Author's Note: I actually wrote the chapter after this first, but it made references to Cedric's cottage trip. I couldn't find a good way to explain them without breaking up the chapter with flashbacks, and I hate doing that, so I just went back and wrote this out instead. Sorry for leaving you guys hanging on the potipn, but I promise, this breakaway chapter was the best way to continue. Love all the feedback so far, thank you all so much!
The quaint cottage in the heart of Mystic Meadows had come to be a place Cedric actually enjoyed visiting. Sofia always came with him, chatting his ear off excitedly for the entire coach ride there. She would challenge him to a race for his parent's front door, though she knew full well he would simply stroll languidly behind her as she ran. When his mother would answer, Sofia would bubble over while greeting the elder sorceress, practically knocking Winifred backwards into the house with an overly enthusiastic hug. He would object to Sofia's actions only to hear his mother tell him 'Oh, hush.', smiling fondly at the princess while escorting the pair inside. This was exactly how the beginning of every visit went for the last several years.
This routine made the silence of his current coach ride all the more striking, and he wondered to himself how and when Sofia had entrenched herself so completely into almost every aspect of his life. Her absence felt almost as jarring as he'd imagine going about without a limb might. He gave a heavy sigh and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the girl out of his mind.
When the coach arrived, there was no challenge issued, no blur of purple gown and bouncing chestnut curls rushing past, no Winifred at the door ready for a warm embrace. Instead, Cedric rapped on the door in a mix of annoyance and trepidation, and Goodwyn the Great answered him gruffly.
"Well, don't just stand there like a ninny. Come in, Cedric." His gravely voice demanded, and Cedric stiffened, not at all looking forward to what would be a very long day.
Goodwyn led him through the front of the house and into his study, where Cordelia was already seated, sipping a steaming cup of undoctored tea. She glanced up at him from behind her drink, daggers in her eyes. He did his best to ignore her gaze. His father motioned to the other chair before turning to shut the door behind him, and Cedric obediently sat down. Goodwyn crossed the room and lowered himself into the wing chair that was pulled up to his desk. He observed his children, first Cedric, then Cordelia, who shot him a sweet-as-sugar grin, placing her tea cup back onto its saucer. The old sorcerer cleared his throat, ready to begin.
"I'm sure you both know why I summoned you. To be honest, this should have been taken care of ages ago." He began, gesturing to a small stack of documents neatly arranged on his desk. Cordelia sat forward to interject, feining objection at the topic, even though she clearly was eager to begin.
"Father, we needn't worry about this yet, if you don't want to. It'll be a long time before this becomes a pressing concern." Her voice was laced with artificial saccharin, and Cedric couldn't help but roll his eyes at her. Goodwyn gave his only son a warning stare before continuing.
"No, this matter must be handled, and I'll feel much better without it weighing on me." He answered his daughter, seemingly oblivious to the farce of her words.
Cedric narrowed his eyes, staring at the side of Cordelia's head, letting himself wallow in his bitterness towards her. She had always played their father, quite adept at seeming the perfect daughter, all of it a total fraud. He, on the other hand, grew up desperately wanting his father's approval, but wanted it to be for who he was, not someone he was pretending to be. In return, Goodwyn doted on his precious daughter, and neglected his son, when he wasn't outright berating him, that was.
At some nearly forgotten point in his life, when he was a small boy, Cedric had longed for a connection with his sister, like he imagined other siblings had. But she only ever treated him as competition for what she really had her eyes on, the family wand, the title of royal sorceress, all the accolades that came with both. Somehow, despite being Goodwyn's obvious favorite, Cordelia had received none of these things, which irked her to no end, and only deepened the rift between them.
And then she had made Calista, accidentally giving Cedric everything he'd once wanted from his sister but never received. His niece worshipped the very ground he walked on, behaving, even well into her teenaged years, as if she believed that the day began and ended simply because Cedric willed it to do so. Cedric often found himself wishing he had grown up with Calista as his sibling instead of her mother, but he certainly didn't mind having her as his niece instead. When she was a small child, he had brushed her affection off as mere infantile curiosity, a meaningless nuisance. But as she grew, and her amiable treatment of him never wavered, he recognized and appreciated it for the true familial connection that it was.
"Cedric, do pay attention. This is a serious discussion and I expect you to treat it as such." Goodwyn scolded his grown son the way one might a young child, pulling him from his thoughts. He briefly wondered why his father had even dragged him here. Obviously, everything would go to his mother, then Cordelia. Frankly, Cedric didn't care. He had the family wand and his tower, and that was more than enough for him. Nevertheless, he did as he was told and listened dutifully as his father ticked off a list of items that, as expected, would not be passed to his son.
Hours went by, Cordelia interjecting to squeeze her father for just a little bit more on every single point. They had taken a short break for lunch, Cedric taking the opportunity to pop off a potion request to Sofia, his head trying in earnest to burst free of his skull. Then, more drudgery, more of his sister's manipulation, and more of his precious time wasted on a topic that was utterly meaningless to him.
"The cottage will go to Cedric, with the condition that his mother be allowed to stay until the end of her days." Both siblings gave an audible gasp and stared in shock at Goodwyn.
"But father, that doesn't make any sense. Cedric already has his tower, and-" Cordelia tried to bargain with the elder sorcerer, but Goodwyn held up his hand to silence her.
"Cedric will need the cottage to raise my grandson, which I hope will be forth coming, and before my time here ends. I'll not see him spend his childhood in a dusty, drafty, old tower." Goodwyn explained. Cordelia scoffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. Cedric balked, indignation coursing through him.
"And where, do you suppose, is this grandson going to come from? Perhaps you expect me to conjure one up from thin air?" Cedric asked, making no attempt to mask his annoyance at the way his father spoke about him having a child as if it was set in stone.
"You are the royal sorcerer, a title that I will remind you comes with some weight. You are also the son of Goodwyn the Great, and have my reputation in your favor. Perhaps if you stopped squandering all of your time and opportunity locked up in a tower playing house with that- that child, you would realize that scores of woman would be open to a declaration of intention from someone of your station!" Goodwyn was clearly losing his temper, something that normally would make Cedric back down. Instead, he found himself furious at the way his father had not only spoken down to him, but also how he referred to Sofia and the cherished time they spent together.
"Sofia is not a child, and I have no interest in courting women!" He yelled, rising to his feet to glower down at his father in a way that under normal circumstances would be completely uncharacteristic of him. He hadn't meant to join the thoughts like that, as if one had anything to do with the other, but there it was, the words hanging in the air between them.
"Princess Sofia is indeed a child, and one far beyond your grasp. She needs to begin courting princes and kings, and you need to find a suitable wife and concern yourself with continuing our family line!" Goodwyn retorted, meeting his son's eyes and staring intently. Cedric had hit his limit, and without another word, he turned and stormed out of the cottage that would someday belong to him.
