The differences in the social classes still boggle März; how much the nobles cared more about their riches and status than the common folk. It always made him feel uncomfortable, when discussing them with his new acquaintances, especially because he was once like those commoners. Money in the end was mostly important; keeping up appearances too was strictly enforced onto him while growing up. Spending time with his mother became less and less, to the point of only seeing her when needed or during dinner. His studies became more important, because he’d soon to become the new head of the Landgrave household. Growing into an adult was an awkward transition, especially with all of the new obligations thrust upon him.
In addition, he’s grown a lot in height in the span of four years upon being adopted into the household. He’s a couple of inches above his mother now, compared to back then, when his head was aligned to her shoulders. März stands at her doorway, awkwardly– hesitant to ask her now. He didn’t know if whether those rumors were true or not, so it would become a fruitless attempt if she denied them. He did faintly recall a sword above the mantle place back in their forest home, so it could be possible.
It didn’t hurt in asking.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, this late at night.” He apologizes sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. He steps inside the doorway and into her room, eyes everywhere but on Therese.
Once inside, he shifts his weight from leg to the other, trying to word his request. She looked tired though, when he peeks up, so perhaps it be best not to hassle her with his selfish request. At the same time, he didn’t want to continue to have this estranged relationship with the woman who cared for him before the change.
“Um…I was wondering….” He pauses, then decides to backtrack. “I overheard from some of the older servants that you’ve practiced swordplay in your youth…so I was wondering,” He moves the practice sword to his side, making it visible, “If you’d practice with me a bit… tonight, Mutti.”
THE CHANGES THEY'VE GONE THROUGH, THE ONES TOGETHER AND THE ONES OF HIS OWN never stop surprising her. Within that doorframe, he takes up more space than ever. She remembers very clearly how his fingertips used to grace the wood and his eyes - closed, darkened and blind to the world - would curve with the smile too big for his little body.
Back then it was just the two of them and his focus had been staying by her side. No matter where Therese went, whether it was into the woods, into town, or was simply cleaning up around their humble home she knew him to always be close by. He was a handful in more ways than one but even if she were offered the entire world, Therese would never relinquish those happy memories. She reflects on them quite often; from across the silent dinner table where the stiff, somber atmosphere prevents her from reminiscing with him out loud. She lets the pictures play in her mind's eye when for days at a time, she is barely allowed to catch a glimpse of her son.
Now, too, when she has to lift her chin to be able to look him squarely Therese finds her thoughts drifting briefly. The hesitation in his voice brings her straight back, along with a growing sense of concern. Her boy is a gentle one to the day and it is greatest fear that the hard edges of this life will one day wear him down. But Therese is also not as unobservant as he might hope her to be; the fact that he is concealing something behind his back is clear to her. It is a task and a half to keep herself patient, to not childishly lean ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of it as he works his way through his request.
The nature of which is, well, a little shocking in spite of März's lead up to it. In what possible conversation could these servants possibly be referencing her swords lessons? Naturally, a small part of Therese is annoyed to know that people are speaking of her past at all. But regarding the present matter, she can't help but to feel a little sheepish herself.
"Oh dear, it has been a rather long time since I held a sword." It isn't untrue. The last time she had reason to wrap her fingers around any hilt was when they first set out from the forest of his childhood, and Therese had been filled with nothing but fear. A different type of unsettling nerves sets over her now. "I can't say I mind if that is what you would like. But März, your grandfather isn't forcing you into extra practices, is he...?" That man prefers to ignore her opinions on parenting more often than not but for something like this, she has no problem standing her ground.
