#magic-mom

“Coredlia, I know you absolutely do mean well - good intentions and all that - but I quite frankly have absolutely no desire to partake in such shenanigans.”

“Why are you barging into my room unannounced so late?!”

“I have no idea why I allowed you to bum me into this.”

It was freezing. Yet, the streets were full of bustling shoppers eager to get their lists finished. Of course, he too had a list - one longer than it had ever been in his entire life - but he had figured he’d be doing the gathering on his own during a warmer day. Shivering into his thick black furred robes, he’d glare at Cordelia before his niece gently squeezed at his palm, eyes beaming with enough enthusiasm for the two of them. That was enough to warm him momentarily.

“I’m not daft, sister. What was it this time? A sleeping potion? Some sort of polymorphing juice? Poison?”

This whole spring ball affair was an utter waste of his time, and as the hours passed he couldn’t help but ponder why he had said yes to helping her prepare. Crossing one knee over the other, Cedric would continue to nod fake approvals while sincerely giving a thumbs down to the dresses that truly didn’t look amazing. How long was this supposed to take anyways? She had already gone through so many that looked perfectly fine... Without any warning he was suddenly assaulted by a pile of dresses being tossed atop him. A command was barked. What was he? A servant? With a huff, he’d obey however, and begin to haul the pile back towards the front of the store — the actual workers could put these blasted things away. 

It was during his return back to his seat that he noticed something glint in the corner of his eye. Admittedly, he did have an eye for robes and spent many long hours lavishing in the thoughts of ornate regalia, but he never fully indulged. Still, he couldn’t help but take note of particular fashion when it did catch his attention. And the black feathered robe that had been hiding from him the whole afternoon? Well, how could it not? It was encrusted in shimmering black diamonds. It was just as over the top as everything that Cordelia had been going through.

There was not a single ounce of care anywhere in his being. Yet, despite her full knowledge of his disdain for these things, he had been dragged out once again to play a judge without a voice. It didn’t matter what he said - her opinion was all that mattered - yet, if he stayed quiet, she would whine and complain. It was almost a ritual at this point, but he didn’t know for what spell. To null his sanity? Who knew?

Leaning back in his seat as he only took a mere glance over the array of pink silken fabrics, he would shrug, “It’s alright.”

The same answer he had been giving for the whole afternoon whether the gowns actually looked good or not.

“Making sure they won’t be an issue again.”

Cedric’s tone was laced with treacherous malice; yet, despite his rage, he knew that he was being soft. Was he a tyrant? Indeed. But he wasn’t a murderer. A fact that had led to more than one argument with Grimtrix, who seemed unamused by these more innocent antics.

The royal family - sans one - was still under stasis, and under stasis they would be until the end of time— locked away under the castle where nobody would find them, alongside the stone that ensured that they would remain as such. Was it a bit overkill? Yes, but such precautions needed to be taken for many reasons. Reasons of which he didn’t feel like debating at this moment in time.

“You are either with me, sister, or you’re not. I have already offered you the most prestigious title possible for your… assistance. There are some things you shouldn’t argue despite your position, however.”