The Seven Sisters solo Finished

Chlo squealed and giggled loud enough for the whole house to hear as EmmaLee stepped into her room. Chlo's squeals were met with a chorus of laughter from downstairs, including that of her father, a boisterous, heavy laugh among the twittering birds of the LeDames women.

"Bonne nuit Good night, Chlo." EmmaLee said, walking into the room and reaching into the crib to lift the 18 month old out of it and place her onto the floor.

"Lee-Lee!!" The babe yelled happily, throwing her chubby, pale arms around EmmaLee's neck as her sister knelt down and put her on her feet on the fluffy pink rug underneath them. Once the tot was properly standing, EmmaLee rushed to the doorway to close the baby gate that was attached to the door frame, insuring that Chlo did not make a rush for the stairs to see their parents.

EmmaLee knew that in sending her to get Chlo, her mother had given her overwhelmed eldest a chance to not only surprise her little sister, but also a moment to calm down from the high stress welcome home she had received. Chlo's naps were like clockwork, so Celeste knew exactly when Chlo would be waking from this one and EmmaLee knew that she would be expected to play with Chlo until they were called downstairs for dinner as she usually did after Chlo's afternoon nap. This situation also gave the adults an opportunity to talk and as EmmaLee shut the gate, their voices carried up the stairs and the girl could hear a bit of the conversation downstairs.

"They both love each other so much." Celeste said, a smile in her tone. "I've never seen sisters so close, even with EmmaLee being at school for months at a time. I wish they could go to school together."

"Pourquoi iraient-ils à l'école ensemble? Why would they go to school together?" LaLune, maybe, said. EmmaLee still needed more time to pick out the different voices of her aunts. "Avez-vous l'intention d'envoyer Chlo à l'école ? Tu sais que seuls les aînés vont à l'école. C'est ridicule pour les autres enfants d'y aller. Are you intending on sending Chlo to school? You know that only the eldests go to school. It is ridiculous for any of the other children to go."

EmmaLee stalled at the gate as she overheard this and raise a pale eyebrow curiously. She was so confused by this statement that she didn't hear the next few seconds of conversation. Why wouldn't her sister, or her cousins apparently, go to school? She knew that some non-magique children were homeschooled, but were wizards allowed to homeschool? EmmaLee was distracted from this contemplation by a small body colliding with her leg and grasping on for dear life.

"Lee-Lee?" Chlo said, wrapping one stubby arm around her sister's leg to keep herself from falling, and reaching up with the other to gently tug at the hem of her sister's dress. EmmaLee chuckled and sat down on the floor to play with Chlo, reaching over to a shelf nearby and grabbing an interactive color toy for them to play with.

~~~

For about 45 minutes, EmmaLee and Chlo played in Chlo's room while the adults, well, the women talked. From the few snatches of conversation that drifted upstairs and into EmmaLee's ears between Chlo's bursts of joy or frustration at whatever toy they were playing with, her mother's family either understood English, but didn't speak it, or flatly refused to speak it. This effectively cut her stepfather, who knew some French but barely, out of the conversation. Although, he must still be down there listening, because her mother continued to respond in English.

The few bits of conversation she did catch and her mother's family's disrespect at speaking a different language in a person's own home, confused EmmaLee even further. She heard one comment referring to "your matriarchal duty", another about someone named Ariane, who was ill, and various angry statements towards the end that she couldn't make out because Chlo started trying to climb her short bookcase to get a book for her to read that was on the top. EmmaLee hopped up and rushed over to keep Chlo on the ground. She grabbed the book Chlo wanted and walked her over to a pale pink, fuzzy bean bag to snuggle and read it to her.

As the conversation change tones, some of the voices, including her mother's, drifted off to where she couldn't hear them at all any more, most likely to the kitchen. Then, about the time EmmaLee was done with Chlo's book, Victor's voice called her to dinner from the bottom of the stairs and EmmaLee picked up Chlo so that she could carefully take her down the stairs and into the dining room.

As she walked into the room, she noticed that it had been magically expanded, along with the dining table, to accommodate all eleven people. Her grandmother, it would probably be a bit before EmmaLee felt comfortable enough to call her "G-Vi", sat at the one end of the table, and her stepfather sat at the other as the seven younger women flitted around the table duplicating chairs so they all could sit, bringing trays of cheese, meats, quiche, finger sandwiches, and breads and pitchers of drink from the kitchen, and chattering to each other in French about the table and seating arrangement.

Chlo's high chair had been placed in the middle of the table, but EmmaLee quietly put her in it and dragged it to the place to the immediate right of her stepfather. She looked over at her grandmother, almost defiantly, and was met with the slightest narrowing of the older, but still brilliantly blue eyes. If EmmaLee hadn't been looking for it, she might have missed it.

EmmaLee wasn't exactly sure how she felt about any of these women yet, but so far, she didn't rally like the way any of them treated her or her family. She could forgive them for being too excited to see her and deeply invading her personal space, but the way they talked about Chlo and her unknown cousins' education and the consistent disrespect of her stepfather in his own house would not stand as far as EmmaLee was concerned.

On the other hand, EmmaLee hadn't even begun to process that her mother had hidden an entire side of her family from her that clearly wanted to know her. She knew not a single thing about any of these women. Not their names until today, not how many children they had, not a single comment about their existence until they had bombarded her upon entering her home. So there was that.

"Emiline, je préférerais que vous et votre sœur vous asseyiez au milieu de la table pour que nous puissions tous faire votre connaissance. Emiline, I would prefer you and your sister sit in the middle of the table so that we all may get to know you." Genvieve said, placing her elbows on the table and folding her pale, elegant hands together contemplatively.

"No, thank you." EmmaLee said, taking the chair now next to Chlo as her mother came in and sat on Victor's left. EmmaLee watched as her aunts filed in last with confused expressions, looking up and down the table in unison for a moment as they seemed to try and figure out what to do with the new arrangement. Finally, they sat down with Lalune, Mylène, and Bijoux on Genvieve's right and Soliel, Mireilla, and Cossette on her left.

There was a brief moment of tense silence before Genvieve sighed deeply, unfolded her hands, leaned her forearms on the edge of the table, and held her hands, palms up, over it. Everyone else at the table, including Celeste and EmmaLee and excluding Victor and Chlo, held their hands out in a similar manner before Genvieve closed her eyes, lifted her face to the ceiling, and spoke.

"Nous remercions les dames d'autrefois de nous avoir donné la vie et de nous avoir permis de nous réunir autour de ce repas. Puissions-nous toujours nous souvenir de celles qui nous ont précédées et nous efforcer de bénir celles qui nous suivent. Décorum, dignité, grâce. Longue vie aux dames blanches. We thank the ladies of old for giving us life and enabling us to gather over this meal together. May we always remember those who came before us and may we always work hard to bless those who come after. Decorum, dignity, grace. Long live the white ladies."

As she ended, the women at the table repeated "Décorum, dignité, grâce. Longue vie aux dames blanches.Decorum, dignity, grace. Long live the white ladies." and everyone began filling their plates with food and chatting animatedly with each other. It was as if all the tension had vanished from the room, leaving EmmaLee with an unpleasant feeling in her stomach liked she'd just caught someone in a lie. She looked over to her mother, who had turned to talk to her sister, Bijoux, to her left.

EmmaLee studied her mother for a moment. Celeste was both tense and relaxed in a weird kind of way. She chatted happily with her youngest sister, but at the same time seemed ready for a fight to break out at any moment. It made EmmaLee

"Alors Emiline, So Emiline," A voice to her right down the table started, taking her attention away from her mother. It was Mylène who had spoke.

"Um. It's EmmaLee," She corrected carefully, not wanting to be rude to an adult, but not understanding why everyone kept saying her name wrong. "but yes, Aunt Mylène?" Mylène laughed.

"tu peux m'appeler Mylène, Emiline, mais je me demandais qui était ce garçon ? You may call me Mylène, Emiline, but I was wondering who the boy is?" The table hushed a little at her words, everyone present suddenly interested in EmmaLee's answer. She responded with a raised eyebrow.

"What boy?" She asked. The only boys she could think of in her life were Stephen and Kiernan, but what did they have to do with anything? It seemed that her mother had told her family as little about her as she had told her about them. Maybe her mother thought her friends were her business to tell them about, but why did they only care about the boys. EmmaLee's brain whirled. The longer her mother's family was here, the more off-kilter she felt.

"Le garçon dont tu es amoureuse, ma chère ? C'est partout sur ton joli petit visage. The boy you're in love with, dear? It's all over your pretty little face." Mylène said with a wide smile. "Une femme ne brille comme toi que lorsqu'elle est amoureuse et une fille devient une femme la première fois qu'elle tombe amoureuse. A woman only glows like you do when she's in love and a girl becomes a woman the first time she falls in love." She explained, then turned to Celeste with a giggle. "Tu n'as pas appris à la fille ce qui est important, n'est-ce pas, Leste ? You haven't taught her anything about what's important have you, Leste?" She continued, scrunching her nose up accusatorily at her sister. All heads turned to Celeste, who looked livid.

"That will be quite enough, Mylène. You go too far." Celeste said putting a hand on the table like she was going to stand up.

"Trop loin ? Est-ce aller trop loin que de demander à ma nièce ce qu'elle pense de son petit ami ? Too far? It's too far to ask my niece about her boyfriend?" Mylène said as if it was an amusing game. "On voit qu'elle l'a même embrassé. Aucun d'entre nous n'a eu son premier à son âge ! Je veux juste savoir qui il est. You can tell that's she's even kissed him. None of us had our first at her age! I just want to know who he is." EmmaLee couldn't process what her aunt was saying, but her mother grew more angry with every word and that meant danger. Celeste never got angry. She was the picture of calm patience, of let's keep our heads and talk this out in inside voices, of peaceful solutions or walking away.

EmmaLee looked down at her hands in her lap, something like panic rising in her throat. Boyfriend? Kiss? The realization hit her like a freight train as her mother and her aunt began to argue about EmmaLee and how Celeste had chosen not to talk to EmmaLee about any of this about family values and tradition. Were they talking about Stephen? She hadn't even told her mother that she had kissed him. Did her mother know? How was that information on her face? What was Mylène talking about "in love"?

EmmaLee had shoved that event into a box in the back of her mind because, as nice as it had been, his smell, his lips, his gentle hand on her cheek pulling her closer, it was too confusing to figure out what it had meant. Whether it was some affectionate misunderstanding or something more. She lightly touched her lips at the memory. She wasn't ready even now to process this. Did kissing mean he was her boyfriend? He hadn't said anything about it since. Did he just assume they were more than friends now? Friend to boyfriend meant change. She didn't want their relationship to change. She just wanted to hang out with him, and keep going to the balls with him, and enjoying each other's company. Sure, she wanted to spend every moment they were on the same continent together, but didn't that mean they were just great friends? Why did anything have to change?

"Lee-Lee?" Chlo's confused voice broke through her panic as a chubby hand touched her shoulder and all of a sudden her mother and her aunt's arguing rushing into her deafened ears once more.

"She is a child with child feelings and I will not put this kind of pressure on her as you all put on me! As mother and grandmother and great-grandmother has put on all of us! I don't understand how you don't see it, Mylène!" Celeste looked around at her family as if suddenly desperate to make them understand her choices and seeing that they never would.

"Je ne comprends pas pourquoi vous n'êtes pas plus heureux pour elle ! Nous devrions organiser une fête juste pour elle ! Nous avons tous dit que cet homme sans sommeil t'a ruiné et c'est exactement la preuve. Tu ruines ta fille et tu l'empêches d'occuper la place qui lui revient dans sa famille ! I can't understand why you aren't happier for her! We should be throwing a party just for her sake! We all said that that sleepless man ruined you and this is exactly the proof. You are ruining your daughter and keeping her from her rightful place in her family!" Mylène said, throwing a pointing finger towards EmmaLee. "Elle pourrait être la meilleure d'entre nous et vous refusez de la laisser briller ! She could be the best of us all and you refuse to let her shine!"

EmmaLee stood up abruptly, knocking her chair over in the process and the room went silent as it crashed to the floor. "Excuse me." She whispered to the table, eyes wide and hands gripping the table cloth for dear life. Without permission, she bolted from the room.

"EMMALEE!" Celeste called, at the same time that Mylène called, "EMILINE!"

Ignoring them both, she ran until she was up the stairs and into her room across from Chlo's. As she shut the door harder than she meant to, the mirror on her vanity across from the door shattered, sending shards of glass tinkling across the table, chair, and floor, but she didn't notice, or didn't care, as she crashed against the back of the door and slid down it.

She curled up into a ball, arms around her knees and head buried between her knees and chest. She wanted everyone to leave. She officially had no desire to be anywhere near any of these women for the rest of her life. She was supposed to go home and spend a wonderful two weeks with her wonderful family, then come back to Hogwarts and spend a wonderful two weeks with her wonderful friend, Stephen.

Stephen... how was she even going to face him now? What would he expect when they saw each other again? Would he want to kiss again? She had no idea what couples did together. Was it the same things that friends did together? Was she going to look stupid and childish for not knowing these things? What if he figured out how little she knew and didn't want anything to do with her at all any more?

EmmaLee continued to let her mind run wild with worries and panicked scenarios where Stephen called her an idiot for various reasons and angrily left her standing alone on the Hogwarts steps.

EmmaLee didn't know how long she let her mind spiral into darkness. The thoughts came too fast. Once exhausted of the myriad of ways she could be dumb in Stephen's presence from this point forward, her mind turned to what if Stephen didn't feel the same about her at all. Completely disregarding that he had leaned in for the kiss first. That was almost worse. What is he found out? What if -

Before she could go too far down that spiral, the door to her room was pushed open, scooting her unceremoniously in a sixty degree arc across the floor as it opened. EmmaLee looked up to see Victor peeking his head around the door at her.

"Hey there, Snowflake." He said with an awkward smile. "That was a lot, huh? May I come in?"

EmmaLee looked up at him in shock, almost as if she had forgotten his entire existence. In her confusion and panic, she had forgotten to cry, but as her stepfather asked to come inside so gently, it was like a dam broke and streams flowed freely down her pale cheeks like arctic water falls.

Now, wholly unable to speak, she simply nodded and put her forehead on her knees, her hair covering her like a snowy curtain. Victor moved into the room without shutting the door and sat down in front of her. As he did so, EmmaLee heard the soft sound of tiny feet hitting the hit the hardwood floor with a delicate thump. She then felt a pair of tiny hands pushing at the top of her head.

"Lee-Lee?" Chlo said, confused, her voice strained with the effort of trying to see EmmaLee's face. EmmaLee lifted her head with a poor attempt at a smile and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. Chlo put her tiny hands on E's cheeks and followed her older sister's progress across her face with curious eyes, but a concerned frown. The little girl pulled her hands back and inspected them for a moment before wiping their wetness across her own cheeks in the same path and then on the front of her shirt.

EmmaLee chuckled and unfolded herself, moving into a crossed leg position to match Victor's. How could she possibly worry about anything when Chlo was here. EmmaLee couldn't bear to worry the little ray of sunshine. As EmmaLee settled into her new position, Chlo clambered over her calves to occupy her sister's new lap. Knees technically on the floor, the child fell forwards, putting her stubby arms as around EmmaLee as she could and simply said, "Nono" as she settled there in that can't possibly be comfortable way toddlers sometimes do. EmmaLee and Victor chuckled in an amused, but dry way before the sounds of several people apparating cracked through the house.

"Some welcome, huh, kiddo?" Victor said, leaning with his elbows on his knees and his head in his burly hands as the sounds eased out. "Are you alright?"

Any words EmmaLee could have said hitched and hiccupped in her throat as she shook her head. Victor sighed and moved to kneel next to her. He cautiously picked EmmaLee up bridal style, with Chlo still in her lap in that awkward way, causing EmmaLee to hold Chlo closer for safety. EmmaLee allowed her stepfather to carry them to her bed and sit down, rearranging her and Chlo to sit next to him.

"What's the first thought?" He asked quietly as Chlo rearranged herself to sit with her back to EmmaLee's chest as EmmaLee rested her back against Victor's arm. EmmaLee took a deep breath, tears still flowing freely down her face, and hiccupped again before she spoke.

"I hic don't understand what is going on. What is everyone talking about being a woman? And being in love? I don't want to be in love. I'm too young to be in love." She said quickly, panic still in her voice and on the edges of her brain. Victor made half a chuckle and then a humming noise as he thought for a moment.

"Well, I'll tell you what I can from what your mother has told me, which isn't much to be honest." He said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand and then moving the other arm gingerly around EmmaLee and Chlo so that their bodies made a soft thump against his ribcage. "Your mother's family believes in something they call "Heirs above all", which means that each child's duty is to produce more children. They also believe in the power of seven. The LeDames' believe that having seven children makes their magic stronger. They also have some funny beliefs about marriage that your mother can go into when you're ready." EmmaLee looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and he chuckled again, held his hand up, and shook his head.

"Nope. Go ask your mother. Anyway, as you know, you mother had a hard time conceiving after you were born. What you don't know is that your mother went through a lot of mental pain and family pressure because of it, until your father decided to cut her family off." EmmaLee's eyes went wide as she heard this. Her mother had never told her any such thing. About the difficulty, yes, but nothing about the LeDames. Whenever she started to grow curious about her family, her mother had just said that she doesn't really speak to them and made it clear that them matter was not to be discussed. Victor continued, "Your father convinced your mother that the LeDames way, and even the Insomnieux way, was not the only way to have a family. They could make their own however God intended. I don't know if you were ever told about your father's faith." EmmaLee shook her head, still looking up at her stepfather. As he spoke, her tears dried up and her breathing calmed. She didn't have to look down to know that Chlo had fallen asleep to the sound of her father's voice, her small chest lifting EmmaLee's hands up and down as she breathed.

"Your mother said that he was Catholic. She tells me that she blamed "Nicolas' God" for taking him for a long time." He chuckled a little. "Anyway, Celeste and her family had a big fight before your father's funeral and she hasn't spoken to them until today, when they showed up on our doorstep, all seven of them, and said that they all needed to put the past behind them because you are of age." EmmaLee looked down at the top of Chlo's head and frowned deeply.

"What do you mean I'm "of age"? Of age to do what?" She asked quietly, but fiercely. More change. More weirdness. Change only brought people away from her or circumstances that she did not want. She never asked for these crazy women to show up here. She and her mother hand be perfectly fine, and it sounded better off without them. What right did they have to show up here, now? Victor sighed.

"I imagine what they meant when they got here is that you are thirteen. Many cultures believe that boys and girls become men and women at a certain age and that's that. I don't understand what your relationship with Stephen has to do with any of it." He said. EmmaLee whipped around in surprise, to fully face her stepfather, taking subconscious care to hold onto Chlo as she did so so the babe would not fall off her lap.

"The only relationship we have is friends!" She snapped defensively. Victor held is hands up in a surrender position.

"Whatever you say, but I know that you have never looked at another person the way you look at that boy. Not even Chlo." He said with a laugh. A real, deep laugh. "Whether you want to do something about that now or in five years or in ten years is your decision, Snowflake."

"I don't have to do anything about it?" She asked, looking at her stepfather with amazement.

"Well, no. He seems like the kind of kid not to push you into something you don't want to be in." Victor said, putting his hands on his knees and looking kindly at his stepdaughter. "But you might have to decide to let him go if he wants more and you don't."

"Why does it have to be like that? Why can we just stay the way we are?" EmmaLee said almost in tears again, clinging to Chlo like a support teddy bear, but being careful not to squish her. "I've already lost all my other friends."

"Have you though? Or has your relationship just changed?" Victor asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't patronize me!" EmmaLee said, ignoring the question. Victor chuckled.

"I'm not patronizing you. Where did you learn a big word like that? In your fancy English school." He said, shoving her a little with his elbow. EmmaLee tried to suppress her smile, but she couldn't help but crack the corners up. Victor put the tips of his index fingers in the upturned corners of her mouth.

"There it is. I found it." He said, causing her to free a hand from hugging Chlo to bat at him. "Seriously though. I don't see one friend you have lost because of the move to Scotland. In fact, you've made more friends, haven't you?" EmmaLee pouted, still refusing to give ground to his logic in her distress. "I've seen the notebook you write with the crew. You've haven't lost them one bit." He continued, reaching over to put a hand gently on her cheek and guiding her to look him in the eye. "All relationships shift several times in our lives. The real people never fully go away. Now, only you can decide if you're in love with anyone and only you can decide if you are going to do something with that revelation. Stephen's a good kid. He's a good friend. Did you really kiss him?" He said with a raised eyebrow. EmmaLee responded by turning bright red and hiding her face behind Chlo's curly white hair.

"Cheeky brat." Victor said with a laugh, standing up from the bed. "I don't know what witchcraft those women used to figure it out, but don't let them bother you about it. You aren't any kind of anything just because you kissed a boy. Every girl has done it at least once in their lifetime. Why don't we go find your mom?" He said, offering her a hand up off the bed. She took it, and then place her arm under Chlo to keep her held up as she walked. "You've got all the time in the world to figure this out, Snowflake, and if Stephen won't give it to you, he isn't the kind of boy I thought he was."

EmmaLee opened her mouth to protest, but closed it instead as she followed the hulking man out of the room. The conversation with Papa Victor had been.... educational... and comforting, but the panic still lingered in her chest, if just quieter. What if she figured out her feelings and Stephen didn't feel the same? Or what if she did take too long and he couldn't wait any more? If either of them rejected the other, could they continue as friends?

The family questions still swirled as well. Why did it matter whether she had kissed a boy or not? Why were they so excited about it? How did they know? Was it just a guess? Why was Maman so mad about it? Wait..... Was Maman going to be mad at her? She'd ruined dinner and apparently kissing a boy was bad.

EmmaLee stopped abruptly in the hallway. "I ah, I'm going to put Chlo to bed before I go downstairs. I'll meet you there." She said quickly, bolting into Chlo's room across the hall before Victor could protest. True, Chlo needed to be put down, she had been dead asleep for the last fifteen minutes or so, but EmmaLee needed an exit plan. Celeste mad was something her eldest daughter highly avoided. EmmaLee would rather take on twenty dragons with a toothpick.

EmmaLee carefully put Chlo in her crib and covered her with a blanket. Then she set about the meticulous process of turning on an orb in the corner that played tinkling lullaby melodies and projected lit stars, clouds, and unicorns across the ceiling.

She could just deny it. No, she'd already told Papa Victor. Why would it make Maman so mad? EmmaLee thought she liked Stephen too. Had she made a mistake letting it happen? Should she have turned away and protected her, what did Maman say, child feelings? EmmaLee still hadn't even really processed what happened, how it happened. It had just felt like the right thing to do. Should she have listened to her head instead? She felt like even her head had told her it was the right thing to do. Or her head had completely checked out of the situation.

EmmaLee sighed and tried to physically shove the thoughts down by firmly, but quietly closing Chlo's door. Maybe just, humble confrontation was the best policy. If she had done something wrong, she should just own up to it and let the punishment or reprimand come and then she could apologize and it would be all over and she could never do it again.... if should could agree to never do it again... did she want to never do it again?

UGH!

EmmaLee trudged down the stairs in frustration, but made sure not to make to much noise to not wake Chlo. This was NOT how she was supposed to come home. Today had gone completely and utterly wrong. She tromped her way to the kitchen doorway and froze as she saw Her mother, once again seated, her stepfather, seated beside her in his previous seat, and her grandmother, Genvieve, of Victor's other side. All anger, all feeling, drained from her like the bottom of a bucket breaking out and spilling water. She ducked her head sheepishly and wrung her hands together as she took a few steps inside the dining area.

"Am I in trouble?" She asked, barely above a whisper, but loud enough to be heard.

The adults turned to EmmaLee and studied her for a moment, Genvieve having to turn fully around in the armless dining chair to look at the girl. EmmaLee's grandmother moved like living water, with fluid but precise, almost calculated movements. If EmmaLee had to guess, she couldn't be any older than fifty. Was that young to be a grandmother? It seemed young.

The table had been returned to it former size and the extra chairs had vanished, leaving the six original chairs around the table. The food had also been cleared and there was not a sign that any of her aunts remained in the house.

Her mother's face broke into a worried frown and she stood to come around the table and pull EmmaLee into a warm hug, which her daughter gratefully returned. "Of course not, mon etoile. You have not done a single thing wrong." Celeste said, running her hand delicately, comfortingly over her daughters snowy hair. She broke the embrace and led EmmaLee back around the table to the chair next to hers and EmmaLee sat obediently, looking at her grandmother with a raised eyebrow and a great deal of apprehension. Why was she the only one still here? Did all the others go back home? Would they be back? Were they going to continue asking awkward questions?

" Il semble que nous t'ayons submergé, mon petit, et je m'en excuse.It seems that we have, overwhelmed you, little one, and I apologize for that." Genvieve said, following the two around the room with her body, putting her elbows on the table, and tenting her fingers together gracefully as she spoke. "Tout le monde est très excité à l'idée de te rencontrer enfin, alors que tu atteins l'âge de treize ans. Tu aurais dû nous connaître bien plus tôt, mais ta mère avait décidé de suivre un chemin différent dans la vie.Everyone is just very excitedly to finally meet you as you come of age, the age of thirteen. You should have known us a lot sooner, but your mother had decided on a... different path in life." EmmaLee's eyebrow jutted further up her forehead and she turned to her mother questioningly. Celeste looked at her own mother warningly. It seemed whatever argument they had been having while EmmaLee and Victor were upstairs had not abated, but merely quieted like the eye of a storm as Victor and then EmmaLee came downstairs.

"Mother. Enough." Celeste said, eyebrows furrowed in a steely gaze, she mirrored Genvieve's pensive position. "I allowed you all to stay, I allowed you to stay, because you said you would be reasonable."

"Une enfant qui connaît sa famille et son passé et qui sait pourquoi elle ne les a pas vus, c'est raisonnable, Céleste. Vous nous l'avez cachée assez longtemps. Il est temps qu'elle commence à apprendre. A child knowing her family and their background and why she hadn't seen them is reasonable, Celeste. You have kept her from us long enough. It is time she started to learn." Genvieve said, sitting up straight without her back touching the chair's and folding her hands delicately in her lap.

"As I said before, Mother, she will not be learning anything from you." Celeste said with a finality in her tone that shook EmmaLee, but seemed to bounce off Genvieve like a fly against a window. "I told you before and I will tell you again every time you come to accost me: I will not be participating any more in the LeDames family nonsense."

Genvieve glared at Celeste, her sharp jaw tightening. "Ce n'est pas n'importe quoi !It is not nonsense!" She bit. "Tu n'avais aucun problème avec ta position dans notre famille jusqu'à ce que tu rencontres cet horrible garçon.You had no problem with your position in our family until you met that awful boy." She accused. "Il a complètement ruiné votre avenir et vous cherchez à ruiner celui d'Emiline en refusant de laisser mourir ce garçon. He has completely ruined your future and you seek to ruin Emiline's by refusing to let the boy die."

EmmaLee was a little confused about who they were talking about, her father being the most likely person, but if she could help it, she would not let her grandmother insult her stepfather any longer. It was extremely rude to refuse to speak a language that everyone present can understand if you can help it and it was clear to EmmaLee, by her own mother's insistence on responding in English, that her grandmother was at least that much bilingual.

"Excuse me." EmmaLee said, quietly but forcefully, drawing the attention of the adults abruptly and fully. All faces turned to her and softened a fraction, but the women still seemed apt and ready to continue the argument. "I do not wish to be rude, but I would please ask you to speak in English while around my stepfather or I would ask you to leave his house." Genvieve gave a noise that was between a huff and a sigh.

EmmaLee turned to Victor, who had not moved for the entire conversation so far, choosing to lean back in his dining chair with his arms casually folded over his torso. His face was relaxed and interested in the conversation and he made no move towards his own defense, as earlier. He seemed almost resigned to Genvieve's rude behavior, like he expected it and was as bothered by Genvieve's attitude as Genvieve was about Celeste's demands.

"If you insist, Emiline. I detest speaking in this horrible, brutish language." Genvieve said, giving into her granddaughter, probably to appease her into compliance. Though she did not roll her eyes physically, the gesture was in her tone. She turned back to her daughter. "The time has come, Celeste, for Emiline to return to her family and begin her training and for you to set aside all of this wild wind nonsense and resume yours. You are far too old to be playing this rebel game of yours. I have allowed it for far too long, thinking you would come to your senses and come home." Genvieve said, waving a hand dismissively at Celeste's angry face. Why did these women keep calling her Emiline? "Instead, you married this barbarian savage," She continued, flinging an accusatory hand in Victor's direction. "and your second is blemished because of it."

EmmaLee's blood boiled and rushed into her ears, drowning out her mother's response. How could she say that about Victor, about Chlo? Chlo was not blemished in any way! How could one person be so entirely rude and terrible? The more words that came out of this woman's mouth, the more EmmaLee never wanted to speak to her again. Nothing she said made any sense to EmmaLee and the way she talked about all of them: her mother, herself, her sister, her stepfather, her father, was completely out of line no matter who she was.

"Ariane is dying, Celeste. The rites must be practiced and passed down and we cannot do that without all of the matriarchy present. You must return home." Genvieve said, placing her hand firmly on the table and standing up. It was clear that Genvieve was used to being able to say whatever she wanted and get whatever she wanted with no one challenging her. Her eldest was trying her patience and she was losing the battle of self-control. EmmaLee could see the growing anger in her grandmother's face as she stood and EmmaLee looked over to Victor curiously.

As EmmaLee watched him, he was watching Celeste, as stoic as earlier, not a shadow of anger seemed to cross his face at the insults that EmmaLee felt so needed to be defended against. Why wasn't he angry? He out of everyone should be angry? He was now sat up though, poised to stand his ground if he needed to, but allowed his wife to handle her mother without intervention as he had earlier as well. He turned to EmmaLee and raised an eyebrow, a silent question on his face, "You okay?" At the same time, he lifted the fingers of one hand to her in a covert wave, which EmmaLee took to say, "calm down."

EmmaLee nodded and took his lead, with a fair amount of difficulty. Her anger was still boiling in her stomach, but she supposed that if Victor wasn't doing anything to defend his family, neither should she. Her mother didn't need help against her mother, and her stepfather did not need a little girl to defend him. So EmmaLee tried to sit in the same way he was, staying put but ready to leave if told so, and turned from her mother to her grandmother and back as they spoke.

It was hard for her to continue listening as more conversation beget more insults and more questions about what the older women were even talking about. Her mother had told her so very little about her family and EmmaLee guessed that if they all were this way, maybe that was a good thing. Why would she want to be around women who were so close-minded.

"I consent to come and do my part in burying the Great-Great-Great, but EmmaLee and I will not be staying. You may pass down the rights and lines to LaLune and Ellianna. LaLune has wanted the matriarchy and hounded me about doing my duty since she was thirte--" Celeste said, continuing to try and be firm with her boundaries and continuing to have her mother ignore them.

"Since you started to neglect your duty for that boy!" Genvieve cut in, throwing another accusatory finger into the wind. Yes, her father.

"Since he helped me figure out how ridiculous it all was. Hanging on to rites and rituals and pride for what? There's no curse on our family. The prophecy you all cling to is nonsense. It's illogical." Celeste said, also standing up and putting her hands on the table. Always a mirror of her mother. It was uncanny.

EmmaLee's mind whirled as it came up with more and more questions. Each statement led to more questions and almost no answers. She had a living Great-Great-Great-GREAT Grandmother? What about a curse.... and a prophecy? What was wrong with her mother's family that they thought they were cursed? Why was it so important that EmmaLee and her mother go with Genvieve? What was all this about firsts, and seconds, and matriarchy?

"LaLune is right to badger you about the neglect of your duties. She has had to pick up everything since you left." Genvieve snapped. Neither woman had raised her voice, but EmmaLee found herself wanting to cover her ears all the same as if they were shouting. It was weird for EmmaLee to see a woman as intimidating as her mother having an argument with her mother. It was as if both equally commanded the room and they were fighting for dominance.

"Good! It must be her dream. She can have it if she wants it. I want nothing to do with it and EmmaLee will have nothing to do with it. LaLune can be your first and you can have another to replace me!" Celeste said, standing up to her full height and crossing her arms.

"You know that it doesn't work that way, Celeste. We have already discussed this!" Genvieve said, exasperated. "The first has first blood and first magic. It will never work without every first." Genvieve ran her hands across her face and through her white hair. "I can't believe that I raised such a selfish child." Celeste sighed, finally growing weary of the conversation herself. "By the Ladies, I hope you have not rubbed off on Emiline and I can talk some sense into her before it's too late."

"Her name is EmmaLee and I would have it for you and my sisters to refer to her that way." Celeste said, putting an exasperated hand over her eyes. She looked tired. More tired than EmmaLee had ever seen her. The sound of a hand pounding flat on the table made EmmaLee jump so that she almost fell out of her seat.

"I will never use the name that sleepless brat of an evil family gave my granddaughter! She is destined for greatness and her name will reflect such a future!" Genvieve had raised her voice now, causing Celeste to raise up her hand calmly and look at her mother with fire in her eyes. She straightened her back and put her hands to her side, fists loosely clenched, then spoke with a voice that seemed to reverberate around the room, though it was no louder than her normal speaking voice.

"I think it is time for you to go now, Mother. You and my sisters are welcome to EmmaLee's birthday party on Saturday, and she and I will be at the house next week for Grandmother's funeral, but that is all I will grant you. I renounce my position as the thirty third and bequeath it to LaLune. May the Ladies watch over you and grant you long lives." She said, headed held high, eyes bearing down on her mother.

Genvieve opened her mouth to protest, it opened and closed in stunned silence, but at this point Victor stood up and commanded the room. "It was nice to meet you and your daughters, Genvieve. I hope you will join us for EmmaLee's birthday dinner and I am sorry for your loss." He said politely, but with a finality that gave her no room to argue against his hulking build and presence, and gestured her out of the dining room. Genvieve looked from Victor, to Celeste, to EmmaLee and back to Victor before turning silently and apparating out of the room without another word.

Celeste collapsed back into her chair as her mother disappeared, covered her face with her hands, and slumped down into it, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. EmmaLee stared at her, very alarmed as a few unmentionables escaped her mouth in French before she sat up and turned to her family.

"I'm so sorry, mon etoile. I did not mean to fight with your grandmother in front of you." She said, putting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands wearily. Victor sat down quietly and put a hand on his wife's shoulder as EmmaLee ran around the table and hugged her. "I did want you to have a good time meeting them all." She said quietly. EmmaLee hid her face in her mother's side as she considered what to say. Her first impression of her mother's family had obviously been a terrible one. Maybe it was just a situation of high emotions. Maybe everyone was just overexcited and maybe a little angry at the absence of EmmaLee and her mother all these years.

"Why do they call me Emiline?" She said, at first muffled by her mother's shirt and then less so as she stood up to look her in the face. Celeste laughed at was probably an unexpected first question, then sighed and gestured for EmmaLee to sit in the chair next to her.

"I guess I should start with the fact that your father was my first love and the LeDames do not believe in pursuing love. They hold that first love in high regard, believe that it is the mark that you are officially growing from a girl into a woman, but they don't believe that it is sensible to pursue love. Love is the great trap of women throughout the centuries, according to the LeDames family. It is the reason we stay with men who treat us terribly, why we sacrifice ourselves, why we are abandoned for others, why we make many decisions that bring us to harm. Love is a milestone, but an overall useless feeling for anyone other than blood family." Celeste said, a mixture of exasperated and a little happy reminiscence in her voice.

EmmaLee listened with rapt attention as her mother spoke. She supposed that that was a certain way to think. Whether she agreed or not would be another thought session entirely. For the moment, she listened attentively as her mother explained, only shifting her gaze for a moment onto Victor, who had regained his relaxed and uninterruptive pose. As interested in the explanation as his stepdaughter. He did not seem bothered at all by the tone with which his wife talked about her dead husband and that made EmmaLee smile a little. If the way Victor clearly felt for her mother was a useless emotion, EmmaLee was sure there were any useful ones at all. She hoped her father had loved her mother half as much as Victor did.

"When I told my mother that I was marrying Nicolas, she was outraged, but because of my position in our family, she couldn't do much about the decision as long as it worked out, and it did. He decided to call you EmmaLee, which means universal shelter. My mother didn't like this either and decided that the family would call you Emiline, which means diligent and brave. She thought this was a more appropriate name for a LeDames first." Celeste continued to explain. EmmaLee raised an eyebrow and Celeste laughed again at the expression. "I didn't think it mattered either, but she has been against Nicolas from the start, so I think she would have changed anything he named you."

"What is all this about firsts and seconds and matriarchy?" EmmaLee asked next, folding her hands in her lap patiently. She tried to reign in the wave of questions she had. Celeste sighed.

"I think that is a conversation for another time. It is very late tonight. We have almost two weeks for me to tell you anything at all you would like to know about the LeDames." Celeste said, adding the last sentence at EmmaLee's skeptical look. Celeste gathered her daughter into her arms and pulled her into her lap, where EmmaLee hugged her mother warmly. "I had meant to tell you all of this anyway when you turned thirteen because I knew they would wait no longer, but they showed up this morning without warning." She said as she ran a hand over EmmaLee's hair. "Right now, I would like to hear about your time at school."

EmmaLee nodded and proceeded to tell her mother and Victor about the last few months at Hogwarts: about her second dueling win and making new friends, about her training and the practice duel she had with Lily McCoire. She told them about how excited she was for the Spring Ball because it was a masquerade and her mother promised that they would go shopping for a mask and a dress for it.

Victor and Celeste told her in turn about their own daily lives: about Chlo's different milestones as an 18 month old and how well Victor's company was doing. The Glasgow branch was doing very well and they may even be able to hand it off to someone under Victor soon, which meant that they were more free to travel between their home in New York and their home here.

This was the welcome she had expected. As her parents continued to talk, she started to drift off in her mother's arms and very soon felt her stepfather scoop her up, carry her upstairs, and place her gently in bed. At the end of the day, it was good to be home.