être libre

“Íslenska hefur einnig fornafn” Keenan responded, a slow twinge of annoyance growing. Was it a french thing, to be so stuck up that you couldn’t possibly consider that you might be incorrect? “That is, Icelandic is gendered as well. We, however, have attempted to adapt our language to the changes in culture. So while I am sorry that your monarchy is not as accepting, and I didn’t not mean to cause any offense, I have made my choice of titles quite clear, including my previous visit, which I may mention, I have already apologized repeatedly for.” Keenan tried to be kind, they really did, but they had still been trained from birth to rule, and while they weren’t the best in diplomatic endeavours, they could still hold their ground when pressed. “If you must continue to dislike me, very well. But I will remind you that we are equals, Princess, whatever you make think of me as a person. So do not force your binary onto myself, and I will refrain from doing the same to you. Agreed?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “An apology would have been sufficient, heir apparent. Icelandic is not among the languages I’m fluent in. It’s not terribly useful for international politics, as I’m sure you’re aware. Just be more careful of how you use language in the future. You of all people should know that.“ 

Honestly, Morgan was so over the hostility they got every time they explained themself to people. The superiority complex was new, but equally annoying. How dare this royal act like it was some sort of personal achievement that their parents weren’t total dicks about their gender. They’d hoped they could find an ally in Keenan, but apparently the heir apparent of Iceland was too busy being offended by a simple mistake - Morgan hadn’t been aware that Keenan had changed their title - to think long term.

“Why were they so set on you getting a degree in Poli Sci and not chem?”

“They’re under the impression that science is useless for a royal.“ They paused for a moment, then imitated their mother. “That’s what you have advisers for, sweetheart. You need to focus on the intricacies of ruling a nation.“

max just laughed, shaking her head. “it’s not that big of a deal, i’m really not the one of my family that people recognize,” she said dismissively. wes was the one in the spotlight, and she’s thankful that she wasn’t. “i’m max.”

“Of course! Wes’ little sister. What a pleasure to meet you, Max.“

‘‘I’m saying why would you want to.’‘

“You’ve never seen me in leather pants.“

“Ah, something I understand far too well,” Cecily said, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been as well as can be expected. As much as I miss home, I’m certainly enjoying being back at school and somewhat distanced from the constant scrutiny.”

“I admit I tend to only feel more under scrutiny here than anywhere else.“

“Nice to meet you, Morgan,” she nods. “Chemistry, cool. I was never one particularly gifted in the science field. I’m a social work major.”

“I love science. I only convinced my parents to let me come back and get this degree after I got one in Poli Sci.“

    “I look forward to the day you do.” He passed them the wine glass and finished off the whiskey in his own cup. “Now, onto that seat? Or would you like to mingle a bit first?”

“I spend way too much time mingling,“ Morgan pointed out with feigned exasperation. “Besides, these heels are killing my feet.“

“The face now fits the name.” He pulls his hand away from them and smiles, “I was wondering what ever happened to you but considering the fact the hate was mutual I never worried.  Though, you do make those parties rather tolerable.  How are you, love?”

“Ah. Sebastian. I must say I’ve been better.“

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, gorgeous.” A beat as he glance at them from head to toe.  He offers them a hand, “Sebastian.”

“Morgan.“ They didn’t take his hand. There was something strangely familiar about that name.

“Charlotte O’Connell,” she replies casually, with a half-smile. “But call me Charlie.” 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself – I’m the worst at remembering names.” A shrug of her shoulders. “So, what’s your major here?”

“My name is Morgan.“ They sighed. They were normally so good at this. “I’m a chemistry major. And you?“

Keenan was floundering, and gave a brief, pained smile. “Oh, well, maybe that gets lost in translation? Back home all of our titles are in icelandic and then translated into english, and we use different pronouns with them” They offered, blinking rapidly and feeling small in a way no one else had quite managed besides their mother in one of her moods. 

“Let me explain: unlike English, gender is built into my native language. So I had to choose one way or another. Maybe your country will let you create your own gender neutral pronouns and titles, but mine won’t, and I don’t have the power to change that until my father dies. I’ve been fighting for years to be recognized as non-binary while using so-called feminine pronouns and titles, and I’ve embraced that these pronouns don’t have to define my gender. So if using a different title is what works best for you, great. Just don’t reinforce the gender binary on those of us who don’t go that route while you’re at it.“

    “I could mix a cocktail in my sleep, thank ya’ very much. But wine it is.” He pulled a glass down from the cupboards and uncorked one of the bottles on the counter. “I’m glad you made it by.”

“I’ll have to ask you to show me that sometime.“ They smiled and watched as he poured their drink. “I’m glad I did too. I almost stayed home.“

    “then allow me to offer you both, m’laddy.” wes offered his arm to lead morgan to his teeny half-kitchen, where he had drinks and some food (most of that gone by now) set up. “beer? wine? i could maybe mix you a cocktail? what’s your poison, baby?”

Morgan grinned at the cute - but admittedly kinda terrible - gender neutral nickname. They linked arms and followed him to the kitchen.

“Just a glass of wine. I think you’re a bit too impaired to mix a cocktail.“

“Ah, I believe I’ve heard of you before. Nothing bad of course.” He reassured.

“Of course,“ Morgan agreed. "I’m very careful with my reputation.” 

And that reminded them... 

“As are you, Taemin Seon.“

“Why thank you, Morgan, you look radiant yourself; as always. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you. My mother continues to be... my mother, but that’s old news. And yourself?“