Author's Note
Lest I be slain or imprisoned by my readers (like some other fantasy author who shall remain nameless), please accept this small offering. Getting back into my writing has been somewhat trying while my new house is still in tatters... but I shall prevail! Enough whining though, there is a story to read!
I won't make you wait so long for the next chapter, joliexelizabeth, you have my solemn oath.
-WH
Chapter Seven
When DG's eyes fluttered open again, the quality of the sunlight streaming from her windows had changed from the warm amber of sunset, to the cheerful, pale brightness of morning. A bluebird perched just outside her balcony doors twittered happily at her through the open threshold as if waiting for her, and a breeze wafted through the opening, carrying the sweet tune and a refreshingly cool air to DG's bed.
Not being particularly inclined towards early rising, and waking without Wyatt left DG feeling somewhat less than cheerful, and despite the irony of being awoken like a cartoon Otherside princess, DG could not seem to manage more than a smirk at what she would otherwise find extremely funny. Instead, DG squinted at the bird, murmuring at it before it fluttered away, "I'm up, I promise. Now go wake someone else up, okay?"
The bird's twittering came to an abrupt end, and almost as if it understood her, the azure animal spread its wings and glided away, whistling as it departed. With the bird's departure, DG finally sat up and rubbed her eyes before surveying her room with a determined huff. Her appraisal of the room reminded her that it was moving day, and after expelling another puff of air, she bounded out of bed like a charged spring, aiming herself at the bathroom with the intention of bathing and changing quickly so as to jumpstart her busy day. Once clean and changed into a pair of slacks and blouse reminiscent of her earlier days in the OZ, DG slipped on a pair of comfortable silver slippers and began to empty the dressing room of Wyatt's clothes.
DG stared at the mountain of clothes that she had created on the bed and she huffed loudly. "How does one man have some many clothes?" She grumbled in exasperation under her breath, now realizing that she would not be able to get everything to the new apartments without extra hands.
As if ordained, there was a light knock at her door as DG sighed, and she rushed excitedly to the door to open it, knowing at once that it would be Ana. Ana Davis, DG's most trusted ladies' maid, had been with her since shortly after the siege of the tower. When DG had been exhausted and out of sorts shortly following Az's rescue, it was Ana who had seen to her, when all others had been otherwise occupied. Much to DG's relief, Ana had quickly found work for her instead of treating her as the lost princess, and regarded her more as a comrade than royalty as they worked alongside the other in the resistance meditent, caring for the numerous wounded resistance fighters and prisoners of the Sorceress. DG had come to find out quickly that although Ana had served as a medic for the past few annuals, she had actually trained as a maid. The annuals of struggle in the OZ had given her little opportunity in that line of work though, so her call to service had been put to use elsewhere, and she quickly found herself changing beds and bandages, and offering her compassion to those who resisted the Sorceress. With the fall of the tower, Ana found herself re-employed once more, but now as DG's maid. DG had seen to it as quickly as she could, knowing that at least with Ana as her maid, most of her cultural faux paus would fail to become the subject of court gossip. That had indeed been the case, and short of Wyatt and the rest of their family, DG could think of no other person she trusted more than the young maid.
When DG pulled the door open, finding Ana on the other side, she grinned wide at the woman. DG noted that although the small young woman was a few annuals younger than her, the way her hay colored hair was tied in a bun at the back of her head made her seem almost five annuals older. Her eyes were sharp and quick to react to everything though, and there was a spirited glint in them that was reminiscent of the troublesome royal herself. When she smiled, that sparkle seemed to flare up like a flame, spreading warmth to all within sight of it. DG had found this spirit of Ana's infectious, and in the early days of her reintroduction to the OZ, when DG most doubted herself, she had often sought the young woman's counsel. Today though, DG sought her trusted maid's assistance, and chuckled as she swung the door wide for Ana to enter through, silently amazed at the woman's usually succinct timing.
As Ana stepped inside, she exclaimed breathlessly while a laugh escaped her, "Milady, you're up early."
DG rolled her eyes in reply and scoffed, "Geesh, I've got a bad reputation, don't I?"
"No Milady. You are much beloved. Everyone is just accustomed to your being a bit of a late riser, is all," Ana replied kindly.
DG smirked as a blush formed on her cheeks, and she sighed as she moved towards the bedroom, waving Ana onward, "Well, I'm on a mission, what can I say."
Ana stepped into the bedroom, exhaling heavily as her eyes rested on the mess that DG had created on the bed, exclaiming with amusement, "Oh my. I suppose you'll be needing my help moving the dressing rooms today, Milady?"
DG winced and clasped her hands in front of her body in a silent plea. When Ana smiled and nodded at her, DG's pained plea melted into a large grin, and she bounced to the foot of the bed, "Oh thank you Ana! You're the best!"
Ana laughed and replied, "Well, it is my job, Milady."
DG shrugged as she placed Wyatt's fedora on her head, stating, "Well, that may be so, but I'm doing Wyatt's dressing room, okay?"
Ana chuckled again, amused at DG's insistence, quietly replying as she helped DG gather Wyatt's clothes, "Of course Milady, I'll just help you get these to his office then."
DG nodded with a mock serious expression and proceeded to fill her arms, spurring Ana to follow suit. As she marched out of the room, Ana followed behind silently, amused expression barely hidden by a mask of focused seriousness. While the pair moved silently down the hall, full of quiet intent and focused on not dropping the articles in their heavily laden arms, DG silently prayed that Az, Ambrose, and Raw were just as equal to Ana in the timeliness of their appearance. Although she had happily taken on the chore of nesting in Wyatt's absence, wrangling Wyatt's clothes while managing her growing belly was a stark reminder of the day previous. Despite maintaining her usual level of activity, reminiscent of a perpetually spinning top, DG could feel that her energy levels would take another hit without some help, and she was beginning to wonder how much she could truly still do on her own without having another dizzy spell. DG silently wondered at this particular development in her pregnancy, uncertain if it was a normal turn of events, or if it indicated anything greater that she should be concerned about. DG pondered whether she might ask her mother, or Azkadellia about her symptoms, but quickly shoved her worry aside when the princess growing within her seemed to intuit DG's train of thoughts and shifted as if in response.
The flutter in DG's stomach gave her momentary pause, and DG murmured quietly, "Give mom a break today, okay kid?"
After another flutter, the small girl seemed to settle, allowing DG to take a deep, steadying breath while she paused to reposition her load for the remainder of the trip. Her unborn child's shifting had had the positive effect rearranging DG's thoughts away from her needless worrying, and after that, the walk was relatively short. After turning a corner, DG's eyes were met with the sight of three angels of mercy, and she grinned happily at her friends as she approached. Az and company were, indeed waiting and turned to DG with expectant smiles as she and Ana came into view.
"I'm impressed," Az spoke as she rose from her chair next to the door, smirking at DG.
"Nice hat, looks like Cain's," Glitch pointed at DG's head as she drew near.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," DG muttered as she stopped before the doors, "well, come on men, open the door for a girl, will you?" DG commanded in a husky voice, shifting the weight in her arms while she waited.
Raw opened the doors wide to allow DG and Ana through, and they entered first, followed closely by the enlisted help. DG marched through like a general leading her soldiers, and her face was screwed into a determined frown while she struggled to keep the clothes overflowing from her arms from falling as she walked across the sitting room to Wyatt's office door at the other end of the long room. The French doors to Wyatt's office were thrown wide, and DG turned to her left as she entered, crossing directly to a large brown leather sofa that sat against the wall between the dressing room and the bathroom. DG deposited the stack of clothes on the sofa unceremoniously and turned to survey the room with a smile.
Wyatt will be so thrilled, DG thought happily as her eyes scanned the room. The palace workers had placed Wyatt's desk on the wall opposite the doors, so that Wyatt would have a direct line of sight when someone entered the room. DG smirked at this small detail; she had been adamant on the placement of the desk, knowing that Wyatt would want to see the approach of anyone entering his office. Leisure could not change the cautious nature of the man, and even after having been subjected to the luxury of royal life, Wyatt still managed to maintain his hawk-like tendencies with almost ardent fervor. He'd be pleased by this observation at the very least, and DG took some pleasure in her own ability to read the silent man. DG turned her attention to the other additions to the room, judging their placement before any personal touches could be added by her friends. On either side of Wyatt's desk stood his matching bookcases, which were massive and made from a wood similar to what DG thought might be oak. On the opposite wall sat a small credenza that DG had decided would serve well as a wet bar. The doors to Wyatt's private balcony were directly ahead of DG, and the curtains, a deep blue that would block out light if Wyatt wanted to take a nap, were pulled closed. DG smiled warmly when, without having to be asked, Ana turned directly to them and pulled them open to let in the morning suns. DG blinked furiously as her eyes adjusted to the increase of light, and she continued to passively gaze around her until this quiet survey of the room was interrupted by exclamations from the next room. Az and company had been distracted in their task when they entered the room, and they stood in the center of the empty room, transfixed by DG's mural.
"Woah, Deeg, this is beautiful!" Azkadellia murmured, gazing at the wall.
"Very lifelike," Raw nodded in agreement, and he reached forward, almost touching the wall in awe.
DG stepped through the doors and loitered, chewing her lip nervously, "Do you think he'll like it?"
"Dollface, he'd have to be really dense if he didn't love it," Glitch laughed, crossing to DG and taking her hand in his, "You've done a fantastic job."
"Aw, thanks Glitch," She blushed, taking the man into a half hug as they continued to admire her work.
Behind DG was a small cough, and DG turned to see Ana standing in the door of the room, expectant smile on her face, "Since the sitting room is complete for the most part, would you like me to ask the workers to begin bringing the furniture in, Milady?"
DG gasped with overflowing excitement and replied, "Oh, yes, please Ana," as Ana moved past her and headed for the hallway, DG reached forward, remembering something else, "Oh, and Ana. After you and I finish the dressing rooms, let's do the bathrooms next. I want to sleep here after today if I can." Ana grinned and nodded, before she turned quickly to sweep out of the room. Once Ana was gone, the determined look on DG's face returned, and she clapped her hands together to get everyone's attention. "Okay soldiers," she proclaimed, "Let's get a move on fixing the General's office, shall we?"
DG turned on her heels, leading her sister and friends through the door. One by one as they entered the room, DG handed out boxes and orders, setting Az and Glitch to unpacking Wyatt's books and arranging them on his bookcases. To Raw, DG assigned the wet bar, handing him a box of crystal ware that they had received as a wedding gifts, as well as Wyatt's accoutrements from his office. DG, meanwhile, went directly to arranging the clothes in Wyatt's dressing room, feeling that such a personal task could only be done by herself rather than any other. She swept in and out of the dressing room, Wyatt's fedora still perched on her head, whistling as she worked. The minutes passed by quietly until a chuckle from Ambrose punctuated the otherwise peaceful quiet, causing all else to turn and spy the man. Ambrose, who had paused from his own efforts at the bookcase on the other side of Wyatt's desk, was studying the books that he was supposed to be putting away in usual headcase fashion.
"Huh, who've thought that the Tin Man liked cooking," Glitch muttered. He then realized he had an audience, and chuckled, going further, "I mean, law books are no real surprise," he jested, waving a heavy volume of Central City ordinance laws in the air, "but I thought his only hobbies were glowering and brooding. Not woodworking and cooking."
DG smiled to herself, enjoying the little details of Wyatt that she had gleaned over the past two annuals. She too had been surprised by the Tin Man's love of cooking and had been thoroughly impressed when he had presented her with breakfast on their first morning together in Kansas. It seemed that the rough and tough law man had a soft side, and she felt fortunate to be one of the lucky few to be able to see it. DG smiled a secret smile, allowing the warmth of her feelings to wash over her, if only for a moment. Although not generally given to bouts of sentimentality, finding the feelings distracting and bringing her alarmingly close to a depressive state, DG's mood had been unusually dour since Wyatt's departure, and these small interludes seem to oddly brighten her spirit for once. As they all returned to furnishing Wyatt's office, DG took off Wyatt's fedora and admired it. While DG ran her fingers along the brim of the brown felt lovingly, she felt a tug at her heart as she recalled the eyes that normally appeared below that brim. DG crossed to the door of the room while she gazed down at it, where Wyatt's coat rack stood, and hung the hat up over Wyatt's duster. She huffed as she gazed at the fedora, irritated by the niggling worry in the back of her mind. It was not in the Princess' nature to sit on the sidelines, and although she would give anything to follow after Wyatt, he had been right to ask her to stay behind. Even so, fighting her natural inclination was difficult, and she felt as if she might leap from her skin at any moment. Although happy in her self-assigned chore, settling their living quarters seemed like a menial task by comparison to what Wyatt might be doing right now, and DG found it difficult to maintain the guise of acceptance. Her thoughts seemed to constantly drift on her absent husband, and she itched to learn something of his progress almost as much as she wished she could forgo palace life.
As if some force in the universe had been reading DG's thoughts, Gates suddenly appeared in the open door, his face unreadable as he held forth two envelopes for the princesses. "Highnesses," he announced himself with a small bow of his head, "these just arrived for you."
DG reached forward to take the letters, eyes wide and hopeful as she asked, "Who are they from Gates? Wyatt?"
Gates shook his head and replied quietly, "No ma'am, I wish they were, but they do seem to be from friends of your'n and your sister at least. Passed muster fine, so they're safe, ma'am."
DG nodded her understanding while she swallowed down her disappointment. Gates, meanwhile, exited quietly, looking sheepish for having disappointed the princess. DG was oblivious to this, and looked down at the envelopes, curiosity beginning to bubble over as she turned to face her sister. The envelopes were simply addressed: one for "Azkadellia Amanda Sewel-Gale, Princess Royale," and the other for "Dorothy Glenda Gale-Cain, Princess," with nothing extraordinary about either the handwriting or the envelopes to clue DG in on the mystery. When she looked up to hand Az's correspondence to her, her eyes met her sister's to find Azkadellia similarly puzzled.
"I haven't gotten letters from friends once since the tower," Azkadellia scoffed as she took the envelope from DG and examined the outside while continuing to muse, "besides, all of my friends are here, Deeg. This doesn't make any sense."
DG chewed on her lip while she continued to stare at the envelope, backing up to the couch to deposit herself heavily while she began to open the contents. She'd only just begun to unseal the envelope when she glanced up at Raw, who had been worrying with his hands since Gates' arrival and was avoiding looking at the contents in DG and Az's hands. "Raw," DG spoke darkly, "What is it?"
Azkadellia and Ambrose now paused and turned towards the viewer, whose agitation had grown exponentially with DG's acknowledgement, and was now whimpering quietly as he paced. When DG began to call out to him once more, the man shook his head as if unwilling to speak, but padded over to Azkadellia all the same and placed his furry hand over hers, which still held the envelope unopened. His eyes shut in concentration and finally, after a moment, he dropped Azkadellia's hands and spoke in a low, calming voice, "Author someone you know, Princess. Gates wrong though, not friend. Letter not dangerous, you can read." He then moved to DG and crouched before her, and after repeating his motions once more, his warm eyes met hers and he spoke, "Also not friend, but DG can read letter. Be careful, DG, author try to make trouble. Want to worry Princess."
DG held Raw's gaze for a few moments longer, puzzled still and worry already pervading where the viewer hoped that it would not. Anger seemed to boil over in a flash; someone had to have known that Wyatt had left the palace and had intentionally waited until then to send their troubling correspondence. Someone was watching them, she reasoned, and was using Wyatt's absence to toy with them. Despite Raw's warning, the track of DG's thoughts only led her directly to worry, and that worry spurred her into action quicker than any twister on a hot Kansas night. Her fingers seemed on automatic pilot now, and they finished ripping through the paper in her hand, tearing the letter from its casing. DG scanned the paper hurriedly, while she fought a growing sense of panic. The letter itself would have passed any screener; its contents mundane and seemingly cordial, but it chilled DG to the bone:
Dearest Princess,
I want to congratulate you for all of the blessings that seem to be raining down on you and your family. How thrilling it must be to be reunited with your parents and sister and find love and family of your own in only two short annuals. It is as if Ozma herself is smiling down on you and the rest of the Gale family. Oh, how I wish that light would shine down on me as well!
I was concerned, however, to hear of your bouts of vertigo recently – and with your valiant husband absent, no less! I pray that you and your growing progeny are well, and that Sir Cain will return soon. I am certain you will rest easier with him home again, and all will be well. With hope, we will see each other soon. I'd like very much to see if you are as much like your namesake as I've imagined, and I am curious to know what Sir Cain looks like with a beard!
I will wait patiently until then.
Sincerely,
Ruggedo R. Boulderstone
The color left DG's cheeks as she read, and all of her nerves seemed to collect in the pit of her stomach as she neared the end of the note, where the author mentioned Wyatt's changed appearance. Very few people had seen Wyatt in the days following Eclipse Day, and those that had were either with him on his journey or in the room now with DG. Worse yet, she'd told no one about her dizzy spells, save Gates. DG sprung from her seat with this thought and darted for the doors, suddenly oblivious to all as she called out, her voice high and wavering, "Gates, can you come into the office, please?"
DG rounded back to the room while she waited on Gates to appear, pacing like a caged animal with her eyes to the ground while she chewed on her lip. When Gates appeared moments later, he shut the door noiselessly behind him at the sight of his mistress' distress, and in doing so, turned back to DG to ask in concern, "Yes highness?"
DG held out the paper with a shaky hand and replied in a deathly quiet voice, "Please read this, Gates."
Gates was visibly confused, but in meeting the Princess's eyes, his confusion morphed into concern, and he took the letter from the Princess. When he'd scanned the paper and looked up again, the confusion was back and DG spoke again, her voice now rumbling with barely contained fury, "No one knew about my dizzy spells, Gates, except you."
Gates swallowed hard and nodded, adding quietly, "and only a handful of the staff saw the General before he left, ma'am, and we're all under strict orders to keep everything with respects to him under wraps. No one's said a word, ma'am, least of all me. I thought about talkin' to your sister or the Queen about your spells if I thought you needed me to, but I swear –"
DG put up a hand to stop the man, whose own agitation seemed to mirror her own, and she took a deep breath before assuring him, "It's okay, Gates. I don't think you're a spy, but if you don't mind, I'd like Raw to check you. Make sure no one's using you, is that okay?"
Gates nodded his agreement, at which point DG turned to Raw, her eyes sharp as daggers as she asked for his consent wordlessly. The viewer nodded gravely in return and moved towards the towering man, placing a hand on his chest as he rumbled, "Raw know if you speak lies. Can't hide."
Gates nodded his understanding and took a sharp breath as the viewer touched him, sending a sharp, burning sensation through his chest where Raw's fingers made contact with him. It took only a moment, but when the viewer stepped away, Raw seeming less concerned, causing Gates and DG both to exhale in relief, and DG collapsed onto the couch as she pondered aloud, "Okay, so if you didn't tell anyone, Gates, how does this Ruddego know so much about me and Wyatt?"
"Don't rightly know ma'am, but I intend to find out. With your permission, I'd like to take your letter to General Jinjur. She needs to know about the breach." Gates answered gravely, punctuating his comment by waving DG's letter in the air.
Azkadellia scoffed in response and stepped forward, handing Gates her letter as she spoke, "Well, you might as well give her this one too." DG looked up at her sister; her eyes clouded in silent question, to which Az responded, "that letter had to be written by Vizor. I'd recognize his writing style anywhere."
"Let me guess, he knew things about your pregnancy that you haven't told anyone, except maybe Ambrose?" DG asked, her words dripping with sardonic fury.
Azkadellia's jaw hardened and she nodded curtly. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but when tears began to choke her, she waivered, and Ambrose placed an arm around her waist to steady her, answering quietly in her stead, "The medicoats don't believe your sister should have any more children after this, Deeg. They're already afraid that her heart might stop with this one as she progresses further. We just found out. We hadn't even told your parents yet."
The words, as they spilled from Ambrose, seemed to break the dam in Azkadellia, and she burst into a fit of unhappy tears. Her body seemed to shrink, as her shoulders dropped, and she struggled to remain upright. Ambrose, still supporting her, tightened his grip on her waist as he led her to the couch, gently helping her down to sit next to her sister. As her sister slumped onto the couch, DG placed an arm around her and cooed softly, "Oh Az, I'm so sorry."
DG's other hand caressed her sister's face as Az buried herself in her sister's embrace. A soft light seemed to engulf the women, and both women seemed to visibly calm while the contact remained intact. Ambrose and Raw, meanwhile, crouched before the princesses, offering their support in silence while Gates stood nearby, becoming visibly more and more incensed on behalf of the royals before him. When Az's tears finally subsided, she sat up and sniffled while looking up at Gates with watery eyes, calmly asking, "Gates, my letter was signed only 'a friend.' I need to know, did these letters come together?"
Gates straightened with Azkadellia's question, and the man answered firmly, "I believe they did, Your Highness."
Azkadellia held her chin with a certain regal air, nodding her understanding, and DG spoke firmly, "Well that's settled then, Gates. Please take both letters to General Jinjur, and could you get a message to Wyatt about it as well?"
Gates seemed to deflate with the question and answered sadly, "No ma'am, not 'til the General checks in. We won't rightly know where to send a message 'til then." When DG's face fell, he added hopefully, "I'm sure the General will want a warnin' sent when he does though."
DG nodded her understanding and replied quietly, "Thank you, Gates. You can go."
Gates bowed lightly to the women and offered kindly before he left, "I'll take my leave Highnesses and I don't you worry none. Between me, Lord Ambrose, and Master Raw, we'll make sure nothin' will happen to you nor those precious babes. There's extra guards already posted outside these rooms, and General Cain made sure to assign extra guard detail while he's away. Ain't nothin' gonna happen."
DG and Azkadellia offered the kind man a set of graceful smiles in response, which they maintained until the gentle giant departed, closing the office doors gently behind him. After a pause, DG finally let out a sigh as she slumped into the couch cushions, grumbling, "Yeah, nothing will happen here, but what about Wyatt? Whoever this Ruggedo is, he knows that Wyatt isn't here, he knows that he changed his appearance, and I'm going to take a wild guess that he and Vizor are buddy-buddy given the timing of both of our little love letters." DG paused her rant to throw her hands over her face and she groaned loudly. Azkadellia, meanwhile, rose from her seat and paced the floor, leaving Ambrose and Raw to stand aside and watch in bewildered silence as the sisters pondered their conundrum. DG threw her hands down and huffed in a petulant voice, "I hate this! Isn't there any way we can get a message to him? Bloodhound? Smoke signals? Bat light?"
Ambrose seemed to consider DG's question seriously but seemed to come up empty and shook his head sadly. This seemed to incense DG further, and she growled, "Ugh, I just can't take this! He's probably walking into a trap and I have no way to tell him!"
Azkadellia stopped and replied, hands resting on her hips as she chided her sister gently, "Well, unless you've found a way to enchant your slippers to transport you to him, I don't see how worrying about it is going to help the situation."
DG sat up from her seat and asked in sudden curiosity, "Can we do that, you think?" She gazed down at her slippers thoughtfully, wondering how that might work.
Azkadellia shook her head furiously and cried warningly, "oh no, little sister. I know that look. No more adventures!" DG sensed a familiar lecture, which only indicated that she was on to something with her line of questioning, and she sat forward on the edge of the couch, eyes suddenly eager. Az fiddled with a curl and finally added hesitantly, "but, um, sorry. No."
DG was visibly crestfallen and sighed heavily. Rather unexpectedly however, her curiosity was stoked again by the unexpected interruption of the absentminded advisor, "Correction, you could, but you probably shouldn't."
"Ambrose!" Azkadellia hissed, turning to glare at him, to which he shrugged in surprise. When Azkadellia mouthed the words, "Someone could be listening," his eyes widened, and his hand clapped over his mouth in silent shock.
DG seemed oblivious to Azkadellia's silent warning and interrupted, eager to hear more, "Why not?"
Azkadellia was getting impatient with DG and Ambrose and dived headlong into a soliloquy on the subject with a loud, annoyed sigh, "DG, it can be dangerous if enchanted items get into the wrong hands. Ozma the Great banned the practice ages ago, as well as most magical use without first becoming licensed by the crown or the Temple of Ozma. When the practice was outlawed, most of the known magical relics were rounded up and housed for safe keeping ensuring that they didn't get into the wrong hands again." Azkadellia sat on the edge of the desk and continued thoughtfully, "Besides, even if you could, Ozma was really the last known mage to really be able to do any significant enchantments, and she didn't exactly pass her knowledge on to anyone for a reason."
DG leaned back on the cushions and chewed on her lip thoughtfully, "So I could then, if I knew how, right?"
Az shrugged and replied, "Sure, I guess, but you'd have to figure it out on your own. That by itself could be dangerous too, you know."
DG sighed heavily, feeling defeated. She knew Azkadellia was right and had enough sense at this point in her life to listen to the wisdom of her elder sister, but there still remained important questions. "Okay, so I can't enchant my slippers to take me to Wyatt, and I can't send a travel storm or anything else to warn him or bring him back since we don't know where he is, but how do we know that Vizor and his pal don't? They seemed to know a lot already without too much help. What are we supposed to do, sit on our hands and wait for the bottom to fall out?"
Ambrose let out a bright chuckle and his eyes roved the ceiling as he replied, "Oh I don't know. Trouble finds Wyatt one way or the other, and he always manages to get by. Besides, he's not alone, and between them and Cain's bad attitude, I'll bet he'll manage just fine. I bet he'd even scare off a hungry papay just by looking at it sideways."
DG smiled kindly as she stood and patted the man on the shoulder in solidarity. "Thanks Glitch," she spoke softly in reply.
Ambrose offered DG a dimpled smile, pulling her into a warm hug at the sight of DG's barely maintained calm, cracking under the weight of her unshed tears. DG shuddered in Ambrose's arms, feeling at once how safe she was among her friends and behind the palace walls, and exposed all the while for the private parts of her life being told back to her by a stranger, as if said person was relaying the weather. While DG allowed herself a moment of comfort with her brother, she swallowed down the fact that Azkadellia was right. Worry would not help Wyatt, and any action taken on her part would be fruitless while his whereabouts were unknown. For now, she knew she would have to trust in Wyatt's ability to care for himself, as Ambrose had said, and hope that he would smell a trap before he found the net falling down around him.
With that settled in her mind, DG was left with only one solution: work. DG finally pulled herself away from Ambrose's embrace, and while swiping a tear away, she laughed, "God I'm a hormonal mess. Thanks Glitch, I needed that." She offered Ambrose and the others a watery smile before continuing, "Well, what are we standing around for? We've got an office to put together before Wyatt gets back!"
DG went back to work with renewed fervor, determined now to finish her task without distraction while she considered her conundrum. The work went quickly, and as the morning became lunchtime, DG and her cohorts stood at the threshold of the room, admiring their work. Wyatt's office seemed to have been transported, with a few extra touches from the Princess. DG smiled fondly at the painting of Finaqua that she had done cycles before, now framed and hanging over the couch. Wyatt's own handiwork, a large wooden five-point star, made of different kinds of wood, hung over his desk, and pictures of Adora, Jeb, and DG sat on the credenza next to the crystal bar set. Wyatt's table lamp, which DG could swear was borrowed from Tiffany, had been turned on, and cast a warm glow around the room.
"Looks great doll, but I'm starved. How about we break for lunch?" Glitch exclaimed, rubbing his stomach to silence it.
Azkadellia nodded in agreement and proclaimed, "He'll love it sis, you've done great." Then, as she reached forward to embrace her sister in parting, she continued, "We'll see you later, okay?" DG nodded in agreement while allowing Azkadellia to wrap her in her arms, where Az added in a whisper, "Just be careful, little sister, don't forget that we're being watched." DG hummed in affirmation as they separated, and she gave her sister a knowing look before following them to the threshold of the room.
The door shut noiselessly behind Azkadelia and Ambrose, and when DG turned to look on the room before her, a small glimmer of satisfaction made its way past the dark cloud hanging over her head. The breakfast area and sitting room had gone through a fair amount of changes in the past few hours, as the workers had brought in Wyatt's round breakfast table and chairs whilst the other had been working in Wyatt's office, and they sat in front of the balcony doors at the end of the room, bathed in light from the unadorned glass. The sitting room now had more closely resembled its namesake, and furniture consisting of a long blue art deco styled couch and two matching armchairs flanked the large hearth. A coffee table sat on the rug between these pieces of furniture, making it a tempting spot to retire to, were it not for the boxes that littered the floor. Although DG allowed a miniscule smile to peak through, beginning to feel as if she had her own space, Wyatt's absence felt even more acute for the foreboding that weighed on her spirit.
Raw, of course, need not have asked the princess what weighed on her spirits, and silently came forward, his face sympathetic and warm. Without a word, Raw ushered DG onward to another set of tasks, like a shepherd leading his flock. DG was grateful, and silently eased into arranging her bedroom, with her compassionate friend at her side. DG and Wyatt's bedroom was a mirror of Wyatt's office, with tan walls and deep blue curtains to block out the light from the double doors of the private balcony. In the place of Wyatt's couch though, was a king-sized sleigh bed, with a cushioned bench at the end and two matching side tables with lamps for low evening light. In the corner closest to the door of the room, two comfortable electric blue armchairs sat, flanking a small game table where one might play a game of chess or cards. A vanity sat centered on the far wall, mere steps from the door to DG's dressing room, where DG's clothes had been masterfully arranged by Ana already.
In DG's rapidly deteriorating state of mind, finding most of the work already done in the space worked as a pressure relief valve, and the speed with which she moved about this space slowed while DG arranged the smaller items – DG's easel and supplies soon appeared opposite the sitting area, and a framed sketch of Wyatt, which DG had done during her sojourn to Kansas, was propped on the small cabinet where her supplies were stored.
Wyatt's quilt lay draped over the back of one of the chairs in the sitting area, as well as a painting of DG, which Wyatt had pestered DG to create after she had created almost a book of sketches with him as her subject.
"It's only fair that I get one of you, since you have so many of me," he had complained to her one morning as they sat eating breakfast weeks before their wedding.
DG had begrudgingly agreed to the painting, and had decided to make it a wedding present, reasoning that if she did a good enough job on the one, he wouldn't ask her for another. Even now as she studied the painting in Raw's hands, she couldn't fathom why anyone would find the subject any good, while Raw smiled shyly at the painting, finding the study of DG revealing of her true beauty. DG's face and torso were in the foreground of the painting, and her bare arm crossed over her chest, clutching her shoulder as she gazed downward at something out of sight of the viewer. Her expression was serene, and a mysterious smile peaked at the edges of her mouth. Her long curls floated about her shoulders, and the background was a hazy blue reminiscent of her own eyes.
After assisting DG with the arrangement of these small details for some time, Raw hugged the Princess and said goodbye for the day, seeming reluctant to leave her, but cognizant of her now-visible fatigue. Her face seemed shadowed, and apart from the growing mound of her belly, the rest of her body had become almost emaciated. It was as if DG's very essence was being drained, and despite her wish to continue, DG could not argue with the viewer's concern, promising at their parting that she would rest instead. Raw accepted DG's promise hesitantly, eying her with almost matronly concern when he rumbled, "DG must eat. Rest. Tin Man be mad at Raw if he doesn't take care of Princess."
"Raw," DG sighed, "I promise you, no more work today." Her arm snaked through the Viewer's and she began to walk him towards the sitting room, continuing with a wave of her hand in the direction of the breakfast table, "Look, Ana's even left me a tray of sandwiches and fruit, and I bet that pitcher's got some sort of lemonade in it. I'll eat some dinner, and then I'll go to bed." She stopped them before the outer doors and placed a hand on either of his shoulders, repeating once more for good measure, "I promise."
Raw's warm, feline-like eyes locked with DG's, and he eyed her cautiously before he finally huffed through his nose and nodded, adding, "Ok DG. Raw go now. Goodnight."
Whilst the viewer slipped out the doors, DG replied quietly before shutting them, "Goodnight, Raw. See you tomorrow."
DG had just turned back to the breakfast table and was just about to inspect her choice of sandwiches when there was a light rap at her door. DG thought it might be Ana with more boxes, or Raw deciding that he didn't buy her assurances, and she was wholly unprepared for her true visitor. When she swung the door open, a squeak of surprise escaped her, and she sucked in a large amount of air to find her mother standing on the other side, clutching a stack of what she recognized as records in her arms, her face uncertain and worried. Behind her, one sheepish looking guard struggled with a gramophone machine, whose audio horn was crafted of gleaming brass with detailed scroll work etched into the metal of the horn.
"May I come in?" Her mother inquired, her tone sounding polite and cordial, but her eyes belying her uncertainty.
DG was tired, but suddenly found energy again, excited to reveal her apartment to her mother, and she took an overlarge step back to allow her mother through, her smile suddenly bright and genuine. The guard wrestling the gramophone came in only long enough to deposit the machine on a table sitting off to the side of the fireplace, and after positioning the gramophone on the center of the tabletop, he exhaled in less-than professional relief before he bowed and departed, closing the doors silently behind him.
Now alone, the Queen's face broke into a delighted grin, and she held the records out to DG for her to take. DG was dumbfounded, and took the records, examining each folder in turn in a slow procession as her mother spoke. "Your father and I wanted you to have these as; oh, what did he call it? A house heating gift." The Queen explained.
DG laughed and replied, "Housewarming." DG gasped as she realized that her mother had handed her a vintage album of Fleetwood Mac's Rumors. DG turned the folder over to examine the songs on the LP, growing steadily excited.
Lavender gently pried the LP out of her daughter's hands and sighed, "Oh, this one is my favorite. Your father gave me my own annuals ago. I told him that I thought you would like it as well. You used to dance around my dressing room to this one."
The Queen turned around and placed the LP on the record stand and turned it on. She obviously knew how to use the machine and expertly turned the dial on the top of the base to adjust the volume so that they could listen while they talked. DG sighed happily, having missed this music in the past annual. She hugged the remaining LP's in her arms and plopped down on the couch to examine the rest.
Her mother sat down with her, and they examined her other gifts, allowing small gasps of excitement to escape them as they bonded over the musical anthology. There was a collection of Neil Young, and another of Ella Fitzgerald, and as DG moved to the last two albums, and recognizing the artists, she looked on her mother with some confusion.
"Mother, when did Dad get these?" DG asked as she held out LP's of the Black Keys and Florence and the Machine.
Lavender looked somewhat guilty, and fidgeted with her hands before she answered, "While you were away in Finaqua, Darling. Your father went over to get them. He seemed to feel it important that you have them, to make you feel more at home. They're not bad, are they?"
Lavender expected some outrage from DG, given that DG had been prone to emotional outbursts in the past few days. Instead of outrage, Lavender was met with an overjoyed, bubbly daughter. "No! They're great!" DG exclaimed as she hugged the albums to her chest protectively. DG wiped her eyes and laughed, "You know, I think the mood swings are worse that the morning sickness. Who knew records could make me cry!"
The women both laughed, only stopping to breathe and listen to the music now floating on the air around them. When DG's stomach rumbled angrily, DG's eyes widened, and she stifled a giggle for the volume of her apparent hunger.
Lavender also noted the noise emanating from her daughter, and she patted DG's knee knowingly as she stood and walked over to the table behind them. The gentle woman smiled to herself as she moved away from DG, coming back shortly with the tray of food in hand, which she placed on the coffee table in front of them. In another trip, she came back with two glasses of lemonade and a placemat under her arm. After laying the placemat out, she set the glasses down and handed a plate to DG. With a sweet smile, she presented the tray to DG, who silently took a sandwich and handful of strawberries, popping one into her mouth with a delighted groan.
Lavender chose her own sandwich and dug in with abandon. DG watched her mother for a moment before she began to eat, noting the similarity to herself that she so rarely saw when they were at a meal with others present. DG understood then, this was her mother in her most natural state. Glitch had been right after all; Lavender Gale was indeed like DG. Rather, DG was like her mother, although her mother seemed to have found a way to tame her rough edges over the annuals. DG wondered to herself if it was possible that she might actually grow into the graceful, stately woman that sat before her. Watching her mother devour her sandwich, ignoring the mustard that the morsel had left behind at the corner of her mouth, she found some solace that it might be possible. Lavender seemed unusually quiet, DG noted, for being the one to initiate their visit, and DG grew steadily uncomfortable at this intentional quietude, until she finally sighed heavily and met her mother's gaze.
"Okay, I give. You heard about the letters; I take it." DG grumbled, sounding almost petulant.
Lavender took her time answering and dabbed the edge of her mouth before taking an overlarge sip of the lemonade in her hands. She finally nodded and answered carefully, "Yes, DG of course I did, and I'm just as troubled as you are. That said, I trust in our husbands' rather unusual proclivity for both finding and keeping themselves out of trouble. I also have a good deal of faith in our new General. You and I can do nothing more on that front for now, my love." The Queen placed a finger to her lips as she said this, quietly indicating to her daughter her knowledge of the full subtext of the letters, and her intent to remain tight lipped on some matters.
DG frowned, nodding with reluctant understanding for the hopelessness of her situation. Her eyes remained on the Queen meanwhile, and while Lavender maintained eye contact, DG pondered the elusiveness of a straight answer from the woman. Obviously, there was something on Lavender's mind that she wished to discuss with DG, but she seemed unwilling to put it into words, almost inviting DG to confess to some secret that she perceived her daughter to be hiding. DG frowned again, recalling similar interactions with her mother long before DG's unfortunate encounter with Malfalba in the ancient cave all those annuals ago. Her mother was an expert interrogator of princesses, DG thought to herself, and she hadn't even uttered a syllable.
"Mother," DG huffed, "you're going to have to let me in on your secret before this baby comes. I'd like to be able to twist the truth out of her the way to do to me."
Lavender smirked, replying with a humored laugh, "Oh, Darling, it will come naturally. Especially if she's as much like the two of us as I hope she'll be."
DG grinned with childlike appreciation for her mother's appraisal. Such reminders were welcome, especially in her soured mood, and DG forgot her worries for a moment. With such warmth passing between them now, DG felt it only fair to finally admit the truth and offered, "So you know about my dizzy spells, then, if you've read the letters, don't you?" Lavender nodded silently, compelling DG to add quietly, "should I be worried?"
Lavender reached forward and grasped DG's hand in hers, squeezing it before answering softly, "I don't think so, my darling, some fatigue is normal. Even more so when you're carrying a magical being within you." Lavender paused as if to consider something, and she added, "I was fairly ill with you, but perhaps not as much as you have been. Best go easy my love, and if it gets worse, please tell me. Alright?"
DG smiled weakly and nodded, causing the Queen to pat her hand reassuringly in response. Again, DG noted a certain glint of concern in her mother's eye, and although she considered asking her about it, her mother's prior silent warning came to mind. There was definitely something unusual about DG's pregnancy, which Lavender seemed more than a little reluctant to discuss. At the very least, DG reasoned internally, if matters were truly dire, they would not just be having a casual fireside chat. Her mother squeezed her hand again, her eyes warm and understanding, almost as if she could hear DG's worries. She would say no more on the subject however, and she finally rose, hugging her daughter before taking her leave for the evening.
"Please try not to do any magic, my darling, and get plenty of rest," the Queen whispered in DG's ear before separating from her.
DG only nodded, and walked silently, arm in arm with her mother to the threshold of the room, only replying when the door was open, "I love you, mother. Good night."
Lavender smiled on her daughter before she placed a soft kiss on DG's forehead. Her lips were soft on her daughter's brow, and the gentleness of her touch lulled DG, causing her eyes to close for a moment while the contact lasted. When her eyes opened once more, her mother had disappeared, leaving DG standing idly in the open door. Gates stood nearby, and he smiled covertly at the princess once the fog in her countenance cleared. DG could not help a bashful blush, and smiled before saying in parting, "Nite, Gates. See you in the morning. I promise, I won't go anywhere tonight, I'm too tired."
DG shut the door before Gates could reply, having only waited long enough to witness the man's nod of confirmation before turning to groggily shuffle to her room. DG was now wholly exhausted, and barely managed to make it to her bed, let alone change, before she fell into another deep well of slumber.