What she shouldn’t have done is, clearly, get nosy and tiptoe to the source of the noise. Or, well, maybe just gone her merry way up to the kitchen to grab some bread and cheese for Gal and herself, as she intended. In retrospective, she should have probably gone back to the entrance to wait for Richard. Her first instinct is to go to the kitchen, all the way at the other end of the house, but she gets distracted halfway in by a loud noise. While the second outcome would be regrettable, Izzy’s head is more than capable of surviving a little bit of iron. At most, it will result in a pan to the head, or some spilled wine. Unless Roberta is playing with her sword again, like that one time, sneaking up on her isn’t likely to cause much damage. She walks around aimlessly, not particularly caring to make much noise. Her own place could use a change of colour, or a couple of tapestries like the ones their friends have hanging on the walls. She then proceeds to critically study the place: it’s been a while ever since she was last here, and she’s always liked Roberta’s - or, more likely, Richard’s - sense of dècor. Gal ties up the horses outside, well separated from the piles of manure and ashes that mark Tad Cooper’s usual dwelling points, while Izzy gets their sparse luggage in. Isabella herself is still coming to terms with it, to be honest: if Gal complains about her cooking even once more, she’s more than ready to kill.Īfter waiting outside for a couple more minutes, hungry and tired as they are, they sort of decide they’ve got enough history with their hosts to let themselves in. Makes sense: she’s probably cooking, or cleaning, or doing any of the thousand little chores she most likely never thought she’d have to do, marrying a king. The cottage they’ve been living in is certainly not huge, and it’s a good step down from the king’s former castle, but it’s conceivable that the lady of the house may not hear them coming. Richard is probably out walking Tad Cooper, but bearing in mind it’s almost lunchtime, Roberta should be somewhere inside. Gal knocks twice on the wooden door, but there’s no answer. Truth be told, he’s more likely to end up killing Izzy’s husband now than he was before, just from his bumbling, consistently well-intentioned attempts to make him bond with his pet dragon. For some obscure reason, the man absolutely adores Galavant, in a way that’s downright creepy and quite reminiscent of how much he used to hate him. They’re a little early - they weren’t supposed to get here until tomorrow - but she doubts Richard will mind. But, as her mother’s bluntly put it, a little alone time with Gal may finally allow them to start working on the other six: Isabella’s not getting any younger. Not that she doesn’t love her son, her very loud six-month-old son, dearly. It doesn’t worry her as much as it should, though: having her parents take care of little Juan Andrés de la Cruz Rosario for a few days is very well worth losing a little bit of her sanity. Today’s one of the dreaded biannual visits, with the extra problem that they’re coming to stay. They visit once every six months, together Gal rides there more often, almost always along with Sid and still-scary Gareth, who come back home every so often to freshen up and rest before going back to their “saving Madalena” thing, whatever that is. An unspoken one, of course: it’d be terribly rude of them otherwise. So they - Gal and Izzy - have reached a sort of agreement. There’s always a rip for a patch and all that, but it makes her weird, too. And Roberta puts up with him happily, encourages her husband instead of being properly embarrassed by him. He’s awkward and dorky and almost adorable at times, but sharing space with him for more than a few hours at a time makes her nervous. The other reason, the one that has Isabella sort of forgetting most important dates and making appointments she can’t cancel at right about the same time they’re supposed to be visiting, is that they’re weird. As if it’d been his fault, being a normal person with normal expectations for a lizard’s growth. Turns out dragons can hold grudges much more effectively than most people, and the thing - now huge and more than a little blood-thirsty - has never exactly forgiven him for not believing in it years ago. Much as Gary would never say it, the main reason for that is his quite healthy fear of a now grown up Tad Cooper.
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