the walk before the run
Characters: Silver Fullbuster & Ur
Summary: Here’s to moments that are silent and not heavy from memories of days long gone.
Prompt: 46 (nanny/single parent au) from this meme
Requested by: mashhtag
(If you think I know what I am doing, think again because I do not)
“The kids are in bed,” she said as she stood in the doorway, two books tucked safely under her arm. One was the book she had read to the children, the other one she would read once she got to her room. She would never have thought that she would end up as a governess (or hatever she was) but then, she had never gotten much say in the matter. She had had to make a decision and this decision had been to leave for a while and no one would dare to question her and her decisions in the remote area in eastern Iceberg.
She smiled as she shifted her books. “He was unhappy because Lyon had grasped the concept I was teaching today before he did,” she said with a sigh, “and as you are aware of their rivalry, it … vexed him slightly … I locked up the study room, don’t want him get up in the middle of night to study or something.”
He laughed as he closed the folder and directed his attention to her. “I think the boys are trying to impress Ultear,” he said as he mentioned towards the free chair. “If you don’t mind it, you should read here,” he said. “The light is better.”
She entered the room and rested the other book on the table before she opened hers. “Thank you,” she said as she brushed back a strand of her hair. “There’s a busy week coming up, right?” she asked as she looked up for a moment. “Gray complained about you leaving for a few days … he worries that you might not make it back for his birthday.”
He sighed as he got up. “I need to talk to an old friend and I really wished I could handle this via letter but no, he insists on meeting me in person,” he said grimly. “I would rather stay here, no doubt … but work is important and … I will bring back something nice from the sea for him.”
“He will love that,” she said as her eyes darted back to the lines. “Mr Tempesta mentioned something about a party in three months … and that there might be the need to hire a dance master so the boys can learn to dance.”
“I made a promise that I’d teach Gray to dance,” he said with a grimace. “You are invited to laugh about that … but then, you will laugh at me, you were always the better dancer.”
She remembered a time before she had fallen from grace, before her father had cheated her out of her inheritance, before her husband had spent her money on parties and other women, only to kill himself when he had realised that he had screwed up.
He remembered a time when she had been the focus of attention at parties, when she had been the last one to leave the dance floor. She had been someone who had acknowledged her social responsibilities and she had always been there, had shaken hands and smiled and chatted politely. He had been there when she had hosted her first party when she had been seventeen and he remembered how everyone had said that this had been a one in a lifetime party.
“I’ve been told that no one does the waltz the way I do it,” she said and there was an impish glint in her eyes. He had been worried, at first, when he had hired her because along with her excellent references and the skill set she came with, she had had the composure of a rock of ice. There had been nothing that had ever seemed to faze her -- not even when they had been ten years younger and especially not after she had gone through hell and back -- but as time had passed, she had grown more … human and he rather appreciated this.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he smirked, “and you do realise that you just signed up for participation in this, yes? Because there is no way I’ll get a third party involved to watch my humiliation.”
“Oh, I doubt that there will be humiliation,” she said as she watched how he crossed the room, pouring wine into two glasses. “I remember you as a good dancer and Gray proudly told me about all the prizes you won as an athlete so you need to have some … kinetic skill.”
He huffed as he returned, handing her one of the glasses. “You’re off duty so I don’t wanna hear any complaints,” he said as he sat down on his chair again. “And well, I try. Gray just has this idea that I am capable of everything.”
“Children do have an idealised view on their parents, it’s normal,” she said as she twirled the glass between her fingers. “So about this party…”
“It’s really not much of a big deal,” he said with a dismissive wave. “I invite some people over, we eat some fancy food, drink a lot and dance. For the last part, I need to make sure that they can dance … they are old enough to stay up long enough by now and they’ll want to dance, especially after Clive’s brat told them that dancing is the most awesome thing in the whole wide world.”
“Sounds hilarious,” she said as the corners of her mouth curled upwards. “I am nearly convinced that this sort of party is something you haven’t come up with, originally.”
“And you are right,” he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I rather like the idea of staying a bit to myself, most people get on my nerves. It was my late sister’s idea.”
She looked at him in pity but there was nothing condescending in her eyes. If anything, she could understand the feeling of being trapped in old traditions. She had been there and in a way, her radical decisions upon the death of the man who had made her life a living hell had helped her to escape. She had refused to go back to her father’s house, knowing that the man would just marry her off to another fool and had decided that she would rather wait until she got her inheritance than to rush through anything she would only come to regret at a later point.
Which was why he had struggled to hire her. She had been a friend, once, they had been on the same boarding school before her father had called her back to have her homeschooled (and prepared for the disaster called her marriage) and it had seemed weird to pay her for taking care of his son and the boy he had adopted. But she had needed money and he had needed someone to take care of Gray and Lyon and so they had made the deal. Officially, she was listed as the household’s governess but in truth, this was not as easy to summarise.
“She is missed dearly,” she said as she took a sip from her drink. “And thank you, the wine is excellent. You have kept your good taste.”
“I don’t think that was ever a question,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “How does Lyon proceed with Boscoian? He was pretty enthusiastic about it at the beginning…”
“Languages come easy to him,” she shrugged as she rested the glass on her book, careful not to leave any stains. “When were you going to teach them how to dance?”
He grimaced, again. “This weekend, probably, if I can make the time for it,” he said as he rose, again, and brought the file he had been studying to the desk in the corner of the room. “And there is no ‘I’ in this, for a change. I can hardly teach them on my own so I’d like to ask you to assist me in this … especially considering that you are a good dancer.”
They had been skirting around this, lately.
They had never been close when they had been younger but he had been the first one to ask ‘where will you go, now?’ after the funeral when she had stared at the black gravestone with dry eyes, lips white with anger. Sometimes, it was obvious to her that he would like to live in a past where his wife had never fallen in, just like she would rather appreciate to go back to when her nightmares had been of monsters and not the screams of her innocent little daughter who had stumbled across the lifeless body of her father.
This was what Ur could not forgive the man she had never appreciated all that much in the first place.
She was no servant in Silver’s house, her own social status was too high for this and although she had refused to be the mindless puppet on her father’s strings, she had yet to be disowned and as there was no other heir available, she doubted that her father would ever do this, no matter how much she rebelled against him, no matter how many times she refused to do what he wanted from her.
She was somewhat between a guest and an employee. The money she got was less an actual wage and more an allowance. She did not require the money, however, because most of her living expenses were covered – he still had his money, after all – but it was certainly nice that she did not have to write to her grandmother or to sell her mother’s jewellery whenever she wanted to buy pretty new ribbons for her daughter and the thought that if it went after her father, she would not even be able to afford this made her nearly sick.
(No, she did not feel guilty for waiting for his death, not after all he had put her through.)
“Charming, as always,” she said before his hand was on her shoulder. “But I am in for it, no worries.”
“Then … may I have this dance?” he asked and she rolled her eyes before she rose to her feet, accepting the hand he was holding out.
“You know me,” she said as she straightened her posture, her own dance teacher’s words never quite forgotten, “I’d never turn down a dance, especially not after ten o’clock and a glass of wine.”
He rolled his eyes before he rested his hand on her waist. “Good to see that you still got your sense of humour, I was getting worried.”
She grimaced before she moved backwards, her movement graceful in spite of the long day she had had and the injury she had suffered, years ago, and then, he twirled her around. "You should be too busy to worry about that, truth be told," she huffed before they came to a halt in the middle of the room. "I think this is my cue. Good night, Silver."
He snorted, perhaps about her comment, perhaps about her polite ways. "Good night, Ur," he replied, nonetheless, as he bowed his head.
