"Don't feel good," Arthur says, picking disinterestedly at the fresh fish Wednesday's Dawn has served for breakfast. He wrinkles his nose and pushes the mostly-full plate away. "I'm not hungry."
Dawn studies him in concern. There have been a few occasions where Arthur's refused to eat, but his behaviour this morning seems different. "Very well," she says, signalling for the cook to take the food away. The other Denizen looks miffed; he spent a good deal of time preparing the meal. "Put it in the freezer for later," she adds, then turns her attention back to Arthur.
The boy is staring listlessly at the table in front of him.
"Do you want to go flying?" she asks.
Arthur perks up for a moment - he loves going flying - then slumps back into his chair. "... No," he mumbles, pulling his feet up onto the seat. He curls over them, arms clasped around his shins. He looks miserable; his face seems paler than usual.
Dawn feels worried then: Arthur has never turned down the opportunity to fly before. Something must be seriously wrong for him to refuse. She rises and rounds the table to kneel beside him. He barely looks up when she presses a hand to his cheek; it is clammy with sweat and she can feel him shaking slightly beneath her fingers.
There is only one Upper House-trained sorceror on the Border Sea, and she does not allow his ship to enter port on Wednesdays; who else is qualified to check on Arthur's condition? There are sorcerors on the other ships, but their area of expertise is limited to nautical matters.
She thinks, for a moment, of Duchess Wednesday; surely the Key could put to rights whatever is ailing Arthur.
But Dawn's mistress cannot divert her powers to that purpose, and using sorcery upon Arthur has been forbidden by the Morrow Days anyway.
"Do you want to lie down?" Dawn asks.
Arthur mumbles an affirmative but makes no effort to get up.
"Should I carry you?"
Arthur nods.
Dawn pulls the boy into her arms and starts down the hallway to Arthur's quarters.
"Stop; put me down!" Arthur gasps, squirming in her arms so that she drops him more than lets him down in any case.
Arthur slumps to his hands and knees, gagging. Dawn takes an aborted step towards him, then back again when he expels what little he had eaten of his morning meal. She hesitates, then pulls out her handkerchief and wipes his face. Usually he protests such things - he's old enough to do such things for himself, after all - but he just leans into her touch now, moaning pathetically.
Dawn picks him up again, careful not to jostle him, and takes him to his quarters. The first Denizen she encounters gets the dubious task of cleaning up the mess Arthur had made. She settles him carefully onto his bed and leaves a bucket for him in case he vomits again.
"I'll be in my study, Arthur," she tells him.
Curled up on his side, all he does it nod weakly.
Dawn leaves the door cracked open and enters her study, which is across the hall from his room. She considers calling Friday's Dawn, as he seems to be the most knowledgeable about child rearing, but settles on Sunday a moment later. She doubts that Dawn would be available at this time - this is the time when their duties are most important - and Sunday can easily call a meeting should such a thing be necessary.
Sunday calls a meeting. Wednesday's Dawn cannot recall why she thought that such an occurrence would be at all helpful or meaningful.
"Perhaps if I experienced the sickness I could divine its nature," Friday says, one hand touching her Key and the other reaching for Arthur.
Friday's Dawn glares at the extended limb, and shuffles around to stand between her and the sleeping boy.
Wednesday's Dawn relaxes marginally; she has never felt particularly strongly about sitting beside Friday in Wednesday's place before, but Arthur hadn't been her charge then either.
"Out of the question," Thursday barks.
"It will be a simple spell to eradicate the sickness," Saturday says, raising her quill.
"I can bind it to this sorcerous marble," Tuesday says, holding up a rectangular white shape.
"I can't believe they agreed on raising him at all in the first place," Monday's Noon mutters to Wednesday's Dawn; she does not reply, engrossed as she is in fussing over Arthur, but privately she agrees with him.
Friday's Dawn sniffs and tucks the blanket more securely around Arthur's small frame. Technically, he should not be here, since Friday can represent herself. However, Friday's Dawn was the one to take care of baby Arthur and Wednesday's Dawn finds the idea of leaving Friday to her own devices where Arthur is concerned to be a troubling thought indeed. She feels a sort of kinship with her Middle House counterpart in any case.
"Enough," Sunday says. "The more pressing issue is the question of where he contracted this illness. It should not exist in the House."
Tuesday suddenly tucks away the marble and becomes engrossed in some paperwork.
"He does not leave Port Wednesday, and I only allow the original sailors to even dock when Arthur is present," Wednesday's Dawn says coldly. Though none of the assembled beings have said as much, she feels that she should not leave any doubt on the matter. After all, it was Duchess Wednesday who originally wanted a Rightful Heir; what reason would the Border Sea have for attempting to sabotage Arthur in that case? "Anyway, they do not deal in illegal contraband, so there is no way they could have had any mortal illnesses."
"The Great Maze has no contact at all with the Secondary Realm," Thursday reports, "and it has been nearly a week since Arthur was last in my Demesne."
Tuesday says nothing.
"Ah, wait," Friday says. "Some illnesses take days or even weeks to manifest. So Arthur could have contracted it anywhere."
"You are the one who frequents mortal hospitals! If anyone has contagion on them it would be you," Tuesday accuses.
"Do you think I would let her near Arthur, much less close enough to touch him?" Friday's Dawn demands.
"He is too young to have any interesting experiences," Friday agrees dismissively.
"Your Noon or Dusk then," Tuesday snaps.
"I don't let them near either," Friday's Dawn snarls. The gentle way he replaces the wet cloth on Arthur's brow belies his words.
"Of course, my exhibits are all well-contained, and Arthur is not allowed out in the Gardens unattended anyway," Sunday says.
"No one but Mister Monday, my fellow Times or Sneezer is allowed in the Dayroom, which is where Arthur stays in the Lower House," Monday's Noon puts in.
"Dusk takes care of him on Saturdays. But none of my subordinates are permitted to use contraband illnesses," Saturday adds.
"All that rain cannot be good for him," Tuesday says.
"I notice that you are the only one who has not denied the possibility that Arthur got sick in your Demesne," Thursday says.
"He stays in the Treasure Pyramid," Tuesday snaps.
"Do you supervise him?" Saturday asks.
"Not all the time. I have orders to fill!"
"Your... Grotesques could watch him, surely," Wednesday's Dawn says, barely able to keep her tone civil. The mere thought of the seven beings who were once Tuesday's Times fills her with horror and disgust.
"They are busy as well," Tuesday snaps. "And I wouldn't let them into the Pyramid anyway."
"So he could have found some treasured illnesses and gotten sick," Sunday says.
"I told him not to enter the rooms I had not shown him myself!"
"If you are not up the task of taking care of Arthur, I know Duchess Wednesday would be pleased to pick up the slack," Wednesday's Dawn says sweetly.
"She's a whale," Tuesday snarls; Wednesday's Dawn stiffens, but another speaks before she has the chance to retort.
"Quite right, I'm sure you're very busy doing the jobs of four Denizens, Dawn," Monday's Noon says. "The Lower House is not so impeded, Arthur can stay with us on Tuesdays."
Wednesday's Dawn turns on him angrily.
"If anyone is getting an extra day with Arthur it should be me, I had him first," Friday's Dawn says quickly.
"You're in the same boat as Wednesday's Dawn," Saturday points out.
"And I suppose you'll be asking for the extra day next," Tuesday sneers.
"Of course not. I need Dusk to be able to perform his duties the other six days of the week."
"The obvious choice would be Sir Thursday," Sunday says, drawing everyone's attention to him. "The Great Maze is the only Demesne running effectively - apart from my Gardens of course-" he ignores the groans and eyerolls that accompany that statement, "-and I believe Arthur would benefit from a more disciplined environment."
"This is all beside the point," Tuesday says. "There is no definitive proof that Arthur made himself sick in the Far Reaches and furthermore I am not giving up my day to anyone, Thursday or otherwise."
"Let's hold a vote then," Sunday says.
"If you revoke my guardianship, I won't fill any of your orders," Tuesday says flatly.
"You won't get any richer," Thursday says, though he seems rather relieved. At the prospect of having Arthur for an additional day, he had looked quite alarmed.
"In case you have forgotten, I'm the one who mints the various currencies of the House!"
Arthur stirs at that last shout, sitting up with a grimace. He blinks at the room. "Why's ev'ryone... Where am I?" Arthur asks hoarsely.
"This is the Morrow Days' boardroom," Sunday explains.
Arthur blinks, his gaze sharpening slightly. Wednesday's Dawn realizes that this is likely the only time he has seen more than one Trustee at a time; usually the Times escort him to and from the various Demesnes (apart from Tuesday, who does not trust his Grotesques to do so) and there is no other reason for the Morrow Days to leave their domains.
"What's going on?" he asks.
"We are discussing who will take care of you on Tuesdays, as the Grim has proven himself unfit," Thursday says.
"Huh?"
"You're sick, Arthur," Friday's Dawn says gently. Wednesday's Dawn finds herself staring at him in astonishment; she has never heard him speak in such a mild manner before. "Did you go looking in rooms you weren't supposed to in the Treasure Pyramid?"
Arthur's cheeks flush and he looks down at his hands. "Um, maybe. I know I wasn't supposed to but... everything is so interesting! Except I'd looked at everything else before and I wanted to see something new..."
Saturday sighs, obviously bored by the proceedings. "Did you see any small bars of marble? Did you touch them?"
Arthur's flush deepens. "Maybe," he repeats guiltily, fidgeting. He looks up then, a fierce look in his eyes. "It's- it's not Tuesday's fault. I knew I wasn't supposed to go in that room. I won't do it again. And, um, it's not like you've never made mistakes! I mean, maybe I can't think of any of them right now but I know some of you have. So I don't think it's fair if you take away Tuesday's day."
Wednesday's Dawn scowls. It is not as if Tuesday is the only one who has things he could be doing instead of taking care of Arthur. The Border Sea can scarcely afford the day she takes off, but she never leaves Arthur unattended or among potentially harmful objects.
"There, Arthur's spoken," Tuesday says, a mixture of smug and relieved all at once. "He will continue to spend Tuesdays with me."
"Provided you watch him more carefully," Sunday says, frowning.
"I can take care of myself," Arthur protests, but rather ruins it when he pales and presses a hand to his mouth. Obviously he is not feeling entirely better. Wednesday's Dawn rubs his back soothingly and he offers her a weak smile.
Tuesday hesitates only a moment before inclining his head the barest amount. "Of course. Arthur will not be unsupervised again."
"Wednesday's day is nearly spent," Friday's Dawn remarks. "So you should forfeit your next day with Arthur to the Border Sea to make up for that."
Tuesday stiffens, his eyes narrowing at the Time. "That is presumptuous, Dawn."
Her Dawn looks at Friday. She sighs. "What he said," she mutters, waving a hand negligently at the armoured Denizen.
While Wednesday's Dawn privately agrees, she truly cannot afford to suspend her duties for two days. She gives her counterpart a smile to show her appreciation, then turns to Tuesday. "I believe Arthur wished for things to be... equitable. As long as this issue is resolved I see no reason for there to be a change in the schedule. Unless Arthur wishes for it."
Arthur looks up at her. "It wouldn't be fair," he says, sounding apologetic. There is no need for him to apologize, of course.
The meeting takes a ridiculously long time to wind down, as those things tend to do. Wednesday's Dawn boards the elevator to the Border Sea with a distinct feeling of relief. Arthur is quiet; he seems to have recovered, though he is still a bit pale. His temperature is back to normal, thankfully.
"Sorry about..."
"There's no need to apologize," Dawn says, a bit more harshly than she intends; but she is tired from hours of politicking and worrying about Arthur. She takes a breath to calm herself. "It's not your fault; but regardless of who is at fault, it won't be happening again. So just focus on feeling better, Arthur," she adds, when he opens his mouth, probably to protest Tuesday's innocence.
Which is simply ridiculous, of course; Arthur is just a child who couldn't have known better. Tuesday should have watched him more carefully.
"Ok," Arthur mumbles. He rubs a hand through his hair and looks up at her innocently. "So we can go flying next time, right?"
Wednesday's Dawn smiles faintly. "Of course, Arthur."
A/N: The truth is out, I just love writing the cracky meetings that definitely took place between the Morrow Days.