Swann at Breakfast

They are at breakfast sooner than their parents think is possible without having used magic to mend the long, rambling cracks to the walls of the foyer, but the butler comes in and rolls his eyes in response to their mother’s arched eyebrow and later when their father goes to inspect it, the repair job is still wet, the faint tracery of their early-morning explosions still faintly visible.

Orpheus leaves for the City soon after breakfast, hopping on one foot down the entrance hall as he struggles to put his shoe on.  He is not paying attention and his movements have the doorman scurrying to add four plies-worth of cushioning to the antique vases that are bouncing in time to Orpheus’ unintentional shoe Dance. 

The King’s Car arrives outside exactly when expected, the door already open and the driver standing at the ready next to it.  Swann watches from the window as Orpheus composes himself, undoes the button on his suit jacket, and slides into the dark interior.  The driver does not touch the door but Swann watches as it closes anyway, the driver’s feet marching around the car drumming in time with the door’s slow swing. 

Behind her Agon sighs and puts her hand on Swann’s shoulder. 

“He shouldn’t be going to that place,” she says, her voice subdued after the excitement of the early morning.  “It’s killing him.”

Agon slides away before Swann can even acknowledge her presence, her feet soundless against the wooden floors that line the house.  She picks up her dance bag from the rack by the front door and blows her sister a kiss before slipping away.  In the time it takes Swann to blink and turn back to the window, Agon has already mounted her bicycle, hitched up her skirt, and begun pedaling down the driveway, her dance bag bumping against her shoulder and pulsing with faint blue light.

Swann frowns and sits on the Good Couch too brusquely.  A maid raises an eyebrow as she waltzes past, a broom her compliant partner.  Swann sticks her tongue out at her back. 

“Something the matter, Darling?” Swann’s mother asks when Swann comes stomping into the library. 

“No.  Yes.  I don’t know…” Swann trails off then presses her elbows into the table where her mother is reading.  Swann’s mother pushes her reading glasses down her nose and looks up at her daughter through eyelashes with a natural curl.  “Do you think I’m a good dancer?” Swann asks, all in a rush, the words spilling out of her even as her hands drum against the underside of the table.  It is all Swann can do to keep her feet still as her mother arches an eyebrow then removes her reading glasses and sets a handwritten receipt into the pages of her book.

“I think you dance beautifully, Swann,” her mother says with all seriousness.  “You keep your toes pointed and your knees straight, your arms are graceful, and you put enough power into that half-hearted containment this morning to keep Agon confined and keep me and your father out.”  Swann swallows and looks down at the table.  Her mother covers her hand with one of her own, her older fingers wrapping around Swann’s.  “Never let anyone tell you that you are not a fabulous dancer.”  Without even a smile, Swann’s mother nods once and closes the book.  It takes off from the table in time with the graceful motion of her mother’s arm.  “You are one of the best in the country and it is high time you knew it.”  The book flutters around Swann’s head once, a paper bird that looks almost too heavy to fly.  “Do not let anyone tell you otherwise,” Swann’s mother says, her voice solemn.

“Thanks, Mom,” Swann says, hugging her mother and smiling.  “I just wish… sometimes I just wish I was as good as Agon, or as powerful as Orpheus or even just… I dunno, I think I’d be okay if I knew what I was supposed to be doing, you know?  Yeah, I can do this,” here Swann pushes her mother’s chair in with a chest contraction, “but what does it mean?”

“Well if it’s direction you want, why don’t you just look through your prophecy?”

Swann closes her mouth after a second of gaping like a fish and frowns. 

“Prophecy?”

Swann’s mother arches an eyebrow and puts her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Swann.  Your prophecy.  Every youngest child is allotted one by Royal Decree.  We very nearly had one divined for Agon but the Seeress saw you coming along and was able to divine one for you instead.”

Swann can’t quite seem to keep her face in the demure lines so respected by society.

“What does it say?  Where is it?” Swann asks, her voice high and thread like a little girl’s.  Swann’s mother smiles slightly before she offers Swann her arm and they leave the library.

“As to what it says, I wouldn’t know, Swann dear.  Your father never even removed it from the box it arrived in.  And as to where it is…”  Here Swann’s mother pats her daughter’s arm consolingly and steps away from her.  The maid with the waltzing broom comes down the hallway with her mother’s coat and bag and Swann’s mother steps into them with a swish of crinolines.  “As to where it is, I’m afraid you’ll have to ask your father.  I am sure it is filed somewhere in his study, although where exactly you will have to leave to him.”

Her mother twists her hair up under the hat that is proffered to her and nods once.  The maid curtsies slightly then leaves the hallway. 

“Am I…allowed to look at it?”  Swann asks as her mother checks her makeup in the mirror that hangs in the front hallway.  Swann’s mother meets her eyes in the mirror and her newly painted lips turn up at the corners.

“But of course.  Who else would be allowed to see your prophecy but you?”

Swann’s mother finishes straightening her lipstick, nods at her reflection in the mirror, then gives her daughter a kiss on each cheek.  With a smile catching at the corners of her mouth Swann’s mother executes a technical tondue and takes the handle of the door that has just opened.  “Now if you’ll excuse me dear, I have to get down to the Palace.  I will see you at dinner.  Do wear something nice, we’ll have important guests.”