able to find out what’s going on with her and John when you meet up with her to sort out her bridesmaid’s dress.” Michael said with a wink.

“Michael! I will do no such thing! That’s John and Connie’s business, nothing to do with us. Honestly you’re like one of the Pepperpots wanting to know all the gossip!”

Michael had reminded Penny to contact Connie in the next few days about sorting out a bridesmaid’s dress. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure what kind of wedding dress she wanted let alone what the bridesmaids should wear!

“Ooh don’t I know it love?” said Michael in his best camp voice.

Even when Penny was slightly annoyed with Michael, his impressions always made her laugh. She always thought Michael was the best out of the Pythons to play a wide range of characters. Or maybe she was just completely biased about her future husband’s talents?

They decided to get some food before they headed to the theatre, luckily there were quite a few restaurants within the vicinity of the theatre. Michael again wanted to pay for the meal but Penny insisted on paying for herself. Michael knew not to try and change her mind!

“Penelope you really don’t have to pay for yourself. I told you, I want to spoil you.”

“I want to. Thing is Michael I have a problem with being spoilt. My parents did it all the time to shut me up. I know you do it because you love me but I just worry if you do it too much you’re doing it because you feel guilty about something.”

She started to look down at her feet. It didn’t matter how often Michael told her he loved her, she was still terrified about losing him. He was famous and what was she? Just a wanna-be actress. He deserved so much better. She worried that he’d meet someone prettier and more talented than her and just leave her. Then she’d be all alone. She couldn’t bear that again.

Michael grasped her chin so she had to look into his eyes.

“Penelope, I know you worry about being alone again but believe me I’m here to stay. You won’t ever, ever be alone again. Anyway why would I want to look elsewhere when I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the world?”

He kissed her deeply. She knew he was right but there were still things that Penny hadn’t told Michael about herself yet. The time would be approaching where she had to tell Michael everything.

“Why have you always got to be right?”

“Because I’m Mr Michael ‘Sexy Pants’ Palin!” Michael said with a wink.

Penny looked at him in horror.

“How did you—"

“Darling you talk in your sleep. I mean I’m presuming you mean me when you say Mr Sexy Pants…”

She turned bright red. She wished the ground would come and swallow her up.

Shit he wasn’t meant to know about that nickname!

“Oh bloody hell now I feel a right idiot.”

“Aw actually I found it rather cute. Well makes a change from being called The Nice Python!”

Michael got them front row seats which meant they had the perfect view. The musical was spectacular though it wasn’t Michael’s cup of tea. He preferred more cheerful musicals and plays. Penny was in tears. She loved every minute of it.

Every time Penny reached for her handkerchief and blew her nose, Michael rolled his eyes.

“Did you actually enjoy that? You were blowing into your handkerchief every time I looked at you!”

“Yeah course I was! I told you it’s a very emotional story.”

“If you say so love.”

“So who’s cooking dinner tonight?” said Penny.

“Well I can if you like?”

“Yeah okay sure. I don’t think I’ve got much food in though.”

“Ah don’t worry about that, leave that to me!”

They quickly head back to the flat. Penny gave Michael her flat key as he was going to the supermarket to buy some food. She didn’t have a clue what he was planning on cooking her, all he said was to trust him on this.

In the meantime Penny decided to ring up Connie to sort out a bridesmaid dress for her.

To her surprise John answered the phone this time.

“Hello?”

“Oh John hi, is Connie there?”

“Yes yes she is. Good to hear from you Penny, how are you?”

“Yeah I’m great thanks. Michael has just gone to the supermarket to buy some food for our dinner tonight.”

John seemed to ignore what she’d said about Michael.

“Good well I’ll go and get her for you. Connie? Penny’s on the phone.”

“Penny hi, hope John wasn’t being too much of a pain.”

“Oh no not all. I wanted to know when you were free in the next few days as I wanted to sort out the bridesmaid dress. As Carol is helping me find a wedding dress, I’ll sort out her dress on the same day.”

“How about Sunday?”

“Yeah sounds great. Are you okay with meeting in Birmingham, say the train station?”

“Yes that’s fine, about 12ish? We could grab some lunch as well?”

“Yeah okay, see you then!”

She hung up before John could try and talk to her again. Penny set the dining room table up to give her something to do.

After another half an hour had gone by, Michael finally returned.

“Bloody hell Michael you were gone for a while. What did you do raid the whole supermarket?”

“Had to get the right ingredients love.”

“I see. Oh I’ve just been on the phone to Connie and I’m meeting her on Sunday to sort out a bridesmaid dress for her.”

“Ooh you are being organised!” Michael said, teasing her slightly.

“Yeah so organised I haven’t a clue what type of wedding dress I want!”

She had to admit it was stressing her out a bit. The wedding was next week!

“Don’t stress Penelope, I’m sure you’ll know when you’ve found the right dress.”

Michael stroked her hair and put his arms around her. It always felt good for her to be Michael’s arms. She felt safe and, well, not alone.

Michael’s preparation on their dinner took a lot longer than expected which meant Penny was absolutely starving. It seemed making food from scratch wasn’t Michael’s forte!

Luckily Penny came to the rescue and dinner was finally served, at 9 o’clock.

“I’m sorry that dinner took so long love, I just wanted to make a really nice dinner for you.”

“I know darling but seriously Michael, you don’t have to put so much effort into impressing me. You impress me enough by being yourself.”

“I suppose I’m making up for the last two months of not seeing you!”

“I know and it’s really sweet of you to make so much effort but you’re not Delia Smith dear. Maybe stick to less complicated dishes?”

“Hmm may be a good idea! So who answered the phone when you rang Connie?”

“John surprisingly.”

“Ah he must be back from Scotland then.”

“Yeah I was telling him you were out buying food for dinner and he just didn’t respond at all when I mentioned you.”

“Hm sounds like things between him and Connie aren’t improving. His mood did seem to get worse when you went.”

“Have you spoken to him about his feelings for me?”

“God no, things were tense enough as it is without something else kicking off!”

After Penny washed up the dinner plates and Michael dried them, they were ready for bed.

It was getting closer to when Penny had to tell Michael everything. It was only fair she was completely honest with him. I mean she was going to be his wife in a matter of days!

Penny woke up the next morning earlier than Michael and opened up her wardrobe. The top of her wardrobe was where she kept important documents. There were some documents that were very important indeed. She reached up and got them. She checked to see if they were all there. To her relief they were. She put them back where they originally were.

Michael stirred from his sleep. By this point Penny had closed the wardrobe door and was sat on Michael’s side of the bed watching him sleep.

“Penelope? What you doing?” he said sleepily.

He rubbed his eyes. Penny smiled. His voice sounded even cuter when he was sleepy.

“Sorry darling did I wake you? I had to go to the toilet then I thought I’d watch my cute husband to be sleep.”

She stroked his hair, moving a piece of hair from his eyes.

Man he really needs have a haircut!

“I see, in any other situation I’d call that creepy but since you’re my fiancée I’ll let you off.”

Penny made her and Michael a cup of tea, had a quick breakfast and were ready to set off on another adventure.

Penny wanted to drive for a change as she felt bad that Michael had been doing all the driving lately. After much persistence on Penny’s part, they went in Penny’s car and drove to Stratford.

It was certainly an experience for Michael as he’d never seen how Penny drove before. Michael thought she was a good driver but had got the feeling that she hadn’t had the car very long. Her clutch control was a bit woolly at times!

“Penelope you didn’t have to drive you know, I wouldn’t have minded driving again.”

“I know but I felt bad that you were doing all the driving. Also it’s one way of getting used to your future wife’s driving!”

Michael did a very successful job of directing Penny to Stratford as she had never been before. She did love Shakespeare though.

Penny spoke about her favourite Shakespeare plays and her memories of studying Shakespeare when she was studying for her O and A Levels.

“God isn’t this place really beautiful?” said Penny.

“Yes, shame you can’t visit the place where Shakespeare wrote his plays.”

“Yes that is a shame, well maybe one day we’ll be able to.”

Michael loved to take pictures of places he’d visited. Though his favourite subject was always Penelope. She was so photogenic and had the most beautiful smile.

“Michael! Are you going to take some photos of the landscape and buildings or you just going to be taking photos of me?”

“I’m not just taking photos of you, you vain creature! Though what can I say darling you were born to be on camera!” Michael said in a camp voice.

He was such an idiot sometimes but Penny loved him even more when he was being very silly. Maybe he was just born to be a very silly person?

After they’d finishing going round the house, they explored the town of Stratford. It was a pretty village. It was somewhere Michael envisaged him and Penelope living in the future. It was quiet and picturesque place to bring up children.

“You know I wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this in the future.” Said Penny.

“Mm I was thinking the same. It’s so quiet isn’t it? And plenty of pubs!”

Penny laughed. She knew Michael liked a drink or two and drank pretty much anything. However Penny had no cause for concern because Michael knew his limits.

They headed back home as Penny wanted Michael to sample the pubs around Birmingham. Before they knew it, they had got pretty drunk though Michael was worse than Penny! Well someone had to be the more sober one!

“Nice place int’it luv?” said Michael.

It seemed Michael let out his inner Yorkshireman when drunk.

“Yeah it’s great. But maybe it’s time to go home.”

“Aww but I’m enjoying myself so much darlingggggg”

Penny rolled her eyes, god he was embarrassing drunk. But hilarious at the same time.

“I know but you can enjoy yourself at home too. Come on we can grab something to eat on the way back.”

“Aw you’re no fun anymore!”

God now he’s making Python references, definitely time to go home!

They stopped off at the local chippy and as soon as Michael got some food down him, he felt sober.

“I embarrassed you didn’t I, in the pub?”

“Hm maybe a little.”

“I’m sorry Penelope, sometimes I go a bit overboard with the drinking sometimes!”

“Michael it’s fine, you are allowed to let your hair down every now and then. I’m not going to stop you from having fun.”

They settled down on the sofa for the night and finally discussed some of the honeymoon plans Michael had arranged. Michael after all had been quite secretive about where they were going. All he’d told Penny was that they were staying somewhere in this country for the first week and the next week they were going somewhere exotic.

“So am I going to find out any more about this honeymoon? You’ve been very secretive about it!”

“Well I was thinking we could go to this little Caravan Park in Devon then the week after somewhere nice and hot.”

“Yes but where?”

Michael tapped his nose.

“Ah you’ll have to wait and see.”

As much as Penny liked surprises, she didn’t like being kept in the dark about her honeymoon! But she trusted that Michael had picked somewhere they would both love.

They had an early night as tomorrow was a very important day.

“Have you rang Eric about meeting tomorrow to get your suit?”

“Shit, knew I’d forgotten something.”

Penny sighed and handed Michael the receiver for the phone in their bedroom.

“Well do it now. Honestly Michael you’re so forgetful sometimes…”

She left Michael to speak with Eric, as she knew how annoying Michael found people telling him what to say whilst on the phone.

She hadn’t fully witnessed the Palin wrath yet but there had been times when Michael had lost his temper a bit.

It was usually the little things that annoyed Michael, well he was a sensitive person.

Penny still had no idea what kind of wedding dress she wanted. Well Carol’s presence would be useful as Penny wasn’t the best on knowing what style best suited her figure. Maybe Michael was right that she’d know when she’d found the perfect dress.

Michael came out of the room to indicate that he’d sorted out meeting with Eric tomorrow.

“Done it?”

“Yep. You didn’t have to go out the room you know.”

“Well I know you get annoyed when I try and tell you what to say whilst you’re on the phone. One of your pet hates!”

“Oh yes that’s true. You do have a habit of doing that!”

Both fell asleep straight away but Michael and Penny were both very nervous about tomorrow.

Penny was up earlier than Michael and went to meet Carol at the train station.

They went round a number of bridal shops but still Penny couldn’t find the perfect dress. On the plus side she had managed to help find Carol a bridesmaid dress. A yellow coloured shift dress with small white flowers around the neck. Well Carol had got the legs for it…

Penny wasn’t quite sure if that type of dress would suit Connie but she hoped it would. After all the bridesmaids had to wear the same style dress!

Michael on the other hand was having much better luck than Penny, the only difficult decision he had to make was what colour tie to wear!

“What do you think Eric pink or blue?” said Michael, holding a tie in each hand.

“Pink’s a bit bright for a wedding Mike!”

“I thought the colour suited me.”

“You want something a little subtle otherwise you’ll outshine the bride and, well, you can’t have that!”

“Mm you’re right Eric, well blue it is then! Fancy a pint after I’ve paid for this?”

“Thought you’d never ask Mike!”

After a good half an hour browsing through the shop, Penny thought she’d found it. The perfect dress. It was made out of chiffon with crochet lace around the chest, neck and bottom of the dress. It looked quite vintage which was perfect for Penny as she’d always loved clothes from the past.

Carol urged Penny to try it on and it really suited her. She bought a petticoat to emphasise the fullness of the skirt. She complimented the look with a longish veil.

“Oh Penny you’re going to look absolutely stunning in that dress, it’s just so you!”

“Thanks Carol. I wonder if Michael has managed to get a suit yet?”

“Oh I suspect that him and Eric are in the pub now!”

Penny could probably guess which pub he’d taken Eric as him and Penny did have a sort of regular pub they’d go to after they’d been out somewhere.

Carol accompanied Penny to the pub that she suspected Michael and Eric were in and her suspicions were proved correct.

“Penny! Carol! Good to see you both. How did you know we were in here?” said Eric.

“Well let’s just say my fiancé is very predictable in terms of what watering holes he samples.” Penny said with a wink.

Penny sat next to Michael, her arm around his neck.

“So how did you get on love? Managed to get a dress in the end?”

“Yes eventually. Got a lovely bridesmaid dress didn’t we Carol?”

“Oh yes, though not as lovely as the bride’s dress!”

“When do you collect it?”

“Sunday. What about your suit?”

“Tomorrow.”

Penny started stroking his hair. She was hoping Michael was going to go to the hairdressers sometime soon!

“I do hope you’re going to have your hair cut sometime in the next few days!”

“Don’t worry my love, I’m going to sort that out tomorrow.”

“Well make sure you do!”

Eric and Carol looked at each other and smiled. They really were a cute couple both of them thought.

“Bloody hell she’s nagging me already!”

“Ha well me and Carol will take that as our cue to leave! Don’t want to be caught up in the middle of a domestic! See you Penny see you at the wedding!”

Penny gave Eric and Carol a hug and a kiss on each cheek before they headed to the train station.

They walked back to the flat hand in hand. It had been a pretty productive day for both of them.

“Oh Michael forgot to say that work rang me whilst you were asleep. They want me to do a shift tomorrow and on Sunday afternoon. I said I’d do it because well it’s good of them to give me so much time off work for the wedding and honeymoon.”

“Yeah that’s fine love, gives me time to sort out a few things for the wedding. Like a haircut for instance?”

She kissed Michael on the cheek.

“Thank you dear.”

It was getting even more difficult for Michael and Penny to save themselves till Monday, Penny wanted Michael and Michael wanted Penny.

Though Michael might not want her after she told him everything.

Penny had to be up early for work so left Michael in bed as he looked too peaceful for her to wake him up. She was doing a full shift today but as the library was closed on Sundays she only had to be in on the afternoon tomorrow to help sort out the new books that had come in.

So Michael was left to his own devices all day Saturday. He decided to get his hair cut. As he knew if he didn’t, he’d have Penelope on his back! He also went to collect his suit and hung the bag the suit was in, in his side of the wardrobe.

He’d told the barber that he only wanted a trim as ‘his girl liked it long’.

Penny meanwhile was busy dealing with ‘wonderful’ members of the public. Well when she meant wonderful she was being sarcastic. She had one person who just couldn’t accept that there wasn’t a book that they wanted in the library. She made Penny check multiple times to find this book, believing it was an error on the library’s part, that it had been put in the wrong section. Even when Penny said to her politely that they didn’t have that book and that she’d have to try another library, she wasn’t having any of it.

Penny felt like strangling her.

God kill me now! I bet Michael is having a much better time than me! Wonder if he’s missing me as much as I’m missing him?

Michael however was pretty bored. There was only so much watching telly he could do! He thought about doing something useful but what?

He tidied up the flat a bit though to be fair it was pretty clean anyway. He knew that Penny finished at half 5 so wanted to make sure dinner was ready for her by the time she got back. After last time’s experience he knew not to make anything from scratch!

After that pesky customer eventually went away, the rest of the day was pretty good. She liked helping people find a good book, especially books that were historical. She also enjoyed recommending similar books to what they had borrowed. She’d certainly read a few books in her time!

She knew that Michael was an avid reader too, he really was her soul mate.

Michael quickly went to the local florist and bought a bouquet of roses. He found a clear vase and put one of the roses in it. He placed the vase in the middle of the dining room table. Was Penny even a flower person? He just wanted to show his love for her without overdoing it. He knew how much she hated being spoilt!

Finally her shift ended and she could get home! She’d missed Michael so much and was looking forward to seeing him again. The poor guy must have been so bored all day!

She turned the key into the front door and opened it. The smell of food hit her and she looked over to the dining room table where there were two plates of food not long come out of the oven. In the middle of the table was a bouquet of flowers with a small piece of paper attached.

She dropped her handbag on the sofa and picked up the paper.

Thought you’d might like these flowers and your tea on the table when you got back from work. Just popped to the shop to get something.

All my love,

Michael X

Man he really is the most adorable man in the world.

She sat at the table and waited for Michael to return. He came back a few minutes later with a bottle in his hand.

“You read my note then?”

“Mm I did, what’s the special occasion?”

“Well there is our upcoming wedding and I thought you’d had a hard day so thought I’d treat you. I took on board the fact that you don’t like to be overly spoilt so I thought I’d be more subtle.”

“The flowers are beautiful, thank you Michael and the food looks good too!”

“Well only the best for you love. So shall I crack open the bottle?”

“Yes please! I think I need a glass or two after the day I’ve had!”

“Oh dear has it been a bit of a day for you?”

“Just difficult customers from time to time! Other than that, it hasn’t been too bad of a day.”

“Well you’re home now and you can relax.”

“Very true my darling!”

Penny and Michael had a few glasses of white wine between them which of course made them very sleepy. Michael was holding Penny in his arms when she fell asleep.

Michael woke up suddenly and saw Penny in a deep sleep, her hair messy and mascara under her eyes. She looked absolutely shattered. Michael moved a strand of hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead.

“My angel.” Michael said to himself.

Eventually Michael carried Penny to bed and then went to sleep himself. Tomorrow would be his last day as a bachelor.

Penny although excited that she would be finally getting rid of her awful parents’ surname, was worried after what she was going to tell Michael tomorrow. He may not even want to marry or even be with her any more.

Penny went to meet Connie and surprisingly enough Connie was happy to wear that style of dress, much to Penny’s relief! Penny also went to collect her wedding dress. Much to Michael’s disgust, Penny kept it very secret the style of dress that she’d chosen!

Although Penny didn’t know Connie as well as she knew Carol, Connie was being surprisingly open about her marital problems.

She knew Michael was dying to know the gossip, so quickly told Michael before she headed into work for a few hours.

She couldn’t completely concentrate at work, she was trying to work out how to explain it to Michael. Well he was a pretty intelligent man so he’d probably understand.

Penny soon finished work and felt completely ready to tell him.

She came in the door and Michael gave her a big hug.

“Really missed you today love, I’ve been bored stiff! Oh Terry rang earlier about a sort of stag do the guys have organised tonight at his house or something so it means I have to travel back to London. But don’t worry I’ll be back early hours of the morning. I’m a bit worried as I’ve got no idea what they’ve planned!”

“Well knowing the Pythons something very wacky indeed! Anyway Michael I need to tell you something, will you sit down?”

They both sat down on the sofa. She held his hand tightly.

“Go on love, I’m all ears!”

“Well I haven’t been entirely honest about my personal life. Yes I was treated like shit by my parents and people were horrible to me at university but well, I don’t know how to put this but I’m not from this time, I’m from the future.”

[angstbotfic]

Fic: Ak’tephari Prophecy Ch 67

Read at AO3

February 9th

“I confess I’m finding it strange to sleep alone after all those months with the two of you,” Maleficent said.

Emma, staring off the side of the ship, started. Then guilt rushed through her. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know how to handle all this. They didn’t even want to let me share my cabin with Regina, and-”

“And the two of you are betrothed,” Maleficent finished for her. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said again.

Maleficent blinked, confused. “Why?”

“I feel like I’ve abandoned you.” Emma stared at her boots.

“Have you?”

Emma looked up, because now she was confused. “What?”

“Have you abandoned me?” Maleficent clarified.

“No!” Emma insisted, immediately. “I just- this is all so complicated.”

Maleficent smirked. “Being royal is very constricted.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.” Emma sighed and shuffled her feet. At least as a soldier she knew what to do, and if she didn’t somebody would give her orders. They were about half way back to Silben now, according to the captain, and she was starting to dread their arrival.

“But,” Maleficent added, “It does have some freedom, if you can figure out the loopholes.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Emma said, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“While I concede that things have gotten much more interesting lately, I had a whole long interesting life before I ever met you,” Maleficent pointed out.

“That’s fair,” Emma chuckled. Then she grew serious, looking at the water again, hoping the answer had appeared there in the meantime. “I don’t know what to do about this. I don’t want to abandon you. But I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Why not?”

Emma shifted uncomfortably. “People expect me to only be with Regina now.”

“People?” Maleficent prodded.

Emma had the distinct sense she was being played with, but she couldn’t figure out the game. “The court,” she said. “And- Regina.”

“What’s this about me?” Regina asked from behind her, and she winced.

“Emma here was just telling me that you will insist on not sharing her with me,” Maleficent said, and she was definitely playing with her, somehow.

“No, I- um-” Emma stammered, looking frantically between them.

“And it’s truly a shame that she is abandoning me in such ways.”

“Mal, she’s gone all pale. Don’t tease,” Regina said. Then she slid her arms around Emma. “Emma, my love, Maleficent is a dear friend to us both. Do you think I would make you give her up?”

“No, but,” she began, then looked around to see who was within earshot and whispered, “sex.”

Regina’s chuckle in her ear was positively dirty. “As long as I get to play, too.”

“Really?!” Emma’s startled squeak drew the eyes of the sailors. “Like, at the same time?” she asked, almost inaudible.

“Oh yes,” Regina purred. “She has promised me magical toys.”

“You know, Regina, after our last conversation I was thinking, and if we each wear one-”

She was going to die. They were going to kill her. She was going to die. It was going to be wonderful.

**

February 17th

“Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?!” Cora demanded the instant the doors to the private meeting room had closed behind them. Emma had suspected that something like this was coming, based on the stiffness of Mig—who was the acting captain in David’s absence—when he came to escort them, but she hadn’t expected the ferocity and simply froze with her head half-bowed.

“Mother, I-” Regina began.

“Don’t interrupt me!” Cora snapped. “We had no idea where you were, and then it turns out you were off with your street rat lover on some grand vacation!”

Emma winced, but didn’t look up.

“Don’t you dare call her that, Mother,” Regina shot back. “That’s not what happened and I know David told you.”

“Yes, David sent a messenger to pass on what you told him,” Cora conceded, waving her hand dismissively, “but I don’t believe a word of it. You left here of your own free will to secure the wellbeing of our nation and then you just ran off and left us to be attacked!”

“And Leopold’s messengers pleading for peace will have told you the same thing, and I know they arrived before us,” Regina said, advancing toward her mother, gesturing vigorously. When the Marnan Coast Guard had stopped the Rowan ship for questioning outside the bay, they’d had lots of information once they recognized Regina. The war was over, but it hadn’t been for long and the army was still making its way back from the field.

“Yes, but that’s not-”

Regina cut her off. “So you know perfectly well that Emma saved me from being a blood sacrifice to the Xan. And you know perfectly well that the Xan were going to destroy the entire world if she and I had not intervened to save it. So what is your problem?”

Emma took a chance and glanced up now that Regina seemed to be turning the tide of the argument. She caught King Henry’s eye without meaning to, and he gave her a tiny shrug. She suddenly remembered that he was the born royal here, and that Cora had a humbler beginning. You wouldn’t know it to hear her raging.

“We will never be able to marry you to anyone reputable now that everyone knows you have been running around fucking a commoner!” Cora hissed.

Regina’s voice dropped into its lowest, most dangerous register. “Oh, fuck you.”

“How dare you-” Cora began

“No, you listen,” Regina demanded, getting into her mother’s personal space now in a way that had Emma both terrified and admiring. “That’s what you care about? Not my wellbeing or anyone else’s? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You have to think about your future!”

Emma remembered now what Regina had said about her mother being very invested in maintaining her royal status since it had been so hard for her to get it.

“I wouldn’t even have a future without that so-called commoner, Mother,” Regina pointed out. “Not to mention, did you even notice that we came back on the Rowan flagship?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Cora snapped back.

“Did it occur to you to wonder why the king of Rowa gave us the use of his navy?” Regina’s tone was cutting.

Cora was caught and she knew it, so she tried to change the subject. “And what have you done with your hair?”

Regina ignored it and just went on, “King Ryain sent us home in style to prove to you that his daughter,” and she whirled and pointed at Emma, “was fully royal enough for me, and I’m grateful that he did, with this greeting!”

“His daughter-” Cora murmured, shocked.

“This is Emma Swan Rowan,” Regina said, coming to stand next to Emma, who tried to straighten up and look appropriately noble. “Born of Ryain and Ingrid, she is the rightful heir to the Rowan throne but was stripped of her birthright by the political machinations of her stepmother. During our journey, Emma retrieved the Sword of Mairin in the Water Citadel and she is prepared to present it to me as a wedding gift. Exactly as it was foretold.”

“A wedding gift?” King Henry asked softly, startling them all.  

“Yes, Daddy,” Regina said, her tone and expression soft. “We’re going to be married.” She shot Cora a defiant look, but Cora was still staring at Emma.

There was a long silence as Cora seemed to size Emma up. Finally, she said. “The princess of Rowa, and a hero who saved our princess, and who saved the world with her. That I can work with.”

“Mother,” Regina sighed, exasperated.

“And she’s also clearly crazy about you to risk her fool neck.” Cora shrugged. “It’s a good match.”