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He was loved, so loved by his mother that she had planned out his life like a sacred map. She drew the outlines, the hills, waves, and crests. Each rise and lilt, each tribulation and grievance. It is safe to say that she never quite let him out of her sight.

Even now that he was a grown man and was capable of making his own decision, his mother, Meredith still dictate his life. She never gave him the opportunity to do what he likes.

When Jonas was at a marriageable age, she had planned out who he was even going to marry.

On the day she told him, it had been terrible. They bickered, back and forth, and Jonas closed the door on her for the first time.

Meredith was sitting on a chair in the tea house across her house. She was drinking tea and overlooking the streets.

She loved to come here in the afternoon, to map out her plans, and watch young girls making up stories of Viking, spinning folklores of witches, werewolves, vampires, and fairies.

She loved the way they touched everything with their innocence, their hair trailing behind them. They usually walked in groups.

It was this particular tea house that enabled her watch over Jonas\' wife to be.

Her name was Gwen, and she was born around the same time as Jonas.

Meredith had had her eyes on the girl, and she secretly planned for them to be betrothed.

There was something about her that she craved so desperately. Maybe it was the emerald green of her eyes that sparkled as though something magical lurked beneath it. Or perhaps it was her hair? The fiery red of it, the way it stubbornly tumbled down her back.

Finally, Jonas and Gwen were both adults, of marriageable age, and Meredith wanted Gwen\'s blood in the family line for reasons only known to her.

Meredith went back home and saw her son, Jonas waiting for her.

"Mother?" came a baritone voice from behind her. Meredith turned her slender neck to regard him. He was covered in sweat, locks of his hair was slicked on his forehead. He breathed heavily.

"You went horse riding?" she asked, her eyes glinting with dissatisfaction.

"Yes." Jonas replied with a dismissive wave. "You summoned me here, why?"

Meredith sat down to regard him. Her young son had grown into a handsome man. She looked at the strength in his jawline, his eye cheekbones, his set and determined intense blue eyes.

And she fought the urge to reach over and touch him, knowing that he wouldn\'t like that.

"I called you here because" she paused, unsure of how to break the news. A part of her feared he would explode in anger if she told him. Or he would do something erratic.

There was coldness and indifference that shrouded him now and it scared her more than she was willing to admit. Her control over him was slowing getting weak.

"I called you here because its time," she finally said, hurriedly, as though the words were like hot coals in her mouth.

Jonas folded his arms. "Time for what, mother?" he said flatly.

Meredith sighed. "You are a man now, Jonas. And you are a handsome, complete one. I know you have a lot of choices, with the girls in the kingdom all throwing themselves at you.

Most are from respectable homes, but their desperation disgusts me. You know that. This is why I have chosen a wife for you. Her name is Gwen, she is a well brought up..."

The color drains from Jonas\' face, "What?" he exclaims.

Meredith sighed. "It is something that has to happen. Really it is, she is a great girl, beautiful, and she is coming over to the house tomorrow. I have ordered the maids to clean up and prepare the place for her. You have to be there, Jonas. This is important for our family"

Jonas storms out before she is done talking. He runs down the stairs in a flurry of anger, and Meredith follows. Something suddenly creeps into her and replaces the anxiety she felt just a few minutes ago. It is nerve wrecking.

"Jonas!" she screams, holding her swaying gown behind her so that she can catch up with him.

"Jonas get back here," she says as she holds on to his arm tightly. Jonas yanks it free, a little too forcefully, and it sends her reeling backwards, her chignon coming downwards, pins tumbling down to the floor. The time she had spent doing it up in front of the dresser is reduced to nothing.

Jonas steps out of the house and closes the door loudly behind him, slams it even. Meredith stares at the heavy oak wood. Her greying hair falls to her back, covers most of her face, obscuring her view.

The servants quickly pull away, leaving her to grieve privately. Meredith crawls to the door, strokes it with her gnarly hands, and cries, yearning for the little boy who used to look at her with expectant eyes, who called her mother, and sought for her approval in everything he did.

That little boy had grown, and he was no longer this Jonas, barreling through doors and wrestling away from his mother\'s grips.

******

Here is what you must know. Meredith was not a woman to be easily dismissed. After crying for what seemed like hours, she wiped her eyes and stood up resolutely; back, straight. Eyes, determined. Heart, purposeful. She went to the stables and ordered that all the horses be taken away till after two weeks.

Thankfully, Jonas had gone out on foot this time. Blinded by anger, he could not go horse riding because he usually tended to them with a surreal tenderness.. Even when he drove at high speed, sending them galloping through the markets and fields, he never did it while angry.