A/N- This takes place several years after season two. Wil and Mareth are married, have two children, and are co-regents of Aborlon. I borrowed the children's names from the books but nothing else.
Lyria and Eretria are also married, and have a son.
I hope you enjoy!
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"Mom, this dress is poking me! I want to take it off!"
Wil could not suppress a small smile as he watched his wife and daughter partake in one of their regular struggles.
Six-year-old Brin always put up a fight during formal occasions and Mareth was usually the one who stood firm. His wife may not have been raised in the court, but her mother had been a princess and she understood the formalities that came with royal life more than the rest of the family. Wil, for his part, had taken on his duties well during their reign—as weird as it often felt, he wore the crown without protest and had become a respected and diplomatic ruler over the last fifteen years. But when it came to convincing the kids to stand still and bow to their guests in full regalia…that was harder for him to do. He'd spent his childhood running through forests and fields. That seemed much more natural to him.
"Aunt Lyria and Aunt Eretria don't care what I'm wearing! This is soooooo silly." Brin continued.
In Wil's opinion, the girl was right. These clothes were needlessly uncomfortable and it seemed silly to spend hours getting ready simply to greet old family friends. The Queens of Leah were their unofficial family, and the man had always felt a bit foolish sitting on a throne before them while offering artificially formal greetings. But, unlike his daughter, he understood that there was no other way. This was tradition and, technically, Lyria and Eretria's visit to Arborlon was a diplomatic one. It was their royal duty to put on a show.
"Your aunts don't care." Mareth conceded and she did up the final golden button on her daughter's dress. "But everyone else does. The entire court—not to mention the royal guards of Leah—are going to be watching us. If we don't give them the same greeting we give every other royal visitor, we will be letting down our people. This isn't about us—it's about who, and what, we represent."
Brin gave her trademark eyeroll as she adjusted her large skirt. Her brother, Jair, chuckled.
"I'm just glad I'm not a girl." The fourteen-year-old remarked, sticking out his tongue to provoke the girl. "You get a scratchy dress, and I get a sword." He finished, proudly indicating the item that he had tied to his waist. Jair had recently received the item for his birthday—a gift from his parents who had agreed that he should begin his training that year.
Wil had to admit that it filled him with an odd mixture of pride and apprehension to see his son wear the rather impressive looking weapon he had been gifted. He had grown so much in the past few months, and his dark hair and strong jaw had begun to remind Wil of Shea—the grandfather Jair had never met. And his intelligent dark eyes, well, those had come from Alanon.
Standing there with a sword on his waist and a crown on his head, he looked every inch an elven prince. It was a striking sight, but the father's heart pained somewhat to think of the burdens that would one day be his—the elf stones, the Sword of Shannara, the throne of Arbolon…it was a lot for anyone to take on and some days Wil wished that their lives were simpler. Sometimes, he dreamed of life back on the farm, with nothing but the harvest to weigh on his mind.
But, he supposed, there was no use thinking of what would never be.
"Jair, don't provoke your sister." Wil warned, placing a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. The teen was nearly as tall as he was now and the gesture was not as easy as it had once been.
The boy gave a small smirk, but decided to listen (for now).
"Alright, two minutes." Mareth cut in, glancing towards a nearby mirror and quickly throwing her dark hair over one shoulder. She placed a crown, which had been sitting on a nearby table on her own head before picking up the larger one and passing it to Wil.
He held the silvery object in his hand for a moment, his thumb brushing over the delicate leaf design in the centre. Every time her touched it, Wil was struck by the long history of the relatively simple piece. If the legends were true, this crown had first been placed on the head of his ancestor, the first in the Shannara line, and it was odd to think that a poor country boy from Shady Vale had any claim to that legacy. When he had first seen this crown on King Eventine's head, he had never wanted or dreamed that it would one day be his.
But this was what he had become.
What he had accepted.
With a deep breath, he placed it on his head.
A moment later his wife leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "Handsome, as always." She commented with a wink before taking his hand.
Their daughter giggled, and their son gave a playful retch of disgust. And with that, they finally left the small chamber and walked into the great hall.
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It was the same as it always was.
The visitors were formally introduced by an accompanying member of the court of Leah and both sides bowed, curtsied, and offered the standard welcoming remarks.
Wil, as was the case every time his old friend visited, made a point of avoiding Eretria's eye. The reluctant Queen consort of Leah thought that this was even more ridiculous than he did and, in the early days, they had each been admonished by their wives for breaking out into a fit of laughter at one very formal occasion.
Jokes would, undoubtedly, be made later that night. Privately. But for now, there was business to be done.
"On behalf of the elven people, we warmly welcome you to Aborlon, Queen Lyria, Queen Eretria and Prince Alyn on Leah." Wil said, taking his cue after his wife's opening remarks. "The Queen and I look forward to discussing many pressing issues and strengthening the friendship between our two peoples during this visit."
"We look forward to that as well, your majesty." Lyria replied with a nod of her head. "Please, accept this gift as a thank you for your warm hospitality, on behalf of the human federation."
She gestured towards her son, who was only a few months younger than Jair, and the boy moved forward with a small wooden chest in his hands. As he walked towards the royal family, Mareth nodded at Jair to move forward as well and the two princes met half way, each bowing as Alyn passed his elven peer the chest.
"We thank you for this gift." Mareth said as her son returned to her side. "And we hope that you will all join us for a small dinner in our private quarters this evening. We know your journey has been long, and we will not hold the welcome banquet until tomorrow evening, if that is agreeable. The east wing has been prepared for your family and your company."
Lyria gave another slow nod. "Yes. Thank you, your majesty. We shall depart now and prepare for dinner."
The human queen gestured towards her guards this time and, with one final curtsey, the entire entourage made their way out of the hall. Once the golden doors were finally shut, Wil let out a breath and slumped back slightly on his throne. There were still a few elven guards present, but none were within earshot.
"Well, at least that's over with." He muttered, letting out a sigh of relief.
Mareth placed her hand on top of his and gave him a light tap. "Congratulations on not laughing, sweetheart." She commented with a playful wink. She was never going to let him live that down.
"Can I PLEASE take this off now?" Brin asked, bounding up onto her father's lap and looking up at him with pleading eyes.
She definitely knew his weaknesses.
Wil chuckled as he brushed a lock of blonde hair behind one of her pointed ears. Much to the joy of the court, both of their children had seemed to get a double dose of elven DNA and few would have guessed that she had two human grandparents.
"You did wonderfully, little princess." He said, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Now let's go and get ready for the actual welcome party."
Brin squealed with joy at the thought of spending some time with her unofficial aunts and cousin (in comfortable attire!) and she quickly jumped off of her father and raced towards the door.
Wil had to admit, he was feeling quite of bit of that enthusiasm as well. It had been far too long since the girls had visited, and after months of council meetings and diplomatic missions, he was in much need of a fun night with friends.
He couldn't wait to take off his crown.
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"All set?" Wil asked as he watched his wife place the last two plates on the table.
Although some members of the court objected, Wil and Mareth had insisted on maintaining some semblance of a normal home in their wing of the palace. They had bedrooms, a living area and a dining room that they used as much as possible, and they did their best to keep the royal servants and guards from crowding the area. It was a bit unconventional, perhaps, to play house within the walls of Abrolon—but they had both been raised in very different scenarios, and they were never fully relaxed until they were alone behind closed doors.
When it was just them and the children, they could pretend (for a little while) that they were just a regular family.
Inviting visitors into this space without supervision had been a bit more controversial, but they had managed that as well as the years went on. They had, of course, wanted to relax informally whenever Eretria and Lyria came to visit—but they were apt enough to realize that they could not be seen to be playing favourites with their human guests. As halflings, both Mareth and Wil had to be very careful not to bring their loyalties into question. While humans and elves were no longer official enemies, the people of their kingdom needed to know that their allegiance would never come into question in the worst of circumstances.
In truth, both king and queen took their duties very seriously. Despite his unique heritage and childhood circumstances, Wil was fiercely loyal to his people. He had struggled so much as a child and teen but, in his mind, he was an elf now. Plain and simple. And most knew that he always had their best interests in mind.
To be safe, however, they had decided to invite all royal visitors to private dinners and that had proved to be a good strategy. As it turned out, the gnomes and dwarves were good fun as well, away from the careful eyes of the court. And the trolls, well, they were amicable enough. Most of the time.
"Clara is bringing up the food around seven o'clock." Mareth said, referring to her handmaiden and most trusted confidant. "Other than that, we shouldn't be disturbed."
"Perfect." Wil said, pulling his beautiful wife into his arms as she walked towards him.
He loved seeing that relaxed smile on her face and he knew that no matter where they were or what they were doing, he would always be madly in love with this amazing woman. Somehow, she managed to make being a Queen, a druid, a mother, and an all-around wonderful person look effortless, and Wil knew that he was lucky to have found his match.
"It's going to be a great night." He said, before placing a kiss atop her dark head.
Mereth smiled.
"Eretria said she's bringing some sort of new drink she found during her visit to the northlands."
His wife laughed and playfully rolled her eyes. "Eretria's drinks never end well." She noted, shaking her head. "Remember the three-day hangover you got from that terrible Gnome whiskey? You're thirty-eight years old, Wil—I'm not going to babysit you while you pretend to have the "flu." We do have actual business to do tomorrow, you know."
The man gave a playful wink. Wil and Eretira were usually the ones who had a little too much fun at these gatherings, and both of their wives were left to bring them water and medication the following morning.
"Just a sample, I promise." Wil conceded, throwing up his hands.
Before they could continue, there was a knock at the chamber door and Brin let out a joyful shout in the other room.
"They're here! They're here!"
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To any uninformed onlooker, it would have looked like a simple gathering of friends. The private dining room was nice, but not particularly large, and all present cordially passed dishes around the table and served themselves what they desired.
There was nary a crown or a servant in sight.
It was a welcomed relief for all after the pomp and circumstance of the afternoon and Wil could not supress a smile as he leaned back and surveyed the scene.
Lyria and Mareth were deep in conversation and his wife let out a laugh as the other queen said something that must have amused her. The boys were talking loudly about swords (Alyn had received one for his fourteenth birthday as well) and Brin was excitedly telling her favourite Aunt all about their recent trip to visit the Gnomes.
"Did you know that Gnome girls never have to wear big scratchy dresses?" He heard her ask her bemused Aunt. "They only have plain grey ones, and they look soft!"
Wil laughed.
"Come on now Brin, you make it sound like we're torturing you." He cut in, ruffling her hair.
The girl had chosen to wear a pair of fluffy pink pajamas to the table that evening and, after her discomfort that afternoon, they had not minded in the least. They'd all be back in their formalwear for the banquet the following night, and he wanted his daughter to fully enjoy the evening in whatever outfit she chose.
"Why don't we talk to the seamstress next week about making something soft?" He asked, hoping that she would feel vindicated. "We all need to dress up sometimes, but there is no reason to make it so awful, right?"
His daughter nodded, still looking skeptical.
"You know I hate all of that formal stuff too, squirt." Eretria cut in with a smile. "But, as my lovely, and much fancier, wife always reminds me, there are just some things we need to grin and bear." She paused, looking down at the girl thoughtfully, the spark of an idea in her eyes. "I vote that we flee the great hall after dessert tomorrow and come back up here for a pajama party. How does that sound?"
"Eretria, as much as you like to deny it, you're not a child." Lyria interrupted, trying not to laugh as she looked over at her ever-defiant wife. "You need to stay for at least one dance. With me." She paused and gave the six-year-old a wink. "Then you two can run up here to make a blanket fort and read stories."
After giving a small chuckle, Eretria reached under the table to give her niece a secret high five.
"Speaking of dessert, does anyone have room?" Mareth asked as she stood up and grabbed a tray from a nearby table. "I had Clara bring up everyone's favourites. But don't feel like you have to cram it in if you don't want to. We have plenty of time."
"Dessert!" Brin exclaimed, looking eagerly at the tray as her mom placed it on the table. The boys, who were both bottomless pits, it seemed, nodded as well.
"I never say no." Wil added as Eretria nodded in agreement. "Bring it on."
Mareth passed chocolate cake to Alyn and Eretria, a Barkwood tart for Brin and amber pudding for Jair and Wil.
"I'm stuffed for now." Lyria added and Mareth sat comfortably back in her seat as the rest tucked in.
All took a few bites before Brin noticed the Alyn was eying her tart with a curious gaze.
"Do you want some?" The girl asked, tilting the plate towards her cousin. "They're the best! Mom makes them the best."
The boy continued to eye it skeptically and Mareth gave a small laugh. It was clear than he had never seen this particular delicacy before and Wil suspected that she was reminded of the first time he had seen one as well. Even now, after years in Abrolon, Wil had to say that it was an odd looking treat. The pastry was standard, but the greenish-brown filling had been unlike anything he had ever seen and it did not look appetizing. He took could recall the first time Mareth had offered him one. His face had screwed up in disgust until she had playfully forced some in his mouth.
He had been pleasantly surprised by the smooth and sweet flavour of the substance, and it had become one of his favourite desserts over the years. There was truly nothing else like it.
But he knew Alyn would not have the same experience.
"He's not going to like it, sweetheart." Mareth explained, looking at her confused daughter. "Though you're welcome to try it if you'd like. Just have a glass of water handy." She finished, turning towards the young human prince.
Brin, for her part, looked confused. "Why won't he like it? Barkwood sap is delicious! Everyone likes it."
"Elves like it." Jair corrected knowingly. "It tastes good to us, but bad to everyone else."
"Really?" The girl asked, looking back and forth between her parents for confirmation.
Wil nodded. "How did you describe the flavour that one time?" He asked, looking at Eretria. "Dirt and old socks, was it?"
His old friend cringed at the memory. "Something like that." She replied.
Her son made a similar face of disapproval and shook his head. "Er, I think I'll pass, thanks Brin." He said before taking a few more bites of his chocolate cake. "This is good, though!"
Brin still looked confused, and a bit put-out, but Wil distracted her by sneaking a nibble of the controversial tart.
"Dad!" She exclaimed, quickly snatching back her fork.
"What?" He asked with mock innocence. "I thought it was up for grabs, and you know I love Barkwood tarts."
She stuck out her tongue as he swallowed his bite and pulled the plate as far away from him as she could before speedily taking the last few bites.
As they all finished up, Mareth suggested that the kids play in Jair's room and, despite the boy's protestations about including his younger sister, they all eventually made their way down the hall somewhat amicably. Thankfully, Alyn never seemed to mind Brin's presence and Jair hadn't wanted to whine too much in front of his friend.
"They're all getting so big, aren't they?" Lyria commented as the four adults made their way into the living room and positioned themselves on the plush couches and chairs. Wil had put out wine and a few glasses, and they began to help themselves as they lounged.
"Some days I just want it to stop." Mareth added after taking a deep sip. "Jair hardly looks like a child anymore—it's only a matter of time before he becomes a little man." She paused, looking over at her husband. "Wil found him in his room with the chancellor's daughter last week." She continued with a sigh. "We don't think they were doing much, but oh my god! I can't believe it's starting already!"
Wil nodded. He too had been quite taken aback by the situation last week. They had been sitting on the bed when he had walked in (fully clothed, thankfully)—at the sight of him, their ears had turned bright red and the girl had rushed out with barely a squeak. Jair had refused to say much about it all, but Wil and Mareth had decided that it was time to keep a closer eye on things. Wil had, awkwardly, already given 'the talk,' and he hoped that his son was sensible enough to be safe. Still, he hated to think about what would happen if the young prince got himself in a compromising situation. Like it or not, he had to adhere to higher standards than most.
"I don't really know what to say to him." Wil admitted, looking towards his close friends as he reached his free arm around his wife. "Girls seem to follow him where ever he goes, and we don't want it to get to his head. Nor do we want him with someone who is taking advantage of his position." Wil drew a deep breath. "When I was his age, I was a nobody and the local pointy-eared freak. I didn't exactly have this problem."
There was a slight pause.
Lyria tilted her head thoughtfully and took a sip of her drink as well.
"I can probably relate best." The queen admitted, giving the parents a sympathetic look. "I guess I was the only one who grew up in a similar situation, and I used to love all of the attention people gave me at that age. Mind you," She mused. "A big part of that was because my mother didn't pay me much thought and saw me as a pawn more than a daughter. I always wanted to show her that I was my own person, and I'd sneak off with anyone and everyone. Nobles, stable boys, handmaidens. Anyone that I thought she wouldn't like. And it was easy, because everyone is eager to gain the favour of a princess."
Mareth let out a worried groan.
"But it's not exactly the same situation." Lyria continued reassuringly. "You guys are great parents, and I'm sure he's not the kind of kid who does things just to piss you off. But hormones are hormones, I suppose. I'm sure we're in for the same sort of thing any day now."
"Not if I have anything to say about it." Eretria cut in, half-jokingly. "I'm hoping that Alyn is nothing like either of us and hibernates until he's at least twenty."
Wil snorted. "Good luck with that."
His friend raised an eyebrow. "You hibernated until you were twenty, if I recall." She pointed out playfully. "You were still such a naïve little elf-boy when I found you that day in the swamp."
"Well, that was different." He retorted, taking another drink. "None of the human girls in the Vale were keen on these." He said, pointing towards his pointed ears. "But believe me, I tried my best."
Mareth gave him a playful swat. "I definitely don't want to think about that."
He gently shoved her back before planting a quick peck on her cheek.
He wasn't really keen to think about those days either. He had been a hormonal teenager, just like his son, but he hadn't been a prince surrounded by his own kind. No one would give him the time of day in his village. On one particularly awful occasion, he had asked a girl to the autumn dance only and quickly found himself being chased down the main road as her cousins threw rocks at the freak. Needless to say, he had been extra cautious after that.
"Speaking of the Vale," Lyria began again, exchanging a look with her wife before looking back towards their elven companions. "I hate to bring up business tonight, but we should probably talk a little bit about what we're going to do about the recent confrontation."
Wil sighed at the though and briefly rubbed his eyes.
Lyria was right, of course. As much as they all hated talking about these things, especially during their private times, it was much easier to hash out a plan before they were surrounded by hoards of councillors and advisors.
The confrontation that she was referencing had taken place a couple of weeks ago near the Vale, and was a big reason why the queens had made the trip.
According to reports, a group of elven traders had set up a camp in human territory and had been attacked by local farmers in the middle of the night. Although the boundaries were unmarked, the land had rightfully belonged to the farmers and they had (wrongly) believed that the elves wanted to seize it. The elves maintained that they had just stopped to rest on their journey, but a scuffle had broken out. One of the elves had been killed and, in retaliation, one of the humans had been stabbed by the traders. He was in Storlock now, on track to make a full recovery, but people on both sides of the dispute were now on the run and some had begun to use the incident as evidence of the other sides barbarity.
Unfortunately, these sorts of things were all too common, and the royal families had been forced to settle the disputes as amicably as possible. As much as they hated it, they knew it was a necessary task.
Wil could only hope that, one day, these discussions would be obsolete.
"You're right." He agreed, nodding at Lyria before exchanging a glance with his wife. "We've had our guards searching for the traders, and the farmers, for the past two weeks and I know you have done the same."
"Hopefully they are all found and held accountable." Mareth continued. "But until then, we think that the best we can do it reassure people on both sides that we are doing all we can, and remind them that friendship between our peoples is in the best interest of all."
"We could make a united speech at the banquet tomorrow." Lyria suggested. "And ensure that the text from that circulates in both Arbolon and Leah."
"Of course." Wil agreed, nodding again before letting out a long sigh. "Though I can't help but feel like this is just the same old thing, again and again."
"That's because it is, short tips." Eretria agreed, leaning forward to refill her glass of wine. "We know this is all ridiculous, and we have done everything we can to strengthen our allegiance. But this kind of thing has gone on for thousands of years. Humans blame elves for taking their land and elves see humans as savages. Both sides are pretty eager to attack when they feel wronged."
Despite the heavy topic, the sudden sound of laughter from the other room caused all present to smile.
The children, at least, didn't care about these stupid ancient rivalries.
Wil felt his wife perk up at his side.
"I think it's time to revisit that exchange program idea." Mareth said, her voice suddenly laced with excitement. "Of course these things take time, and there is no magical solution—but if children interact with people of other races they'll see that there is nothing to hate or fear. They don't judge the way that adults do."
This was something that had been discussed before, and they had all agreed that some sort of cultural exchange which targeted youth was the best hope for long term change. They were all happy to have their own children take part in a pilot project—Wil liked the idea of Brin and Jair learning more about humans. They had human blood, after all, and would one day be responsible for maintaining the peace.
The queens of Leah nodded. "We can all agree to that." Lyria said warmly.
"But we can save the rest of that business until tomorrow." Eretria cut in, bouncing to her feet and walking over to the bag she had brought with her. "Now, I think it's time to sample this treat." The woman gave the cap of the bottle she was holding a firm twist before placing it on the table in front of them.
The liquid inside was greyish, and Wil wrinkled his nose in apprehension.
"Don't make that face!" His friend protested playfully. "If you can eat those disgusting green elf tarts then you can try a little sip of this!"
"Have you tried it?" Mareth asked curiously as she picked up the bottle for a closer look.
Eretria shook her head. "No." She replied as she reached out and lined up four fresh glasses. "The trolls in the northland gave it to me when we were there last month, and they swear it packs a serious punch."
Lyria snorted. "You sound like a teenager, sweetheart." She pointed out with a quick glance down the hallway. "I'm glad our son isn't here to witness this shining example."
"You know you love it." Eretria teased, giving her wife a playful kiss before pouring out four glasses of the murky stuff.
Wil held up his portion for a closer look. "And you're sure it won't kill us, right?" He asked with a slight hint of real worry.
His friend laughed. "Yes. A few of the guards tried it. They lived." She paused as she picked up her own glass and waited for Mareth and Lyria to do the same.
"So what do you say? How about we raise a glass to cross-cultural understanding!"
With smiles, they all obliged. After clinking their glasses, they brought the foul looking liquid to their lips and took a cautious drink.
As it entered his mouth, Wil felt a terrible burning sensation and the taste of ash and rotten fruit overcame him. Despite himself, he spit it right back into the glass and coughed as he reached around for something to wash out the taste. Thankfully his wine was nearby and he took the biggest swig he could manage.
He had been too distracted by the horrible experience to realize that the others had all done the same, but the sound of Mareth's loud coughing snapped him back to full consciousness.
"That. Was. AWFUL." He heard Lyria pant as she took a third drink from her wine glass. "Dear god, Eretrita! What are you trying to do to us!"
Despite her own coughing and sputtering, Eretria managed to laugh.
"Never again." Mareth agreed, placing the cup of grey disgustingness back on the table and looking at it as if it might attack. "I think you nearly caused an international incident here. I can almost picture the headline—'Queen Consort of Leah poisons wife and Elven royals with dubious troll liquor.'"
The others laughed loudly at the thought and Wil took a few more sips of wine for good measure.
Agreeing to defeat, Eretria grabbed the bottle and took it into the kitchen. They listened as she poured it down the sink with a loud glug.
And with that, the night continued.
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It was late now, and Mareth and Wil stood in the doorway to their son's room.
A pleasantly tipsy Lyria and Eretria left a few minutes ago, and had managed to wake their son so that he too could make the groggy trek back to the guest's chambers. All three of the children had fallen asleep in Jair's room a few hours ago, and they had decided to leave Brin at her brother's side.
The teen was stretched out across his bed, snoring slightly, while his little sister was curled into a peaceful ball under his left arm, her ears sticking out from beneath her mop of blonde hair.
Although the room they currently slept in was fairly grand, as he looked down at his two children it was easy to forget that were anything but a normal family. This had been a blissfully relaxing night, spent with those he cared about most—and part of him wished that he could awake tomorrow to enjoy breakfast with his children before spending a day in the fields.
But, even after several glasses of wine, Wil knew that he was a world away from that life. Tomorrow, he would arise far too early, place his crown on his head and take part in hours of meetings and debates before hosting a banquet for his human guests. It would be exhausting, and he would yearn for another moment like this until they were finally alone again.
"They're wonderful, aren't they?" He heard his wife whisper as she leaned her head on his chest.
"Yes." He replied, before placing a kiss on top of her head.
Despite it all, Wil knew that he would not change a thing.
This was where he needed to be.