'Living in London' was vague, and Brannon suspected intentionally so. There were good, respectable neighborhoods of London, but they were outnumbered by cheap boarding houses, overcrowded townhomes, and areas rife with crime and poverty. If he lived on Kensington High Street, he likely would have said so. 'Going out to sea regularly' was not an auspicious addition to the statement, either: it meant that if he and Zelda married, she would be left frequently alone in one of those areas.

Brannon had a good deal to say about that, but before he could begin Zelda had spoken up. He looked over to her, almost surprised. It was not customary to have one's daughter present during a discussion like this, and he had almost forgotten that she might, in fact, have an opinion on the matter.

"Yes, Zelda?" he replied, though he doubted anything she had to say would change his mind much about this fellow.

  

She had not actually gotten this far in envisioning this moment. Taking all the confidence she had - which was usually a lot, but family gatherings had a way of sapping it from her - Zelda stood up. "Can I talk to you in the hallway for a minute?"

She had to end this. She had to end this so that Alfred could leave before he got both of them in trouble. She had to end this so that there was any potential of him asking that question and Brannon saying yes.

"Mr. Darrow can have my seat for the moment," she added. And maybe on her way out she would have an opportunity to kick Ari in the shins.

---

  

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AMAZING set by MJ

Taking Zelda's seat was actually the very last thing in the world Alfred had any desire to do. He didn't know what she was going to step out and talk to her father about, but even if she was only gone three seconds, that would be far too long, in his estimation, for him to be left alone at a table surrounded by her siblings.

He opened his mouth to protest, though he hadn't actually gotten as far as deciding what he would say — maybe it wasn't too late to excuse himself and promise to return some other night after all — but he was too late. Her father had nodded curtly and was rising from the table, and in another moment the two of them had gone through the door, leaving him alone with the rest of the family.

Alfred turned to look at the table awkwardly, wondering if anyone actually expected him to sit down.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

“This is highly irregular, Zelda,” Brannon said on entering the hallway, a frown set deep in his features. “But I expect you didn’t need me to tell you that.”

Zelda was very aware that everyone was, probably, still eavesdropping on them to some extent. “I don’t think he knows it’s Passover,” she said, as if that was the most obvious problem with this situation.

This may have been the most obvious problem, but it was not the largest nor the most egregious — in fact, Brannon may have been inclined to overlook the interruption had it been for a more favorable proposal. “Zelda,” he said, tone stuck somewhere between a stern warning and a patronizing pity — how did she get herself mixed up with these sorts of people?


Zelda grimaced. She was used to grimacing in conversations with her father, but this was particularly problematic, because she was not sure how she was going to talk her way out of this one. “He’s not a bad person,” she said, because he wasn’t. Alfred was a pretty good person, really, if one who frequently got himself into trouble like he was right now.

Brannon made an exasperated gesture with one hand. “Being ‘not a bad person’ is hardly the only criteria I use to evaluate potential son-in-laws,” he pointed out. “How well do you really know this fellow?”

(There was no right answer to this question; the fact that his name had never come up before in the Fisk household meant it would be suspicious if Zelda claimed to know him very well at all, but the opposite was, of course, grounds for immediate dismissal).

There was no good answer to this question. It was a trap question, and Zelda recognized it as such, and kicked the toe of her show against the hardwood floor in silent protest.

“I know him,” Zelda said, “I know him - better than Xena’s known some of the men who have come here for her, so.” Yeah, that was maybe too combative, and she regretted it immediately, except that it was true, and she could be fully confident that Alfred was not in love with one of her sisters.

“This isn’t about Xena,” Brannon shot back immediately, voice rising slightly but not yet reaching anything that could be termed yelling. “This is about you, and your future. I suppose you want me to agree to this.” He supposed so now, at any rate, that Zelda had gone through the effort of pulling him into the hallway; since he had never heard Mr. Darrow’s name before tonight (at least not in any sort of connection to him or his family), he wouldn’t have had the faintest idea what her opinions on the matter were had he come on any other night. “But I doubt you’ve considered the consequences.”

  

Zelda’s mouth twisted. “Why do you always assume that I’m incapable of thinking things through?” she said, tone more exasperated than it was angry. “I know what the consequences are. I think about my future, too.” She really liked Alfred, was the thing, and it was not something that she could by any means say to her father. But - well, her future. It was not as if she had anyone else knocking at the door to try to court her!

“You’re still a child,” Brannon said sharply. “And you’ve probably got some romantic nonsense in your head about this, thinking everything will be sunshine because you’re fond of him. That isn’t the way things work. If this man can’t support you — which, he has made clear, he can’t — you’ll be unhappy, and you’ll either keep on being unhappy your whole life, or he’ll leave you. And what will you do then? The slums are filled with girls who made stupid mistakes like this. Pennyworth is filled with their sons and daughters, still trying to work off their mothers’ mistakes,” he said harshly.

Zelda flinched; it was not so much the tone that made her flinch as it was the words. “I’m not helpless,” she said, finally, in a snappish tone she had been trying her best to avoid. She wasn’t helpless, was the thing - she had NEWTs, she had a job, she wasn’t useless. “And I thought you said this wasn’t about Xena. He’s not Mr. Jameshill.”

  

---

AMAZING set by MJ

Brannon glared. Darrow was clearly not Mr. Jameshill, but she was not making the point she thought she was with this little tyraid. Mr. Jameshill had come ‘round the house properly, paid his respects and attentions the way that young men were supposed to. He had a stable career, came from a good family, and already had a home Xena could have lived in — and Xena had been obviously and openly infatuated with him. He had been ideal in many ways, which was why Brannon had been pleased to welcome him into the family — until his past had come back to haunt him and he’d broken Xena’s heart, of course.

“You’re being hateful,” he said coldly. “Tonight is a celebration with family. If you can’t behave yourself and be a part of the family, you can spend the evening in your bedroom.”

Zelda opened her mouth to argue, closed it, opened it again, said nothing. Her face was red. She was still angry with Ari, who had clearly fucking knocked up her friend before marriage, why didn’t they talk about that instead, angry with her father, angry to some extent with Alfred because he should have said something to her - but there was no resolution to be had that did not end with her being exiled to her bedroom like a child.

She missed, with a sudden sense of desperation, her mother. Delia would know what to say; she would be somewhere in the middle here, she would at least ensure that Zelda did not feel so alone.

“I can be part of the family,” she mumbled instead.

It brought him no pleasure, watching Zelda collapse into herself like that — but what was the alternative? Send her rampaging around the dining room, ruining the night for everyone and most likely derailing Xena’s emotional health for a week or more?

“Zelda,” he said, much more softly now. “You’re my daughter. I love you. And I hope one day you’re able to marry a man you love. I mean that,” he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder lightly. “But this won’t be the only man you’ll ever fancy. You’re still so young.”

  

Maybe, Zelda thought, this would be easier if her father knew. If he knew, he would be perfectly ready to get rid of her, and she could have professed ‘if you don’t go for this, I am going to die alone’ with all the confidence that it warranted. But he didn’t know, she had made sure of that. There was a part of her that was sure this would not be the end of things with Mr. Darrow - but right now she felt distinctly defeated, really just wanted the conversation to end.

“I love you too.”

That brought a smile to Brannon face, albeit a brief one. “Maybe the next one can be one with a real occupation,” he said, although he wasn’t particularly hopeful. In the scheme of things, though, going from ‘werewolf-who-should-have-been-dead’ to ‘sailor’ was, technically, an improvement. Maybe the next one would even be respectable.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes to Captain Darrow,” he said, turning his attention back to the door. “We’ve a whole passover dinner to get started with.”

Nobly, Zelda thought, she did not make a face at that. She turned back to the door, held it open for her father, fixed Alfred with a look that attempted to convey as many apologies as she could.

  

---

AMAZING set by MJ

The room was much as they'd left it. To his credit, Darrow hadn't been so audacious as to actually take the seat Zelda had offered him at the table. Brannon walked back to his chair before speaking, but remained standing behind it, supporting his weight slightly by placing his hands along the carved back. He fixed a look on Darrow to ensure he was listening. Aside from a brief glance towards Zelda, Brannon appeared to have the man's undivided attention.

"Given your history, Captain Darrow, I have the impression that you may be," he paused, considering his word choice briefly before continuing. "Out of practice when it comes to what is expected in a civilized society. The purpose of courting a woman, as far as any gentleman is concerned, is to someday marry her," he said, with a brief and unsmiling glance towards Zelda before returning his attention to Darrow.

"Until you have a situation in which you can properly support my daughter, you have no right to ask for her time or attention," he concluded in a businesslike fashion. "Good day, Mr. Darrow. Someone can show you out."

  

Alfred had been more or less expecting that, since the moment that he'd walked in to the crowded dining room but even more so with every passing second that Zelda had spent with her father behind closed doors. He couldn't imagine how that conversation would have gone, but it was at least a little gratifying that she'd tried to have it at all. Presumably, she had been trying to convince him to say yes. He had been quite obviously on the verge of saying no before she'd intervened, so if she hadn't wanted Alfred to ask, if she had no desire to be courted, she could have just sat back and watched the whole embarrassing scene play out.

It had been a losing battle from the start, though, of course. What could she even have said to try and convince him? Alfred had nothing that someone like Brannon Fisk would care about, and everyone in the room knew that.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your evening," he blurted out, and headed for the exit without waiting for someone to show him out. He remembered his way down the short hallway, and the last thing he wanted was Ari Fisk waving him off from the doorway.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER