Domestic Bliss, by lyradaemon
Chapter 6: The game goes on…
Disclaimer: You know the drill (but I own the hats!!!)
A/N: Glad to know you've all been enjoying it: thanks for reading and especially to those who took the time to review. Much appreciated!
It had been over three hours now. Lucivar was very pleased with how this was all going; the adults were nicely frantic and his little conspirators were playing least-in-sight with surprising skill. Although the hat wasn't quite what he'd bargained for, at least he looked equally ridiculous. Actually, Saetan probably looked the worst, considering he was still pretending to be a sophisticated, charming man who was by some accident wearing a pom pom hat. Daemon had managed to pull off the whole look with panache, but Lucivar felt he came a close second.
"The only thing which would make this all worse is if Surreal suddenly popped in," Daemon remarked while shooting an amused look at his father who was muttering darkly under his breathe.
Saetan glared at his son. "Now she will come."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not being ridiculous. The Darkness doesn't like me. It will mock me and make her appear. Just you wait."
Daemon frowned as he tried to unravel what his father had just said. He shrugged and gave up.
Just then Gabrielle came running in looking breathless. "I think some of the children are outside. Someone's throwing snowballs at the window."
Saetan and Daemon leapt to their feet, ignoring the muffled giggle coming from the Dea al Mon Queen at the sight of their new acquisitions. "Has anyone seen them?"
"No; Chaosti ran outside to look but ran back in when he was pelted with snow."
"Ah."
"There's also a broken vase in one of the other rooms; we reckon one of them knocked it over by mistake."
"Hasn't anyone seen even a glimpse of them?" Saetan asked. "They can't have just disappeared, they're children. They can't do any of the Craft required to be invisible. Besides, most of here wear the darker Jewels – we'd have sensed something."
Not if I had a say in it…
Lucivar fought to keep his face neutral. Jaenelle was going to have a fit when she realized what he'd done…
"Why don't some of us go outside and look for them in the trees? A few people could stay in here and keep looking. Then we're bound to find something."
Mother Night, you'd think we were planning a war, Lucivar thought mildly.
:Daemonar?: He sent on a spear-thread to his son.
:Papa?:
:We're coming outside – don't you dare hit me:
:Yes Papa: Daemonar's voice sounded mildly disappointed. :Can I still hit Uncle Daemon? And Grandpapa too?:
:If you value your life so poorly, be my guest: Lucivar replied dryly.
Daemonar sent a glimmer of confusion through the connection.
:Don't worry boyo – you go and have fun pelting your Uncle Daemon. He's the one in the red hat. Saetan's wearing blue: He severed the link before his son could ask any more questions.
--------------------------------------
Daemon sat cross-legged above the snow, icy water dripping down his back. Icicles hung from the tips of his black hair and snow dusted his eyelashes. He was soaking. Except for that damned hat.
Somehow, Jaenelle had woven something into the hat so that it wouldn't get wet, just like it didn't burn. When he realized that he was getting hit by more snowballs than any of the others, he had tried desperately to take the hat off.
It was stuck.
While cursing his clever little wife, he had run for shelter behind the nearest tree – only to find his father looking the worse for wear, also trying futilely to get the wretched thing off his head. He had snarled at Daemon – for no reason – than had, for good measure, thrown a well aimed snowball at his son's head. Deciding against entering into a pointless pissing contest with his father, Daemon had stalked off in search for more shelter, all the while being pelted with snowballs by the un-seen monsters who were his friends offspring.
But what had perplexed more than annoyed him was the fact that there was no sign of them at all: no footprints, no obvious markings, nothing.
He put his head in his hands and sighed. Here he was, a Black-Jewelled Warlord Prince, a man the Blood in Terreille had been terrified by, and he was being beaten by children.
"My, my, if it isn't Sadi, cowering in the bushes. A bit of snow too much for a Warlord Prince?" An amused voice asked.
Daemon whirled around. Surreal. She was standing there, a warm red coat wrapped around her, thick gloves on her hands and a dainty hat perched on her black hair. At least her hat doesn't ridiculous, Daemon thought sourly.
Which is exactly what Surreal must have been thinking. "Hiding because of the hat, by any chance?" Surreal asked sweetly. "Must be a dreadful inconvenience, since you can see if from a mile off."
"Shut up Surreal."
She grinned and shifted. "Make me."
That was it. He'd had enough. He threw himself at her.
They hit the ground and rolled, snow sticking to their clothes, Surreal trying to smack Daemon while he was trying to protect his face. Not to mention another part of his anatomy.
"Dammit it Daemon, let go!"
"Well get your hand out of my hair!"
"You've got my scarf!"
"I'll strangle you with it if you don't-shit…"
"Serves you right, prick."
Daemon rolled over as Surreal sprang up. He rubbed the top of his thigh, glaring at her. "Don't try to kick me in the balls again."
"Or what?"
He swore at her. She shook her head. "Dear dear, Sadi, if that the best you can do…I'm sure even Daemonar's more impressive than-"
She was cut off by a snowball which hit her squarely in the jaw. "Shit! Who the hell was -" Another one. And another.
Yelling with rage, Surreal swivelled round, trying to see past the shadows of the trees. Daemon laughed at the look on her face as another lump of icy snow hit her in the ass. "I think someone heard that."
"Who? There's no one here."
"You may not be able to see anyone, but it doesn't mean they're not there."
"What are talking about Daemon?"
"We have eight renegade children."
"What?"
"No one's seen them since after breakfast this morning. We've been looking for them for almost four hours now. Not a sign of them. Except the snowballs of course."
"Why wasn't Lucivar watching over them? Or Marian?"
"Why would you need to supervise eight small children? Who would have suspected they would even plan something like this? They're playing hide and seek. And we're losing." He chuckled as yet another missile found it's target. "Come on, lets head inside. I'm cold and I need a drink."
"Me too."
They made their way quickly back across the garden, trying vainly to dodge the snow being flung relentlessly at them. They sprinted the last bit, slamming the door on a particularly brutal-looking snowball and sagged to the floor, groaning.
Jaenelle, who was hurrying past in the opposite direction, looked at them, startled. "What in Hell's name happened to you?"
Daemon moaned as he shifted. "The children happened."
"We were attacked," Surreal muttered, pulling off her sodden gloves.
"How did you end up in this Surreal?" Jaenelle asked, lips twitching. "I didn't realize you had come to join in the fun."
"I didn't," she snapped, hauling herself to her feet. "I stopped by to say hello to my darling nephew when I heard yells from the garden. So I followed them and found Daemon looking particularly harassed."
"Yes, and then you decided to harass me."
"That was your own fault," she snarled and winced as she shifted her weight onto her other foot. "I think I've twisted my ankle."
"I've twisted everything. I've so many bruises my whole body must be purple. Not to mention my thigh." He glared at her.
"What was Surreal doing with your thigh?"
"Don't ask."
Shaking her head in disbelief, Jaenelle helped Daemon to his feet and supported both of them as they staggered down the corridor towards the kitchen. When Marian saw them she immediately threw the kettle onto the nearest hob and grabbed mugs. "Tea?"
"Ugh," Daemon groaned, lowering himself into a chair.
"You look like you've been battered," Aaron remarked mildly, sipping tea. "You'll have a stunning bruise on your cheek tomorrow morning." That earned him a snarl.
Jaenelle knelt down in front of his chair and called in a washcloth and a bowl of hot water. Sprinkling some herbs from a little jar she had procured she proceeded to dab at the bruises already blossoming on Daemon's face and gestured for Gabrielle to do the same for Surreal.
When she ordered him to take of his shirt he snarled at her. "Don't be such a prude Daemon, we've seen it before," she said primly, ignoring the smirks coming from the other males. "Now take it off." With a bit of help from Jaenelle it came off. She winced at the red marks on his shoulder and collarbone. "How did that happen? Can't have been a snowball."
"I told you, I was attacked by Surreal."
"You jumped on me first!"
"Never mind," Jaenelle muttered, dabbing at the what now appeared to be nail marks. "Besides, at least the hat's in one piece." Daemon gave her a sour look.
Ten minutes later, Daemon and Surreal were patched up – except for Daemon's thigh, since he'd point-blankly refused to strip off his trousers in front of everyone.
Just then Saetan came back in, looking furious.
"That's it. I've had enough. Something isn't right about all of this."
"What's wrong Papa?" Jaenelle asked.
"Someone has deliberately done something to hide those children."
"Don't be stupid, who could have-"
"There's only one person here who would have done something as stupid as that." He turned in Lucivar's direction. "Any last words, boyo?" He asked menacingly. All eyes turned to him.
Lucivar swallowed hard and closed his eyes.
Damn.
A/N: Will they find the children? Will Daemon be viciously attacked again? Find out soon…