Ceridwen blinks to clear his blurry vision, trying yet again to focus on the manuscript before him. For whatever reason, though he had looked through the contents several times in the last few minutes, he had yet to actually figure out what it was saying. What was he even trying to read again? He can’t quite seem to recall.
Groaning, the gryph leans back and rubs his head, trying to prepare himself to try again, when there is a rapping sound at his door, and he turns back, groaning. Was it time for another lecture again already? “Coming!” He calls out, setting down the pile of papers in his hooves with a sigh. Something is wrong with him today, he just can’t seem to focus; even relatively simple matters of thermodynamics are proving difficult to wrap his head around. Privately, he blames his tutors for that; the etiquette lessons are just too exhausting.
Pulling open the door, Ceridwen pauses momentarily in surprise to see his mother standing there rather than a servant or tutor. Beira Snowgleam peers into her son’s lair with curiosity, eyes drifting over the mess before settling on Ceridwen himself and furrowing her brow in concern. Ceridwen scratches the back of his head and readjusts himself, trying to reorient his mind to figure out what his mother might want. “Oh, hi, Mom. Something you need?”
Beira Snowgleams frowns in concern and lifts one forelimb to raise her son's head enough to look at him more carefully. “Heavens, Ceridwen, when did you last sleep? I don’t think I’ve ever seen black circles under your eyes this large.” She chides.
Ceridwen squints, trying to think of the answer to the question. Try as he might, he can’t quite recall. “Um.” Is all the answer his mother gets, who eventually shakes her head in bemusement.
“Well, regardless. Your father’s returned from his trip north, and wants to talk to you about something or another.” She pauses, looking her son up and down. “I’ll stall him for a little, so do try to clean yourself up a little, first. Go get one of the servants to comb out your mane or something.”
Ceridwen groans loudly, his frame noticeably sagging. He could probably guess what this was about already. “R-right, I’ll get right on that.” It was best to do so quickly, as his father was not a patient stallion. Pulling the door open all the way, Ceridwen steps out into the hallway, him and his mother retreating in opposite directions towards their respective destinations.
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I wish Seren was here… Ceridwen grumbles, looking into the mirror at his neatly combed but incredibly boring mane. Whether he liked it or not, the fact remained that she was good at giving makeovers, and right now, he needed one right-quick. A dozen minutes of servants fussing over him had only been able to do so much but, hopefully he at least looked presentable; His father wouldn’t take kindly to him not looking his best all the time. The gryph can almost hear his voice in his mind; ‘what if a dignitary was to show up tomorrow, hrm? You’d be completely unprepared’, blah blah blah, what a bunch of drivel.
There was nothing for it, he couldn’t delay the meeting no matter how he might want to. So he sets his jaw, tries to cordon off his present disgust for his father to the rearmost corner of his mind, and trots on down the hall towards the family’s dining room. Just about a minute later he finds himself at the gates, and after a moment trying to rehearse himself, presses them open. Though it wasn’t strictly a formal occasion, Evander and Beira were dressed as though it was, a formal suit and dress respectively as they sat across from eachother at the table.
Stepping past the guards as though they weren’t there, Ceridwen bows his head low, wearing the most solemn expression he can manage and leaning backwards in the process, just as shown in his classes. Though it slightly sickens him to show this much deference to his father after seeing his true colors at the promenade, he could swallow his pride for the sake of keeping the dastard off his back; hopefully he’d be able to get out of these etiquette lessons soon enough if he applied himself fully.
“That’s enough. Stand up, come over here.” Evander requested. It wasn’t the full length of a formal bow but, of course, Evander didn’t actually care about formality; It was just another tool to use to ingratiate himself and his family in the eyes of other aristocrats. Here, with just the three of them, getting to the point was more important. So, as requested, Ceridwen stood straight upright and walked to his father’s side. Though it wasn’t strictly necessary, he kept up his posture and walked precisely as his instructors had shown him, just to try and show progress if nothing else.
“Of course, Father.” Despite his best attempts, Ceridwen can’t help but feel his eyelids drooping; rather than let it give him away, he lowers his head deferentially to cover it up and places one hoof over his chest. “How may I serve the family?”
Surprisingly, for once in his life, Evander actually seems suitably impressed. “Somepony has certainly been taking your lessons to heart. Please, sit down.” As soon as Ceridwen did as requested, Evander leans forwards. “I should hope that your mother has mentioned House Donovan’s offer to you?”
Ceridwen pauses, hesitating, as his tired brain attempts to connect the dots. House Donovan had been the house of his father before he married his mother, so that meant… Before he can get there, his father sighs in exasperation. “Of course not. Well, my sister’s daughter, Aoife Highrock, is looking into her prospects around now and their family is interested in you to help maintain connections with our house. You may remember her, the two of you spent a few summers together as foals. Now, I will admit that House Donovan has not the primacy of our own, but they are still valuable allies and would likely take offense to a rejection. Given your failure to make any connections during the promenade, it seems like it may be your best option. There is nothing official yet, but they will be visiting tomorrow, and we need to ensure you make a good impression.”
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Oh, yes, that’s what he was talking about. The way Evander speaks of it almost makes Ceridwen do a double take; his reference to the family he’d come from was so dispassionate, it sounds more like he was talking about a foreign nation than his own sister. Ceridwen nods his head and looks his father in the eye. “Of course, Father, I remember her. I just forgot her house’s name momentarily, that is all.”
Evander frowns, narrowing his eyes as he scans Ceridwen’s features. “Hrm. You may be doing well in your classes, but your presentation is clearly lacking. How long has it been since you slept last, boy?”
If it wasn’t Evander speaking, Ceridwen might have felt insulted to be referred to that way; but it was Evander, so he didn’t bother thinking about it. “I can’t quite remember, sir.” He responds, honestly. Whatever the number was, it probably wouldn’t make his father happy anyways.
Evander sighs heavily. “Perhaps I went too heavy with the lessons after all… It won’t do if you’re practically falling asleep while meeting with her.” He mutters, more to himself than anything, before turning his sharp gaze back to Ceridwen. “Very well. Take the day off and ensure you are fully rested for tomorrow.
Ceridwen blinks, surprised; that was uncommonly gracious for his father. Of course it wasn’t truly for his benefit, but even so. He would have to take a break from his current studies, however; His father would probably be outraged if he took advantage of the time off just to further pursue his interests rather than ready himself for the engagement tomorrow. “Of course. Thankyou, father.” Ceridwen carefully responds.
Just about then, the doors behind them open, releasing the wafting smell of tantalizing food behind them. Ceridwen cranes his neck over to see the servants entering the chamber, bringing trays of food with them; His father had seemingly picked out something extravagant on his way home, judging by the unfamiliar aroma. “Ah, perfect timing.” Evander proclaims. “We’ll talk more tomorrow before she arrives. For now, best to keep up your energy.”
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Ceridwen hangs his head low as he marches back up towards his bedroom. Dinner-or had it been lunch?-had been delectable, but there was still something bugging him. Dismally looking out through the window, Ceridwen rears up to survey the forest in the distance past the city. Much to his chagrin, he hadn’t been outside of the palace in almost two weeks now.
He just hadn’t had time with everything happening, nor was that looking like it was changing anytime soon. His wings longed to stretch themselves in the open sky; he could practically feel his athleticism withering without maintenance; Mentally, the gryph makes a note to visit the palace’s instructor for some exercise, when he had a chance; perhaps he would have time to do that on his rest period? It would make it easier to sleep, anyhow.
Perhaps inevitably, the gryph finds his mind wandering back to the recent meeting. He’d gotten off easily enough; no lectures nor criticism to speak of, he’d done just about exactly what his father wanted. Ceridwen can’t help but snort at the thought. When did I become such a wallflower..? He ponders, sardonically. All that he’d done the past week had been exclusively for his father’s benefit. Sighing, Ceridwen steps back from the window, turning away.
I guess I can understand how Mom ended up where she is. He can’t help but think. In a way, he almost wished that his father was more… Vitriolic, or argumentative. Instead, he was irritatingly reasonable as long as you were doing your ‘duty to the house’, making it harder to mentally justify not just going along with it. And the more he did that, the more his life was dictated by the stallion’s whims. Why was he doing everything Evander wanted, like he himself was a servant? Why did his every move seem to twist into service to that dastard, who didn’t even care about him?
Ceridwen huffs, growing increasingly agitated as he walks down the halls, first breaking into a trot, then a canter. Why were things like this? It isn’t like he’s Seren, he doesn’t even have the luxury of looking forwards to receiving his own inheritance; Rather, males are expected to marry into other families. So is this just going to be his life until he left home behind for good? Gritting his teeth, he eventually launches himself off the ground entirely, his wings beating the air as he crashes straight through the heavy doors blocking his way to the outside, the iron-shod gates flying open as he ascends into the air, huffing. He hadn’t particularly meant to come out here, it had just kind of… Happened.
Part of him wants to scream his frustrations out, but another part knows he’d just be in for another grandstanding lecture from his father for making such a big scene. Why did he care about that so much? Just convenience? How had something as simple as that kept him so restrained..? Was he some kind of coward? No, more like a dog seeking approval. The thought sickens him, and he rockets down back to the ground, landing heavily on all fours panting from the sudden exertion he had thrown himself into.
“Damnit… Damnit.” Ceridwen hisses out to himself, the burning anger he’d felt just a moment ago suddenly giving way to resignation. This was just how things were, the course of his life had been dictated for him from the moment he was born. I hope I can at least stay in touch with mom, Seren, and Saoirse when I have to leave. He didn’t know if that was a realistic hope; To leave Escratero he’d have to be hundreds of kilometers away at the minimum, and he’d probably have to avoid seeing Saoirse to look ‘proper’, too. A noblestallion being caught spending so much time with another house's servant mare would cause all kinds of scandal if anypony found out. Closing his eyes, Ceridwen just breathes out another “Damnit.”
Suddenly feeling exhausted, the pegasus heads towards his room with his head down towards the ground. It was just how things were; he’d have to learn to live with it. Even if he truly did not want to. Coming to a crux in his path, Ceridwen pauses; he is supposed to be getting rest, he knows, but right now he just needs something else to focus on.
Uncertainly, he turns down the hall towards his observatory; sleep would have to wait. For now, he needs his beloved books.