Jareth rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The affected area is gargantuan, and smells of sour strawberry milkshake.” He glowered briefly in the direction of Feanor’s nursery.
I sighed. “It’s not his fault and you know it. He had unexpected psychic trauma, he’s connected to the kingdom just like you are, and he’s coping the best he can. Also, he’s two.”
Jareth took a slow breath through a clenched jaw. “It will take significant effort to clean up this mess.”
I crossed my arms. “And we all know exactly whose feet to lay said mess at. It just so happens that your mother has defensive spells that prevent dropping large sections of your kingdom in front of her. Or on her.” Which was certainly my preference.
Jareth arched an eyebrow. “You always blame my mother.”
“That’s because she’s a menace.”
Jareth’s eyebrow arched even further.
“Let’s see...” I began ticking off my fingers. “There was the time with the poisonous birthday spider--”
“Feanor killed it handily--”
“--the assassin-riddled play session in her garden --”
“--which he escaped by using his new invisibility cloak--”
“--the suddenly-appearing moat full of kelpies--”
“--which caused him to deploy an excellent jumping spell--”
“--the biting pixie brigade that blew in on a wind from just the direction of her realm--”
“--he used a brilliantly offensive Bog cloud on them--”
“--and now this business with the psionic attack mages at that damned amusement park--”
“--he activated the emergency teleport spell in time—”
“--and that was just within the last month.” I threw up my hands. “No wonder she keeps doing it. You’re encouraging her.”
“You can’t coddle him, Sarah. He’s Faerie royalty, and we don’t play nice.”
“He’s my two-year-old son, and his grandmother’s trying to kill him at every opportunity, with your apparent blessing.”
He shrugged. “She’s trying to help. We must learn survival young in my family.”
I closed my eyes, tried to unclench my fists, and consoled myself with visions of dropping pieces of the Labyrinth on Jareth’s mother.
Jareth’s wintry spice scent enveloped me, and I felt his hands smooth their way down my arms, dancing over my skin in familiar patterns.
His voice was the honeyed comfort of home, layered over the icy steel of Faerie I’d come to rely on. “You knew all this when you agreed to marry me, love.”
I leaned my head into him. “But I didn’t have our baby son then.” The tension spiking through me broke beneath his touch into hot tears at the corners of my eyes. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
Jareth’s mouth hovered next to my ear, murmuring velvety certainty into me. “He will survive it. You must be strong. Have faith in our son.”
I sighed into his chest. “Can we at least send your mother a piece of that stinking Labyrinth section, with love, from Feanor?”
He laughed softly. “That, I’m sure we could manage.”
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ninetydegrees
no subject
2020-12-01 19:20 (UTC)Drabble:
Jareth rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The affected area is gargantuan, and smells of sour strawberry milkshake.” He glowered briefly in the direction of Feanor’s nursery.
I sighed. “It’s not his fault and you know it. He had unexpected psychic trauma, he’s connected to the kingdom just like you are, and he’s coping the best he can. Also, he’s two.”
Jareth took a slow breath through a clenched jaw. “It will take significant effort to clean up this mess.”
I crossed my arms. “And we all know exactly whose feet to lay said mess at. It just so happens that your mother has defensive spells that prevent dropping large sections of your kingdom in front of her. Or on her.” Which was certainly my preference.
Jareth arched an eyebrow. “You always blame my mother.”
“That’s because she’s a menace.”
Jareth’s eyebrow arched even further.
“Let’s see...” I began ticking off my fingers. “There was the time with the poisonous birthday spider--”
“Feanor killed it handily--”
“--the assassin-riddled play session in her garden --”
“--which he escaped by using his new invisibility cloak--”
“--the suddenly-appearing moat full of kelpies--”
“--which caused him to deploy an excellent jumping spell--”
“--the biting pixie brigade that blew in on a wind from just the direction of her realm--”
“--he used a brilliantly offensive Bog cloud on them--”
“--and now this business with the psionic attack mages at that damned amusement park--”
“--he activated the emergency teleport spell in time—”
“--and that was just within the last month.” I threw up my hands. “No wonder she keeps doing it. You’re encouraging her.”
“You can’t coddle him, Sarah. He’s Faerie royalty, and we don’t play nice.”
“He’s my two-year-old son, and his grandmother’s trying to kill him at every opportunity, with your apparent blessing.”
He shrugged. “She’s trying to help. We must learn survival young in my family.”
I closed my eyes, tried to unclench my fists, and consoled myself with visions of dropping pieces of the Labyrinth on Jareth’s mother.
Jareth’s wintry spice scent enveloped me, and I felt his hands smooth their way down my arms, dancing over my skin in familiar patterns.
His voice was the honeyed comfort of home, layered over the icy steel of Faerie I’d come to rely on. “You knew all this when you agreed to marry me, love.”
I leaned my head into him. “But I didn’t have our baby son then.” The tension spiking through me broke beneath his touch into hot tears at the corners of my eyes. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
Jareth’s mouth hovered next to my ear, murmuring velvety certainty into me. “He will survive it. You must be strong. Have faith in our son.”
I sighed into his chest. “Can we at least send your mother a piece of that stinking Labyrinth section, with love, from Feanor?”
He laughed softly. “That, I’m sure we could manage.”