Swanoverse 101, for newbies and those who need a refresher (plus a tiny bit of new lore as a treat):

Guide to Rudistani culture:

Rudistan used to be widely considered a nation of savages, and most everyone feared and/or hated Rudistan. This was somewhat deserved, as the kingdom had many bloody wars with their neighbours, including Enchancia. They also had customs that other nations viewed as strange, especially Ohrscherfung ; a coming-of-age ritual in which Rudistani boys get their ears cropped into points when they turn 16.

Things started to improve in the 1700s, with the reign of the "last true King of Rudistan", King Gunnar III, and his advisor and half brother, Prince Ighel. Things took a turn when his daughter and heir unexpectedly died, unmarried and childless, after ruling for under a year. In Queen Hilda III's will, it was stated that she named her new advisor, Anders, as the new king of Rudistan.

King Anders I brought previously unthinkable changes to the kingdom. Up until then, Old Rudistani was the only language spoken natively in Rudistan. However, King Anders decided that nobles should use English. He began to push back against traditions and declared that it was time to modernize the kingdom and be rid of their old reputation. The modernization efforts continued with King Anders' line; King Anders' son, King Leif, decided that English was to be the sole official language of Rudistan, and Old Rudistani was not to be taught in schools, even in towns. Art depicting old traditions was destroyed and edited, and young people were encouraged to forget about the past. King Leif's son, King Karlsson, and his son, the infamous King Magnus, largely maintained the status quo, continuing the efforts at erasing Rudistani culture.

In the Swanoverse, Sofia the First takes place in the 1890s. At this point, only lower-class Rudistanis and those who are very patriotic know much about their culture or can speak the language. However, the kingdom at large is beginning to have enough of this line of what they consider to be illegitimate rulers. There is so much secrecy and corruption in the royal family that no one trusts the king anymore. The young people, especially, are trying to take back their culture and want to overthrow Magnus. Revolution is brewing.

This fic in particular takes place about 6 months after the insurrection, which I have not yet written (oops). But things are pretty stable in Rudistan now.

Guide to my OCs (that appear in this fic)

-Lars (Male, 73 years old): Greylock's father. A decently well-off man from a modernized Rudistani family, Lars is a retired orchestra conductor of great renown. He is the son of Mads the Magnificent, a very respected sorcerer who famously turned down the position of royal sorcerer. Lars had a "tough love" style of parenting that took a toll on Greylock when he was a child, but after his retirement, he's been a lot less uptight.

- Evelina (Female, 66 years old): Greylock's mother. She comes from a poor farming family in a rural village, and grew up speaking Old Rudistani. She learned English as a teen and met Lars on a trip to the city. It was love at first sight, and they were soon married. Anyone who knows her says Evelina is the most loving person they've ever met. Lars was happy to let her share Rudistani traditions with their children, and that she did.

-Viggo (Male, 46 years old): Lars and Evelina's eldest child, and Greylock's older brother. With no interest in magic whatsoever, Viggo pursued his passion for food and became a baker. He owns a well-known bakery in his hometown, where he is loved as much for his cheery demeanour as for his delicious pastries, cakes, and breads. With his job being more lower-class, he has stayed the most traditional out of the three siblings, and is the most fluent in Old Rudistani. Viggo is aromantic asexual, and is repulsed by both romance and sex.

-Agnes (Female, 41 years old): Lars and Evelina's youngest child, and Greylock's younger sister. Agnes followed in her grandfather's and brother's footsteps and learnt magic. She attended Hexley Hall and was in the same year as Cedric. She is stubborn, vibrant, and not afraid to speak her mind. She works as the court sorcerer of Duke Bjorn, the nephew of King Magnus. She is a lesbian and will make sure you know that.

-Prudence (Female, 42 years old): An Enchancian sorceress, Prudence attended Hexley Hall as Greylock's classmate. At the end of their senior year, she and Greylock briefly dated before realizing they were better off as friends. Years later, Prudence and Agnes reconnected at a Hexley Hall alumni reunion (yes, the one mentioned in Baileywhoops), and they hit it off. They have been dating ever since, and now live together. Prudence is sweet, demure, and impossibly beautiful. She is bisexual with a strong prefererence for women.

Small note about Old Rudistani:

This is really just for people who really want the full Swanoverse experience and want to know how to pronounce words in Old Rudistani. You can skip this bit if you just wanted to understand my OCs and backstory.

Old Rudistani is a conlang (constructed language) I made up by combining German with bits of French and Italian, and then flinging in some Dutch and Afrikaans and messing with spelling and grammar and whatnot. It's largely pronounced like German, but more phonetically.

One thing that is relevant (not important, but relevant) here is the sound made by the letter combinations "gh", "gr", and "ck". These combinations make a harsh, phlegmy throaty sound similar to "ch" in Hebrew (as in 'ch allah') or in Scots (as in 'lo ch '). The exact phoneme used in Old Rudistani is found in Dutch (as in ' groot') and is represented by the IPA symbol [ɣ].

This pronunciation rule only comes up in this particular fanfic in the context of Greylock's name. Greylock's mother and siblings speak Old Rudistani, and occasionally pronounce his name in the traditional way. This would be "CH EY-lo ch " or ['ɣeɪlɔɣ] for those who can read IPA. His Rudistani-speaking family also uses the nickname "Greylo" for him, which can be pronounced in English ("GREY-low"/ ['gre ɪlo ʊ]) or in Rudistani (" CHEY-law"/ ['ɣeɪlɔ]). I always indicate which pronunciation is used with italics. No italics = Anglicized pronunciation; italics = Rudistani pronunciation.

Okay, now you have more than what you need to understand what's going on. Hope this fic was worth the history and linguistics lessons!

Cedric knows some things about Rudistani culture— he knows about their love of hedgehogs, their reverence of elves and phoenixes, the ear-cropping and the sweater vests and the Old Rudistani language. Most of his knowledge has been picked up in the seven months he's been dating Greylock the Grand (a fact still surprising in and of itself).

He knows about Metsehte, Rudistan's midsummer festival, in the same way that Greylock had known about Wassailia. He knows of its existence, and he can name some of the things that are done in celebration, but he has no actual understanding of it. Greylock's first Wassailia, which had occurred in very uncertain circumstances in a castle full of strangers, had been a very awkward experience.

Though there will be no political unrest, Cedric expects much the same awkwardness for his first Metsehte.

It was about a month ago when Greylock had told Cedric that he would be going back to Rudistan for a week in July. He'd explained that Metsehte was an important two-night holiday, so he would be visiting his family as well as partaking in the second night's festival.

Cedric had frowned slightly at the prospect of Greylock being gone for a week— since when was he so needy? — but he'd told Greylock that he understood that it was necessary to visit his family.

Greylock had asked, then, if Cedric might like to come. He had been bashful as he made the request, and had told Cedric that his parents would love to meet him.

Cedric had been a little shocked. "Isn't Rudistan extremely, uh…" he'd cleared his throat. "Isn't homosexuality a crime there?"

The older man had nodded. "Yes, unfortunately. But no one needs to know the true nature of our relationship. Viggo and Agnes aren't going to tell anyone, and for everyone else we can pretend we're only good friends."

"I do think we can trust your siblings, but… You don't think your parents will be suspicious of you bringing a 'good friend' home for the holidays?" Cedric had asked, raising an eyebrow.

Greylock had laughed and shook his head. "They still haven't figured out that Agnes and Prudence, who have been living together alone for four years without showing any interest in men, are more than friends. Agnes has even brought her girlfriend over for holidays, and they don't seem to bat an eye. Plus, my parents seem to think all sorcerers have some kind of special bond of brotherhood, like monks or some such."

Greylock had pleaded with Cedric whilst simultaneously trying to tell him that he didn't need to come if he wasn't comfortable. Eventually, Cedric had given in, to Greylock's obvious delight.

When it came time to pack and get ready for the trip, Greylock had asked him again if he was sure he wanted to come. Cedric had expressed his nervousness, but at that point it was much too late to back out.

Now, Cedric is watching Greylock get ready for the trip, and the reality of what's to come sets in on him as Greylock meticulously braids his hair in the traditional northern Rudistani style.

He's about to go to a foreign country where his relationship is punishable by prison, and he's going to meet his partner's parents while keeping said relationship a secret, and then he will take part in a traditional festival about which he knows next to nothing. He suddenly feels a lot more nervous.

Cedric's partner finishes his braids and stands up from his chair in front of the vanity. "There, I'm ready," he announces, smiling at Cedric. He picks up his traditional Rudistani sorcerer's robe, which King Magnus had forbidden him to wear, and puts it on. "How do I look?" he asks in response to Cedric's stare.

The younger man blinks. "Uh…" Greylock wears his shtrickveste on a daily basis as a way to somewhat subtly show his cultural identity, but it is entirely different to see Greylock decked out head to toe in Old Rudistani garb— The braids that show off his pointed ears, the loose-fitted shirt with the embroidered collar and sleeves, the shtrickveste proudly displaying his familienmotif, the robe with elaborate patterns sticked at the cuffs and hem, the baggy pants, the stockings embroidered with a criss-cross pattern, and the painted wooden clogs... Cedric has indeed never seen Greylock dressed like this. He finds it equal parts odd, intriguing, and strangely attractive. "You look very good," he says.

Greylock's smile widens. "Thank you! Now, let's be off! There should be a coach waiting for us."

The shorter sorcerer casts a spell that has their bags floating obediently behind them like dogs as they make their way through the castle. Cedric notices that they're getting quite a few stares from the castle staff, and he can't exactly blame them. Most younger Enchancians have never seen traditional Rudistani garb before, and the older ones would likely only recognize it from the xenophobic propaganda that had circulated up until their youths.

Come to think of it, Greylock looks alarmingly like the men portrayed on such posters. Of course there is his outfit, his hairstyle, and his pointed ears, but his short stature, his high and prominent cheekbones, and his button nose are all stereotypes of how these 'dangerous barbarians' are meant to look. Cedric finds it hilarious that the very features he was taught to fear and mock have become so attractive to him.

The two men make their way outside and sit in the coach that is waiting for them. It is late afternoon, but the sun is still bright and warm. Cedric wonders as always how Greylock is not boiling under his robe and knit vest.

The coachman flicks the reins and they take to the skies. Cedric watches the familiar castle diminish behind him, and he feels another surge of anxiety.

"Greylock," he begins, "How much of your family will I be meeting?"

"It's only going to be my parents, my siblings, and Prudence," Greylock assures him. "I told my parents not to invite anyone else since you're coming."

"Because of your mother's traditional family...?" Cedric hopes that Greylock catches his drift and that the coachman doesn't.

"Oh, no— just so that there won't be a whole crowd of aunts and cousins and what-have-you for you to meet."

Cedric smiles. "Ah. Of course."

A moment passes in silence. "Do you have any other questions, Ced?" Greylock asks.

The Enchancian is unspeakably relieved. "Yes," he admits. "So many. What all even happens at Metsehte? I know you eat venison and cherry pie for dessert, but… That's about the limit of my knowledge."

Greylock chuckles. "It's alright— I'm sure you remember I knew that much about Wassailia going into it. Fortunately for you, the first night of Metsehte is quite relaxed. It's about coming together as a family and celebrating summertime. After dinner, we'll usually play music and sing— that's about it. There's really no big traditions you'll need to be aware of."

Cedric smiles, his nerves substantially abated. "I'm glad to hear that."

Greylock rubs Cedric's shoulder gently. "Don't be nervous. I know my parents will love you."

"Even your father?" Cedric asks.

"Of course! He's a little stern on the exterior, but I know he'll warm up to you quickly."

The Enchancian hopes this is the truth and not Greylock's attempt at calming him.

The rest of the journey to Rudistan goes by with the two men making rather meaningless small talk. Cedric would have been content to pass the time in silence, but Greylock seems to be unable to keep his mouth shut at times like these. The sun is getting lower and lower in the sky.

Eventually, as the sun begins to set, Greylock points out to Cedric that they have crossed the border into Rudistan. His home town of Granezing is closer to Enchancia than the Rudistani castle is, so it is not long before Greylock is directing the coachman on his descent into town.

Cedric's nerves begin to return at full-force as the festive lights of the city grow closer. He shouldn't be this nervous… He has already met Greylock's brother and sister, and of course his old classmate and compatriot Prudence. Only Greylock's parents are strangers to Cedric, and Greylock seems convinced that they will love him... and have no speculations that the Enchancian is romantically involved with their son.

The two sorcerers dismount from the coach, which soon takes off to return to Enchancia. Greylock has a huge smile on his face as he looks at one particular house.

"Here we are," Greylock says, pointing to it. It looks like all the other houses in this upper-class neighbourhood; large and modern and like nothing Cedric has seen in Dunwiddie.

"Do I look alright?" Cedric asks. He's felt underdressed this whole time— these are some of his fanciest clothes, but he feels like he's dressed for the beach as he stands next to Greylock in his traditional outfit.

Greylock takes the opportunity to give him a good once-over, his eyes lingering not-so-subtly on Cedric's waist. "You look spectacular, as always," Greylock declares with a wink.

Cedric blushes at his openness. "Grey, do you want us to get arrested?" he grumbles as he glances around.

"Don't worry," Greylock says. "Only physical acts between men are punishable by arrest, and I have no intention of sodomizing you on my parents' doorstep. Let's go." He leads his now frazzled partner to the front of the house. Greylock takes a breath and knocks on the door.

Almost immediately, the door is opened. Cedric recognizes the thin, brown-haired woman as Greylock's younger sister Agnes. She smiles wide— she has almost the same smile as Greylock— and gives her brother a tight hug.

"Greylo! It's so good to see you!" she says into his shoulder.

"You too, Ness," he replies as he returns the embrace.

Agnes extracts herself from Greylock's hug and faces Cedric. "Great to see you again, Cedric!" she says.

"Likewise," Cedric answers with a nod. Agnes knows him well enough not to hug him.

"Come on in! Mama and Viggo are working on dinner," Agnes says, ushering the two men inside.

Greylock enters, and Cedric follows close behind.

Agnes is wearing something very similar to what Greylock wears, down to the robe. The cut of her shtrickveste is different than Greylock's— it's shorter and more fitted. This is a women's shtrickveste, though she is wearing men's clothing from the waist down.

"Greylock and Cedric are here!" she calls as they make their way inside. Cedric hears various excited acknowledgements from within the house.

They walk through a short hallway which leads to a living room. Prudence is sitting on a couch, and across the room in an armchair sits an older man who, just like the rest of the family, looks startlingly like Greylock. Cedric's stomach leaps slightly as he realizes this must be Greylock's father.

The man puts down his glass of some red-coloured drink and stands.

"Grey! It's been so long— how are you?" He and Greylock meet in the centre of the room. Lars goes for one of those overly masculine one-armed hugs, but Greylock embraces him tightly around the middle, resulting in a slightly awkward collision.

Cedric glances to Prudence and the two Enchancians exchange a short wave. Cedric wonders if she had felt this nervous to meet Lars and Evelina for the first time.

"I'm very well, Papa! How are you?" Greylock replies. Lars is at least half a head taller than his son, Cedric realizes. He also notices that Lars is dressed less traditionally than Agnes and Greylock are; his trousers have a more modern fit, and he is wearing regular stockings.

"I'm just fine, thanks," Lars replies. He pulls away, ending his son's hug rather short. The older man turns his attention to his other guest. His posture straightens and he tilts his head slightly to the side. "And you must be Cedric!" he says, walking a couple paces to stand in front of Cedric.

"Y-yes I am, Sir," Cedric answers. The fact that he sounds nervous is making him even more nervous.

"Oh, none of that," the Rudistani dismisses. "Call me Lars, please." He extends his hand to Cedric.

Cedric shakes it, thankful that he's wearing his gloves so that Lars can't feel how clammy his hand is. "Right. Of course, Sir."

Lars laughs raucously. He turns to Greylock. "Hey, at least he's not calling me 'maestro'!"

Greylock chuckles, discomfort evident on his face.

"Well, I'm very happy to finally meet you, Cedric," Lars says, letting go of Cedric's hand. "Evelina and I have been hearing about you for almost forty years, now; it's about time I put a face to the name!"

Cedric smiles. Lars does seem happy. His bright green eyes have an almost friendly warmth to them. "Oh… Well, I'm glad to meet you, too."

"Where's my favourite brother?" comes Viggo's thundering voice. He rushes into the living room and all but tackles Greylock in a hug.

Greylock laughs and returns the hug. "I missed you, Viggy."

"Missed you more, Hayloft."

Cedric smiles at the nickname. This kind of teasing is a lot funnier when it's not directed at him.

Viggo lets go of his little brother and turns to face Cedric. "And Cedric! Wonderful to see you again!"

The Enchancian nods. "You too, Viggo."

"Eh, come here, Cedric—" Viggo approaches and hugs Cedric tightly. Viggo is almost as tall as Cedric and at least twice as wide, and being hugged by him is like being tackled by a gentle ogre in a sweater vest. Cedric tries not to show his discomfort too much as he is squeezed far too tightly.

When at last Viggo pulls away, he pats Cedric on the cheek affectionately. Cedric feels rather out of sorts.

"Greylock! Ah, there you are, tshats!" comes a woman's voice. Of course, this can be no one but Greylock's mother, Evelina. Cedric would have deduced this anyway from the way she pronounces Greylock's name in the Rudistani way, with the phlegmy fricative at the beginning and end that Cedric has no hope of copying.

The older woman is quite short, and when she hugs Greylock, her face is smushed into his chest. She says something to him in Old Rudistani, but the warmth in her tone transcends the language barrier between her and Cedric. Her love is palpable as she speaks to her son, and Cedric is reminded of his Mum.

Evelina pulls away to hold Greylock at arms' length, and says something else in her mother tongue. Greylock replies and bends down slightly. Evelina touches the braids in Greylock's hair, and compliments them, from the sound of it. She kisses Greylock's forehead and touches his cheek lovingly before she steps away.

Her eyes fall on Cedric and she looks as if she is seeing royalty. She smiles wide— the same smile her children have— and her hazel eyes are alight with glee. "So you're Cedric?" she asks. She has a thicker accent than Cedric had expected; she pronounces Cedric's name like 'Seh-dreek,' with a rolled R.

"Yes. I'm so happy to meet you," Cedric replies, smiling genuinely. Meeting Evelina is a lot less nervewracking than meeting Lars had been. She is beautiful in a way that only good people are, and she radiates genuine kindness.

Her eyes widen slightly in awe, and she shoots a look at Greylock. "You have a lovely accent, Cedric," she says as she faces him again.

Cedric chuckles. "Why, thank you. You do as well."

Evelina takes Cedric's hands, and she looks up at the Enchancian as if he is some kind of God. "With the way Greylo talks about you… I can't tell you how happy I am to finally meet you. and have you over for Metsehte at that!"

The sorcerer is somewhat taken aback by the way she is speaking to him, and he wonders what exactly Greylock has told her. "Thank you for having me."

She lets go and steps back. Her long skirt, embroidered with traditional patterns, shifts with her movement. "Sit down, you two; make yourselves comfortable! Viggo and I will get back to making dinner, now."

"Yes, ma'am!" Viggo says. "Should be ready in about half an hour, at most," he tells the room as he and his mother make their way into the kitchen.

Greylock smiles at Cedric reassuringly and leads him to a loveseat. On their right, Prudence and Agnes are sitting just far enough apart to maintain an illusion of friendship. On their left, Lars sits on his armchair sipping his mystery drink. Cedric stares at it, and it looks remarkably close to the colour of old blood. He briefly imagines that Lars is a vampire, but quickly dismisses the thought lest he start to believe it subconsciously.

"So, your first Metsehte, huh?" Agnes starts. "Did Greylo tell you what all to expect?"

Cedric glances at his partner. "I believe so," he says.

"Did he tell you about the part where we light a big bonfire and dance around it while chanting?" Lars asks.

Cedric's eyes widen and he feels himself turn pale.

Lars bursts into laughter. "I'm just messing with you, Cedric. Gods, you should have seen the look on your face!"

Agnes and Prudence are laughing along with him, but Greylock doesn't seem quite so amused. Cedric smiles awkwardly, and he feels Greylock's knee nudge his own.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?" Lars asks. "Water? Mirtobergin?"

"I'd like some water, please," Greylock says. "If I start with the Mirtobergin now I'll be drunk by twilight." Cedric notices that Greylock says the Rudistani word much more gracefully than his father.

Lars stands. "And for you, Cedric? Ah, I guess you probably don't know what Mirtobergin is… It's a kind of cranberry wine. It's traditional around Metsehte."

"And it's Greylock's greatest weakness," Prudence adds.

Cedric smiles slightly, knowing his partner's fondness for anything with cranberries. "I'd like to try that, then," he says.

"Great choice!" Lars says. "I'll be right back."

Cedric watches as the man makes his way out of the living room. He is somewhat shocked by Greylock grabbing his hand as soon as Lars is out of sight.

"You're doing so well, tesoren," Greylock mutters to him, and kisses Cedric's cheek.

Cedric blushes at how quickly Greylock can change gears.

"If I may," Prudence interrupts quietly, "you might just be more scared of Lars than I was."

Cedric chuckles. "Oh, I probably am."

"But our mother adores you," Agnes adds.

"Gods, does she ever," Prudence agrees. "She loves me and all, but… This is something else entirely."

"It's true," Greylock says, squeezing Cedric's hand again. "But I didn't expect anything less."

Cedric meets his partner's eyes and smiles. He hears a cough from somewhere outside the room and Greylock promptly moves away, leaning back into the loveseat and crossing his arms. Cedric isn't quite as good at acting casual; he finds himself blushing as Lars enters the room carrying two glasses. The man approaches Cedric and Greylock.

"Here you are," he says as he hands both of them their drinks. Cedric manages an awkward 'thank you' as he takes the glass of the no-longer-a-mystery drink.

Cedric takes a sip, aware that his reaction is likely being assessed by everyone else in the room. Fortunately, he quite likes the drink— there is a good blend of sweet and sour, and the taste of alcohol is not overpowering. He nods. "This is very good," he says.

Lars smiles. "Good to know you're a man of taste!" he jokes. He sits back in his armchair again.

The next ten minutes or so are filled with easy conversation— mostly between Greylock and his father, as they catch up. Cedric doesn't feel excluded, though; Lars seems to be making sure of that.

Eventually, Viggo's large frame appears in the doorway. "My dear family and distinguished guests," he starts theatrically, "I am pleased to announce that dinner is ready!"

Various chuckles and expressions of glee arise in the room, and everyone begins to stand. Cedric follows suit, sticking close to Greylock as the group makes their way into the dining room.

It's a few hours after dinner, and it's getting late; were he back at home, Cedric would probably be going to bed. He is most definitely not at home, however— and Greylock's family seems to be content to continue talking and laughing into the night. Cedric realizes that he will probably be spending the night without Greylock in bed next to him… He can't remember the last time that was the case.

He doesn't realize that he's zoned out to that thought until Lars startles him to his senses.

"Cedric, do you smoke?" Lars asks.

The Enchancian blinks, caught off guard. "On occasion," he answers truthfully.

Lars tilts his head to one side and produces a small box of cigars. "Is this an occasion?"

Cedric continues to be surprised. "I… Suppose so; why not." He stands up from his chair.

"Where are you going?" Greylock asks from where he still sits at the piano.

"We're just stepping out for a smoke," Lars explains. "No need to get all nosey, Grey."

Greylock seems pleased. "Oh! Well, then— Have fun!"

Lars smirks at Cedric for a moment before turning to lead him through the house to the back porch. They step out into the night; it's warm, but not oppressively so. Festive decorations are strewn on the fences and houses— the windows of most every home are leaking light from the celebrations within.

Cedric watches as Lars picks a cigar out of the box and extends it to him. He thanks the older man as he takes it. Lars pulls one out for himself and puts the box in his pocket. He reaches into his other pocket and sighs.

"Tcheiss," he curses under his breath, "I forgot my matches. I'll be back."

"No need," Cedric interrupts. He pulls his wand out of his sleeve and points the end at the other man's cigar. "Flameo minimo," he says, and the cigar is lit.

Lars looks impressed. "Ah— thank you, Cedric."

Cedric smiles. "It's no problem." He repeats the spell to light his own cigar before returning his wand to his sleeve.

The older man takes a long drag of his cigar, letting the smoke slowly filter out of his mouth. Cedric follows suit. It's been a while since he last smoked— Greylock is prone to coughing fits if he inhales it even second-hand. The sorcerer supposes he's missed the relaxation that smoking at night can bring him… Though what Greylock brings him at night is a worthy trade.

Lars doesn't speak, and neither does Cedric. It should probably be awkward, Cedric thinks; standing next to his partner's father in complete silence. But it's oddly comfortable. Lars is not like his son in this regard— he doesn't need to fill the air with banter at every moment.

"Cedric," Lars says at length, tapping the loose ashes off his cigar; "I'm not sure exactly how to start this conversation, but…"

Cedric turns pale. He supposes he was too quick to label this situation as 'comfortable'.

Lars sighs. "You and Greylock. You're not just friends, are you?" There is very little question in his tone.

Cedric's eyes widen and his throat goes dry.

"I-I should clarify that I am completely alright with that," Lars adds. "And I don't have any intention of… Reporting you, or some such bullshit."

The younger man feels some relief. "Uh…"

Lars meets Cedric's eyes and awaits some kind of response.

"What makes you… think that?" Cedric manages.

The Rudistani lets out a wheezing bark of a laugh. "Cedric, really… You can drop the act. I've had a hunch since Greylock told me about you in a letter in January. He said you two were just close friends, but it was glaringly obvious he was lying. He's not a good liar, as I'm sure you've noticed. And who brings a 'good friend' home to their parents for the holidays when they're forty-three years old?"

"Agnes isn't quite forty-three, but…"

Lars scoffs. "Oh, please— You expect me to believe Prudence is just Agnes' friend and roommate?! I swear, Grey and Agnes both think Evelina and I are blind."

Cedric is blushing hot.

"You were doing a fine job of being subtle," Lars assures him. "It was Grey who blew your cover. He wouldn't stop looking at you with big googly eyes, and touching you whenever he thought I wasn't looking." The older man chuckles, shaking his head. "So… How long have you two been seeing each other?"

Cedric knows he's been caught, and there's no point in denying it now. He takes a drag of his cigar. "Since December," he answers.

Lars has a victorious look on his face. "That's about what I thought, yeah. He's treating you well?"

The Enchancian can't believe he's having this conversation. "Yes, very."

"Good," Lars says. "I can tell he's head over heels for you."

Silence falls over them again.

A moment goes by before Cedric clears his throat. "And you're not… bothered at all?"

"That Greylock's involved with a man?" he purses his lips and shakes his head dismissively. "Not one bit. I'm just glad he's finally settling down. Besides, you're a better fit for him than any of the girls he's brought home, anyway."

"Greylock has said that he's never told you or his mother that he's bisexual, and that he never will. He's told me that neither of you would accept him," Cedric says, baffled.

"Unfortunately, I know exactly why he thinks that," Lars admits. "If he'd told me when he was a teenager, I would have been livid. Don't think I would have kicked him out or anything, but I wouldn't have taken it well."

"What changed?"

Lars chuckles. "I grew up. I learned things. I used to think that the laws against homosexuality were a good thing, but then I saw too damn many of my colleagues go to prison. I thought I didn't know any homosexuals, but it turns out music runs on them. I realized homosexuals are nothing more than people who just happen to be different." He takes a drag of his cigar. "And the Gods blessed me with three lovely children who are different; Viggo has never wanted to be involved with anyone, Greylock likes men and women, and Agnes likes women. And I learned that these differences mean very little."

Cedric smiles as he exhales, watching a stream of smoke rise into the night sky. "I'm glad to hear that. You know, it takes a lot of strength to change one's views, especially once you get to be a certain age. I wish my father had your strength and your willingness to change."

"Oh? Your father's not as open-minded, eh? I thought Enchancia was supposed to be progressive."

"It… is, in general. But not my father."

"Does he know about you and Grey?" Lars asks.

"No. And I intend to keep it that way as long as possible; he hates homosexuals almost as much as he hates Rudistanis."

Lars chuckles dryly. "Gotcha."

Cedric taps his cigar to dislodge some ash. He glances at the man next to him, and idly wonders if this is what Greylock will look like in thirty years. Putting aside his height, his uncut ears, and penchant for serious expressions, Lars looks quite a bit like his younger son. The whole family, in truth, looks nearly identical. "Are you going to tell Greylock? And Agnes, for that matter?"

"Tell them what? That I accept them?"

"Yes. And that you know about their relationships."

Lars sighs. "I… I don't know. I'm conflicted. Evelina and I have been discussing this for some time."

"She knows, too?"

"Yes; she figured it out long before I did. When I asked her a few months ago if she thought Greylock perhaps saw you as more than just a good friend, she laughed. She told me that Greylock's been in love with you since you were children."

Cedric blushes. "She knew even then?"

"My wife is extremely perceptive. She has a gift; she knows what you're feeling before you do. It's almost scary sometimes."

Cedric chuckles. "Sounds a little like Greylock."

"Yes, but Evelina is ten times worse. It's like being married to a telepath."

"So she doesn't think you should tell your children that they don't have to hide around you anymore?" Cedric asks, getting back to the point.

Lars exhales deeply. Smoke billows out of his nostrils, briefly giving him the appearance of a fire-breathing dragon. "She says that we should wait until they trust us. That we've done something wrong if they don't want to openly give the information."

Cedric frowns. "I see. That makes sense in some ways."

Lars' only response is a grunt.

"Why are you telling me that you know, then?" Cedric asks.

"Because I want you to know that you're safe here. Plus, I told Prudence that I knew about her and Agnes a few years ago, and she was so much more comfortable around me afterwards. "Lars glances at the younger man. "And I want you to stop being so damn afraid of me."

Cedric blushes. "O-oh… I… Thank you." He's not sure that this is the correct response to the situation, but he can't think of anything else to say.

Lars chuckles. "It's alright. When I first met Evelina's father, I almost shat my pants. He was a tiny man… absolutely terrifying, though. Couldn't speak a word of English, but the way he looked at me made his feelings pretty damn clear. Took him years to smile at me."

Cedric smiles. "Now imagine you were dating his son instead of his daughter."

"Yeah, I don't blame you for being nervous. But I want you to know, Cedric… You seem like the right person for Greylock. You're more serious, down-to-earth… That's what he needs. He really, really loves you— I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. So I fully support you two being together and... all that."

The Enhcancian's heart feels warm. He never thought that he would be spoken to like this; he doesn't quite believe he is deserving of such compliments. "Th-thank you, Lars," he manages. "That means so much to me, truly."

Lars nods. "No problem. Just… Don't tell Greylock that we know, alright? That's family business."

"Of course."

When Cedric and Lars return inside, everyone has gone to bed but Greylock. He sits on the couch, obviously waiting for the two men to return.

"There you are," Greylock says as he stands.

"Yes, here we are," Lars teases. He looks at Cedric. "Oh, one last thing; we don't have enough beds for everyone in this house to sleep alone… But I'm sure that you and Grey can figure something out between the two of you." He winks at Cedric. "Goodnight," he says to both men before he turns and heads upstairs.

"Goodnight, Papa," Greylock says.

"Goodnight, Lars," Cedric adds.

Once his father is out of his sight, Greylock turns to Cedric and hugs him tightly, burying his face in the taller man's chest. Cedric returns the embrace eagerly. It's been difficult to keep his hands off of Greylock all this time, especially once night fell.

"I'm so happy," Greylock says. "You've been amazing. Really."

Cedric smiles. "Thanks."

"What did you and my father talk about all that time?" Greylock asks.

"Oh, nothing much," Cedric lied. "Just this and that."

"I guess you two are similarly introverted," Greylock says. He pulls away. "You want to go to bed?"

"I'd love to," Cedric replies.

"Come. We can sleep in my old room," Greylock says, taking Cedric's hand.

The Enchancian blushes. "You don't think your parents will notice?"

Greylock shakes his head, pursing his lips. "No, I really don't. Plus, even if they do, how will they know I didn't sleep on the floor? Or that we didn't just share the bed out of necessity? Prudence and Agnes have been getting away with it for years, anyway."

No wonder Lars and Evelina have figured everything out; their children are horrible at hiding, Cedric thinks. He smiles at his partner. "Alright. I don't want to sleep without you, anyway."

The two men quickly get ready for bed, and soon enough they are snuggling under the covers in Greylock's childhood room. There's something a little odd about that, but Cedric is far too tired to care. He eagerly accepts Greylock's kisses that travel over his face and neck, and he happily meets those warm lips as they cover his own.

They are startled by a knock at the door. Greylock panics and throws the blanket over Cedric as he hears the door open.

"Please tell me you're both decent," Viggo whispers.

"Yes, we are," Greylock says, relief evident in his voice. "What do you want, Viggs?"

Cedric hears the door open and close.

"Greylo , did you seriously try to hide Cedric with a blanket? Doofkon."

Greylock pulls the blanket off of Cedric. "I panicked. Thought you were Mama or Papa for a second."

"Wouldn't have worked for them either, Bedrock."

Greylock sighs. "Viggo, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to make sure you two don't… Do anything. Need I remind you that we share a wall?"

"I know, Viggo. Don't you worry."

"Good. Because it seems our dear sister often forgets." Viggo mimes gagging.

"Gross."

"Indeed. Well, goodnight, you two," Viggo says, putting his hand on the doorknob.

"Goodnight, Viggs," Greylock replies as his older brother exits.

Cedric glances at his partner.

"Sorry about that."

Cedric shrugs. "A reasonable request on his part."

"You'd think, but the man has superhuman hearing. Just watch." Greylock begins to kiss Cedric's neck passionately. He is not being loud, but he is doing nothing to stifle the sounds, either.

"W—?" Cedric jumps as he hears a loud thump on the wall.

Greylock pulls away, chuckling. "Told you."

Cedric can't help but laugh along with him. "It's just as well; I'm too tired to do anything right now."

"Me, too," Greylock says. " And you smell like my father's cigars."

Cedric chortles. "Goodnight, Greylock," he whispers.

"'Night, Ced."

Old Rudistani Translations:

Metsehte =literally "midsummer", a Rudistani holiday.

Shtrickveste = literally "knit vest"; a staple of traditional Rudistani clothing for both men and women. This sweater vest displays a person's familienmotifs.

Familienmotif = literally "family pattern"; a longstanding custom in Rudistan that describes a collection of certain repeating shapes and symbols which tell the story of a person's family.

Tshats = dear

Mirtobergin = literally "cranberry wine"; a traditional drink served during the summer, and especially around Metsehte.

Tesoren = treasure

Tcheiss = shit

Doofkon = idiot