A plate shattered against the wall as Roxanne entered the house, and she dodged deftly before taking off up the stairs, Gilda already climbing as silently as was possible. Shouting echoed through the house, and more dishes were being broken, shattering into thousands of tiny slivers in this room and all those surrounding.

Roxanne slipped onto the stair beside Reptung, Gilda and Gishnar several above them, staring through the railings at the lower level.

"What are they fighting about?" she asked.

"You," Reptung replied, and the 'as if you didn't know' was implied.

They stayed silent then, watching as Loral and Isst moved from the kitchen into the entryway, not yet realizing that Roxanne had returned home. Civ and Rit followed, and for once, they were the peacemakers.

"Don't you think she has the right to be happy?" Isst cried, and if she had not been crying, she would be soon.

"Of course I think that!" Loral returned, but the glass in his hand, perhaps the last in the house from the way Reptung stretched his legs, which turned to beads of blood along his palm from the shrapnel incurred upon explosion, said otherwise. "I just don't think—"

"You just don't think she has the right to ever have a normal life!" Isst shouted, cutting him off before he could finish the thought.

"There are plenty of normal Ceruleans who have never married!" Loral pointed out, temper thinner than it had ever been before. Civ and Rit's shouts to end the fight now before they killed each other were met with complete ignorance, and only the children, looking on in the third person, were even aware of their presence. "Overlord Cadrid is the Overlord of Cerul, and he's never taken a wife!"

"Overlord Cadrid has nothing to do with this!" Isst shrieked, gesticulating wildly as her temper spun out of control. "And neither does taking a mate! Even the oldest maiden on the planet has had at least one romantic interest in her life time! How is Aida supposed to be accepted if her own father can't let her grow up! How is she supposed to be happy when she can never have a chance at having children?"

"I never said she couldn't adopt!" Loral shot back.

"Why would you want to adopt if you have no one to share the children with?" Isst demanded. "Why would you want to adopt when you could have children of your own?"

For a second, Roxanne and Reptung shared the space of time in which their hearts ceased to beat, and they shared a pained and shameful glance, neither knowing what the other was thinking but neither needing to.

Their hands brushed for the smallest of moments before their attention was turned back to the argument at hand.

"We don't even know if that's possible!" Loral insisted, throwing his hands up. "And if it is, why should she risk sickly, mutated offspring when she could raise perfectly normal children? For God's sake, Isst, we don't even know if she wants children!"

"Even if she doesn't want them now, it's always an option that's nice to have," Isst spat, and for the first time since Roxanne had returned home, they were silent, each staring into the eyes of the other. Something passed between the two of them, and Roxanne and Reptung shared another glance.

"You don't even care," Isst hissed. She sounded bitter, and that sound didn't belong in her throat, in her mouth, in her ears—it didn't belong anywhere around her, not within a five-mile radius. It was frightening. "You just don't want her anywhere near a man."

"I'm her father," Loral growled, and his teeth were bared and clenched. "I'm not supposed to approve of any male she shows an interest in."

"This isn't about her being your daughter," Isst spat. "This isn't about you being protective, or even about you disapproving of Mace. This is about you being a racist. Bastard." This time it was Civ and Rit that exchanged wide-eyed gazes—they knew all the things the children didn't, and they also knew that Isst had never sworn in all her life.

And before today, she had never raised her voice at Loral.

Loral looked as if he were about to say something. He opened his mouth, then shut it and drew himself up to his full height, tightened his features, which now looked strangely lined and both too young and too old. Too harsh. He set his lips in a thin, straight line, took a deep breath through his nose, and closed his eyes. He breathed out, then in again, and opened them. They didn't appear angry anymore, simply tried, hard, and cold. His hands flexed into fists and out, and he calmed himself, looking more intimidating in this livid tranquility than he did ready to slit Isst's throat or fry a home invader.

"There is only one 'race' on Cerul," Loral stated, "and that is Cerulean. Roxanne is a human. She is not another race, she is another species, and there is nothing wrong with retaining a certain hesitation to accept the thought of breeding or romantic interaction between—"

"You say that about your own daughter," Isst said, shaking her head. "You say that about your own daughter!"

"Don't you understand what has to be wrong with someone to be attracted to a member of another species? What would you say of a Cerulean fallen in love with a minion? Or worse, one of their oceanic brethren? Or with a Cryptonian? What would you say of a minion that fell in love with a Cryptonian? Would you accept it? Would you turn a blind eye? If it were your own child? Would that make it any different?"

"You are no better than that heartless creshnan that tried to kill our daughters. Aida has met her first and only Cerulean friend, and you want to take it away just because you feel it isn't 'right.' Are you human, Loral? Are you some backwards 'religious' man? Do you want to fight a war against the people who believe in exactly what you believe with a different name attached? Or do you want to kill everything you don't understand? Aren't you supposed to be a Man Of Science?"

"We are all Men and Women Of Science!" Loral shouted, grabbing Isst by the arms and gripping tightly. Another first—they didn't ever harm one another, even by accident. "I love Roxanne as much as you do," he said, every word painfully clear. "And she has every right as any other Cerulean. In the eyes of the law and in the eyes of any fair man or woman, she is Cerulean. But she's human, and I am not the only one who feels this way. I would rather she die than face the ridicule she would receive upon taking any kind of mate—you've seen her Pod just as well as I have."

Reptung glanced over at Roxanne. She stared straight ahead, her lips set like their father's—behaviors have never needed to be genetic—her eyes blank and empty. He went to set a hand on her shoulder.

But Roxanne was already vanishing up the stairs, the ends of her cape catching Reptung on the cheek and leaving the smallest stinging sensation accompanied by a small purple mark that would be gone in moments, the hood hiding the back of her head and the sides wrapped around her face as Gilda followed on her tail, no longer mindful of the noise they made.

The shouting resumed as Roxanne reached her room, and the shattering of glass hid the single sob that escaped her before she was able to slam the door shut behind her.

Reptung returned his attention to the show, and pulled his knees up to his chin.

Gilda put her furry arms around Roxanne and held her while she cried.

Mace and Minion continued to stare at the door, unaware of what had just gone on inside.

Author Comments:

This is why she never told them.

DUN DUN DUN DUUUUNNNN.

Also, the reference in the last chapter was Monty Python and the Holy Grail-for those who didn't catch it, you should watch it. Or rewatch it. Whichever. For those who did, POP-PED CORN TO ALL! *Makes it rain*

PS. No offense meant to the religious community. Seriously. Any religious community. Sorry if offense was taken. That was not intended.