Contains spoilers for Ringabel's past
The Lees are very nice people.
Ringabel had known this for years, of course. He owed the family a greater debt than he could ever begin to repay, but they had never even held him to it, in this world or the last. All he could do was try to be a worthy… a worthy *son*, but he felt like anything but, considering how he lounged around Eternia Central Command waiting for orders or bothering Edea and his doppleganger. He had more than he deserved, and he felt like a bum. An adorable bum, but a bum all the same.
The winter months had seen Mahzer catch a cold, and as a precaution, she'd been placed back into the Central Healing Tower where she could be watched closely. Besides, the tower tended to be kept warmer than the cold stone of Central Command.
"Go and spend some time with her," Edea had asked him, just a few weeks after he himself had returned. "Father and I will be busy all day today. She'd like to see you. Get to know you!"
He feels decidedly less sure about that. Yes, Mahzer was a wonderful woman. When he'd been a child, she had been the mother he had never had, warm and caring and kind, even though she'd been so ill. He'd always felt safe in her company.
Edea didn't need to ask him twice. But as Ringabel hovers in the doorway of Mazher's room, he suddenly feels like fleeing.
"Ah… Lady Marshal," he calls into the room quietly, rapping at the door frame.
She turns to see who has visited her, and when she sees him, she smiles. "Oh, it's you, Ringabel. It's lovely to see you."
Her voice fills him with warmth and he steps into the room almost without thought. She looks well, he thinks, and is bundled up nicely against the chill that permeates the walls, sitting comfortably in an armchair near the window, a bundle of yarn on her lap. Still, his fingers itch to adjust the quilts around her shoulders as she smiles at him.
"You knew it was me," he says lamely instead, somewhat surprised. He and Alternis had begun to style their hair somewhat differently, but they were identical after all. Sometimes, when he was feeling like being an asshole, he would rummage through Alternis' wardrobe and style his hair as closely to the other's as possible.
"Of course. What mother doesn't know her children?"
Just like that, he feels a lump build in his throat and he suddenly doesn't know what to do with his hands, wringing them in front of him until he stiffly lowers himself into another chair beside her. "Y-you're right, of course. I apologise for—"
"You've nothing to apologise for," Mahzer interrupts him. "It's just good to see you. I was beginning to worry I had somehow frightened you away."
He had been scared, but it hadn't been her fault. Just his. "Not at all, my lady." He wishes he could say more, explain why he's been avoiding her and Braev both, but he can't. Mahzer's gaze is kind, not judgmental, and he falls into an awkward silence instead.
Edea had told him to visit, but now that he's here, he doesn't know what to talk about. Surely she gets reports on what's happening from Alternis and Braev. She probably knows more about the going-ons in Central Command than he does, all things considered. He tries to resist the urge to whine under his breath, kicking his feet lightly like he had when he was a child. Her company is good enough, but is his?
"Would you like to help me?" She asks, holding up the knitting in her lap. It's a nice shade of blue, clear and bright, like her eyes. Like Edea's eyes.
"I don't know how to knit." Ringabel is ready to apologize again when she plops the ball of yarn in his lap, along with her two knitting needles. She somehow finds two more in her basket.
"You're never too old to learn," Mahzer declares, and spends the next hour teaching him how to knit, how to cast on his stitches and keep them neat and orderly. He'd always fancied himself dexterous and good with his hands, but this is a different skill altogether.
"What do you want to make?" She asks him once he's gotten the basics down and his stiches look at least semi-decent. Like a child's instead of a toddler's.
"A… scarf." He decides. It's all he has the skill to do. She sets him on it before turning to her own project with pink wool and they work quietly together.
By the time his scarf is long enough to actually be called a scarf, the sun has begun to set over the peaks of Eternia's mountains. Mahzer clucks her tongue, as they both know from years of long experience that Eternia gets even colder at night. She turns to him, frowning.
"You should leave before it gets too late," she tells him, and helps him block off the stitch so that his work isn't undone.
"I should. Thank you kindly for the lesson, ma'am." He stands and stretches, and moves to leave, but not before wrapping the blue scarf securely around her shoulders and kissing her on the forehead.
She smiles at him, and wraps the pink scarf around his shoulders in return. It's much more prettier than his, longer and more uniform, and with a lovely pattern knitted into it. Very fashionaabluh. He flushes.
"And you should keep warm," she reminds him, with a kiss to the cheek.
He feels like he's 12 years old again, peering up at her through long, unruly hair and wondering how any mother could be so kind and beautiful. "I—I… You as well, Mother. Mahzer." He corrects himself, his voice cracking.
But her face lights up with happiness and his embarrassment is worth it. "Please take care, Ringabel."
He ducks his face down into his scarf as he leaves before the nurses can announce that visiting hours are over for the night. It's very warm.