Notes: Well, the bad day for me has passed, and now we enter the celebration stage, though the tension remains...
Gerome couldn't believe just how many wyverns there were for Minerva to consider. He passed picture after picture, with their descriptions, and there was still another mountain of them waiting. Mostly because his father wasn't taking things seriously, so he had to do his lot again, lest his mother found out and...
"You didn't even look at him."
"I did, but your Minerva would have hated him!"
Well, Virion was trying his best at dodging Cherche, but to his misfortune, she wasn't blind and her smile was starting to strain. It was dark outside already, and the candle light was faint, yet she could track her husband's eyes perfectly. His lack of seriousness about the business of wyvern matchmaking was making her patience wear thinner and thinner. And Gerome would just glance at his parents quick, then focus again on his part.
He had to admit his judgment was a mix of Cherche's experience and Virion's ignorance. He could tell the pictures were of male wyverns, even which were of healthy and strong ones, but unless he was allowed to meet them beforehand, he felt no confidence in deciding Minerva's mate based on a sketch and some words.
"Virion? Go feed Minerva her dinner."
The duke shook, suddenly uncomfortable and nervous. "My contribution is not that bad, is it?"
"I meant her dinner. Her real dinner. Not you," though Cherche's tone was annoyed enough to consider becoming a widow.
Gerome saw his father sigh in relief, getting up from the desk in haste and leaving the tent. Now he was alone with his mother, as he separated wyvern profiles into two piles; bad candidates to his left, good ones to his right.
Cherche picked up the topmost off the left. "This one is very bad, indeed," she whispered, before putting the picture back and squeezing his shoulder. "You have a good eye for wyverns," she congratulated him as she sat down on the chair his father had vacated.
"Thank you." He discreetly pushed the bunch at his right to her. She smiled and started going through it. "Why are you redoubling your efforts to find a mate for Minerva?"
His mother glared at him briefly, but as he removed his mask, she saw the honesty in his eyes more clearly. "I just thought that I don't like sharing my Minerva," she replied as frankly as she could, "not even with you."
Gerome winced as if struck. "I can't help it...!"
"I mean," she interrupted him, "I'd rather my baby have his own wyvern. So I'm hoping to time the hatchlings around the date I give birth, and I must hurry for that." He couldn't help blushing at the implication, letting Cherche browse his selection of profiles.
Though he could have guessed earlier, especially during the last month, when sleeping squeezed between the two Minervas. His mother would have never slept in a tent, away from her wyvern, unless absolutely necessary, like if she was pregnant. They exchanged a sweet smile.