Unmaking Percy

Part I - V, continued (The Sleeping Castle)

"Am I still a stranger?" Percy sniffed.

She looked up from her mug and smirked. She seemed pleased with the effect of her words on him.

"No. You got us out of a mess. Even if, granted, it was partly of your own doing. But, credit where credit is due, you did a competent job getting us out of it. I'm... not sure how long Evans and I would have wasted away in that dream otherwise. Or fought in that tavern, for that matter."

He stared at her, trying hard to catch up with the fact that she was complimenting him.

"Why would you have taken so long to realize it was a dream?"

"Well, first of all, nothing looked out of place to us. Fucking uncanny resemblance to every official dinner or ceremony we've had to sit through in the palace. And, second... that sorceress was right. We wouldn't have left. We never do when we're in the palace. Look – Evans is gentle, diplomatic, clever, strong and skilled in combat... but bless his heart, he's not so skilled in palatial intrigues. I taught him, from an early age, if you don't want them to scheme against you behind your back, never show them your back. Be there and be seen, always. It's still good advice, but I regret insisting on it so much. Made him a little too worried about what others say of him."

"Wait, scheming behind his back? He's the chosen one, why would they do that?"

She had another smirk, though this time, it was crooked with cynicism.

"He just needs to show himself in dinners like those, show he's present. No matter how much he hates them."

"You hate them too. I remember hearing – what was it? Ah yes, 'kill me'."

She grinned at him with, to his surprise, a look of admiration.

"You looked like you hated it as well."

"Social events like that? Where everyone is there because everyone is there and no one is there gladly? Yeah, I hate them. Sometimes it feel so painfully awkward and uncomfortable to me that I have to dig my nails into my wrist to keep myself in the room. And when it's finally over and I count the dents in my skin, I know how bad it was."

Percy resisted the urge to shake his head, trying desperately to conceal from her that he had not meant to confess to all that. He failed, but he thought he saw in her expression some respect for his admission of frailty. It thawed the moment. He felt his body relax into the warmth that came from her now.

"And what... does he do when he goes off on his own at night?" he asked, no louder than a murmur.

"You saw for yourself."

"Yes, but I didn't understand what he was doing."

She looked at him intently.

"Part of what makes a good nanny" she began, "is to instil curiosity in others, but exercise it moderately oneself."

Percy widened his eyes at her. She was a long way from the coarse and cursing woman that he, in his foolishness, had expected her to always be.

"You don't pry, is what you mean."

"I pry on a need to know basis. Once I'm satisfied I don't need to know, I don't pry."

He nodded slowly. There was something frightening about Valeria's wisdom. Perhaps it was nothing more than his fear that he would never be as wise as her.

"Can I do the same, then? Pry on a need to know basis? Where are we headed now?"

She shrugged – not an indifferent shrug, or a resigned shrug, but a contented shrug.