Glossary:

Dribble - flash-fiction of 50 words or less.
Drabble - flash-fiction of 100 words or less.
Drouble - flash-fiction of 200 words or less.
Tribble - flash-fiction of 300 words or less.
Quabble - flash-fiction of 400 words or less.
Quibble - flash-fiction of 500 words or less.

Author's Note: so here's another little collection of flash-fiction created for WhenNightmaresWalked and her prompt challenge. =) This one focuses on the little make-shift family that Nuada and Dylan are forming with Tsu's'di, A'du'la'di, and 'Sa'ti. I wrote all of these except "Dress-Up 2," "Friend," "Wresting," "Training 2," and "Clockwork 2" (which were written by WNW).

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Family

A "Once Upon a Time" Word-Prompt Collection

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Protect

Tsu's'di bows his head,
pride and excitement thrumming in his blood in time with his heart.

He swears service to Lady Dylan of Central Park.
He pledges fealty to Crown Prince Nuada Silverlance.

And when he rises to his feet,
he is no longer merely a street kid struggling to take care of his family and make ends meet.
Now he is a warrior.
Now he is a royal guard.
Now he is the protector of the Silver Lance's lady.

Shatter

While 'Sa'ti sips hot chocolate in the kitchen with her brother and Becan,
Dylan goes into her bedroom and kneels down beside the wet patch on the rug.

Becan has cleaned up the glitter-filled water.
But he was wise enough to leave the jagged bits of glass and the broken pieces of porcelain.

Dylan carefully gathers up the pieces and takes them to the bathroom,
where she puts them in the sink.
Once Nuada comes back with A'du'la'di,
she will dry off the shattered remnants of the snowglobe and try to glue them back together.

It is fitting, in a way, that this globe
- which marks the year she turned twelve -
is the one that broke.

Just as it is fitting that,
with Nuada and the children now in her home,
she begins to piece it back together again.

Hunger

The hardest thing in the world,
Nuada thinks to himself,
is teaching a small boy manners.

Somehow, Dylan has managed it.

When A'du'la'di first arrived at the cottage,
he would often say, "I'm hungry!"

Dylan would glance over at the child and say, "That's nice."

It had taken the boy a few days
(though Nuada couldn't personally remember ever learning such a lesson so quickly himself),
but now, instead of the demanding "I'm hungry,"
A'du offers his mistress a short bow and says, "A'ge'lv, may I have something to eat, please?"

She rewards his good manners by feeding him.

Leap

Jump.
Pounce.
Snarl.
Hiss.

Dylan isn't sure which is more hilarious -
Bat, struggling to catch John's bright red laser-pointer...
or A'du and 'Sa'ti attempting (in vain) the same thing.

Allowance

"So... we get paid for doing chores?"
A'du asks, just to make sure he understands the concept.
"Like having a job?"

Dylan nods.
"Chores are a job, and a lot of responsibility. You deserve to be compensated."
She holds out her hands to the little boy and his sister.
"Do we have a deal?"

Both children eye their mistress dubiously for a moment,
as if not quite sure of this newfangled idea
(which they aren't).

Then they take her hands and shake on it.

"Deal."

Pizza

"Try it," Dylan insisted.
The children nodded.
"I made it myself, with the children's help.
Come on, Nuada, try it."

He eyed the little disk-shaped invention warily.
It looked safe enough. But one could never tell with mortal food.
What were those little round meat things on the top?
He did not want to ask, for fear of looking ridiculous.
And why were there little bits of bacon sprinkled all over it?

He glanced at Dylan again.
Her eyes held the clear challenge, 'You're being a coward.'

Nuada took a bite.
Chewed thoughtfully and swallowed.
They were all looking at him expectantly. Well, so it tasted good. So what?

"Passable," he said.

Dylan whapped him on the shoulder.

Fluff

Both adults tried their best to stifle their laughter,
but there was only so much they could do in the face of Tsu's'di and the children
fluffed up to three times their normal size because of the cold and damp.

Security

"Why does he do that?"
Nuada asks, watching A'du clutch The Wonderful Wizard of Ha's to his chest and rumble, cat-like, in his sleep.
"It's a picture book, not a teddy bear."

"For him," Dylan replies, "it's pretty much the same thing."

Cream

"Oh, you are so greedy," Dylan mutters,
watching Bat practically submerge his head in the bowl to make sure he can lick up every drop.
"Little pig."

Then she glances at the children.

"Oh, come on, you guys.
You have opposable thumbs.
Use spoons."

Dirty

"Oh, my gosh, you all are absolutely filthy."
Dylan stares at the two children, one teenager, and one Elf prince covered in sweat and grime.
"What have you guys been doing?
You know what, forget it. Just... go... wash up, okay?"

She laughs at little at everyone's chastened expressions (including Nuada's).
They all look so penitent.

As they all trudge to the bathrooms, she calls after them,
"Tsu's'di, it's your turn to do the laundry!
And Nuada, it's your turn to do the dishes; they are also filthy."

Dylan laughs aloud as the Elf prince's shoulders slump.

"Thought you'd managed to avoid it, didn't you? Not a chance."

Belch

Windows literally rattled.

Moonlit blue eyes
and sunlit gold
stared incredulously at the small brownie,
who looked appropriately sheepish.

Clearing his throat,
Becan offered a tentative smile.
"Excuse me."

Plushie

"Oh, crud, he killed it," Dylan mumbled,
staring at the mounds of stuffing on the floor.

Bat rolled around in his fluffy toy's fluffy eviscerated guts and purred.
The disemboweled cloth mousie was clutched tightly in his claws.

Doll

Eyes shining,
she looks at the beautiful cloth doll with its tufty ears
(just like hers)
and its silky whiskers
(just like hers).

'Sa'ti turns to Nuada,
who watches her and her brothers opening their gifts with unfathomable eyes from his armchair.

"I never saw anything so pretty ever in my whole life.
Thank you, Your Highness!"

And she hugs the doll to her heart.

Brush

"'Sa'ti, why are you fidgeting so much?" Tsu's'di demanded.
"Hold still.
Let me brush the tangles out of your hair."

"But I want the prince to do it."

Nuada froze,
eyeing the hairbrush as if it had grown fangs.

Flowers

Firegold eyes blinked in surprise at what 'Sa'ti held up to him.
He glanced at Dylan, who raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'Well, don't just stand there.'
So the prince knelt down and accepted the bouquet of brightly colored paper flowers the ewah girl had made for him.
They were even scented with a quick spritz of Dylan's perfume.

She planted a quick kiss on his cheek and,
before he could even form the words to say thank you,
raced off to play again.

Milk

Nuada nudges his mortal lady gently and indicates the two children with a lift of his chin.
Dylan grins when she sees the liquid beading along 'Sa'ti and A'du's fur,
giving both cubs very large white mustaches.

Dress-Up

"It's kind of cute," Dylan said. "You know, really."

Nuada didn't answer.
He was having a hard time sorting through the tangle of emotions inside him:
annoyance that his things had been tampered with in the first place;
relief that his weapons had been left completely alone;
and, if he were being totally honest with himself,
the curious warmth curling around his heart whenever he recalled the sight of A'du'la'di wearing one of Nuada's shirts,
pretending to be the Silver Lance rescuing a fair maiden.

Dress-Up (2)

"What are you pretending to be, 'Sa'ti?"
Dylan asks one day as the child sashays around in one of Dylan's faire costumes.
"An elven princess?"

"I'm not a princess,"
the young ewah girl says very seriously,
regarding herself in the mirror.
"I don't want to be."

"Oh? What are you then?" Dylan asks, surprised.

"I want to be an a'ge'lv, like you," 'Sa'ti explains.
"You're the prince's truelove,
and that is way cooler than being a princess."

Christmas Tree

"It is..."
He does not know what to say.

He's seen humans with their Christmas trees before
- either butchering a living tree to decorate their homes, or employing noxious plastic imitations instead -
but never has he known a mortal to do it this way.

A living tree,
unharmed,
happy to be indoors and decorated
with glass
and crystal baubles
and ivory carvings
and delicately woven chains of silver and gold.

Twinkling fairy lights illuminate the room with a soft,
rosy glow that is somehow gentler than the usual ambience of the fireplace.

Every winter holiday tree he has seen in his life has been gaudy and revolting,
nothing but a reminder of humans and their need to destroy.
But this... this is...

"It is beautiful, madoigna. Truly beautiful."

Beneath

"Presents!"

Dylan and Nuada have perhaps twenty seconds to realize
that A'du'la'di and 'Sa'ti are the ones chattering the word "presents!" over and over again.

Then both adults are in the living room,
watching in horrified fascination as the cougar cubs dive beneath the Christmas tree in search of more packages.

"What are the odds that we'll be able to get them out of there?" Dylan asks.

Nuada actually cracks his knuckles, making her laugh.
"Fairly good, I should think."

"What are the odds we can *keep* them out from under there?"

Now the prince winces.
"Not so good, I'm afraid."

Devotion

Nuada has experienced many new things,
and learned many more things,
since coming to live at Dylan's cottage.

One of them is the true meaning of devotion.

For an Elf prince, it is to lay down his life for the woman he loves.
For a little girl, it's an offer to let the prince she adores have the last nutcake.
For A'du, asking Nuada's advice on a faux-military campaign, his toy soldiers against 'Sa'ti's dolls in their building-block fortress.
Becan and Wink both, a life of service.
It is the same for an ewah youth.

But for a mortal woman whose heart is of Faerie...
it is that she lets him have the last of the four-cheese lasagna without more than a token snarl,
and still accepts his placating kiss afterwards
(and she has yet to stab him with a fork).

Silver

"What is that?"
Dylan asks, watching A'du with her head cocked.
"Looks like tin foil on the end of a wrapping-paper roll someone painted black.
And is he wearing one of your shirts again?"

"He is and it is," Nuada murmurs in a carefully bland voice.
"But do not call it that. Our boy insists that it is Elven silver and ebony."

Now she stares at him.
"And he says this because...?"

Dark lips curve into an almost exasperated, but still somewhat smug, smile.
"He says that that is his Silver Lance."

"Oh, my gosh," Dylan says, grinning now.
"That is so adorable.
You know that's adorable."

"I know no such thing," the prince replies.
But he is grinning too as their boy pretends to be the Crown Prince of Bethmoora saving the day.

Technology

"Now gently push down the spring... yes, just like that."

Nuada speaks gently
and praises often
as he shows his lady how to put together
the crystal and white gold queen piece for the goblin-made clockwork chess set.

Whenever her hands tremble,
he cups them in his to hold them steady.

Now,
with the last piece about to be put in place,
Dylan holds her breath and sets the final mechanism.

And when she turns to see his reaction,
he doesn't even bother to keep the pride out of his voice.

"Very good."

Kiss

Nuada does not know whether to laugh or not when the cougar child races up to where the prince is seated before the fire,
throws her arms around him,
and busses his cheek with a kiss that tickles because of her soft fur.
And for a moment he wonders if he will ever feel this again -
the happy welcoming kiss of a little girl,
of a daughter.

Chocolate

"What have you done?"
Dylan surveyed the damage in absolute horror.

Checkers scattered across the floor;
the sugar bowl (thankfully still in one piece) spilling its crystalline white contents;
both of 'Sa'ti's dolls and all of A'du'la'di's toy soldiers everywhere;
marbles and jacks all over the place.

Both cougar cubs lay in a tangle of limbs and tails, deeply asleep.
Dark smears marred the fur around their mouths.

She whirled on Nuada,
who looked utterly flabbergasted at the carnage.
They were only children!
They'd only been at this for... what, an hour?
How had this happened?

He looked at Dylan in mute plea.
"It was just a bit of chocolate."

Friend

"You are my prince, Nuada, my love, and my very dearest friend.
But if you ever give the children that much sugar before bed again,
accident or not,
you are reading your own bedtime stories from now on!"

It's a threat far more serious than one would think.

Bath time

"Do I even want to know what happened?" Dylan asked.
She was pretty sure she didn't.

After all, there couldn't be too many explanations as to why
Bat was soaking wet,
Becan's hat was perched on A'du's sopping head,
both children were wrapped in towels seated on the bathroom counters and staring in contrite fascination at the bathtub
(which for some reason was full of countless bubbles, several butterfly-winged psychai bouncing on said bubbles, and absolutely no water),
and why Nuada himself was covered with scented rainbow bubbles from the tub.
Never mind that the prince's hair was streaked with bright pink and green.

"No," Nuada muttered, struggling not to cover his head - and his hair - with both hands. "You don't."

Clockwork

Watching him tinker with the chess piece on the little table in front of him,
she can't help but smile.
He is such a geek...
and she has never seen him more focused,
or more at ease.

Melody

"A gentle breeze from Hush-A-By Mountain
softly blows on Lullaby Bay.
It fills the sails of boats that are waiting,
waiting to sail your worries away.
"

Her voice barely clings to the tune without Becan's flute to guide her,
but she lulls the children to sleep,
and she lulls Nuada's heart with her lullaby.

Wrestling

The boys' punishments for wrestling in the living room are
a lecture concerning how Dylan would really rather not have to deal with toppled furniture or broken glass
and some help clearing a proper space for their antics.

Potatoes

"Isn't this a bit beneath your dignity?"
Dylan asks,
watching pale hands scrub the dirt from a potato.

Nuada's back flexes as he bends over the sink and rinses one of the tubers,
and his lady has to bite her tongue as the light gleams across the muscles and scars.

"You will find that there is little in my life I have not done at some point or other, madoigna," he says.
He will never admit that he only does this to give her a chance to admire his battle scars.

Training

In the morning,
Tsu's'di and Nuada spend
what Dylan sometimes considers an inordinate amount of time
beating each other up
and trying to cut each other to ribbons.

In the afternoon,
both overgrown boys get fussed over by a beautiful woman
(which, they might sometimes admit, is half the fun).

Shadow

Nuada didn't bother glancing over his shoulder again.
He knew who was trailing after him like a puppy.
A'du'la'di.

Juice

Some days are easy, peaceful, filled with simple joys -
reading the children a story,
beating Dylan at chess,
teaching Tsu's'di a new maneuver to disarm an opponent,
or refereeing between A'du'la'di and Dylan as they try to outdo each other blowing bubbles in their apple juice.

When

"Your Highness... what's sex?"

Nuada's eyes widen and he stares at 'Sa'ti and A'du.
After a moment of slack-jawed staring,
he manages to stammer, "I'll tell you when you're older."

"When will we be older?"

"When you're as old as I am."

"But that's old!"

Lullaby

Nuada is glad of the children,
and their insistence on a story and a song before bed.
His pride does not allow him to ask for the same...
but he is content to lean back and listen as Dylan sings the cubs to sleep.

Game

It had been an innocuous question, really.
Simple.
"Will you play a game with us, Your Highness?"

What Nuada couldn't figure out
was how an affirmative answer to that question
had resulted in him being trussed up like a turkey
and used as a hostage in some sort of bizarre children's charade that involved
the sacrifice of a cat and a "wirgin"
in order to ensure victory against their older brother.

He had never been this odd as a child.

"I blame it on too much television,"
the similarly-bound "wirgin" sacrifice informed him from her perch on the Armchair of Death.

Nuada rolled his eyes and wondered if his pseudo-death was also imminent.

Prize

"The a'ge'lv won! The a'ge'lv won!"
A'du cried.
"She defeated you, Your Highness."

Nuada glanced at the chessboard,
and the pale king held in checkmate by Dylan's pieces.

"Yes, she most certainly did.
What spoil of war will you claim, madoigna?"

Dylan grins.
"Dinner and a movie?"

"How about a kiss?"
The prince asks instead,
and captures her mouth with his.

"Ew!" A'du'la'di yelped. "Gross!"

Better

'Sa'ti sniffles as the prince cleans away the blood from the small cut on her palm and gently bandages it.
When he starts to move away, however,
the cougar girl says, "Wait, Your Highness.
Aren't you going to kiss it?"

Firegold eyes widen and Nuada looks at Dylan.
She gives him a look that states clearly, 'You are on your own.'
Then she walks out of the kitchen.

He looks back at 'Sa'ti.
She holds up her hand expectantly.
After a long moment,
Nuada clears his throat and leans in to brush his lips over the injury.

"There. All better. Run along, now."

Training (2)

"What are you doing, A'du'la'di?" Nuada says as he strolls into the living room one day.
The young ewah boy brandishes his makeshift lance,
twisting this way and that in an attempt to copy the routine he had once spied Nuada doing in the den.

"I'm training to be a warrior," the boy says,
childish determination flashing across his gaze as he struggles to be more impressive now that the prince is watching.
"I want to be just like you when I grow up."

For some reason,
the sentiment stirs a plethora of conflicting feelings in Nuada's heart.
On the one hand, he is touched and moved by the boy's adoration.
And yet on the other handc

"Come here, A'du'la'di," Nuada says, seating himself on the couch.

The boy pauses,
briefly panicking as he wonders if he did something wrong.

Nuada offers a reassuring smile and pats his knee,
a gesture he vaguely remembers from his father too many years ago.

"Listen to me very carefully,"
he says as A'du comes to sit with him.
"Be strong.
Be noble.
Be honorable.
In effect, be as I already know you to be."

He places a hand on A'du's shoulder and sighs.

"Simply be yourself.
And above all, do not be me."

Warrior

"I heard what you said,"
Dylan says to her prince later that day.
"To A'du'la'di.
You were wrong, you know."

Nuada pauses in the middle of setting a clockwork mechanism
and looks at the mortal woman currently washing the supper dishes.
"Oh?"

She takes what feels like an inordinate amount of time to dry a plate,
then dry her hands before coming over to him.
When she slides her arms around his shoulders and hugs him from behind,
cuddling her face against his hair,
Nuada leans back into her embrace and waits for her to speak.
For a long time they merely breathe together.

Finally Dylan says, "Listen to me very carefully, a ghrá.
You are strong, noble, and honorable.
You are a proud warrior.
A proud prince.
A'du'la'di is right to want to be like you.
You are right, that he should be himself.
But there is nothing wrong with him wanting to be like you, too.
There is nothing wrong with who and what you are."

"Dylan-"

"You are my warrior prince," she whispers,
silencing him.
"There's a reason he looks up to you,
and it's one of the many reasons I love you."
She presses her lips to the whorl at his temple.
"Think about it."

Belong

Nuada smiles at the soft weight upon him and the other against his side.
Opens his eyes to glance at 'Sa'ti with her head on his chest,
sound asleep.

A'du'la'di snores beside the prince,
stretched out on the meadow grass.

Nuada's head is pillowed in Dylan's lap
and his lady is stroking the star-blond hair back from his face.

Tsu's'di is dozing on the grass near where Dylan sits.
A butterfly unfurls its wings while balancing on the cougar youth's nose.

'This is what it means to have a family,' the prince realizes,
and finds Dylan's gaze, soft with moonglow and love.
'This is what it means to belong.'

Home

When was it,
he wonders as he absently picks up one of 'Sa'ti's dolls and puts it on a shelf,
that those children and Dylan became his family?
When had this lowly mortal cottage become his home?

Ember

In the dying glow of the fire,
she looks so peaceful,
curled up asleep on the sofa with 'Sa'ti draped across her lap and A'du'la'di slumped against her side.
Content.

The three of them are a lovely picture.

Sadly, there is no room for an Elf prince on the little sofa.
No room for a soldier and a warrior in the comfortable little image the trio make together.

But there is room for him to stretch out in front of the fading hearth fire and watch his little family until he, too, falls asleep.

Haircut

Snip.
She carefully lines up the scruffy bangs and tweaks them with her scissors.
The "victim" in the chair cringes.
Dylan makes soothing noises while the scissors go snip-snip-snip.
It is about time this happened.
His hair was getting too long anyway.

A few more inches trimmed off and she's finished.
"Take a look."
Cautiously, he opens his eyes and studies his reflection in the mirror.

"Wow," Tsu's'di says, touching the once-shaggy mane of fur. "I look like..."
'Like the prince,' he wants to say. 'Like a true warrior, instead of a scruffy street rat.'
But the words stick in his throat.
It's more than the fact that his hair looks a lot like Nuada's now.
It's more than that.
He just can't put it into words.

He doesn't have to.
His mistress smiles and brushes stray fur off his shoulder.

"Go show everybody."

Girls

"I just don't get her," Tsu's'di says,
watching Lena the hamadryad playing with 'Sa'ti and talking to Dylan.
"Why did she have to go and kiss me for, anyway?"

"Did you object?"
The prince asks from the table, where he sits sharpening his twin-dagger.

"I dunno," the cougar youth replies.
"I mean... it was nice, I guess. I liked it. But now she's acting like it never happened.
I don't get it.
Girls are confusing."

"If you ever get to the point where you completely understand women, my lad,
please let me know.
I'll have to learn your secret."

Clockwork (2)

They've gotten to the point where their days run like clockwork.
Wake, work, train, worship, eat, drink, bedtime.
The same, every day, until the feeling of working together –
being a family –
has become almost second nature without them knowing.

Name

He thought there would be nothing sweeter than the way she says his name when they are alone.
Nuada.
A soft kiss, a sigh, a prayer, a word with many meanings -
all of them joyous.

That's what he thought.
But when one night he lays an exhausted A'du and 'Sa'ti in their beds and tucks the children in,
he finds there is another name,
mumbled in sleep,
that makes his heart thunder.

"Athair."
Father.

Children

Sometimes he wonders if his father loves him at all.
Often he wonders if Balor hates him.

And sometimes
Nuada wonders if Balor has ever felt for him
the same pride and joy and love that he feels for three orphaned ewah children
who have become as dear to him as his own kin.

Simple

This is all he wants, all he has ever wanted.

To wake in her arms,
to be with her and the children in their little cottage.

Yes, he must train for war.
Yes, he must remember that his father is always out there,
watching and waiting for the slightest slip as an excuse to attack, either figuratively or literally.

But what is that in the face of A'du'la'di's laughter?
The way Tsu's'di glows under Nuada's praise when he performs a perfect strike?
'Sa'ti's childlike embrace?
Or Dylan's slow and simmering kiss?

Such things are all he truly wants in life.

Shackles

They sleep peacefully, the mortal and the children,
all tumbled together on the couch-bed.

Nuada prays that no one ever learns the strength of the chains that now wrap around his heart.
If they do, he and his family are lost.

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Author's Note: so I wrote these mostly just to practice writing shorts, and because if I wanted them from Nightmare I had to give her some (which I was happy to provide, because I love her so much! She's amazing!). And I didn't want these to just rot on my computer, so... here they are! What do you guys think?