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Elizabeth is grinding rose petals when the phone rings. It’s one of the nicer ingredients to prepare, so for a moment she resents the interruption. If only people would call when she has to dry the toad spleen.
But then she checks the caller id, and all ire is forgotten.
“Hello, darling.”
“Hello, Mother.” Sean’s voice is soft over the line. Still the even tone he’d learned in his father’s court before he could tie his own laces. She’d expect nothing less.
“Social call?” She asks, weaving her way into the kitchen. It’s early evening; she’d be happy to sit on her balcony and watch the sun set as Sean updates her on his life, but with the lives they lead, their conversations often have more urgency.
He laughs a little. “You could say that. When are you next in Portland?”
She hums. Their kind tend not to stay close, but it’s been many months since she saw her son, and she misses him. It’s been harder to stay away, since she gave him a second life after those accursed bullets. Harder to trust that he’s safe and well. “I could be there by tomorrow evening if you need me.”
“Nothing like that,” he replies, and she can hear the smile in his voice.
“No?” She can’t help but smile in reply. Idly, she waves her hand, and the teapot pours her favorite hibiscus tea, perfectly brewed, into a mug. She collects it from the large island bench as she wanders through the glass doors onto the balcony. “What is it like, then?”
She hears Sean huff another soft laugh, and her smile widens. Is there any better feeling, to any parent, than knowing your child is happy?
“I’d like to see you,” he says eventually, a little soft, a little bashful.
“Then I’ll be there, darling. Name a time.”
She lifts a blanket over her shoulders; the spring evenings are getting longer, but there’s still a bite to the air.
As she settles, takes a sip of her tea, she hears Sean take a breath. He’s building up to something.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Dear god, it had better not be that Schade wench. Her son has more sense, she knows this, but Adalind is as manipulative as they come, and Elizabeth wouldn’t be surprised if the girl were to try her luck with a zaubertrank.
“Oh?” Elizabeth keeps her voice light. “Tell me about her.”
Sean huffs, as though he can hear exactly what Elizabeth isn’t saying. He probably can.
“He is great,” Sean replies, and Elizabeth doesn’t miss the emphasis.
She sits straighter in her chair. Of course, she’s known for a long time about Sean’s interest in both men and women. But the backwards views of the court had left their mark; whoever he is, he must indeed be special.
“I look forward to meeting him,” she says, her tone more earnest than she’s used to.
“Actually,” is it her imagination, or does Sean sound hesitant? “You’ve met him before.” He takes a breath. “At the hospital.” Another breath. “His name is Nick.”
“… Oh.”
Nick. The Grimm. Elizabeth remembers him, of course. The power in his stance, even temporarily having lost his Grimm. The way he refused to be defeated. The way his gaze kept drifting back to Sean, to check that he was alright.
She becomes conscious of the silence over the line; realizes that her son is waiting for her response.
“Yes, I remember him,” she replies, tone light. “Big eyes, dark hair.” She pauses. “Not particularly tall.”
“Mother!” Sean splutters, but she can hear the laugh in his tone.
“He makes you happy, darling?”
“Yes,” Sean’s reply is immediate.
Elizabeth breathes out, a tension she didn’t realize she was carrying eases. Her son is strong, can - and does - take care of himself. But the thought of him having someone to share the burden with, someone who can meet him where he’s at, someone who understands their world… well. Wasn’t it only a few minutes ago that she was thinking about the laughter of her son still being her favorite sound?
“Then I’m happy for you, and I look forward to meeting him as the man you’ve chosen.”
“Thank you,” he says it softly, heartfelt. Then, “I’m sorry to cut this short, but he’s just come home - he was going to tell his mother about us today, too.”
Elizabeth hears the sudden tension in Sean’s voice and barely suppresses her own wince. Nick’s mother - Kelly Burkhardt, not known for her tolerance of the wesen community, or of the Royals.
“You have my blessing,” she reminds him. “Dinner next week? I’ll call to arrange a time.”
“Thank you,” he says again. Then, “I love you, Mother.”
She startles. This evening is full of surprises, it seems. Of course, she knows that he loves her, just as he knows that she loves him. But they never say it.
Until tonight, apparently.
“I love you, Sean.”