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Sighing to himself, Charming left his bedroom, still in his clothes from the ball, and headed towards the front door of the cottage. He met his mother in the hallway; she nodded at him to continue on and indicated that she would listen in, wand at the ready in case someone asked too many questions. At the door, he peered through the narrow window in the top; outside stood a relatively harmless looking middle aged man, well dressed, and quite handsome in spite of the grey hairs thickly peppering his blond locks. He looked oddly familiar.
"What do you want?" Charming called through the door in the most pompous, annoyed voice he could muster, which was quite pompous and annoyed, indeed. The man cleared his throat before speaking.
"I was wondering if I might have a word with you, young man...you see, I was at the ball, and..." He faltered, unsure of how to choose his words, and finally settled with, "I wanted to talk to you for a bit about your mother."
"She's not here," the young prince replied automatically. "Now, if you'll please go away, it's quite late, I've had a long night, and I wish to retire for the evening," he added in his most regal tone.
"If you can just spare me a moment," the man insisted, in a tone somehow equally as regal, trying to peer through the door's window. "I just want to be sure of a few things..."
"You can stand here talking to the door all night if you like. I'm going to bed," Charming snapped, set on edge both by the events of the night and by his mother's overbearing presence in the hall. He felt as though she were trying to make sure he handled the situation exactly as he should, and quite frankly, as glad as he was to know she wasn't dead, he wasn't up to her smothering. He turned to see her standing in the hall doorway, and to his surprise, she didn't even seem to notice him. She was intent on listening to the man on the other side of the door, her brow knitted and lips pursed together in concentration, as though she were trying to remember something hidden in the back of her memory.
"Now, see here!" the man called, loudly. "This is, by all rights, MY cottage, and I demand to be admitted!"
Charming noticed at that moment that his mother's expression had relaxed from concentration to shock, and she had gone quite pale, which frightened him a bit; he was used to seeing her flushed with rage, but never pale. Never looking like she looked now, as though someone had just pulled the floor out from under her. "Mum, what's wrong?" he asked, but she quickly made a shushing motion, her eyes glued to the door.
"Dash it all, let me in!" the man insisted again, louder, and pounding the door with his fist for emphasis. "I gave the bloody place to Belinda years ago, the least you can do is let me inside to find out what happened after I left!" There was a moment of tense silence; the Fairy Godmother's mouth fell open, and she seemed to be gasping for air like a fish out of water. Then, suddenly, her expression changed from floored to furious.
"Who in Grimm's name is Belinda?" Charmined asked loudly, as much to his mother as to the man outside. However, before anyone could answer him, a buzz of wings flew by, and the door was thrown open by a very angry fairy.
"How DARE you," she spat at the man outside. "I don't know who you are or what kind of trick you think you're pulling, but--"
"You're not dead," the man interrupted her, a shocked but overjoyed look taking over his face. Then, what she had said sunk in. "Wait, what do you mean, trick? Belinda, you know who I am!"
"I most certainly do not," she retorted, her upper lip curled into a snarl. "And I don't know where you heard that name, but I'm warning you right now, if you aren't out of my sight in thirty seconds, I'll hex you from here to hell and back."
"Good God, Belle--"
"Don't you DARE call me that," she screamed, her voice shaking and her wand trembling in her hand. Though her back was to him, her breath was coming in unsteady gasps of air, and Charming realized with a startled shock that she was crying. Suddenly coming to his senses, he strode forward to stand beside her, pulling his sword out of its sheath and aiming it at the stranger. The man blinked at him, then shook his head.
"Put it away, son," he said with a sigh.
The Fairy Godmother wiped her eyes angrily with her free hand and hissed at him, "You have no right to call him that." He blinked at her for a moment, nonplussed, and answered,
"Why not? He is mine, isn't he?"
There was complete silence for a long, stiff time. The man wore an expression of annoyance; Charming looked absolutely stupefied. The Fairy Godmother seemed to be caught somewhere between fury and disbelief as she looked long and hard into the man's face. She was fading more and more into disbelief as the seconds ticked by. Finally, it was she who broke the silence.
"You're dead," she said in a hoarse voice. "I...I SAW you die..."
The man looked at her strangely. "What are you talking about? I'm standing here, aren't I? I certainly didn't DIE!"
Charming watched as the discussion took place, sword still drawn, and he suddenly felt as though the other two people had completely forgotten he was in the room. His mother took a deep breath before continuing.
"But I SAW you. I saw an ogre murdered in the clearing...in our clearing..." she said, faltering.
"Ogre?" Charming interjected, positively bewildered. The stranger looked human enough to him. No one answered his question, though. They still seemed to not be aware of his presence.
The man looked confused. "Maybe you did see someone get killed, but it wasn't me. There was no one in that clearing when I got there...I waited all day for you, Belle, and all night, too, just in case...when you never showed up, I assumed you had made your choice, so I went back to my kingdom and decided not to bother you. After I finally found an antidote to my...condition...I tried to look you up, hoping you had cooled off, but Belinda Larae had simply disappeared. I didn't know you'd become the Fairy Godmother.
Silence reigned supreme again. For a moment, it looked as though the Fairy Godmother was going to fly right into the stranger's arms sobbing. However, without warning, she slammed the door in his face. "Don't let him in," she ordered Charming, her voice dull.
"But Mother--"
"I said DON'T LET HIM IN," she screamed, whirling on her son with her eyes blazing. He just stared at her in shocked silence; she had never, ever yelled at him like that before. Sure, she had snapped at him once in a while, but she always followed the outburst with an immediate apology. This time, no apology came; she simply flew off down the hall as fast as her wings could carry her.
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The Fairy Godmother slammed the door to her bedroom as soon as she flew in, then folded her wings and stood with her back against the wood, breathing heavily. It couldn't be real. The entire evening just HAD to be some sort of emotional rollercoaster nightmare, and at any moment she was going to awaken to find that Charming was married to Fiona, Harold was still human, and Frederick was still as dead as he had been for the past twenty-two years. Most of all, she would be in control again, just the way things were supposed to be. She hated losing control.
Closing her eyes, she let her wand clatter to the floor and pressed her hands against the door behind her, trying to make herself feel grounded. For one of the few times in her life, she simply didn't know what to do. As if she hadn't been troubled enough by wondering how she was going to handle the night's consequences, now her dead fiance was standing at her front door. Which she had just slammed in his face. Taking one hand from the door, she rubbed it across her eyes tiredly. What else was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to feel about him suddenly walking back into her life as abruptly as he had been jerked from it?
At the moment, all she could feel was anger. Anger at him, anger at herself. Why hadn't she checked to be sure the ogre she saw killed that day was really him? For that matter, why hadn't he come back to the cottage when she never showed up in the clearing to meet him?
A part of her knew the answer to that: Frederick was aware that she was an independent woman, and he had always respected her decisions. But that part of her was silenced by the ever-growing fury she was feeling. How dare he walk into her life again, after she had worked so hard to get over him? All that she had, with the exception of the cottage, she had gotten on her own. She hadn't always gotten it honestly; she had manipulated and bribed and blackmailed, at times. But she had put a great deal of effort into building a good business. In fact, almost all the manipulation she had done had just been so Charming would have what she felt he deserved. The point was, she had built a life without Frederick in it. She had adjusted; she had changed. She knew she wasn't the same girl she had been before she had lost him. There was no denying it: with the exception of Charming, her heart had been hardened towards all mankind the day she saw (or thought she saw) her true love die. And now he was standing at her front door.
"Bloody hell," she muttered to the empty room, and she realized her voice was still shaky. On impulse, she grabbed a vase sitting on a little table near the door and threw it across the room with all her might, hoping to get some small satisfaction out of watching it shatter. It didn't really help all that much. Sighing, she picked up her half-charged wand and gave it a swish, causing the broken glass fragments to pick themselves up and fly into the trashbin. All of a sudden, she stopped short, hearing voices coming from the lobby below. Her eyes widened slightly in shock, then narrowed in annoyance; as far as she knew, Charming had never disobeyed her. However, unless one of the voices belonged to Kyle coming back from putting the carriage away or something, her son had just gone against a direct order by letting Frederick into the cottage. She really HAD lost control of everything.
Sighing heavily, she waved her wand and changed from her nightgown back into her standard blue Fairy Godmother dress, then headed back downstairs. She'd be damned if she was going to let her wishes be outright ignored.
Sure enough, the two men were standing in front of the closed door talking when she appeared hovering in the doorway, one hand on her hip angrily and the other brandishing her wand in a defensive position. "Charming, I thought I told you not to let this man inside the house," she said, almost growling. To her surprise, her son didn't even have the good grace to look guilty; he just appeared confused, and a trifle hurt.
"Mother, this man says he's my father," the young prince said, hesitating a little. "You told me my father had died trying to protect his kingdom from a dragon before I was born!"
At this, Frederick raised an eyebrow. "A dragon, eh? Well, at least you chose a somewhat glamourous death for me, Belinda."
"Your father is dead, Charming," the Fairy Godmother answered, her voice cold. "Now go to bed. As for you, sir, either you leave right now or you'll have a fate worse than dragons in store for you," she threatened. It was an empty threat; as tough as she was trying to be, she knew she wouldn't be able to perform even a little hex on Frederick. Even if her wand had been in full working order.
"But Mum--"
"No buts, Charming! Go to bed!" she snapped. Charming didn't move from his spot. Instead, he drew himself up a bit taller and squared his shoulders.
"Mother, I am twenty-one years old. You cannot tell me when to go to bed anymore. I have a right to know what's going on around here," he announced. His mother just stared at him in shock. In one night, Charming had disobeyed her and talked back to her. Her son -- her baby -- had never, ever talked back to her before. Even as a child, he had always been obedient. She didn't know how to handle such a situation.
"Belinda, the boy has been told a fairy tale for his entire life. Don't you think it's about time he learned the truth?" Frederick spoke up. The Fairy Godmother gave a short, harsh laugh.
"Oh, so now you're so big on telling the truth? If you had told me the truth when we first met--" she began, but was cut off.
"Well, if you hadn't run out before I had a chance to explain--" Frederick started. It was Charming who interrupted him.
"Will someone PLEASE explain a little bit of the truth to ME?" he demanded.
"It's none of your concern!" his mother yelled. She had been hurt when he had first stood up to her; now, she was on her way to a full-fledged Fairy Godmother fit.
"Dash it all, Belinda, it IS his concern! The boy has a right to know his father! Oh, by the way, thanks so much for letting me know I HAD a son," he added sarcastically.
"Hardly anyone in the kingdom even knows he's my son. And oh, I'm SO sorry for neglecting to contact you, but there was the small matter of me believing you to be DEAD." she snapped. "Do you honestly think I would have gone through all I did alone if I had known you were still living? I had to send my son away on royal orders because he didn't have a father! Because it wasn't good for the Fairy Godmother image for me to be a single mother!"
"I thought you sent me away to be trained as a knight," Charming interjected, frowning.
"Oh, DO be quiet," she snapped. Her wings buzzed loudly in the suddenly silent room, and her expression was still fixed in an angry snarl. Charming sulked; Frederick studied the woman hovering in front of him for a long, hard moment. After a moment, he shook his head.
"Forget about it, Belinda. I don't know you anymore, anyway," he said quietly, turning for the door. He paused to look back at her, then sighed sadly. "I'm not really sure I ever did." The sound of the door shutting behind him resounded in the cold lobby.
For a brief but tense moment, the Fairy Godmother just hovered in midair, her expression changing to one of confusion. She started forward towards the door, then stopped herself, unsure of what to do. Charming frowned and tentatively spoke.
"Mother?" he questioned, suddenly sounding lost and confused again, very unlike the headstrong man he had been a few moments before. She looked at him with an almost surprised air, as though she had never seen him before, then looked back at the closed door again. Without warning, her face crumpled, and she covered it quickly with one hand. For the second time that night, she flew out of the lobby towards her room, a strangled sob echoing down the hallway after her.