Summary: Naomi finds herself mired in self-doubt during the preparations for her royal quinceañera. Mateo offers some support.

Naomi sank against the railing, something sour and heavy swirling in her stomach as she watched Elena follow Esteban out of the library. The idea of having a royal quinceañera (plus one) at the palace had sounded so exhilarating at first. It was a chance to have something she'd never gotten, and an opportunity to really feel like she was a part of her friends' world of pomp and magical grandeur. But the expectations of formality were proving far more precise than she was used to. At sea, efficiency was more important than appearances—you couldn't waste your time line fishing with fancy lures when a net could feed the whole crew, and the prettiness of a patch job didn't matter as much as making sure it was thorough. In formal settings, if you didn't walk and talk like you were made of silk, you were apparently committing a social crime.

Sighing, Naomi looked over at the full-length mirror Esteban had brought in for their diction practice, and her reflection scowled back at her. Her hair frizzed from the humidity and the beginning of a sunburn was spreading along her part. Her posture was a mess, slouched over the railing as she was, and her clothing was plain and casual, a fresh grass stain from that morning on her skirt. She didn't look very royal. She didn't even look very "Grand Council". She just looked like Naomi.

But maybe that was something she could fix. She straightened up and smoothed her clothes down, squaring her shoulders and looking herself in the eye. There, better already, right? She tugged her glower up into a facsimile of a smile, missing the mark of "poised" and landing somewhere in the territory of "uncomfortable" instead. Even in the corner of the library, she felt exposed and out of place, her pale reflection sticking out like a ghost among all the bookshelves. And even without Esteban present, she could feel his disapproval looming over her. A burst of stubborn frustration swallowed her discouragement at the thought and she stuck her chin out with a huff. No, she could do this, she just needed a little more practice without anyone butting in, and with the library empty she could take that opportunity.

She took a breath. "I am delighted, you were invited." So far, so good. "Extremely… delighted, that you…" And the words slipped away as she second-guessed herself into a pitiful finale. "...are… delighted?"

"It's 'extremely excited to be reunited.'"

Naomi yelped and clapped a hand over her mouth, her heart racing. She crept back over to the railing and peered down into the library, and her eyes fell on one of the sofas where Mateo was sitting, legs crossed, a book open in his lap, and his head tilted over the backrest, grinning at her upside-down.

Naomi wanted to shrink down into the landing. "How long have you been sitting there?"

Mateo's grin grew even wider. "Long enough," he replied, almost sing-song.

Her face was burning, and she could barely get her voice to work. "And… why are you sitting there?"

He twisted around on the sofa so he was leaning one arm on the backrest instead. "I work here," he said, jerking a thumb toward the massive painting that hid his workshop. "Honestly, I don't know how you guys missed me on your way in."

Well, time to find a nice hole to bury herself in. It was awful enough messing up with Esteban staring her down, but at least she could write that off as Esteban being uptight. The thought of Mateo sitting down here snickering to himself the entire time—and easily echoing the line she'd been struggling with, no less—had her wanting to pack up a ship and sail off into the horizon for the indeterminate future.

"So, I guess you're very delighted then, huh?" Mateo joked. He'd set his book aside and folded both arms over the back of the sofa, beaming up at her innocently.

Shame burned up and down Naomi's spine, and the sick feeling in her stomach bubbled up as frustration. "Listen," she snapped, "It's a lot to keep track of, okay?"

He laughed. "It's eleven words."

It hit like a blow—it was just eleven words, and she still couldn't get it right. How was she supposed to handle the rest of the quinceañera preparations if she couldn't even do that? Her voice started to wobble as she shouted down again, "I'm trying my best!"

And her best wasn't good enough.

That thought was the final straw, and she shoved away from the railing and spun around, sitting down hard with her back pressed up against the metal. Her throat was tight and her eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly to keep from actually crying. This was mortifying enough without having a full-blown breakdown over something so trivial.

Something shuffled down below, and the spiral staircase creaked beside her as Mateo made his way up. "Naomi?" he called softly as he poked his head up onto the landing. "Are you okay?"

Naomi sniffed and turned her head away, drawing her knees closer to her chest.

Mateo sat down beside her. He lifted a hand for a moment, like he was about to pat her back, but let it fall back into his lap. "You're actually upset." It wasn't a question.

"You think?!" she spat, wiping her nose with her hand. Ah, yes, very dignified. Very ladylike. Esteban would throttle her.

"I'm sorry," Mateo said. "I thought we were just messing around. I didn't realize this was bothering you so much." He leaned forward into her periphery. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I just—" her voice sounded thick, and she swallowed to clear the feeling. "All this formal stuff is so far out of my comfort zone! And Esteban hasn't been letting up, and he won't explain why any of this stuff is just so important for a single party, but he's acting like if I can't do this, then there's no point in even trying to help me. And it shouldn't be so hard! It's just walking and talking! It's humiliating!" She swung an arm toward Mateo. "I mean, you memorized the greeting just fine, and you weren't even the one saying it!"

His solemn expression gave way to a weak huff of laughter. "Well, part of my job is memorizing weird phrases no one will ever use in a real conversation." He gave her the world's most tepid punch in the arm. "I've just had more practice."

Naomi spared him a ghost of a smile. He was trying, and she could appreciate that, but it did little to stem her frustration. "You have an advantage," she said. "Esteban actually likes you." Mateo shot her a puzzled look, and she went on, "He calls you by name, he invites you to his stupid dinner parties…"

"Oh." He scratched at his ear. "I thought that was just because I'm the Royal Wizard."

"And I'm on the Grand Council." Naomi hung her head and picked at her sleeve. "Face it, it's like he's going out of his way to make sure I know I don't belong here."

Mateo sank back against the railing with a quiet sigh, and when he spoke, it was so softly Naomi wasn't sure she was supposed to have heard. "Yeah, I know how that feels."

Silence fell over the two, and as it dragged on, Naomi continued to wallow, watching the clouds moving outside the library window. The initial burst of distress had passed and she no longer felt like she was about to cry, but her very skin still felt wrong around her. Once an outsider, once again.

After a minute, Mateo shifted beside her. "Well… what does Esteban know?"

Naomi turned her head, unsure if she'd heard him correctly. "What?"

"Really! I mean, he used to work for Shuriki, and it's not like she knew a thing about fun. Or basic decency, really." He rolled his eyes. "He had to help enforce the whole 'no parties' thing, so I don't know if I'd trust his judgment on what really matters for one. He'd probably say something like…"

He straightened up and cleared his throat, and Naomi barely had a second to prepare before he launched into a passing impression of Esteban's accent.

"Forget dancing or celebrating, the most important part of the royal quinceañera is obviously having the poofiest hair in the room."

Naomi choked on her first surprised laugh. The impression wasn't bad—Mateo had captured Esteban's haughty, down-the-nose stare and the judgemental arch of his eyebrow, and she started to giggle as he carried on.

"What is this? Laughter?" He clicked his tongue and waggled a finger at her. "No, no, no, you cannot have laughter at a party—that would sound like you were having fun!"

She laughed louder, and Mateo fought to keep from smiling as he continued, wrinkling his nose to mask it with mock disgust.

"And what are you doing sitting on the ground? Everyone knows that to be a proper royal, you have to walk around like I do, with a massive stick up your—"

He cut off with an 'oof' as she elbowed him playfully in the side. "You sound just like him," she said between snorts of laughter.

He stroked at an imaginary goatee. "Yes, this is true." And then he dissolved into giggling as well, unable to keep a straight face any longer.

"You better be careful," she said once she'd composed herself a little. "He helped get you your job."

Mateo shrugged. "Ah, I think I can spare one vote. Besides," he smiled at her, "your opinion matters way more to me anyway."

Something loosened in Naomi's chest, and she took her first deep breath since entering the library.

"And if you care about my opinion," he went on, "I think you belong here. And so do Elena, Gabe, and Elena's grandparents. So Esteban? Even if he's, you know," he grimaced, making an unsure sound, "—he's outvoted."

"Alright, you can stop now," Naomi said, giving him another good-natured shove. "You're gonna get me all weepy again. But thanks," she added, stretching her legs out and staring at her knees. "I really needed to hear that."

Mateo beamed. "Always happy to help!" He settled back again, his smile turning wistful as he rubbed at his upper arm. "Honestly, I'm kind of surprised that this was bothering you so much. I always thought you were immune to embarrassment."

Naomi snorted. "Are you kidding?"

"No, really! You always seemed so cool and self-assured, and you would just say whatever you wanted, like you didn't care what people thought of you." He met her eyes again. "I really admired that about you."

"Pfft, sorry to burst your bubble, I guess."

His eyes widened. "Wait, no, I didn't mean it like that! I'm just—" He threw his hands up. "I'm saying you're cool!"

Her face heated up from embarrassment again, the good kind this time, and she prodded his side. "I know, I know, I'm just giving you a hard time. Didn't I just tell you to stop being so sappy?" A butterfly passed by the large window across from them, and Naomi watched it go by as she tried to collect her next thoughts.

"To be perfectly honest, it's a lot easier to act like that when you don't have to worry about what comes next," she admitted. Mateo tilted his head in silent query, and Naomi charged forward before she could lose her nerve. "Everywhere I've lived before has been temporary. If I made a mistake, or embarrassed myself, or hurt someone's feelings—well, I still didn't want to do any of that stuff, but it didn't really matter, y'know? I'd be gone in a couple of months and no one would really remember, and I wouldn't have to worry about what those people thought of me. But now…" She curled her fingers against her lap and let out a breathless laugh. "It kinda seems like I'm here to stay."

Her mom had a local job now. She had a home. And that was thrilling. Terrifying. Amazing. Agonizing.

"I know this is just a party, but it's also an Avaloran tradition, right? Like I'm really a part of the community." Her stomach gave a swoop equal parts ecstatic and anxious, and her fists tightened further. "I don't want to mess that up."

"You won't," Mateo said, in a kind of tone that left no room for argument. "You're gonna be great, I know it."

And just like that, the fear settled. Naomi smiled, crossing her arms and leaning back. "And you said you admired my confidence."

Mateo sputtered, surprised, and Naomi went on before he could undermine himself.

"So did you get the invitation?" she asked.

"Oh! Yes! Armando brought it by this morning. I'm really looking forward to it!"

"And you're okay with being on my court?"

"Of course! I've never—well, you probably figured. But I'm honored. I wouldn't miss it." He grinned. "Although I'll warn you, I have two left feet."

"And my only dancing experience is still just standing on my dad's feet," Naomi reminded him with a chuckle, "so I think it's safe to say you're not the only one."

Just then, the library door crashed open down below and Esteban burst into the room, calling up to them. "Miss Turner! We have to move on to the next lesson!" Whatever Elena had said to him must have been inspiring—he sprinted across the room and clambered up the stairs with surprising agility for his age. He froze when he reached the landing, though, and blinked down at where Naomi and Mateo were still sitting, disappointment cutting through his bizarrely renewed enthusiasm. "What are you doing sitting on the ground, Miss Turner? A proper royal needs to stay poised, with proper posture."

Beside her, Mateo let out a wheeze, and she shared a look with him before they both burst into another bout of laughter, made worse by Esteban's baffled and offended expression.

He looked at Mateo as if noticing him for the first time. "Mateo, what are you doing here?"

"I work here!" he managed between giggles.

"Ah, yes, of course." Esteban shook his head to refocus. "Now, Miss Turner, if you will. We do not have the time to dally!"

He grabbed hold of Naomi's wrist and dragged her upright, and as she stumbled behind him toward the stairs, she took one last glance at Mateo.

You got this, he mouthed, giving her a thumbs-up, and Naomi found that she actually kind of believed him.

Try not to think about what she says to him later that same episode.

Mateo does overt impressions of other people twice in the show, and both times happen to be in front of Naomi, and I know that's technically not enough to establish a pattern but I will Take What I Can Get with these two. The scene here where he's mocking Esteban to cheer her up was honestly one of my favorite scenes to write in the entire fic. Like from my perspective as a writer, that one's up there with "Can you keep a secret?" and [REDACTED] from the post-[REDACTED] chapter.