17 I Shouldn't Have Said That

"Father?" Eden asked in disbelief.

The Earl gave a restrained nod and straightened out his jacket, giving a single cursory glance around the meager bakery storefront. The room was filled to capacity on account of the event- which isn't saying much as the space only fit about seven customers at a time. A few people looked like they were going to enter from outside but made a hard turn in another direction at the sight of the Earl of Brightbell standing in the entrance.

The few bystanders trapped inside looked at each other uncomfortably, not certain whether they were supposed to bow or leave. Given the town's reaction to him today up until this point, I wouldn't say father was detested anymore, but it was understandable that the peasantry wasn't quite sure how to approach him.

In their place, I wouldn't know what the proper etiquette right now would be either. More than that, he was an intimidating figure. Tall, poised and well-groomed, with an expression that never betrayed a single thought. I used to think his silence was merely due to his complete disinterest in us, but I started to realize having spent part of today with him, he just wasn't someone who talked a lot. Still, even if the vibe was unintentional, from afar he had a bit of a 'don't approach me, I'm above you' face.

The baker came down the stairs from the residential part of the building, still unaware of the arising situation. "How's it going kids? I know you said you wanted to do this on your own but I figured I'd come down and check in on-" she stopped dead in her tracks upon noticing our father and then rushed down the rest of the way frantically. "Oh, My Lord, what an honour it is to have you in our shop today!"

By the end of her greetings, she had reached Maddie and Edgar and forcibly pushed their heads into a bow, as well as curtseyed herself.

Eden quietly gave the lingering customers their orders and they scurried out gratefully with bowed heads.

"I see my children have been infringing on your business," he commented.

"No, not at all!" The baker assured him, "Little angels, the both of them. It was the least I could do for them as well as that poor Johnston family across the street when my son requested to borrow the bakery today!"

Eden had sidled up next to me to urgently whisper in my ear, "What is going on here?"

"I'm not exactly sure," I admitted. "I ran into him in town and he's just sort of been following me around."

"How much trouble are we in?" He asked.

"Undetermined," I said, still staring at our father, scanning his face. "You know him better than me," I finally said. "Is this what he's like when he's mad?"

"I'm... not sure," he admitted.

"How exactly does this fundraiser work?" Our father asked and Eden and I both jumped.

"We're selling ice cream sandwiches!" Eden said anxiously. "Briar came up with them back home, you put ice cream between two cookies! I thought it would be a good product to push since it's so rare to have ice cream in the summer."

"You have enough magic to make enough for the demand?" Father asked.

"As long as we do it right," Eden said. "I can't continuously make ice on the spot but before the event started, I pulled up some floorboards in the back behind the kitchen and we dug a pit. I pre-made a lot and then we insulated the pit with woodchips and put a cover on top to keep it cold.

Father nodded. "What do they sell for?"

"We don't have a set price..." Eden admitted.

"Is that really a good business practice?" Father asked.

"Well that part was my idea," I admitted. "We're only asking for donations. People can just spare as much as they can afford."

He was staring at me and it was making me feel like I needed to say more. I had a job interview like this once. I rambled and rambled because at the end of every answer the woman would stare at me expectantly for a few beats before asking her next question. If you ever want to see someone sweat it's a hell of a power move.

"It makes sense," I justified. "What we're doing is not 'selling a product' but hosting a community event where we're asking people to pitch in what they can to help a neighbour in need. The ice cream is just our way of saying thank you, and a way of making it more fun for everyone."

It was a classic fundraiser style back when I was in school on Earth. Bake-sales were just an excuse for parents to donate. More often than not, aunts, uncles and parents would come in, drop a twenty in the donation bin and pick up a single cookie.

Father looked intrigued by this business model. "So you must rely on the public to not take advantage," He said. "Has this been successful so far?"

I wasn't sure, I hadn't really been all that involved in this scheme past the planning phase. I looked to Eden.

"It's been going surprisingly well!" He said. "Most people are giving more than we would have charged, some people are paying less too, but it more than balances out in the end."

"Everyone wants to help out the Johnston's," I said, "but not everyone is in the same place economically to pitch in the same amount."

"This is a very interesting thing you've come up with," the Earl said, staring at me thoughtfully.

"It shouldn't be that interesting," I commented dryly. "This is the original definition of charity. What the church is doing has strayed pretty far." I glared at the statue of the Goddess in the town square through the front window and rose my voice a little for her to hear. "You know, setting a minimum amount for donations such that no one from even a middle-class home can afford to be blessed. It's pretty shady!" I turned back to the group in annoyance, "Honestly they are pretending that they help people out of the goodness of their hearts but really they're just profiting off of misfortune."

Wordlessly, father approached the counter and Maddie squeaked.

"How far until your goal?" He asked.

"The amount we need for the church donation is 20 gold and we've raised 15."

"I'll take three," father said and dropped ten gold pieces on the counter.

Our jaws dropped.

"That's the idea right?" He asked, turning his head to us. "To pay what you can afford?"

"This is more than we need," Maddie said, "We couldn't possibly-"

"You'll need to pay for accommodations in the capitol as well," father explained. "Now if the fundraiser is over, I will be taking my children."

After a moment's stunned silence, Maddie agreed, "Thank you so much Lord Bell!" She scurried into the back to scoop up some ice cream.

"Thank you, father!" Eden said with a wide smile.

"Thanks..." I said awkwardly.

Maddie returned with three ice cream sandwiches, consisting of vanilla ice cream between two chocolate chip cookies. We kept it simple and didn't explore too far into different flavours.

He handed one out each to Eden and I and took one for himself and we wordlessly exited the bakery.

"You know," Eden said, "I've been reflecting a lot today on how incredible it is that everyone rallied together to the extent that they did. I had read papers before on how altruistic behaviour is more observed in lower-income social classes but I didn't really expect to see it myself. Apparently, we're more used to seeing solipsistic social-cognitive tendencies among our noble peers, where actions are taken in the name of self-advancement, but the peasantry are contextualists where they have less control over their lives and so rely more on each other to..."

I tuned the rest of Eden's nerd rant out. We were passing the bookstore and the familiar nervousness bubbled up again. My mind ran through every horror movie I had ever watched or accidentally seen a snippet of and every freaky way this kid could theoretically follow us home and haunt us.

Maybe that's why I was so much more freaked out and apprehensive than anyone else. Hollywood had re-wired my brain to constantly anticipate the worst in the scenarios just as I'd let my guard down.

Instinctively, I gripped our father's sleeve as we passed the store, effectively positioning him between myself and that second story window so I couldn't even be tempted to look up again.

He looked down at me in surprise, at my nervous expression and then at my little hand clutching his coat. He then glanced up at the bookstore and back to me, "Don't worry, the curtains are drawn," he mumbled, so as not to interrupt Eden as he continued to lecture on about the psychology behind community ties in the lower class or whatever he was saying by this point.

I nodded thankfully, and to my surprise, he repositioned to hold my hand.

He looked straight on ahead awkwardly and I... honestly felt kind of moved. It was the first real parental gesture either of my parents had shown me in this world. Sure I was getting a lot closer to my mother, but our relationship had a weird number of role reversals where often I was the one looking out for her.

He didn't seem so bad... how exactly did their relationship turn out so tragically?

We sat on the rim of the fountain that housed the Goddess statue. I glanced at her 'loving' and 'compassionate' face again and smiled in that way you smile politely at people who you don't really like but tolerate- closed mouth, sort of biting the inner part of your lips. I was so sick of seeing her stupid face but at least my 'amendments' made it a little more bearable.

"So then," Eden said, taking a bite of his sandwich, "I believe it's time we finally address the elephant in the room... are we in trouble?"

"I don't know," father said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"I'll leave it up to Velma when she gets back, she better knows what is permitted and not."

Our blood froze.

"I mean, " I said in a panic, "Surely that's not necessary right? You outrank her, you are literally her boss! If you just say right here and now that we have permission, then what can she even do?"

"A lot," he said. "She was my nanny growing up too."

Oof, that's a tough dynamic to break. Suddenly I understood why Velma had so much power over the house.

We ate in uncomfortable silence, Eden and I picturing the grounding of our lifetimes to come. Finally, Father sighed. "Alright, I will not tell Velma about your trips into town." I guess he had been remembering Velma riding him as well.

"Yay! Thanks Daddy!" I squealed and hugged his side giddily.

"Oh thank the Goddess," Eden said, clutching his heart and ignoring my muttered 'for what?'. "I've been spiralling internally this whole time."

"Yeah we were going to be in so much trouble," I said.

"Well," Father said. "You still sort of are, Briar."

I unlatched myself from his side in indignation. "What?! Why just me?" I exclaimed.

"We've been looking for the person who drew the mustache on the Goddess statue for a while now and the more I hear you talk and see you glare at her, the more certain I am that I finally found the culprit."

Busted.

I think my face gave him the answer he needed.

"Ten days," he said. "For ten days you are going to pray to her twice a day, once before bed and once when you wake up and hope she takes mercy on you."

"Ugggggg, why does it matter?" I asked exaggeratedly slumping my shoulders and rolling my head back- only to see the face of the Goddess statue looming above me, staring down with that fading Hitler moustache. Meh.

"I do not even completely understand what your personal vendetta with her is, but she is the mother of all life and she deserves respect," he said. "Additionally, she's the one who will gift you with your magic when you turn ten. You cannot make enemies of her." There's the real reason.

"Will you disown me if I don't get magic?" I asked.

He sighed. "No, but your life won't be the same. It is the symbol of nobility. You will have a very difficult time marrying a man at your class if you don't receive a gift from the Goddess."

"What a shame," I said sarcastically.

Both my brother and father looked at me in complete alarm and I realized I just royally messed up. I had gotten too comfortable with everything else I'd more or less gotten away with saying and doing that day that I just hinted at a FAR more controversial opinion.

"... Do you not want to get married?" Eden asked me.

There it was.

The worse thing a noble lady could ever say. In the society we lived in, a woman who wasn't interested in marriage was considered mentally insane.

It's not like I was uninterested in men. On the contrary, I quite liked them... I didn't get married in my last life, and certainly never felt like I needed to, but I hadn't been closed off to the idea if I had found the right guy at the right time who suited my lifestyle.

I would LOVE to say the reason I was so reluctant now about marriage was because of my dignity as a twenty-first century woman, and that I couldn't possibly get behind a relationship where I was considered unequal to my partner.

And you know, maybe that was definitely part of it...

but the main truth was a little more embarrassing and shallow.

Listen.

I'm sorry.

I'm just not that into these skinny sparkly Japanese fantasy boy-band-type guys- which seem to be in great abundance here. You just can't help what you are attracted to and I like me some built, muscle-y, old spice commercial-type men.

My dream guy would have that handsome, trustworthy, boy-next-door face of a male lead in an early 2000s Hillary Duff rom-com but with a Riverdale body, if you know what I'm saying.

Men here, particularly noblemen, have a bit of a J-pop vibe, which I get is totally some people's taste, but not mine. I don't want my husband to be prettier than me. Call me old fashioned. Even the noblemen in the military have these long slender arms thanks to their reinforcement magic- where they have Captain America, super soldier strength without having to workout to get that beautiful Chris Evan's booty.

That was a load off my chest. Even if I only admitted it in narration.

Sure, I would also love to be in a world where I didn't immediately become my husband's property in the eye's of the kingdom upon marriage... but I cannot say that if Jamie from Outlander came strolling up I wouldn't give up my womanly pride and hop into his solid arms in an instant. I am a disappointment to feminism. I know, it's not a good look.

"Don't worry, I will fulfil my familial obligations someday," I promised.

And I would. I'd just think of it more as a business proposition than something romantic.

"Most girls your age are more eager for love," Father commented.

"I'm seven," I said dryly.

"You're always off with your friend Gwendoline talking about romance and fiancés," Eden said.

"Well, she talks... and I just listen," I responded. Too be honest, as fine as I was with entering a marriage of convenience, it was annoying to have to pretend it was for love. All those fake romantic gestures, like embroidering him a handkerchief, or buffing his pride by making him think he was the object of my fantasies since I was a little girl were nothing short of irritating.

The way Gwen obsessed over her future husband was truly how young girls our age were taught to think. It broke my heart a little to see her continuously wind herself up into thinking Prince Luther was her soulmate when he really did not spare her a second thought. Maybe it was partially because I knew she was the future villainess of the game, but even if I didn't know what I knew, it wasn't hard to see that society was setting her up for a path of self-destruction.

And seeing with a clear view of how destructive the expectation of love was in these arranged marriages, I couldn't help but think: "It would be cleaner if I didn't love my husband,"

Eden and Father's brows furrowed.

"If I thought he loved me, it would give me unrealistic expectations for what my place beside him would be," I tried to justify to them, but it wasn't hard to see I was concerning my two family members with my pragmatic thoughts.

"You say that now..." Father said tentatively. "But someday you'll find the man who-"

"Deludes me into thinking he likes me just as I am?" I asked, starting to get a little annoyed at how tone-deaf these guys were. It should have been enough that I was willing to sell myself for the sake of my family- but the audacity that they were effectively trying to make me be happy about it was a little too much.

"There are plenty of men who look for love in marriage," Father said.

"Like you did with mom?" I asked.

"Exactly," he said.

How the heck did this man not see that he and my mother were a cautionary tale about chasing romance and not a story to aspire to?

There were a lot of things I wanted to say to that, words on the tip of my tongue, desperate to bubble up and spill out...

But I knew better than to say them...

...As satisfying as they'd be in the moment.

...They'd be a bad idea.

...Something I couldn't take back.

"Listen Father, I will gladly marry a kind young man in the future," I said.

Good Job Briar.

"But," I heard myself add.

Oh my God girl what are you doing? Shut up. This was such a lovely day out with your family.

"I don't think forfeiting my heart is wise idea if my husband is just going to do to me whatever you did to break my mother."