I slouched on the carriage ride back, having learned from the trip into the Dukedom that my mother truly didn't care about my manners anyway.

"So how'd you fare?" I asked conversationally.

She sighed. "It was a lovely time." A bold-faced lie.

"I don't like the way they talk to you," I said.

"That's just high society, you'll have to learn to grin and bear it," she said simply.

I held back the response, 'I didn't see you grinning' and instead nodded. "I'm lucky my generation of girls is a lot nicer than yours."

"That's good to hear," she said. "I had thought it was too early for you to debut."

I looked at her critically for a moment. "Funny that you didn't speak up before then," the words were out before I could stop myself.

She just looked a little surprised.

I shook my head. "It's fine. It's not like I really needed your help. If you ever spoke to me you'd have found out by now I'm hella charming."

I wasn't actually mad at her, but that's only because I didn't really need a mom. With my actual age, I looked at her more as how an adult looks at a troubled teen; slightly exasperated, a little disappointed but mostly just empathetic.

Especially after my conversation with Clara, I was starting to understand this woman. Although it was possible I was wrong and just overlapping a bit too much of my own story onto hers. In my eyes we both had to give up on things we loved; me my gymnastics due to the limitations of my body and her, her dancing due to sociopolitical reasons.

Although no one can even say for sure if she even liked dancing. Maybe it was just something she did no make ends meet, maybe it was something her family forced her into. Who was I to write her story? I decided to prod.

"How come I've never seen you dance?" I asked.

She stiffened, and then studied me. "The girls told you?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Those days are behind me. It would be improper for me to continue," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's not how noble women of this country conduct themselves," she said.

"But father didn't choose a noblewoman from this country, he chose you because he saw your dancing."

"Indeed," she said bitterly.

Oo, there it was. Something in her tone that suggested she would have been happy to have been left alone to dance for the rest of her life.

"I want to see you dance," I asserted.

"Why?"

Let's pile on some that five-year-old charm. I tilted my head innocently and smiled. "I want to see you when you were the most beautiful."

Her voice quivered, "I can't."

Of course the five-year-old wasn't working. A little bit of sugar wasn't going to do anything. A meaningless but well-intentioned statement wasn't going to jolt her from five years of laying in bed mopping. She needed something a little sharper for that.

"Do you hate father?" I asked.

"What?" She asked in surprise.

"It's just, I keep wondering if I was in your position, how would I feel?" I said. "In a country of beautiful birds with clipped wings, my father was captivated by the wild one he saw soaring through the sky. It seems like he missed the point when he captured it and stuffed it in a cage too small for it to ever spread its wings again."

She was staring at me in shock. I knew this wasn't how regular five-year-old perceived the world.

"I think I should let you know right here though, that while I empathize, I don't feel sorry for you," I said. "You need to grow up and stop wasting away, wallowing in self pity," I was now staring her down, maybe a little too harshly. Afterall, while I understood her pain, I didn't fully accept it. She still had a fully functioning body. Our situations were never exactly the same. They are now, but I still go out every morning and practice my gymnastics. More than anything, she just gave up on happiness.

"It's not like your wings were cut off, and the cage has been unlocked this whole time," I pointed out.

"Are you suggesting I flee?" She asked. "Do you hate your mother that much?"

There was a long silence as I decided which of those two questions to address. Truthfully, I didn't want her to run away. Not because I cared but because Eden would be devastated. Despite everything, he loved our parents unconditionally, and I loved him. He was the only person in this world I actually saw as family. However, instead of addressing that first part, I answered the part I truly responded to the most.

"Have you ever done anything to qualify yourself as my mother?" I asked in serious question.

She looked upset, "I birthed you did I not?"

Maybe I just had inflated expectations of a mother from the one from my previous life. It's not like everyone had a mom like mine even in that world. Still, I believe that a mother is your best friend. She is a role model and a cheerleader. She stands up for you as this mother here had never done. Most importantly, she takes care of herself so you can see how to do the same.

"It's a mother bird's responsibility to teach their chicks how to fly. You can't even do that yourself anymore," I said dryly... then winced, I was taking that bird metaphor too far and I wasn't exactly a poet. This was something I had thought would sound cool but it when I heard it come out it sounded like something cringy a season 3+ Riverdale character would say.

Though I guess I'd made a point that resonated with her. The first spark of emotion I'd ever seen from her glinted in her eyes. Maybe indignation, maybe shame. It was hard to say.

I sighed. I'd give her a chance. It was my job as a personal trainer after all. My work was rarely ever just physical. "... Why don't you meet me at the front entrance of the manor at 5 am tomorrow?"

"And why would I be getting up at that ungodly hour?" She asked.

"I just told you before," I said. "It's your responsibility. Wear clothes you can move in and bring water."

I sat on the bottom step of the front stairwell and waited. I would only give her fifteen minutes to show up. It's all I gave past clients.

There was a creak up above I turned to see her tentatively walking down the steps. She glanced at me apprehensively.

I put a finger to my lips and flashed a conspirator's smile. Just by showing up she had surpassed my expectations. As she got close, I backed up to the front door and opened it, she followed me out. We walked in silence, me walking eight feet ahead the whole way.

Finally, we made it to the groundskeeper's house.

I lead her into the empty building. "Welcome to my special space," I said.

"Do you always come here?" She asked in wonder.

"Everyday," I said. "I think we all deserve a little bit of time to ourselves outside of societal expectations. I usually call this time right before the world wakes up the Briar hour."

I walked around the room, lighting candles. When the final one was lit, I shook out the match. "So mother, will you dance for me?"