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Date/Timing: Shortly after Pietr's 18th birthday in 2014.
Setting: Naude house
.
Griet floats across the front room.
Her father's voice—“Griet!”—yanks her up short.
“Yes, Papa?”
“Come here. Now.”
Griet's heart sinks and she creeps over to Papa's chair.
He seizes her left hand, zeroes in on her ring finger—the diamond ring from—
“The Vos boy give you that?”
Griet meets his glare calmly. “Pietr asked me to marry him and I said ‘yes’.”
His jaw tenses, he bows his head. “Griet ....” Deep breath. “You're making a terrible mistake.”
“I love him. We love each other.”
He sighs, presses his palms together in front of his mouth. “I know you think you do—”
Griet protests—
Papa signals for quiet. “I know you think you love him, but he'll never be able to support you and the mob of children he'll saddle you with.” Mutters, “Whole damn family breeds like rabbits.”
“I want a family, too, Papa.”
“Your family will be dependent on /charity,” Papa spits. “You've seen how they live: sponging off the stuck-up one from Kimberley or whichever of them has a job that month. And that one will be the worst of all.”
“Pietr works hard,” Griet growls.
Papa waves dismissively. “When he can get work.”
“Then I'll work and he'll watch any babies and work out when he can.”
“It's not that simple, Griet,” sighs Papa. “Go through with this and your life will be much harder than it has to be. I want better for you.”
“I know you want the best for me, Papa, but you need to understand that's Pietr.”
Papa's spine becomes steel. “If you marry that boy, we won't help you. No money, no help with the babies, no extra jobs for either of you.”
“I understand, Papa.” Griet's back is straight and her voice level. “We'll manage on our own.”
“You've made up your mind.”
“Yes.”
Papa grunts, waves Griet away.
She spins on her heel, marches to Dafne's room.
Dafne looks up from painting her nails, gives Griet a thorough once-over.
Griet says—
Dafne squees and tacklehugs her into the wall. “Congratulations, Sis!” Squeezes all the air out of Griet's lungs.
“Thanks,” wheezes Griet. “Could you—?”
Dafne hops back, bounces on the spot. “He /finally asked, huh?”
Griet grins. “Yep!”
“When's the big day?”
“As soon as we can after my birthday.”
Dafne rolls her eyes. “Of course. Now we've—” Dives into the bottom drawer of her dresser, throws clothing about. “—gotta start implementing The Plan.” Brandishes a bright pink binder.
Griet raises an eyebrow.
“I've been planning the ceremony and party for /ages.”
Griet tows Dafne to the bed and plops her down. “Let's see what you have.”
Dafne beams, flips to the first page. “Let's start with your dress—”
“Something simple.”
“Of /course. I saw /this pattern—” Points out a trim, straight-lined sundress with ruffled cap sleeves.
Griet coos.
“—and thought it was absolutely /perfect.”
“It is! It is!”
“Great! We'll get Maarten to drive us up to the city in November for fabric and I'll sew it for you.”
“Why wait so long?”
“In case you get pregnant between—”
Griet smacks her arm. 
“Ow!”
“I'm /not going to get /pregnant before the wedding.”
Dafne looks unimpressed. “I know how many condoms the two of you go through in a month—”
Griet's face flames.
“—and his family's immunity to birth control is /legendary.”
Griet snorks. “Okay, okay. We're always extra careful, though.”
“We're still waiting 'til November.”
Griet pouts mightily.
The back door slams.
Dafne and Griet jump.
“What was—?”
“Had to be Papa, since Mum's still at work.”
Griet squeaks—
“What—”
—launches herself out the door.
“—what's going on?” hollers Dafne, tearing after her.
“He's going after Pietr!”
“Oh, shit!”
They're out the door, down the block—
A cloud of blond curls bobs above a courtyard wall.
“Maarten!” hollers Dafne.
Curls stop. ““Hey, Daf!””
“You can tell them apart by their hair?!”
“Pietr's is flufflier.”
“Huh. You're right.”
“'course, I am.”
They skid to a stop next to Maarten.
“Where's Pietr?” Dafne pants.
Maarten shrugs. “Floating somewhere.” Smiles, bobs his head to Griet. “Congratulations, future Mrs Vos.”
“Thanks!” Griet shakes happy fluff from her brain. “We need to find him before my papa does.”
“Didn't take it well, I guess?”
‘Of course not,’ sigh Dafne and Griet.
Maarten scratches the back of his head and he takes a deep breath. “You go back home; I'll track Piet down and get him out of any trouble that might've found him.”
“Thanks, Maarten.”
“Welcome, ladies.” He tips an imaginary hat, wheels about, sets off at a jog. Closes in on the post office—
““—/useless, boy! She's too good for you and you /know /it!””
—rounds the last corner—
““Someday she'll realize it, too—””
Piet, back pressed to the wall, lips thin, eyes blazing, knuckles white; Mr Naudé with a handful of Piet's shirt and a beet red face.
“—so save yourself the heartbreak and get out of her life now.”
“Afternoon, Mr Naudé!” calls Maarten.
Naudé's head whips around (though he doesn't loosen his grip); Piet turns an instant later, tension bleeding from him. 
“What do you want, Vos?”
“Looking for my brother, sir.” Tilts his head toward Piet. “I need him for a two-person job.”
Naudé frowns.
Piet smiles weakly, wiggles his hands into view, says softly, ::Thank you.::
Maarten offers his most harmless, charming smile.
Naudé huffs, pitches Piet toward him, storms off.
Piet deflates, straightens his shirt with shaky hands.
Maarten taps under his chin. ::You alright?::
.::Sorta?:: Ducks his head. ::Almost punched him. Still want to.::
.::Don't blame you. He's a total asshole.::
Piet snorts, then sighs.
.::C'mon, let's get going.:: 
.::Is there really a job?::
Maarten grins. ::Yea, we've got to tell the entire family Bee said 'yes'.::
Piet sparkles, grabs Maarten's hand, drags him toward Mamma and Pappa's house.
Category:Ficlet
Category:Turtles-compliant
Category:Griet
Category:Griet (ficlet)
Category:Isaac
Category:Isaac (ficlet)
Category:Dafne
Category:Dafne (ficlet)
Category:Ty (mention)
Category:Pietr
Category:Pietr (ficlet)
Category:Maarten
Category:Maarten (ficlet)
Category:Pietr (description)
Category:Maarten (description)
Category:Dael (mention)
Category:Ficlets with images
Category:Koffiefontein (setting)