Glorious to This Night

"The sight of lovers feedeth those in love."

June 25th

"Who is my special boy? Who is my special boy?" 

"Gran-mo!" Little Frederick waved his arms and grinned. "Gran-mo!"

Ophelia cuddled her grandson and patted his back. Frederick's small vocabulary had never yet stopped him from talking. Much like his father had, he chattered on happily, often answering any question with the name of the person asking it. The main exception was her husband, whom Frederick had decided was also 'Gran-mo'. "Almost, my precious." Just as she considered her stepson as her own, she loved Frederick as much as she would her daughters' children.

Holding Frederick often stirred sentimental memories in Ophelia. She and Francisco had been in love since childhood, but he had been betrothed to Adrian's mother. Ever dutiful, he married Adriana Capitano and mourned her the full six months after she died of childbed fever. Adrian had been just a little younger than Frederick when Ophelia and Francisco married, thirteen months after Adriana passed away. Of all the things a bride had to worry over, Ophelia had been most concerned with how her little stepson would receive her. Her little man had welcomed her and loved her as much as any blood mother. Having Adrian's approval had been the foremost sign that her marriage would be wonderful - and it had been. She had a beautiful life, wonderful children, and a husband who still adored her. 

"I always knew you would leave me for a younger man."

"Well," she sighed, her eyes sparkling, "I have to have some distraction while you are off counting coins with Lady Capulet."

He groaned. "Don't remind me."

"Oh, she can't still be on about that village."

"No, but that mess started another summer of hot tempers. Ancient history is being dragged up like so much flotsam. I'm not immune myself - I had it out with Lord Gale, which I've not done since I was eighteen." The Albions and Gales had been at quiet odds for decades over the death of a Gale retainer at the hands of a servant of the late Lord Albion. Francisco had always thought it was a stupid feud, but he had to admit he couldn't think well of a Gale. Not liking what he saw in himself, he turned all his attention to his wife.

"Francisco!" Ophelia giggled. "The baby!"

"He's too little to understand anything - Adrian proves that every time he sets foot in this room."

Ophelia laughed again. "Thank goodness his nurse chose to retire to Varainsee. He might not set foot in this house again if she were here to remind him of the time he toddled in on us."

"Don't tempt me to recall her into service, Ophelia."

"It wouldn't help tonight," she observed. "I think we have half of Verona in our company." The ballroom was swathed in sailcloth to protect it from the chaotic wonder that was Cherry's design team. Earlier in the day, the dining hall had been cleared to make way for the actors' rehearsals, but Morgaine and Ann had moved a group outside in the last hour. Between affectionate moments with her grandson, Ophelia had watched the rehearsal from one of the windows. "I believe this is their largest production yet." She sighed. "These theatricals are great fun, but I can't say I'm sorry that tomorrow night is their last rehearsal at the house."

An untidy house was one of the very few things that annoyed his wife. Francisco had been pondering a solution for several days. "Perhaps it is time for a more formal rehearsal facility. After the play closes, I will look at their books with Cherry."

"And lay out the coin yourself to procure it for my sake. Do it for their sake. They deserve it, love. We have every reason to be proud of them."

"And I am. I am proud of all of our children, you know that." His eyes followed his daughter and daughter-in-law as they flew about on the terrace, determined to squeeze a success out of their cast. "And Ann. That young lady is the best bit of luck our boy will ever know."

"Directly after having you for a father."

He kissed her cheek and then the hand that wasn't supporting Frederick. "What do you say to finding some part of the house the girls haven't seized?"

"I thought you would never ask." Grinning, Ophelia turned to the little boy still in her arms. "Is it bedtime, Frederick?"

"Gran-mo!"

"Morgaine, I'm not sure what to think." Ann was now watching the romantic developments in the parlor more than any of the actors. Just as she had pulled her sister-in-law aside for a quick word, the sight of Lord and Lady Albion escalating the matter wiped her mind clean. "If Adrian isn't luring me into bed four times a week when I'm more than forty, I'll never forgive him. On the other hand, if I add up all the babies from now until then, I could be sick."

"That would make two of us." Morgaine hoped that was the end of the discussion.

"Then again, your mother only has you and Cherry. Do you suppose she would share her secret with me?"

"I don't know," she sighed. Although she was grateful that her parents were so content in their marriage, Morgaine couldn't pretend she wanted to know anything about their private life. The days when she thought she had been grown in a flower bed had a certain appeal in times like these. "Maybe you should ask Adrian."

Laughing, Ann shook her head. "Adrian? The merest mention of your parents having sex is enough to make him heave."

"Then perhaps you should ask your mother."

Ann blanched. "Point taken. So, where were we?"

"The scene in the courtyard. Mistress Cai is attempting to charm Sir Malory to open the gate, Sir Malory is overcome with affection, a flustered Master John interrupts, and..." Morgaine smiled and shook her head. "Sorry. The first act, the scene in the courtyard."

Ann had to grin. If one asked Morgaine the slightest question about the script, one could expect to hear about it for at least five minutes at a time. Her sister-in-law had been reluctant to attach her name to the script, but her pride in it had grown dramatically since doing so. Turning to the actors she had brought outside for more tedious scene work, she called, "I need Cai, Malory, and John - Bottom, Hal, and Oberon, please - for act one, the courtyard scene."

Anxiously, Hal approached the director. "Uh, Lady Ann-"

"Ann."

"Right. I, uh, I thought we could maybe do this scene tomorrow night?"

Putting on her best director's voice, Ann asked, "You do know your lines, don't you?"

"Of course I know my lines," he laughed and lied. Lines were the bane of his existence. Hal had stayed up all night trying to memorize them, and between that escapade and the notes he had concealed in his clothes, he was sure he had them all. "It's not my lines. It's... well..."

With her face glowing, Bottom came bouncing up behind Hal to save him. "Believe me, Ann, it's his lines. Desi told me he was making an utter fool of himself with them. If you would like, I can go over them with him quickly now. And besides, my father was working on his soliloquy all last night. If I can be honest," she whispered, "it needs some professional assistance."

Ann raised a brow at that. Oberon Summerdream was one of the best actors in Verona. If he was willing to spend more nights at rehearsals, he would be a leading player in every production. Bottom was a fair actress herself, too, and didn't seem to limit herself to the stage. But, if Bottom thought she could fix whatever was wrong with Hal, Ann would give her a chance. "Ten minutes, no more. You can go around the side of the house if you want some quiet."

"Perfect!" Energetically, Bottom grabbed Hal's hand and pulled him along. She was shorter than Hal, but she had him nearly tripping over himself trying to match her stride and pace. Quite a ways down the side of the house, she pushed him between two bushes and blocked him in. "Why?"

"Why... what?"

Bottom fixed him with a glare. "You don't want to kiss me, do you?"

"I, uh... no?"

"Hal!"

"I mean, not right now. If you want to meet somewhere later, though... ow!"

Bottom shook her foot out. Hal's shin had been harder than she expected. "Not likely, Hal, unless you tell me why tonight so is different from the last time."

"The last time I saw you, your father wasn't right there!"

"My father?" Bottom giggled, though she tried to stifle it with both hands. She liked him again. If Hal was anything, besides possessed of well-turned legs, he was adorably traditional. "My father doesn't care if you kiss me. It's a play!"

"Your father loves you a hell of a lot more than my father loves my sisters, and my father would..." Hal snapped his fingers, trying to think of the end of the sentence. "He would..." There it ended, because Hal had to admit that his father neither loved anyone nor had the abilities necessary to pretend otherwise. "All right, maybe my father wasn't a good example, but my grandfather is! He would be so angry that, if he was younger, he would flay me - the hypothetical me, not the real me because I wouldn't kiss my own sisters like tha-"

"Was that so difficult?"

Hal raised his eyebrows. "You really want to do that in front of your father?"

"No, you stupid boy. Sir Malory has to kiss Mistress Cai, not the other way 'round. And anyway, that wasn't a particularly good one. We need more practice." Goodness knew Bottom was willing to practice. Why other ladies wasted some of their best years pretending they didn't notice all the well-crafted, young bodies around them, she would never understand. There were too many pretty boys to pretend she didn't care.

Hal was the most promising boy she knew. His sea-green eyes and ruddy-brown hair, so much like her own, graced a very pretty face. If anything above the hips mattered to Bottom, it was a pretty face. Once, she had 'practiced' kissing with Desi to see if she liked all pretty faces. Kissing Desi had been very dull, and Bottom realized the pretty face had to belong to a male. Hal's face was wonderfully pretty; if he kept growing into a tall, lean body, he would be perfect.

"Practice?" Hal was rapidly losing focus. Her skin was maddeningly soft, much more so than the girls' who flopped into his lap on a night out. There was no sharp, heavy scent coming up off her to cover her failings, either. If she had any shortcomings. He certainly didn't know of any. I wonder if they put those markings anywhere else... "Here?"

"Yes, here."

Several minutes later, during a brief, gasping pause, Hal wondered, "Were we supposed to be doing something?"

"Uh... I don't know."

"Guess not."

When Oberon caught sight of Bottom and her friend in the bushes, he had to laugh. It was the same laugh he let out whenever someone said that blood would tell. His children weren't his blood or each other's blood, but the resemblance was this strong. If Bottom's wedding didn't feature a pregnant bride, it wouldn't be for lack of trying. Had Oberon been able to give Titania a child, his wife would have been fit to burst at theirs. Conceiving a child had long ago been the sign that two Fae were fated to be joined. That idea had faded away with the overall fertility of his people. Oberon still thought it a beautiful sentiment. Still, it would be for the best if Bottom made it past sixteen without being fated to do anything.

He crept up on them nearly all the way. Titania will die of laughter when she hears about this. "Oh, there you two are!"

Had there been a roof over Hal's head, he may well have hit it in shock. How had he managed to leap from the pot into the fire? This was so much worse than a scripted kiss. Oberon was going to turn him into slug, he just knew it. "Oh my God- My sir- my lord! My lord, I am... we were... we..."

Oberon took pity on the boy. "Yes, I can see that. Come on out of the bushes. How are your lines coming along, Hal? Our director is missing you."

"Director? Oh!" He smacked his forehead. "Oh, the play!"

"That's right!" Bottom exaggerated her body language, trying to underline her false surprise. "The play! We forgot all about the play!"

"Well," Oberon chuckled, "why don't you two un-forget it and come back to rehearsal so we can finish on time. I bet my wife a gold crown I could make love to her on top of our moon shrine tonight."

Next Post: "Exit, pursued by a bear."