Presents and Puppy-Dog Eyes

This features Isabel and Alistair's son, set a few years or so after the Blight.

Isabel heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet running down the hallway, and she smiled to herself at the sound. Moments later, little Duncan appeared in the doorway, his hair more unkempt than usual, fancy clothes disheveled and covered in dirt. He pointed at her while looking down the hallway, a set of heavier footsteps quickly approaching.

"You found her!" Alistair shouted as he stepped up behind Duncan. He was in a similar state as their son, garments disarrayed and dirty, short hair sticking out in all directions. She just stared at the two of them with wide eyes, completely shocked at their appearances.

"Mama!" Duncan said, coming up to her with a smile.

"Hello, dearest," she replied. "What happened to you and your father?"

"Duncan wanted to give you a present," her husband said, her gaze drawn to his hands behind his back, likely concealing the gift.

"And did obtaining this present involve rolling around in mud?" she asked, shooting him a glare.

Alistair shot her an apologetic smile, pulling a bouquet of roses from behind his back. "We had some trouble picking them."

Isabel's expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He went to hand her the flowers when Duncan started tugging on his pants.

"No! Me!" the toddler demanded, and Alistair gave him the flowers with a light chuckle. He excitedly held them up for her, and she kneeled down in front of him, taking the roses. "You like?" he asked, his hazel eyes big and round while he waited for an answer.

Isabel affectionately smiled at her son, cradling the flowers against her chest. "Yes, I like them very much. Thank you, Duncan."

"You welcome!" he said with a pleased little grin. She let out a light laugh, running her fingers though the tangled mop of unruly waves on his head. She pressed a kiss to his forehead before holding her hand out for her husband who helped her up off her knees. She flattened out the skirt of her dress before fixing Duncan with a serious stare.

"We need to get you cleaned up, my little prince," she started, and he whined, wrapping his arms around his father's leg.

"No! Dada said we could play with the puppies," he protested.

"Your father seems to have forgotten that we're receiving the Arl of West Hills and his family today."

"Right," Alistair drawled.

"No! Dada promised!" Duncan started to sniffle, on the verge of a tantrum, and Isabel shot the king a look that read clean up your mess.

"Mama's right," Alistair said, lifting their son into his arms. "We can play with the puppies later." He flashed Isabel a quick grin before focusing on their son again. "Unless the Arl's children want to play with the puppies, too…"

"I don't think that's the best idea," she interjected, but it was too late. Duncan's face had already lit up with excitement.

"Yes, it is, right, Duncan?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" he said excitedly, bouncing up and down in his father's arms. The queen shook her head and rolled her eyes, giving Alistair a disapproving look.

"Come ooon, pretty pleeaase," he begged, turning those puppy-dog eyes of his on her.

"Please, Mama, please!" Duncan echoed, giving her the same look. Maker, that look would be the death of her.

"All right," she said, surrendering to them. "But you need to get cleaned up right now. Both of you."

With a victorious grin, Alistair hoisted Duncan up over his shoulder and marched away, the toddler's giggles echoing throughout the hallway. Isabel followed behind them, unable to conceal a smile at the sight of her two boys enjoying themselves.

Alistair handed off Duncan to his nanny who ushered the boy into his room to change and get cleaned up. Isabel grabbed her husband's hand and dragged him back to their room, ordering him to take off his clothes. She placed the roses in an empty vase and then found him something new to wear. She tossed the clothes at him, sitting on the edge of the bed as she watched him change.

"You're so good with him," she said with a sigh, appreciatively eyeing his muscular torso before he pulled on his clean shirt. "I like watching you two together. It's… heartwarming."

"Really?" he asked, pausing to meet her gaze with a lopsided smile.

"Yes." She gestured for him to hurry up and he obliged. "It's also very, oh, how do I put it—enticing."

Alistair froze, arching an eyebrow as he turned to face her. "Enticing?" Isabel slowly nodded as she stood, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. He stepped up to her, his gaze dropping to her lips before finding her eyes. "Just how enticing?"

"Enticing enough that I want to shoo Duncan away with his nanny and rip your clothes off."

"Oh," he huffed, momentarily stunned at her direct answer.

"Mhm," she continued, moving closer to him, shooting him a sultry look. "If we had the time, I would have my wicked way with you, your Majesty." She all but purred his title, and Alistair swallowed hard, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her close.

"We still have time," he said, his voice husky. He leaned in for a kiss, but Isabel stopped him, pressing her finger to his lips.

"No, we don't." She pulled her finger away and started to fix his ruffled hair while he blankly blinked at her, registering her rejection. She finished brushing her fingers through his hair, and as if on cue, a knock sounded at the door.

"Your Majesties, the prince is ready," Duncan's nanny called out. "And the Arl has arrived."

"Perfect timing," Isabel chirped as she slid out of Alistair's grasp to answer the door. The poor king was frowning, and she had to suppress an amused grin at his expense. She told Duncan to wait just a moment, and she returned to her husband, standing up on the tips of her toes and bringing her lips to his ear. In a low whisper she described all the naughty little things she'd have done if they weren't needed elsewhere. By the time she finished, a beautiful, crimson blush had crept onto the king's face, all the way up to his ears. "It'll just have to wait for tonight," she mused, and he gulped, nodding in agreement.

Satisfied with his reaction she walked over to Duncan, the toddler lifting his hands up and jumping up and down.

"Up! Up!"

Isabel clicked her tongue against her teeth in a tsk of disapproval. "Little princes greet their guests on their own two feet," she said, holding out her hand. The toddler took it with his own tiny, chubby hand, and the queen led him towards the throne room. She shot Alistair a smirk over her shoulder, his burning gaze meeting hers. "Come, husband, we have guests to greet."