Honestly
Chapter One: Which is rife with wrangling
Characters this chapter: Howl, Sophie, Morgan, Mari, Megan
Disclaimer: Everything to do with Howl's Moving Castle belongs to Diana Wynne Jones ... I'm just a rabid fan who is possibly destroying her beautiful work of art by writing stories based off of it. ;p
"Sophie, I must have your opinion on the matter. Blonde? Or black?"
Howl stood at one side of the bed, mauve sleeves trailing across the patchwork coverlet as he leaned over Morgan. He tickled his son's chin while pulling a goofy face. In return, Morgan gurgled irritably, thrashing at the air with all four limbs.
"Howl, for the hundredth time, we are NOT dyeing Morgan's hair. And that is final!" Sophie shot Howl her sharpest and crankiest glare, only to find that he wasn't even looking at her.
"Sophie, just because you carried him around in your womb for nine months does not mean that you have the right to subject him to a life of suffering," Howl proclaimed as he grabbed Morgan's waving hands and began to dance them back and forth.
"I'm hardly subjecting him to a life of suffering," Sophie snorted. "At the very least, I'm only subjecting him to a few years of being a brunette. If he's unfortunate enough to inherit your vanity, then he can dye his hair himself when he's older. But we are not doing it to him ourselves. Understood?"
"Women," Howl shook his head at his son. "They're always asking us to understand them. But do they even try to understand us? Can they even fathom the pain—"
"Howl, he's too young!" Sophie shouted as loud as she could, in order to fully interrupt his theatrics.
"A man is never too young to learn about women," Howl said as he released Morgan's hands and began to play with his toes. Morgan frowned at this new development.
"I wasn't talking about that," snapped Sophie. "I was talking about his hair—he's too young to have his hair dyed. He's just a baby!"
"Sophie, if we're to instill good habits in our children, we have to start early."
"Unnatural habits is more like it," Sophie retorted, crossing her arms and turning away from Howl to stare severely out of the window.
In the week since they had recovered the castle from the djinn, they had rapidly stumbled upon a dozen new subjects to argue about, all of which were related to Morgan. Howl wanted to take Morgan to get a check-up at a hospital in Wales; Sophie thought that hospitals in Howl's world were frightening and barbaric. Howl felt that they should go visit Megan so that she could meet her nephew; Sophie hoped to avoid Megan for the next twenty years, lest she get anymore condescending advice on how to be a good mother. Howl wanted to buy Morgan an expensive wardrobe; Sophie didn't understand why she couldn't sew his baby clothes herself. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Strangely enough though (or perhaps, considering Howl's track record with hair, it wasn't so strange at all) the issue of Morgan's hair color was what they quarreled about the most. In the end, Howl gave Morgan a magical check-up himself, he agreed that Megan should be avoided until Sophie was at least comfortable holding her own child, and, with a hint of a smile, he admitted that the clothes Sophie made did have a certain … charm to them. But he would not budge when it came to Morgan's hair. Sometimes it seemed like it was the only thing they ever talked about, and Sophie was being pushed to the brink of explosion.
"He goes to all this trouble to hide his natural hair color, and now he has to look at it every day. What luck!" Calcifer had crackled to her at one point, green eyebrows flickering with amusement.
"What luck indeed," Sophie muttered now as she glowered at the Parry backyard. "Maybe I'll just shave Morgan's head."
Fortunately, Morgan picked that moment to burst forth with a high, keening wail, preventing Howl from hearing Sophie's appalling suggestion.
"My word, you do have strong vocal chords, don't you," Howl observed, as if this was the first time Morgan had ever screamed. He scooped Morgan up in his arms, and made his way over to Sophie.
Sophie sighed. "Howl, you know he doesn't like to have his feet played with."
"That's preposterous! Utter nonsense! It's all this talk of sticking him with dirt-colored hair that's riled him," Howl fixed Sophie with an accusing look, but the corners of his lips twitched upwards ever so slightly.
Sophie stroked Morgan's head in an attempt to soothe him, running her fingers through the shock of brown fluff that had become the source of such contention. Sophie rather liked his hair color—it made her think of a rich, creamy chocolate. Of course, when she had told Howl this, he had remarked that the only thing worse than having mud-colored hair was having food-colored hair.
"Here, why don't you hold him," Howl slid Morgan into Sophie's reluctant arms.
Sophie frowned as she took her baby, and began to awkwardly rock him back and forth. Morgan bawled even louder. She had to resist the urge to hand him back over to Howl. But after a few seconds, he began to quiet down. Sophie held her breath as he opened his mouth impossibly wide—but this time, no yell was uttered. This time, he only yawned.
"Tired of making noise?" Sophie asked her son with a laugh. Morgan responded with a kind of squeak, and stared up into her face with darting blue eyes.
"See, you're perfectly fine with him," commented Howl. Sophie smiled, and Howl laid a hand on her arm. "I don't understand why you get so nervous."
"I'm always so worried that I'll upset him or hurt him," she said.
"You certainly don't show me that kind of consideration," Howl remarked in a wounded tone of voice, with an equally wounded look clouding his bright green eyes.
Sophie realized that she was in imminent danger of being forced to hear yet another one of Howl's tragic soliloquies. On any other day, she would have simply argued her way out of it, but the never ending debate over Morgan's hair color had considerably dampened her enthusiasm for fighting. Fortunately, she hadn't spent all this time living with a professional slitherer-outer without learning a thing or two herself. She quickly cast about for a possible source of diversion. Making Morgan cry again was absolutely out of the question. And it would be far too noticeable if she bewitched Howl's suit into wrinkling. Of course, she would want him to notice the wrinkling part—just not the part where she created the wrinkles. Drat. It was times like these when she regretted the fact that she had never learned how to cast a spell without speaking.
"And she doesn't even try to deny it!" exclaimed Howl to the room at large when Sophie failed to reply to his earlier accusation.
Sophie's hopes of diverting Howl's self-pity were fading fast, when a flurry of movement in the Parry backyard caught her eye. Sophie moved closer to the window in order to get a better view—perhaps this would provide her escape ticket. But what she saw quickly drove away all thoughts of her present predicament.
The movement in the backyard had come from Mari. She seemed to have run out of Megan's house and was now standing by the swing set, her eyes lifted upwards in a pitiful, forlorn sort of way that would have put Howl's best melodramatics to shame. She was gazing in the direction of the castle window, and in her arms she held a bizarre spherical object. From what Sophie could see, it seemed to be a rough golden-brown ball with a spray of green spikes shooting out of its top. Sophie wondered if it might be something magical.
By now, Howl had launched into a full-fledged lamentation which detailed the excruciating woe of loving a woman who cared so little for him that she wouldn't even listen to him. And indeed, Sophie was not listening to him anymore. Her mind was now caught up with thoughts of Mari. She was suddenly feeling quite guilty over the fact that she had convinced Howl not to go back to Wales just yet. As much as she wanted to avoid Megan, she realized that a visit to Mari was long overdue.
"Sophie, what on earth is so fascinating out there?" Howl inquired crossly. "Did Gareth add something to the garden? A man-eating marigold perhaps?"
He was sounding dangerously close to green-slime, having been forced to abandon his melancholy performance due to his audience's complete lack of interest.
"Oh yes, there's one right there … and look! It seems to have bitten his head off!" Sophie joked in an attempt to lighten Howl's mood.
Howl crossed his arms sulkily. He was not to be cheered up so easily. Sophie, however, was not going to waste anymore time catering to the needs of her husband's overly demanding ego. Green slime be damned. There were more pressing issues at hand.
"If you must know, I was looking at Mari," said Sophie. "She seems rather upset, and she's holding something very strange. I think she might have accidentally caused some trouble with her magic again."
Howl raised his eyebrows with interest, but he made no move to look at the scene in the garden.
"Some trouble?" he asked. "That's certainly an understated way of saying that she's charmed a plant into eating her own father."
"Howl, I'm not kidding!" Sophie's voice crescendoed towards a shout, making Morgan gurgle unhappily.
"You mean to say a flower really did devour Gareth?" Howl clutched at his chest with feigned surprise.
"No, you—" Sophie realized that, for Morgan's sake, she could no longer raise her voice to such damaging decibel levels. However, she did have an alternate plan for venting her frustration towards Howl. This plan involved calling him every foul word that she had ever heard from Martha and Lettie and Michael, a plan that she proceeded to carry out with such vigour that Howl leaned backwards ever so slightly, as though he was being battered by a stiff wind. She ended the whole production with a few Welsh insults that she had picked up over the years—the icing on top of a particularly venomous cake.
"Dear Sophie, I don't believe that kind of language is appropriate for children's ears," Howl glanced meaningfully at Morgan while smoothing his jacket and hair. With some satisfaction, Sophie noted that she had managed to wrinkle his suit after all. With more irritation, she noted that an amused twinkle flashed in his eyes. Typical. Of course he had to cheer up now that her actual intention was to get under his skin.
"Howl, just look outside," Sophie spat through gritted teeth.
"Anything for you, my queen," Howl gave the last word a rather sardonic emphasis before stepping up to the window.
Mari was still in her backyard, hugging the golden-brown ball tight against her stomach. She was restlessly pacing back and forth, threading her way around arches of pink bleeding hearts and patches of buttery daffodils and squares of brown earth where the seeds for summer flora had been sown. She alternately glanced up at the castle window, then over the top of the garden fence, then anxiously back at the Parry house. At one point, she briefly sat down on one of the swings, golden-brown ball in her lap, feet dangling listlessly. Finally, she jumped up with a decisive spring, and made her way towards the fence. She was just starting to scramble over it when Megan came into view, arms waving wildly with maternal anger.
"It's as I suspected," Howl turned to his wife, his face grave and pensive.
"What?" Sophie looked at him expectantly.
"Sophie, I must remind you that Mari doesn't need to use magic in order to cause trouble," said Howl, his expression still serious. When Sophie only frowned quizzically, Howl broke into a smile. "It's nothing! Or at least nothing magical. Stop worrying. I daresay all she did was to pull a prank while Megan was putting away the groceries."
"Stop worrying, he says. How can I stop worrying when you make every situation seem like the end of the world?" Sophie made sure Morgan was securely balanced in one arm before raising her other hand to give Howl a playful shove. As she pulled her hand back, he caught it firmly in his own, and drew her forcefully towards him. Sophie gasped.
"Sophie, you know I forbade Mari to use magic when she's in Wales," Howl continued conversationally.
"What I know is that you gave her that little speech for my benefit, not hers," Sophie said in an equally conversational tone. She could see all the details of the wizard's eyes—his pupils contracting and widening, adjusting ever so slightly with the light—the dark green ridges and pale green valleys in his irises—her own reflection, staring back at her.
"Are you saying I'm irresponsible?" Howl murmured.
"You are irresponsible, but that isn't my point this time," Sophie told him, feeling a bit light-headed from the strong scent of roses that was flooding over her.
"Then what is your point?" asked Howl.
"I would get to it, if you would only …" Sophie trailed off as Howl threaded a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair between the fingers of his free hand. He tucked it behind her ear, then began to delicately trace the outline of her face. Sophie shivered as his fingertips slid lower, playing along the curve of her neck. She vaguely wondered why she never thought of this tactic when she was trying to avoid Howl's dramatic meltdowns. She would have dropped the subject of Mari altogether, had Morgan not begun to fuss, distressed that he had lost the attention of both of his parents.
"Howl, I don't believe this kind of behavior is appropriate for children's eyes," Sophie said. Howl seemed tempted to continue regardless, but another distraught cry from Morgan quickly put an end to his plans. He released Sophie's hand with a defeated sigh. A moment later he found himself with a very fussy baby in his arms. Sophie felt that this was the best way to prevent him from … interrupting her again. Not only that, but she was not yet feeling up to the task of having to calm Morgan while simultaneously trying to pin down Howl.
"Getting back to my point," Sophie said, hands on hips. "You're too proud of Mari to properly discipline her. I know that you're happy that someone else in your family back home finally shares your gift for magic, but it's blinded you. So far she's only done little things, but if you continue to let her play around unsupervised, it's only a matter of time before she creates a real mess."
"Well, I suppose you do speak from experience," Howl smirked at his wife. Sophie glared fiercely, but chose not to explore that particular subject line any further.
"Honestly, though—" Howl began, only to be interrupted with a snort from Sophie. He tried again. "Honestly, after all this time, you must still think I don't know my business. Mari is harmless. She hasn't learned enough to be able to cause any real trouble. And I assure you that I won't teach her anything that will allow her to do so until she's matured quite a bit more. The worst she can do now is to cast a rather convincing glamour that makes it look like she's actually eaten all of her vegetables at dinner. So there. Satisfied?"
"Why don't we visit her, just to make sure nothing happened while we were gone," Sophie suggested, the look on her face making it clear that she was not satisfied. "Besides, I'm sure the poor girl is worried sick about us. She probably tried to visit the castle, only to find that nothing was here because the djinn had taken it."
Howl raised his eyebrows. He was suddenly looking quite smug.
"If I recall correctly, Mrs. Jenkins, I do believe that I proposed a visit to Wales after we recovered the castle. And, if my memory still serves me, I believe that you were against it—no, no, you were violently against it—no, wait, you were fervently, violently—"
"Oh, will you get on with it?" Sophie snapped. Howl, however, did not get on with it. He simply fixed his wife with an innocent, expectant gaze, much like a wide-eyed little boy waiting for a parent to give him a cookie. Sophie looked from her husband to the baby he held in his arms. She suddenly had a very good idea of what she was going to be dealing with over the next few years. And perhaps it was this vision of the future that made her determined not to relent.
"You know, if you had really wanted to go home that badly, you should have worked harder to convince me to come!" Sophie objected. It was a weak argument, though, and Howl knew it. He continued to stare at her, green eyes wide and hopeful.
"Oh fine," Sophie grumbled. "I was wrong. We should have visited Wales sooner. Is that what you wanted to hear? Can we go now?"
Howl did not answer Sophie directly. Instead, he allowed his eyes to linger on his wife, the expression on his face having become entirely too satisfied for her liking. For a brief moment, Sophie tried to convince herself that he was simply happy to be seeing his family again. But realistically, she knew that he was gloating over the fact that he had pinned her down into openly admitting defeat. Really, that man … and here she had been trying to pin him down. Sophie returned Howl's smug gaze with an icy stare that finally forced him to look at Morgan, whose blue eyes were currently much friendlier than his mother's. This made Sophie feel a bit better. She might have lost the verbal battle, but at least she triumphed in the staring contest.
"Did you hear that, Morgan?" Howl asked his son, turning his back on Sophie's persistent, searing gaze. "We're off to see your evil Aunt Megan. Now don't be afraid. Her bark is usually much worse than her bite … usually … actually, maybe you should be afraid …"
While Howl chattered away at Morgan, Sophie sighed heavily and peered out of the window one more time. Megan and Mari had vanished into the house, leaving the backyard empty. Now that Sophie thought about it, she felt rather silly for thinking that Mari'sbizarre golden-brown ball was magical. She knew that Howl's world was full of strange things that had nothing to do with magic. Even so, her stomach still fluttered nervously at the thought of it. There was just something about the look in Mari's eyes, in the way she had held that ball, almost desperately …
"Howl?"
"Yes?" Howl cut off in the middle of explaining to Morgan that the best way of dealing with Gareth was to ignore him, and turned around to face his wife again.
"What was that thing that Mari was holding, anyway?"
Author's note: If anyone is sick of reading fics that involve problems with hair dye, my apologies. I couldn't help myself. :) But don't worry, it won't be a major issue for the rest of the story ... hehe ... I just seem to have this thing for starting stories with random conversations.
Anyway, I know that it was never written in HMC or in CitA that Mari has magical powers. But I figure it's a possibility. My theory for how this fits in with the books is that in HMC she's really too young for anyone to know, and since CitA is written from Abdullah's point of view, there was no reason for it to ever be mentioned there.
Also, this is probably going to become a Chrestomanci crossover in the later chapters (if I ever get there ... hehe ...).
And last but not least, this story was inspired by a Sabrina the Teenage Witch episode (which is completely irrelevant, but if you're really into Sabrina the Teenage Witch, you'll probably see the connection by thethird chapter ... or, maybe not ...)