I do not own the Iron Fey series.
The Iron Mother
The sky looked nice, Meghan noticed. A nice sky for a nice day. After all, the sun was shining, the knights were training, Ash was hunting for their son in the Nevernever, and Puck was making an appearance at lunch.
Her drink was refreshing and the mid-morning snack was filling. All reports in her box have already been looked over, signed, answered, the like; her dress for the Summer ball was looked over, the Summer ball was delayed, Oberon's various letters were answered politely, Glitch was checking perimeters, Keirran was going to be begging for mercy, and her trainees were getting ready for their first march-match. Within three hours, five hours of work have been done and the papers were waiting patiently beside her.
Not two minutes later, Glitch came in. He looked at the Iron Queen's pleasant expression wearily and said, "The Prince Consort and Prince Keirran are to be entering within the minute."
"Excellent," said Meghan kindly. "Lemonade?"
"Don't do this to me."
Ash scoffed and turned to his son, shackled to the carriage. "You know how worried your mother gets."
"I'm sorry I can't tell you where I've been—but father, please! I love mother most, I do, but every time I think she's seconds away from killing me!"
"Don't be so dramatic." Ash smiled smugly. "Do you know what my mother would do to me?"
"Let you escape because she didn't care!"
"Exactly. Let this be a lesson to you."
Keirran desperately tried jumping out the carriage window. "I'm old enough to be making my own decisions!"
"Yes, but your mother was raised differently. To her, you are still ten." His father settled back and smirked. "The joys of parenting."
AN: This was actually really fun. For punishment, which I will not write, use your imagination. A few dozen balls and girls, no sword fighting lessons, holding books while on one knee and a feather under his nose, taking care of the stables, e.t.c.