Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, Toby, and Professor Slick.
Toby walked into the all too familiar classroom, not wanting to be there. It was in his father's den, where a great fire was always burning, even in the summer. But Toby was somewhat glad that it was now burning, because it was a rather windy day, and a bit cold. And there, at the chalkboard, was his professor, Simon Slick. He had an irritated look on his face.
"Late again," he sighed, looking at his pocket watch and shaking his head in disbelief. "I suppose you should feel disappointed."
"I suppose," shrugged Toby.
"And don't slouch," frowned Professor Slick, hitting Toby's back slightly with his infamous riding crop. It went everywhere with him. "Now, if you will sit down in that chair, and in a straight manner, we shall get started with today's lesson."
"Oh goody," mumbled Toby as he reluctantly obeyed the professor's instructions.
"I will thank you to be more enthustiastic, young man," said Slick. "A young prince should always show interest in what he is doing, though it be rather boring or harsh. Wars excepted, of coarse." Toby just rolled his eyes. "Now," said Slick, "I thought we would start the day with a little poetry. Then, we could move on to table manners, riding lessons, and then we could finish these four hours with a little bit of fae magic. What do you think?"
"I think that you are an old crackpot," he whispered.
"What was that?" asked Slick, cocking one eyebrow.
"I said I can't wait to start the lesson," replied Toby with a fake smile.
"Remember, royalty frowns upon lying and liers,: said Slick.
"Among other things," sighed Toby.
~*~
Christine looked around the room. It seemed so impossible that after just a few more trips, she would not longer see this house or this room again. She had practically grown up in this house. And now, she was going to never see it again, save the two visits she had left. The house would be sold to someone else and she would stay in the Underground forever with her aunt and now uncle.
"Let me see," she sighed. "Is there anything that I have forgotten? I have her old clothes, some of her old toys.anything else?" Then, a thought came over her. "Didn't I leave that little red book here the last time I was up here?" She had. She had brought up the book, Labyrinth, the last time she was up here, and had accidentally left it there. But where was it now?
She looked around the room, trying to remember where the last place she had had it. She had had it here in the room, in the bathroom, and then in the kitchen.
"The kitchen, of coarse," smiled Christine. "How could I have forgotten about that?" So, she made her way out the bedroom and down into the kitchen.
"Okay," she said as she turned on the kitchen light. "Where could I have left it?" Then, she felt like someone was behind her. She turned quickly to find that no one was there. She knitted her eyebrows, looked quickly over the room once again, and then went back to thinking about the book.
Then, something was heard whistling through the air. Before she could turn, though, Christine felt something heavy come upon her head. The mysterious person, whoever it was, had hit her from behind without ever being caught. The last thing Christine saw before blacking out was a pair of black, shiny dress shoes.
Toby walked into the all too familiar classroom, not wanting to be there. It was in his father's den, where a great fire was always burning, even in the summer. But Toby was somewhat glad that it was now burning, because it was a rather windy day, and a bit cold. And there, at the chalkboard, was his professor, Simon Slick. He had an irritated look on his face.
"Late again," he sighed, looking at his pocket watch and shaking his head in disbelief. "I suppose you should feel disappointed."
"I suppose," shrugged Toby.
"And don't slouch," frowned Professor Slick, hitting Toby's back slightly with his infamous riding crop. It went everywhere with him. "Now, if you will sit down in that chair, and in a straight manner, we shall get started with today's lesson."
"Oh goody," mumbled Toby as he reluctantly obeyed the professor's instructions.
"I will thank you to be more enthustiastic, young man," said Slick. "A young prince should always show interest in what he is doing, though it be rather boring or harsh. Wars excepted, of coarse." Toby just rolled his eyes. "Now," said Slick, "I thought we would start the day with a little poetry. Then, we could move on to table manners, riding lessons, and then we could finish these four hours with a little bit of fae magic. What do you think?"
"I think that you are an old crackpot," he whispered.
"What was that?" asked Slick, cocking one eyebrow.
"I said I can't wait to start the lesson," replied Toby with a fake smile.
"Remember, royalty frowns upon lying and liers,: said Slick.
"Among other things," sighed Toby.
~*~
Christine looked around the room. It seemed so impossible that after just a few more trips, she would not longer see this house or this room again. She had practically grown up in this house. And now, she was going to never see it again, save the two visits she had left. The house would be sold to someone else and she would stay in the Underground forever with her aunt and now uncle.
"Let me see," she sighed. "Is there anything that I have forgotten? I have her old clothes, some of her old toys.anything else?" Then, a thought came over her. "Didn't I leave that little red book here the last time I was up here?" She had. She had brought up the book, Labyrinth, the last time she was up here, and had accidentally left it there. But where was it now?
She looked around the room, trying to remember where the last place she had had it. She had had it here in the room, in the bathroom, and then in the kitchen.
"The kitchen, of coarse," smiled Christine. "How could I have forgotten about that?" So, she made her way out the bedroom and down into the kitchen.
"Okay," she said as she turned on the kitchen light. "Where could I have left it?" Then, she felt like someone was behind her. She turned quickly to find that no one was there. She knitted her eyebrows, looked quickly over the room once again, and then went back to thinking about the book.
Then, something was heard whistling through the air. Before she could turn, though, Christine felt something heavy come upon her head. The mysterious person, whoever it was, had hit her from behind without ever being caught. The last thing Christine saw before blacking out was a pair of black, shiny dress shoes.