Duke Gerlach must have read the same paragraph of the letter in his claws a dozen times, but each time gave him no more comprehension than the first. When the aging griffon wasn’t struggling to keep his eyes open, he was struggling to keep them focused on the words before him, and neither to any avail.
Last night blended together with the current afternoon thanks to a lack of sleep following a tense and taxing series of debates in the parliament. A wide range of topics were discussed, but prime among them was the establishment of community policing, the start of a national healthcare system, and the overhauling of elections in the country to a new and experimental form of voting called ranked choice. For each provision in either proposal, a cacophony exploded in the halls between the parties.
In the end, all managed to pass and the entire Socialist Federation of Griffonia was changed for the better. It only cost him a much-needed night’s sleep, not a bad deal, all things considered. Were Gerlach a younger griffon, staying up all night wouldn’t phase him, as he was liable to do such a thing in his youth. But, with so many things in his life now, it was plain that he was not young anymore.
He let out a note of amusement sitting in his study chair as he let his heavy eyes close for a moment. The Duke thought of his father when he was a boy, and how amusing it was to him when he’d fall asleep in his study chair, but now, here he was doing the thing he so laughed at.
As though his thoughts had manifested it, a pair of tiny claws pushed against his shoulder a couple of times, followed by a youthful giggle. None other than his nephew, Grover VI. Gerlach tried to hold back from grinning as he just barely opened his one good eye to get a peek at the young intruder, but they had other plans. Gerlach had expected him to keep his distance or hide, but instead, he found his head bent over awkwardly in front of him trying to read the contents of the letter in his hand. From the look on their face, they didn’t have any luck in deciphering the upside-down words.
Grover, in their intense focus, neglected to consider that the one clutching the letter wasn’t actually taking an old griff nap, but was lying in wait for the perfect counterattack.
Without a moment of hesitation, Gerlach opened his eyes and slowly turned his head down until it was level with Grover’s, who still hadn’t taken notice. “Boo!”
Grover sprang up, practically jumping out of his feathers, and screamed in terror before laughing uncontrollably. “I thought you were asleep!” He said between giggles.
Gerlach folded the letter into threes and placed it in the crevice between the cushion and the arm of his chair, giving his adopted nephew a side-eyed glance, “I’m not that old, Grover.”
“Yet.” The young chick teased before stepping back into the cobblestone doorway he came from, “Oh! Aunty’s looking for you in the kitchen!”
Gerlach rolled his eyes, all of the grief he’d given his father was now coming home to roost back on his shoulders. He quickly stole a glance at the worn watch on his wrist, which read a quarter past noon. That’s odd. “Excuse me, young man,” Gerlach called into the hallway, “shouldn’t you be in school right now?”
“They let me out early today!” called Grover from further down the Imperial Palace’s halls, getting quieter with each word as he skipped away. “It’s May Day!”
One of the first things the Duke did upon forming a coalition between the PvDA and FHP was to establish the first of May as a holiday to celebrate the peaceful revolution and the workers. Most griffs didn’t go to work, and the ones that did saw their shifts cut in half for the day, but both received the pay as though they’d worked a full seven-hour day. This had the secondary effect of releasing the school children upon the populace a little earlier than usual since teachers were workers, perhaps the most important of them all.
With a yawn, he rose from his seat and made his way down the halls, pausing for a moment to turn around and shut the light switch off in his study. He never was one for wasting power.
The stone hallway, for as positively ancient as it had looked when the Commandotroopen liberated Griffenheim, had come a long way in terms of appearance. Gone are the dingy torch-lit hallways, and in their place are windows carved out from holes near the ceiling that let natural light in. The decrepit walls that festered with mold and disease were replaced with flowering vines that snaked across the surface as though they were the Palace’s lively veins. Even the floor, which used to be furnished only with loose clumps of straw, dried blood, and the occasional spent casing was now a robust red carpet that connected the entire castle.
Though, Gerlach groggily mused, for all the powers of interior design that Duchess Gabriella possessed, the halls of the Imperial Palace were still quite cavernous and foreboding. There’s only so much one can do with a cobblestone hallway after all. In time, once things in the Federation were more stable, a grand renovation could be in order to transform the palace in the same way the revolution transformed the Empire.
Such dreams were far away though, and their clarity in the Duke’s mind dwindled every minute he shambled onward without sleep. He wondered how hard it could be to import one of those lovely cloud beds the pegasi make in Equestria, and how good his rest would be on one of them.
The fantasy was summarily chased out of his mind upon rounding the corner into one of several living rooms on the palace grounds. This one was a rather cozy and compact design, meant to imitate the living arrangements of the common working griffon. From the entryway of the hall, a crackling fireplace beset on either side by two large, plush chairs sat directly in from of him. Curiously, papers were scattered across the carpet midway between either the fire or the furniture.
The entire back wall was a series of shelves that housed rows full of books on one side of the fire, and a large radio built into the other. Were he to turn right, he’d see a rather plain door leading out into the central courtyard of the property, and as he moved left he’d see a humble kitchen complete with the latest appliances and a faux-marble island for guests.
Grover sat spinning atop one of the three stools situated on the side of the island facing out from the kitchen. Before him sat a hectic display of bowls covered by thin cloths, baking trays, rolling pins, and some flour dusted atop all of it. To add to the chaos, the young Emperor had elected to wear the old helmet an arcturian knight had given him a couple of years ago.
Strutting to and fro on the other side of the island was the Duchess herself, murmuring and cursing under her breath only for the oven behind her to beep and censor her more foul language.
If there was ever an individual embodying the unity between nobility and the common worker, it was Gabriella, and she knew it. To this end, she always tried to break out of her upbringing and learn the ways of the commoner, and then emulate them in her daily life. This side of the Palace didn’t even have a housekeeping staff because both leaders insisted on doing those tasks themselves. On this particular occasion, Gabriella was trying her claw at baking for the first time to dubious success.
The sunlight shone in from the wide window overlooking that side of the kitchen, and though she had bits of beige slime and flour sticking to her pink feathers, despite the slight panic in her eyes, when the light caught her just right, she looked positively radiant. The Duke drew in a long breath, which carried the scent of raw dough, and let it out before speaking. “Having fun, Gabby?”
Since Gerlach had met her, the Duchess sometimes had a fondness for speaking with expressions on her face more than words, and there were a few common ones he’d gotten used to. The one she wore now, having stopped her pacing and personal rant, said ‘I don’t know whether to laugh or throw something at you.’
“Was it so obvious?” She heaved a sigh and ran both of her claws through the top of her head before dropping them to her sides with a pat. “I just don’t know how they do it.”
“The bakers?” Gerlach said with a grin, closing the distance between him and his beloved, “Yeah, the more I learn about the task of breadmaking, the more I respect their work. It’s really its own kind of art form.”
“Ha! It’s nothing like an art,” The Duchess replied, running a claw through her hair, narrowly missing a clump of flour, “it’s like complete sorcery! I don’t know if I mixed everything right, if the yeast took, or if anything is happening in those bowls right now! It should be rising, but I have no idea and checking throws off the entire process! And if it is messed up, then I’d have to spend another four hours doing it all again! I swear I have as much luck deciphering the right way to do it as I would figuring out how to cast fire from my claws!”
Had the Duke not embraced Gabriella, it’s quite possible that she would’ve ranted on for however long he’d listen. But in his grip, her voice fell away and she nearly melted in his arms, as though she was plucked out from one mindset and into another. “Hey, songbird,” he said, nuzzling his beak against hers, “I’m sure you’re doing great.”
“But,” Gabriella’s eyes darted anxiously between each of Gerlach’s, “I want today to be perfect. And if the bread is messed up, then the picnic is messed up, and then the whole day is kaput!”
“No, Gabby. If everything goes wrong today, I believe the sun will rise tomorrow and we’ll laugh about the whole thing. Besides, no day with you will ever be ‘kaput’. But,” he pulled her closer, “nothing is going to go wrong. Sometimes you’ve done everything right and the only thing you can do is wait for the results. I trust that the dough under those cloths is rising just as much as I trust the sun to come up tomorrow.”
“Y’know,” She smiled warmly, “if you keep knowing exactly what to say, they just might put you in charge or something.”
“That’d be the da—” Gerlach was cut off by the sound of exaggerated gagging coming from behind the island. The tenderness of the moment was shattered by the young griff’s nauseous disapproval. The pair could only laugh in one another’s arms before separating and turning their attention to their nephew.
“Blegh!” Grover pointed a single claw to his mouth and retched, or at least he would’ve if the face piece of the knight helmet hadn’t slid shut on its own accord and silenced the griff.
“Oh, my apologies, Sir Grover.” Duke Gerlach smirked as he crept around the island, “Is there something we’re doing that offends you?” All at once, he snatched the young chick underneath his shoulders and lifted him into the air whilst spinning him around, “Then we’ll just have to take you to the dungeon!”
“No!” The young griffon squealed, unable to control his laughter, “Anything but the dungeons, nooOOo!”
“What’s that? You don’t like the dungeon?” Gerlach ceased his twirling to turn to his beloved, who hid her snickering behind her claw, “He doesn’t like the dungeon, Gabby, what shall we do with this miscreant if we cannot place him there?” He gently shook his nephew in his arms for emphasis, which only elicited more laughter.
The duchess brought a claw to her chin in thought as a sneer stretched across her face, “If he will not serve his sentence in the dungeon, then by the power vested in me by the workers of the Federation, I decree that you shall serve penance by completing your homework!” She declared in her most official voice.
“No way!” Grover opened the latch on his helmet and revealed his face to be aghast, as though he had heard the one thing he wasn’t expecting. Gerlach on the other claw couldn’t keep himself from chuckling.
“And Duke Gerlach, in order to see that justice is served and his sentence is completed, you will oversee his work without falling asleep on either of the living room chairs!”
“With all due respect,” the Duke protested, making sure to add a loud yawn for emphasis, “you ask the impossible of me. I am but a humble public servant, and I’ve got to catch up on my sleep in order to render the very best services to the people. So I simply must be able to nap. Otherwi—”
“Now.” Her voice was firm and flat like a slab of concrete and equally as unyielding.
In one calm and fluid motion, Gerlach marched to the living room and set his nephew down, who instantly removed his helmet and set his attention to the work he’d left on the floor, and sat down with his eyes as wide open as he could manage. Neither of them were soldiers, but whenever Gabriella ordered them, they moved as though they were hardened veterans.
A tense silence fell over the home, broken only by the crackling of wood in the fire and the insistent beeping from the oven that it was ready. But within a few moments, the feeling like he was being watched dissipated and he felt his eyes slowly close of their own volition. It had been nearly thirty hours since Gerlach had last slept, and sure Gabriella told him to stay awake, but what could the harm be in simply resting his eyes?
The sound of the oven opening joined the soothing soundtrack of the afternoon, alongside the sound of something squishy falling into a container, most likely a baking tray. Again this sound played out, and without much delay, the noise of them sliding onto a metal rack followed by a humble thump.
As Gerlach sank deeper into his plush chair, which all but pleaded with him to fall asleep, he couldn’t help but smile. The dough had evidently risen, and he’d probably get off napping scot-free. As sleep took him, he couldn’t help but let out a note of satisfaction from his nose. He really was an old griff now.
The sun shone proudly in the sky, obscured only partially by a few passing clouds here and there, while the sound of laughter and birdsongs carried through the brisk air. Somewhere off in the distance, music played from an enchanted gramophone that needed no electricity to function, and that too only added to the atmosphere. The royal family was not the only one to come up with the idea to have a picnic today, but the company certainly wasn't unwelcome. It was as though the Gods had intervened directly with today and made it as ideal as possible.
The wooly checkered blanket beneath Gerlach all but begged him to continue his slumber from before, but his racing thoughts wouldn't allow him such a luxury. Neither would his wife in such a public outing. His eyes were on Grover VI who was running as fast as he could while hastily flapping his wings in an attempt to learn to fly by force, but Gerlach's mind was anywhere but the present moment.
His mind was on politics.
The Duke was one to try and understand every possible viewpoint of everygriff and find a solution that pleased everyone. While this did make him well-liked by the majority of people in society, it also required him to hear that he was wrong several dozen times before finding that one answer that everyone could agree on, and even then the more radical voices in parliament would never be satisfied.
On days like today when he lacked mental clarity, the most malicious thoughts charged through the forefront of his mind and attacked his most delicate sensibilities. Was he really doing the right thing by organizing the Federation to be socialist? Were the people sincerely better off? Would any of his actions backfire? Is there something better he could be doing? Was it all going to collapse around him some day?
Then the worst of them all: What if you're a terrible parent?
"Uncle look! I think I got it!" Grover's cheery voice cried out from in front of him, snatching the old Duke from his thoughts and towards his nephew. "Are you looking too, Aunty?"
"I'm watching. Pumpkin!" Gabriella called from beside Gerlach, her mouth still half-full of fruit.
Having the attention of both his guardians, Grover spun in a circle, seemingly unable to contain his excitement. Learning to fly for griffons is a rite of passage the same way that a foal getting their cutie mark in Equestria is. In other words, it signaled that one was entering the next stage of their life. While Grover had been trying to fly for the better part of the year, Gerlach had silently hoped that he never managed to figure it out, that he could stay their little chick forever, but he also knew that time waited for nogriff.
Grover ran as quickly as he could manage through the lush grass in a straight line while the griffons in the way of his trajectory politely moved aside and gave the Emperor as much room as he needed. Once he was satisfied with his speed, he flapped his wings earnestly, squeezing his eyes shut from the effort, and jumped into the air… And then landed right back on the ground once more.
Gerlach gave a silent thanks to Boreas that he didn't manage to this time, but the thought was quickly pushed out by another intrusive one, this one worse than the others. Who will be the first to pick at the Federation's corpse? Will it be Suntail in the north? Rodier in the west? Beakolini in the south? Or maybe Arclight will decide to shred the nonaggression pact and march to Griffenheim.
What if Dawnclaw isn't dead and he finishes what he—
"Gerlach!" Gabriella cried out, both of her claws pressed firmly into the shoulders of her husband. "Ground Control to Gerlach, come in Gerlach!"
Where before the Duke was pulled out of his stupor with ease, this time his wife's voice merely dragged him out with some effort, like pulling up a bucket of cement from the bottom of a well. "Sorry," he muttered, his focus coming back to him in fragments before returning to him entirely, "I just… Have a lot on my mind today."
"Well my love, we have nothing but time, and Grover's probably gonna tire himself out trying again and again." The Duchess cooed, tilting her head intently, "What's bothering you?"
Gerlach had been to every part of the Federation, but even all the gems in Bronzehill and all the gold in Skyfall failed to compare to the way Gabriella's eyes glimmered when she spoke. He turned his gaze from one of her eyes to the other and heaved a sigh, "Are we doing the right thing, Gabby?"
Gabriella recoiled as though the question had struck her. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific."
The more guilt he felt over asking the question, the more he struggled to keep his eyes on her, to a point where he forced himself to look up into the clouds. "What if socialism wasn't the right path?" He said, drawing a labored, shaky breath, "or what if the country descends into war again?"
"What if the clouds turn to stones and fall from the sky and crush us?" The Duchess mused, her tone seemingly mismatched to the conversation.
It was a fanciful enough thought that Gerlach couldn't help but chuckle, turning his gaze down to find Grover once again leaping into the air and once again failing to take flight. "I'm not sure how that relates to anything, but it would have enough force to launch Grover into the air."
"Well," Gabriella giggled, tenderly caressing her husband's cheek, "I'm naming something that is equally as impossible as what you've said. Of course we're doing our best for the citizens, and we're doing so on the best path. If we were some tyrant who was keeping the people from their best lives, why would we constantly side with them and think of them? Why would everything we do be because of them? And besides, anyone would be crazy to even so much as threaten us! The peace we've made will last, Gerlach."
"But how can you be so certain?" Gerlach asked, his doubts dissolving by the second as he saw Grover manage to glide a short distance instead of falling straight down. The young boy couldn't help but turn to his adopted parents and beam with the utmost joy before trying once more.
"Well, some griff who was too smart for his own good told me that sometimes you do everything right, and the only thing you can do is wait for the results." Gabriella wore a look more smug than the most boastful scholars in Yale, which Gerlach couldn't help but burst out laughing at. "I'm serious! We've put everything together, done the very best we could, and the only thing we can do is… Wait for the dough to rise!"
"Y'know, some griff who was too gorgeous for her own good told me that if you keep saying everything right, you'd end up in charge." Now it was Gerlach's turn to be smug, which earned him a soft push on the shoulder.
Then a bit of silence fell over the two as they stared on into each other's eyes, feeling the full intensity of the moment pass before them. "I love you, Gabby."
"I love you too, Gerlach, now c'mere you!" The Duchess snatched her husband by the shoulders and pulled him into a kiss deeper than the world's oceans, and only stopped to laugh at the distant and pronounced gagging coming from Grover.
"I've got an idea Gabby," the Duke smirked, pecking his wife one last time before getting up and taking flight, feeling the cool air blow against his feathers as he glided towards the Emperor. The boy ran to no avail as he was scooped up in the arms of his Uncle, who then beat his wings harder and took further up into the sky. "To the dungeon with you!" He leered with a faux-sinister cackle.
Grover couldn't keep himself from squealing or laughing until he was nearly out of breath, but he soon fell silent once he realized he was far above the ground. Joy turned to quiet turned to reverence in the span of a few seconds, seeing the world from this high up, seeing all the griffons and ponies look so small was enough to make him speechless. From as high up as they were gliding, they could see the buildings and bustling roads and factories of Griffenheim stretch for miles, which nearly made Gerlach himself speechless, but he had something more on his mind.
"Someday," The Duke began, having also gone through the same rush of emotions and doing his best to imitate what a good father would sound like, "this will all be yours, Grover."
"Whoa… You mean it?" His voice carried that unique kind of amazement that only a child had.
"Well, yours and the people's, but I trust that you can share."
"Of course Uncle! Everything great is greater when you share it, like Aunty says." Gerlach could feel his nephew's head turn up when he spoke, but his focus was purely in front of him to the capital city and trying to circle back to the ground, but not before saying something else that was on his mind.
"I know you'll do great things when you're older, but I'm still very proud of who you are now. Me and your Aunt love you, you know that." Gerlach was thankful that he was floating toward the ground, otherwise, the water welling up in his eyes might look like he was crying.
"Of course, I know that! And I love you both too!" The purity and sweetness in his voice would be enough to give the entire population of the Federation diabetes. "I can't wait to fly like you do, Uncle! I wanna be just like you!"
The earth slowly came up to meet the two griffons as they landed safely by their picnic blanket, which was a miracle considering how glassy Gerlach's vision was from the tears. Not even an instant on the ground, Grover broke free of his uncle and ran to Gabriella, who readily embraced the boy in a tight hug.
"This is the best day ever, Aunty!" There was that diabetic beaming again. "You two are the best!"
The Duke and Duchess exchanged a glance at one another that said 'today was definitely a win for parenting' before both turning their view back to Grover. They could do nothing but agree with him, today was the best day in the Federation, and with any luck tomorrow would be even better. For the first time in a long time, and despite the unsteady peace on the continent, Gerlach felt like all he had to do now was wait, and watch the dough rise.
Author's Note
I hope none of you are diabetic upon reading this sweet fic! I had such a great time writing it, and I hope that you all enjoyed it! I'm Absolutely biased and shameless as I'm the dev and writer for Feathisia, so naturally, I'll always enjoy it, but I hope you did as much as me! Thank you so much for reading!
