This was spawned in one of the forums—the Home for the EdgeXRydia shippers, and after several years of it sitting in its lost little corner I decided it deserved to be made longer and see the light of day.

For Freida_right

I make no apologies :)

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My, What Exquisitely Boiled Potatoes

Cecil lifted his wine goblet to his lips, enjoying the aroma of the dark liquid now that it had had a chance to breathe. It was one of the few things about this evening he felt he would enjoy, as he peered over the rim of the goblet at the group that had arrayed itself down both sides of the long table. This was the feast to celebrate the birth of his son—an important event by all accounts—and if Cecil didn't have an impending sense of disaster, he might actually be at leisure. Instead, his eyes roved the crowd of assembled friends—warriors and diplomats, all.

Rosa, who was sitting at his left, gave him a quick nudge at the elbow and he nearly spilled the contents of his goblet on his formal trousers. He glanced at her, frowning slightly.

"Relax," she whispered to him, leaning forward so that he had no choice but to look at her.

He set down his cup and sighed, attempting a smile. This was the first time Rosa had been separated from their infant in months, her first evening to be an adult among other adults—though he doubted if half the company could be considered such. Still, he owed her this evening. He took a steadying breath and silently pledged to at least pretend to enjoy himself.

He turned his attentions to Cid—steepled fingers pressed resolutely to the bridge of his nose as he listened to the engineer's enthusiastic chatter. Cid had been trying to capture his interest all afternoon with news of a "break-through", and here at last the man had seized his chance. Cecil listened for several minutes until he was sure he'd heard enough of "turbines" and "output" to last him a decade, and allowed his gaze to wander instead—the same gaze that had been trained to detect trouble before it happened. It didn't take long before he saw the signs brewing at the side of the table farthest from him.

Cecil had come to learn over many months that the personalities of their companions while sober were often more than one room could contain, and now—well, suffice it to say, that the evening would not be dull.

Chief among Cecil's suspects was the least likely culprit under his own cognizance; but as the king of Baron watched, he was amazed that no one had removed the wine goblet from King Edward's hand sooner. Judging by the cocksure smirk plastered all over Edge's face, Cecil suspected the ninja may have had more than a little to do with that.He had never seen Edward so convivial before, and in fact, Edward was the most animated guest at the table.

So far, the danger was contained to boisterous singing and shrill laughter, and Cecil decided not to be overly concerned—for now.

He directed his attention to Kain, who had made an unexpected appearance at this feast. The dragoon's blonde hair was bleached pale from exposure to the sun, and while Kain had been tightlipped about his activities over the past few months, he was finally beginning to reveal some of those details now. Cecil would be remised if he passed up on this opportunity to learn more about his friend, and so gave him his rapt attention.

Annoyingly, just as Kain's tale was becoming more interesting, Cecil detected a stray object flying precariously across the corner of his vision. He glanced back to the end of the table, where King Edge of Eblan was staring back at him, feigning innocence.

And when Edge was feigning innocence it meant only one thing—guilt.

Seconds stretched interminably, and Kain eventually cleared his throat, cutting Cecil's vigil short. Cecil gave his friend an apologetic smile, and Kain resumed his tale—but only long enough for a few words more.

A loud shriek of protest erupted from the end of the table, and Cecil's gaze returned there immediately. Princess Luca had pushed back her chair, her pigtail braids swishing menacingly, and was standing up with what looked to be a boiled potato perched in her outstretched palm.

"Who threw this at me!" she was demanding to know, and Palom was glaring daggers at Edge. The ninja shrugged, but Cecil saw that suspicious grin creeping onto his face…

"I had nothing to do with that!" Edge objected, and to his credit, any evidence of the offending trebuchet had been hidden from view.

"Well someone had something to do with it," the dwarf princess cried.

Edward, who had become embroiled in the drama merely by proximity, pointed at Luca and began to chuckle happily. "Princess and the potato," he laughed, with a hiccup punctuating his mirth. "What a wonderful song that would make."

Edge raised a brow at the bard. "I'm sure it would be sung in every tavern the whole world over," he assured the other man.

"Truly!" Edward exclaimed, raising his goblet in Edge's direction and spilling half of its contents all over the table—and Porom.

"Oh for crystals' sake!" the white mage shouted, dabbing at her robes with a cloth napkin.

Now Rydia was glaring at Edge while she attempted to sort out the young mage's robes. "Do you always have to cause trouble?" she insisted with a frown.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Edge complained with a small pout aimed entirely at the summoner.

She tilted her head to the side, unimpressed, and then pointed at Edward's half-empty goblet. "And whose idea was it to keep re-filling his cup?"

Edge shrugged helplessly. "He was miserable when the evening began," he explained. "Now, he's happily enjoying himself."

Rydia groaned disgustedly, and continued to console Porom, who was preoccupied by the fact that her robes were ceremonial, and, it hardly needed to be said—costly.

"What in the hell is all that noise!" Cid grumbled loudly, and Cecil finally glanced away from the far side of the table to look at his old friend.

"It seems that some manner of mischief is taking place," Kain chimed in, looking boredly at the riotous youth who were continuing to issue threats at each other.

Cid rolled his eyes, having decided he'd been interrupted one time too many this evening. He pushed his chair back with a loud scraping sound and opened his mouth to bellow something presumably frightening, but he was never given the chance to make his utterance.

The engineer's beard suddenly erupted in a shower of sparks and embers instead. Cid's bellow was not one of reprimand, but of pain and fury.

"Someone put out this damned blaze!" he rumbled, patting at his beard with his meaty fists.

"Palom!" Porom yelled with all the authority and exasperation a sister could muster.

"That was meant for Edge's chair!" Palom whined, trying to dodge his sister's wrath and failing.

"I don't care who it was meant for!" she shrieked. "You do not cast magic at a dinner table!"

"Cecil—" Rosa said, gripping his arm, but he was too busy subduing Cid to notice.

"PUT THIS FIRE OUT!" Cid roared, tearing half the table cloth off the table as he tried to smother the flames.

"Blizzard!" Rydia shouted from the other side of the table, frosting the engineer's beard with snow and ice crystals, and only slightly masking the singed disaster that had become of its once well-trimmed existence.

"Cecil!" Rosa said again, but her husband was now too busy glaring at the youngest of their company.

"Would someone please explain to me why you would choose today of all days to do such a thing?" Cecil demanded, doing his best to look threatening.

"The baby is crying!" Rosa interjected angrily, finally getting her husband to look at her.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"I've been trying to tell you, the baby is crying," she repeated. "All this noise must have woken him up," she added, glaring at a few key people.

Cecil sighed deeply. This entire evening had been meant for Rosa, and now it had been ruined in every possible sense.

He watched his wife leave the table and stride over to the nurse who was holding their infant son. He pinched the bridge of his nose and suddenly wished he had his sword at his side. Someone was going to pay dearly for this.

"Heeeeeeeeeey," Edward said, interrupting his thoughts, pointing at Cid with a wavering, drunken finger. "When'd it snow?" he asked with a hiccup.

Everyone at the table raised a bemused brow at the bard king and his belated observations.

Oh yes, someone was going to pay for this, Cecil stewed. First on his list was whoever had boiled such an exquisite potato projectile to begin with. Second, was anyone who so much as dared look at him in the next twenty four hours.

He opened his eyes, and saw Edge glancing at him sideways. Cecil smiled darkly and noticed the twitch of apprehension on the ninja's brow. This was almost too easy, he mused, as the ninja quickly realized his peril.

Cecil lifted his wine goblet to his lips and took a long swig, never taking his eyes off of his first victim.

At least there would be one less mouth to feed at breakfast.

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A/N: Freida, I promised you this story AGES ago! So sorry!

For everyone else, it was decided that if the party members of IV gathered for a feast and there was alcohol involved—THIS is what would happen, lol.

Thanks for reading!

~Myth