All Of Your Glory, an alfred j. kwak fanfic

All Of Your Glory

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Alfred J. Kwak

"Them men, them gon' fall in love with you and all of your glory.

Your skin is not only dark, it shines and it tells your story.

Keep dancin', they can't control you, they watchin', they all adore you.

If ever you are in doubt, remember what Mama told you."

- Beyoncé, "Brown Skin Girl"

"Winnie? Are you in here?"

"Coming, Mama."

Winnie put down the towels she'd been folding and opened the door. Blanche stepped in, looking around at the little room with an uneasy look on her face. It was the sunniest room in the house, the funny clog-shaped bed was freshly made, and the window opened out onto a tree-lined road and a meadow that, to someone raised in the crowded black duck neighborhoods of Schwarterdam, seemed almost impossibly lush and green.

"This is Alfred's room, isn't it?" Blanche ran one wing over the white bed sheet, smoothing out nearly invisible wrinkles.

"I know. It's so nice." Winnie thought ruefully of all the cramped and dirty places they'd had to squeeze into during their escape from Gooseland. "I told him he didn't have to take the trouble, but he insisted."

"That's actually part of why I wanted to talk to you." Blanche clasped her wings together and looked at her daughter with serious dark eyes. "It's about Alfred."

"What about him?"

"I know you understand as well as I do what a generous thing he did by taking us in. It's been a blessing beyond our hopes, and your father and I couldn't be more grateful."

"Of course, me too. He's been so kind to us."

"Still … " Blanche put both wings on her daughter's shoulders. "I must ask you to be careful about how many favors you accept from him. You're a grown duck, Winnie. You know what I'm talking about."

"Mama!"

Winnie did know. Life was difficult for a black duck in Gooseland, but uniquely so for a black female. There was more than one case she'd heard of where a waitress or housemaid came back from working in the white part of town with a clutch of light brown hybrid chicks and no father to acknowledge them. Building support networks to help families like these was part of her parents' mission. But the idea of comparing her and Alfred to anything like that was so absurd, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"That drake has eyes for you. Anyone can see it. He's going to a lot of trouble to keep you here, and I would feel much easier in my mind if I knew what he expected in return."

Winnie blushed. Alfred's attraction to her was obvious, but in her eyes, it was just as obvious that there was nothing threatening about it. He'd turned bright pink and stuttered over his own name when they'd met, but since then, he'd never tried anything more than to swim beside her or touch her wing. She wasn't sure what she felt for him in return, besides sincere gratitude and tentative friendship, but she did know she was not afraid.

"Would it help," she said, "If I told you he's sleeping in the attic? With Tom, even."

"He is?" Blanche raised her eyebrows in surprise. Much as they loved Tom, they both knew that sharing a room with the rambunctious duckling was no easy task.

"That's right. I don't like to inconvenience him, but he swears he's happy up there." Winnie smiled at the memory of Alfred's emphatic wing gestures as he assured her what a great view of the stars the attic had. He could be rather sweet when he was awkward. "He's been nothing but a gentledrake to me. You don't have to worry."

"I can't help it sometimes, you know that."

Blanche sighed. She was getting older, Winnie couldn't help but notice. Many years of worry had slowed her walk and faded the gloss of her feathers. Qua Wana was a great man, but Blanche had given up a lot to be with him: not just her own safety, but the safety of their children. Only one thing could be strong enough to carry her through the dangerous life she had chosen, and that was love.

"I know, Mama." Winnie hugged her mother tight. "I know."

"My strong, wise, beautiful girl." Blanche smoothed back Winnie's dreadlocks, a gentle touch that recalled the countless times she'd helped her daughter style them. "I trust you to make the right decisions, in life as well as in love. You know you deserve the best, don't you?"

"If I do, it's because you raised me. You're the strongest, wisest, most beautiful woman I know."

From the corner of her eye, she could see their reflections in the mirror: the same brown feathers, broad beaks and curly hair, the same proud tilt of the head from their traditional earrings. The society they lived in told them that no one who looked like this could be beautiful, or deserve anything but scraps, but they knew better.

"Oh, and Mama?" Winnie added, feeling mischievous.

"Yes?

"You can be sure that if I do decide to share a bed with Alfred, it will only be because we both want it."

"Too much information, darling!" Blanche laughed and threw up her wings to cover her ears in mock horror. "I'll leave you to your tidying, shall I?"

She bustled out of the room and left Winnie to herself, humming quietly, organizing her cupboards, and pausing just once to perk up the pink ribbon on her tail. She thought of pale gold feathers gleaming in the sunlight, a bright voice and laughing eyes, and she couldn't help but smile.