Bran met Jennifer Lowell once. He has no quarrel with her, although he spoke harshly when they met. Tonight, he nods politely at Jennifer, sending his white hair flying in all directions.
Her small smile doesn't exactly disappear when she catches his eye, but it does fade from the bright cheer of a young woman to something older and more thoughtful.
She approaches, chin lifting, and says quietly, "Good evening, Bran Davies."
Bran raises one of his own eyebrows, but makes no comment; instead, he sits in one of a pair of armchairs near a small table, gestures Jen to the other chair, and orders a pot of black tea from a waitrat. "Sugar or lemon?"
Bran shows his surprise only by pouring a little too much tea into the first cup and setting the teapot down without filling the second. He sits up, straight, alert and regal, giving Jen his full attention. "Yes, he did."
"Did he?" Bran asks coolly, after passing Jennifer her teacup.
Here is a woman (a very beautiful woman, no less) whom Bran has met only briefly, once, telling Bran that she talked with Arthur Pendragon about him. Bran raises his defences against her.
Bran pushes his own teacup a little away from himself. "I do not know anything about you, Jennifer Lowell, except that you are a friend of Kim and Paul and you have been to Fionavar. Clearly you know things about me that I have not told you, and you are telling me that you learned them from my lord Arthur. You are asking me questions that I am not sure it is safe, or wise, to answer. What is your claim on my business, Jennifer?"
"Only my concern for Arthur -- your father -- and through him, for you. I'm . . ."
Her tone falters, barely, then steadies.
"I'm Guinevere, Bran," she says, simply. "Not the one you and your father know, but Guinevere and Jennifer nonetheless. My lord Arthur saw fit to confide in me, and he talked about you. Is that claim enough?"
This last is an honest question, with no challenge in it.
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She approaches, chin lifting, and says quietly, "Good evening, Bran Davies."
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"If you don't mind. There's something I'd like to talk with you about."
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The waitrat leaves, and Jennifer considers Bran for a moment, quiet.
Finally -- "Your father made it safely back, then, I trust."
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She looks up at him, green eyes solemn. "He told me you took on a heavy burden, when Kim called him away."
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Here is a woman (a very beautiful woman, no less) whom Bran has met only briefly, once, telling Bran that she talked with Arthur Pendragon about him. Bran raises his defences against her.
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"How did you fare? How do you fare?"
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The headache Bran had, because he did not quite fit into the magic of the Summer Country, left a permanent line across his forehead.
Once, during Bran's regency, the kingdom barely escaped utter disaster.
Bran Davies has no reason to speak of these things to Jennifer Lowell.
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Jennifer does sigh this time, putting down her cup. "I would rather not have to leave all this on a sour note, Bran Davies."
A pause. "If I thought it'd help, I'd apologize, but I don't know what I would be apologizing for."
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Bran pushes his own teacup a little away from himself. "I do not know anything about you, Jennifer Lowell, except that you are a friend of Kim and Paul and you have been to Fionavar. Clearly you know things about me that I have not told you, and you are telling me that you learned them from my lord Arthur. You are asking me questions that I am not sure it is safe, or wise, to answer. What is your claim on my business, Jennifer?"
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"Only my concern for Arthur -- your father -- and through him, for you. I'm . . ."
Her tone falters, barely, then steadies.
"I'm Guinevere, Bran," she says, simply. "Not the one you and your father know, but Guinevere and Jennifer nonetheless. My lord Arthur saw fit to confide in me, and he talked about you. Is that claim enough?"
This last is an honest question, with no challenge in it.
Reply
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