Veronica awoke to a sound in the next room. She sat up and took in her surroundings, momentarily disoriented, before recognizing the gilded ceiling of the guest suite in Titania's home. It must be barely sunrise, she thought, looking at the old-fashioned clock on the wall.
The noise caught her attention once more - Sabrina, she registered. She slipped out of her bed to check on her daughter, dragging on her dressing gown as she went. She peered around the ornate archway that led from her room to Sabrina's, and drew in a sharp breath.
Puck was in her daughter's room.
Veronica growled in disapproval, about to march over to him, then froze as he turned.
Sabrina was in his arms, limp like an overgrown child, her head on his shoulder, arms dangling, legs wrapped around his waist. Fast asleep.
Was she wearing his clothes?
Veronica ducked back around the archway and watched as the boy walked over to the bed, pulled the covers off with one hand (where, for all things sacred, was the other?) and carefully lowered Sabrina, unwinding her limbs from around his body as she sank into the soft mattress. With surprising gentleness, he drew the covers back over her, and stretched out his hand, as if to touch her, or brush her hair from her face. Then, he suddenly pulled back and cradled his hand against his chest, backed away, and hopped out the window, leaving no sign of having even been there.
Frozen in shock, Veronica stood wondering if this were a dream. Did that really happen? Had Sabrina been out all night?
Had she been out all night with Puck?
Where had she been out all night with Puck?
And what had she been doing out all night with Puck?
She ran her hand over her face, feeling guilty that she'd watched it all, as if she were spying on her own offspring (which she was). But that's my baby, she rationalized. She's only sixteen. She has no business being out with boys who sneak her back into her bedroom at dawn.
Then it suddenly hit her: that was Puck.
That meant Sabrina had succeeded. She'd gotten him out of his room.
That's my girl, Veronica thought proudly as she turned toward the bathroom to get ready for the day.
"The Queen is busy this morning," the palace servants politely informed Veronica as they brought in her breakfast and bowed themselves out. "She will meet you for lunch, if you are still here, and hopes you enjoy breakfast in your suite."
Veronica thanked them and craned her neck to peek at Sabrina, still fast asleep in her bed. Much as she was curious about the night's happenings, she decided not to wake her daughter. She'd apparently had a long night out; perhaps, with the few extra hours of sleep, she'd be ready to face the world by lunchtime.
Veronica settled down to eat her meal alone. She was dressed in the same outfit she'd worn the day before - she was thankful that the guest suites were stocked with nightclothes so she didn't have to sleep in what she'd come in - and she'd made do with the cosmetics she'd already had in her handbag. If only she'd known why Titania had invited them to Faerie, she'd have packed an overnight bag, but one simply didn't ask questions when summoned by the Fae Queen.
Sabrina did, though. Veronica smiled to herself, remembering how her spitfire daughter had stood before the Queen the night before, firing questions about Puck in an attempt to find out as much as she could about the boy's self-imposed imprisonment. Titania had answered each one, looking slightly perturbed at the girl's forwardness, but it was evident that the normally-imperious woman was quite willing to cooperate if it meant an imminent reconciliation with her son.
Evident, at least, to Veronica. Titania might be a force to be reckoned with in the Fae world, but that night, she was just another mother, worried about a son who'd slipped beyond her reach to help him.
Although, Veronica had to admit, she still had trouble picturing Titania as Puck's mother. The boy had been a wild thing from the moment she'd met him (not in the palace; he'd been exiled by then) and she'd initially marveled that any mother could've cared for him without collapsing from exhaustion at the end of each day. Until she'd put two and two together and realized he was Titania's and Oberon's other son, the Crown Prince, the disgraced brother, the one they'd never mentioned once in all the time she'd spent in Faerie, surreptitiously broking the cultural gap between humans and Everafters. After that, she'd understood why he'd been so proud to be a miscreant, why he'd refused to grow up, why he'd held them all at bay - even Relda, who'd taken him in and loved him as her own grandson. All except Sabrina, who'd somehow hijacked his heart and made him feel whole again.
And she understood Titania, too - the formidable Queen but powerless mother who'd stood by and watched her boy walk away from her because she wouldn't tell her husband he'd made a mistake, was stupid to have put his hubris before his own flesh and blood. When Veronica had heard - after the fact - that Oberon was dead, she'd grieved for Titania as only a wife could. It was hard enough to raise a child, but to do it alone, with no partner with whom to share the pride and fear, the heartache and relief, the joys and sorrows of that inexplicable paradox that was parenthood . . .
So Veronica had always cut Titania slack - not too much of it, for the Queen could still be a hellion when she wanted to - and tried to remember that under that cool and aloof exterior, she was a mother just like any other. Like herself.
And a mother of a teenager, even if Titania's was that plus several thousand years' worth of fast-expiring childhood . . . well - that put them both in a different class altogether. They had bragging rights now. They were practically a club. Not that she'd actually get together with the Queen of Faerie over coffee and bagels to exchange mothering tips and gossip about The Evils Of Technology In The Lives Of Adolescents. No, that would be pushing it. But helping another mother out when her moody teenager had turned prodigal? Yeah, she could spare a day or two, and even recruit her own teenager to lend a hand. Who may or may not have once had a crush on said prodigal. Who, in turn, may or may not have returned the favor, and might still be.
Veronica shuddered involuntarily. She was acting all Henry-like, she realized with amusement, being suspicious and protective and - if she dared admit it - possessive. It's only natural, she reasoned with herself, it's what teenagers do, and Sabrina could have done a lot worse than the future King of Faerie, especially now that he's cleaned himself up and stopped harassing her every other minute of the day.
A rustle of sheets brought her rumination to a halt. Sabrina was waking up - time to get to work. First, she was going to congratulate her daughter on a job well done. Then, she was totally going to grill her about that boy.
Veronica was scrutinizing the tapestries on the walls of Faerie's dining room when she heard Titania gasp. She turned toward the Queen, seated at the head of the long table, and followed her startled gaze to the door.
Puck strolled in, hands in pockets, looking utterly relaxed, as if he hadn't just excommunicated himself from his family for four entire weeks. He was wearing the same hoodie she'd seen on her own daughter just hours before.
"Hello, Mother," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I hope I'm not late. I'm starving." He pulled out a chair directly opposite Sabrina's, and winked at her as he sat down.
Titania blinked a few times, one jewel-encrusted hand at her throat, and exchanged a glance with Mustardseed. The younger prince inclined his head to the servers standing by, and within seconds, lunch was brought in and set before them.
Puck fell on the appetizer almost immediately, completely oblivious to the stares of everyone else. His nonchalance was blaringly conspicuous; surely someone would eventually have to clear their throat politely and broach not only his solitary confinement but also his release - or was it escape? - from it.
It fell to Mustardseed, apparently, as their mother seemed unable to speak.
"Welcome back, Puck." His brother said, not without a hint of sarcasm.
"Srthangsz," Puck mumbled back through a mouthful of antipasti, waving his hand absently, as Sabrina rolled her eyes.
Mustardseed glared at him for a second, then shook his head and began to eat. For a while, there was silence around the table.
Then Mustardseed spoke again, and this time, there was clear anger in his tone.
"Are you going to tell us what's going on?"
Puck looked between Mustardseed and Titania, jaw working as he chewed, then sighed.
"Must we? It's so unpleasant to talk about that while we're eating. It just ruins a good meal, you know? And speaking of which -" He turned to the server closest to him, "Runefeather - it is Runefeather, right? - tell the kitchen staff that the meals they sent during my. . . ah. . . sabbatical were awesome. I especially liked that one with the pheasant in the red sauce with bits of ginger root. Fabulous."
He looked at Sabrina and let loose a conspirational grin as Runefeather flushed red with pleasure, nodded, and exited. Sabrina's eyebrows were raised in surprise, but she smiled back.
What was that all about? Veronica thought. She glanced at the other two members of Puck's family and saw that they were every bit as baffled as she.
"Are you alright, brother?" Mustardseed asked, all resentment gone, replaced by undisguised concern. He lowered his voice to a hiss, "You not only remembered the name of the staff, but also complimented them!"
Puck opened his mouth to speak but the doors swung wide again to admit the next course. Everyone waited out the interruption in awkward silence until the servers stepped away from the table.
Mustardseed turned on Puck, waiting.
Puck speared a piece of fish with his fork, calmly ate it, and then sighed.
"Surely you didn't think I'd died," he announced. "I needed a break, that's all. I told you."
"A break?" Titania finally found her voice. "A break from what?"
Sabrina watched Puck with wide eyes, as she chewed on her lower lip.
"Oh . . . life. . . things. . . it's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" Mustardseed burst out in disbelief. "Four weeks without a word not a big deal? What could possibly be such a burden in your life that you'd need a whole month's break from?"
"More, if no one'd had the smarts to call in Grimm," Puck clarified. "Whose idea was it anyway? Yours? Mother's?"
"So it worked, then," Titania cut in, "to have the girl attempt to talk you out."
Puck laughed. "I wouldn't call the actual talking a success, no."
Veronica frowned. What exactly had those two done last night?
"What do you mean, son?" Titania leaned forward in her seat, her meal forgotten. "Don't speak in riddles, for the sake of -"
"Your Majesty?"
All eyes turned to Sabrina, who suddenly realized that it might not have been the wisest thing to interrupt the Queen mid-rant. Or ever. Even if it were blindingly obvious that things were going nowhere with this disaster of a discussion.
"Erm. . . to put your minds at rest, Puck isn't dying, or trying to get anyone's attention for once. And maybe it isn't that important how long he actually spent in his room. I think the real . . . issue is . . . um. . . He's had some . . . difficulty communicating, that's all. He's uh. . . just. . ." Sabrina floundered, wishing now to high heaven that she hadn't spoken at all.
"If you must know," Puck interrupted with a dramatic sigh, "I was having what the humans call a -" he locked eyes with Sabrina, "-mid-life crisis."
A stunned silence fell over the room.
"What is that?" Titania exploded in frustrated bewilderment.
Mustardseed blinked back his surprise and laid his hand on her arm. "I believe it's when someone experiences psychological and emotional difficulty in their middle years with regard to their identity and life direction."
"He means that I'm messed up because I don't know who I'm supposed to be," Puck translated, glaring at Mustardseed.
"Can it be cured?" Titania asked, aghast.
"It's not a disease, Mother," Mustardseed assured her. "It's more like . . . really bad stress."
"And it's temporary," Sabrina added. "Most of the time."
Titania looked like she might burst an artery. "How did he get it?" She demanded.
Veronica suddenly felt an urge to laugh. She remembered Puck's reaction to learning that, after centuries of blissful oblivion to the fact, he was finally undergoing puberty five years ago. He'd had the same misconception - that it was something he'd contracted from exposure to germs or other unclean things. Titania's agitation reminded her of how they were still worlds apart - the Fae and the humans they were trying so hard to befriend.
"Your Majesty," Veronica finally entered the discussion, "it's not uncommon among humans. Sometimes when people have worked very hard at something in their lives, like. . . a career, they suddenly realize that maybe it wasn't what they really wanted. And they might feel . . . lost, because they're already halfway through their lives and should already know what they want by then. Sometimes something happens to make them become aware of this - someone close to them dies, for instance, or they lose a job, or their marriage fails. It makes them suddenly unsure of what they're doing, or whether it's worth it to keep doing it. Do the Fae never experience this?"
Titania listened quietly, her panic dissipating at Veronica's calm words. She turned to Puck.
"Son? Is this true? Are you questioning who you are?"
Puck looked supremely uncomfortable as he sat, cutlery suspended over his main course.
"Well," he began, "that's a bit over-the-top. . . "
"Is this because of your coronation?" Titania pressed, apparently knitting clues and circumstances together in her head.
Puck remained silent, and Sabrina looked at him with sympathy.
"Do you not want to be King?"
Veronica rose from her seat and looked pointedly at her daughter. "Perhaps this is a matter to discuss with just family. If you will excuse us, Your Majesties, Sabrina and I will wait outside."
"No!" Puck turned fiercely to Sabrina. "Grimm, you don't have to go!"
"You'll be okay, Gashead," she returned affectionately. "You're impossible to get kill, remember?"
Sabrina and Veronica sat in the visiting lounge, twiddling their thumbs.
Veronica tried several times to open a conversation with her daughter, but it was as if she were a different girl than the one who'd walked through the hallways of Faerie just a day ago. It wasn't that Sabrina had distanced herself from her; she'd simply come into her own somehow, in those hours she'd spent talking sense into Puck. At least, that was all Veronica hoped she'd done with the boy; she'd refused to divulge any details at breakfast when Veronica had asked.
"He's working something out, Mom," was all Sabrina would say. "But I think he's going to be okay. You know him - always one for theatrics. I never knew how much he had on his plate, though. And I keep forgetting how old he really is, especially when he's throwing tantrums like a spoilt brat."
Veronica realized now, of course, that her daughter hadn't meant to be evasive; she'd merely been trying to be a good friend to Puck, to not rat him out to the adults.
Sabrina had downed a few slices of toast, brushed the crumbs off the hoodie - obviously his, judging from the size and style - and said she'd better check on him to make sure he'd keep his word about joining the family later.
Then she was gone, and Veronica had been left contemplating the void in her place. Every day, she'd mused, that girl grew up a little more, sounded a little more like an adult, lost a little more of her innocence. Before she knew it, this woman-child would be living under a different roof, part of another family; belonging to someone else.
Maybe she already was.
Veronica suddenly missed Henry very much, felt an acute longing to bury herself in his arms and mourn the loss of their baby - their first - even as her pride for the woman Sabrina was becoming swelled her heart to bursting. Henry would understand; no one else loved their daughter as much as he did. But when she'd picked up her cell phone, ready to dial home, she'd found that she couldn't. This wasn't something she could talk about from a distance, like reporting on a day at work. She needed to be with him, to feel his solidness, to realize that she was still a wife even if she could hardly fathom how to be a mother to another woman.
Sabrina had returned to their guest suite later with an impish grin on her face, and announced that "the idiot boy" was planning to surprise his mother at lunchtime. Veronica's heart had danced to hear, with that one nickname, how much Sabrina had sounded like herself once more. But she didn't miss how her daughter's beautiful features had softened as she'd said it, or how she was no longer wearing the sweatshirt, but was hugging herself like she wished she still were.
When the door finally opened to eject the royal family, Veronica was still lost in thought.
Sabrina jumped to her feet, asking a thousand questions with her eyes, but Veronica took her time to rise, her gaze meeting Mustardseed's, who smiled at her. He looked more at peace than he'd had in the last couple of days.
Puck walked up to Sabrina and nudged her shoulder with his.
"You still game for those drinks?" He whispered, but failing to keep it low enough for Veronica not to hear. "I think I need one."
"Everything okay?" Sabrina whispered back.
Titania cleared her throat, interrupting them.
"Sabrina Grimm, once more, it appears you and your family have been instrumental in my son's return to us. I am grateful. He was right to choose you as his protector."
Sabrina swallowed, trying to find the words to respond. "Uh, sure. I mean, thanks."
Titania attempted to not roll her eyes, and failed.
"Please stay as long as you like," she continued. "We would be honored to have you as our guests."
"Thank you, Your Majesty, but we should be heading home," Veronica replied, thinking that, perhaps, the family needed time to be alone together. "I have some things to attend to, and Daphne and Henry must be missing us. But I'm glad everything has resolved itself. We were happy to help. Come, Sabrina, we -"
"Oh, but you just got here!" Puck blurted out, his air lofty even as he cast Sabrina a quick glance filled with meaning. "I was going to show Sabrina the lake. It's really cool, and the phoenixes are loads of fun. All wicked pranksters, they are. She'd have a blast."
Veronica didn't think Sabrina's idea of fun agreed with Puck's, but she glanced at her daughter's face and was not surprised to see longing there. She was sure it wasn't for the phoenixes, though.
Mustardseed looked astonished. "I wasn't aware that there were phoenixes by the lake."
"You aren't aware of a lot of things, little brother," Puck scoffed. "If you crawled out from under your rock sometime, you'd find plenty of stuff to be aware of. You work too hard."
"Well, one of us has to." Mustardseed retorted, but it was without malice.
Sabrina turned to Veronica. "Can I hang here for a bit, Mom? Maybe you can go home without me and I'll catch up later? I can take the bus and the subway."
"Or I could fly her," Puck offered. "I don't crash as much now that I notice the trees."
Veronica raised an eyebrow, remembering what she'd seen in her daughter's bedroom in the early morning.
"I don't think that's a good idea, honey," she stated cautiously, then sighed; there was no other way to say it. "Not without a chaperone."
Sabrina blushed, but Puck looked indignant.
However, Titania burst out before either could say a word, "How dare you accuse my son of impropriety!"
Veronica looked the Queen in the eye, fully aware that she was probably breaking several thousand rules of Fae etiquette by not only turning down Titania's invitation, but also insulting the future king to his face and in the presence of his extremely volatile mother.
"I'm not accusing your son of anything." She said firmly. My daughter, after all, will be as much to blame if anything happens; you might have forgotten what it's like to be sixteen, but I haven't. "Thank you for inviting us. We'll stay till dinner, if that's alright, and then we should both leave for home."
Titania nodded, thoughtfully eyeing Puck and Sabrina walk off and unsubtly high-five each other. She turned back and said, "Perhaps you would join me for tea in an hour. I would like to speak with you in private, Veronica Grimm."
Veronica and Titania sat in the Queen's personal suite, a table set with tea and luscious cakes between them. Veronica was not a woman easily intimidated, and she did have genuine empathy for Titania, but it was hard to feel completely at ease with her - if her propensity for explosive displays of emotion was not sufficient cause for tension, the unknown nature of their meeting certainly was.
Her thoughts drifted to her daughter once more, now "hanging" with Puck somewhere in the palace. On the way to this meeting with Titania, Veronica had taken a route from her room that passed by the large doors opening out to the gardens. She'd paused to take in the gorgeous colors and heady scents - nature, after all, was Titania's and Oberon's domain - and heard laughter. Familiar laughter. Her daughter's laughter.
Against her better nature, she'd stepped onto the grass and drawn closer.
There they were - sparring. Sparring. Hand-to-hand combat, full-body wrestling sparring - snarling and growling and hooting with laughter as they called out raucous challenges to each other. She'd stared, mesmerized, at this bright, uninhibited version of her oldest child, enjoying her friendship with the boy who'd once shared their home.
Henry should see this, she'd thought, drinking in the sight with her eyes. He'd been so worried that the war had broken Sabrina, that her time in the foster care system had indelibly scarred her, that they'd forever lost the happy child of gold and blue that awful day when they'd been taken from her sister and her.
Suddenly, the laughter had stopped, and she'd drawn in a breath at the sight of Sabrina in Puck's arms, her hands on his chest, all smiles gone as they'd looked at each other.
Veronica had known that look.
She'd whipped around and quickly walked away. No, Henry definitely shouldn't see that. I shouldn't have watched either, for that matter, she'd told herself, her heart hammering in her chest. As she'd walked to her meeting with the Queen, the scene replaying in her mind like a loop stuck on repeat, she'd tried to be reasonable: Sabrina had kissed him before, when he'd eaten the poisoned apple and she was the only one who could wake him up. You were okay with that, she'd reminded herself.
But they were eleven then. They were in denial then. It was just a crush then. You didn't think it would come to anything.
Just now, though - the way they'd looked at each other. I wasn't ready to see that.
Long ago, when the girls had been little, everyone had warned her how fleeting those years would be.
"Enjoy them now," they'd said, experience bestowing on them the unchallenged right to inflict their opinions on strangers, "it'll go by before you know it. They grow up so fast."
But yours didn't, did he? Veronica thought, with a hint of envy, as the soft clink of silverware against china drew her attention from her introspection to Titania sitting before her. You got to have him for centuries.
The Queen, unaware of Veronica's thoughts, was ominously silent as she stirred her tea, her eyes downcast. It was as if she were gathering herself to begin a speech. Or an attack.
A deep breath. Then,
"I confess I didn't think much of your daughter when I first laid eyes on her, Veronica Grimm. She is after all, human. Mortal. Without power. I was surprised when my son chose her as his protector, and even more surprised that he again refused to marry Moth when he returned to us five years ago. And imagine my shock when he decided to leave Faerie - of his own will this time - to accompany you Grimms to Ferryport Landing after Oberon's funeral. I thought he was simply unaccustomed to being back at the court after so many years of being away, or that perhaps he had loose ends to tie up in your town before coming home to assume the throne.
"Then I realized it was because of the girl - your daughter. Mustardseed alerted me to the fact that Puck was growing up. I should've seen it myself, but I was so full of grief and anger over my husband's murder . . ."
Veronica remained silent, partly out of respect for the Queen, and partly because she had no idea where this was going.
"Now," Titania went on, "while it is not unheard of for Fae and humankind to couple, it is somewhat irregular for Fae royalty. However, I didn't object to Puck's affection for your daughter, because she was mortal, and if my son must have his fling, then so be it. She would eventually die, and he would move on."
Veronica clenched her fingers around her teacup, her jaw tense, willing herself with every ounce of her self-control not to smash it on the table and ram the shards into the Queen's eyes.
"Then it came to my knowledge that she - all of you - had become Everafters. She was now immortal. And Puck's feelings for her, rather than diminishing over time, were more obvious than before. He is, at any rate, continuing to grow older. And for her, it appears, for they are of comparable age, are they not? So I had to consider this matter more seriously. This incident - your visit -" Titania swallowed, clearly troubled, "- has made me think that perhaps she is not what . . . that I might have misjudged her.
"Initially, I believed that, like Moth, she wanted Puck for his power, to be Queen someday. It would not be unrealistic to have imagined that, Veronica. The realm is filled with maidens with that exact ambition, and families with that exact ambition for their daughters. It is true that she is awkward in the ways of the court, not to mention ungracious in speech and impulsive in action. And she has appallingly little respect for me and my sons, even though we are royalty, and Fae, and of a long and glorious bloodline. But - " Titania laughed, and Veronica was pleasantly surprised at how the Queen's face lit up, and the lines fell away and brought out her natural, breathtaking beauty, "- are not the very monarchs of Faerie the same?"
Titania gathered herself, mirth still shining in her eyes. "And she managed what even Mustardseed and I could not - to get Puck to leave his room and his misery so we could be a family again. It is no mean feat. Your daughter is not without her own power, it seems."
Veronica sighed, thrown off-guard by the Queen's candor.
"I have a confession too," she spoke. "I didn't think much of your son, either, to be frank. He was uncouth and immature and constantly belittled Sabrina. In the beginning, at least. But I also saw him mature, and save her life, and it became obvious that he cares for her."
She paused, wondering if she should take the risk. Well, dang.
"I sometimes forget that he is the King of Faerie, or will be in the spring. When I look at him with Sabrina, all I see is a boy who might break her heart."
"I see the same thing when I look at your daughter." Titania spoke the words so quickly that Veronica suspected it took more courage to admit them than anything else the Queen had said so far.
"What is this meeting for, Your Majesty?" Veronica asked at last.
Titania sat back and sipped her tea. "The King of Faerie must have a queen at his coronation. Or be betrothed to one. It is Faerie law. When Puck was younger, Oberon chose Moth for him. It is the father's right to pick his son's bride, as you know. It turned out to be a poor choice, unfortunately - one of many my husband made in his lifetime. Perhaps it was justice that she was the one that killed him in the end. But that is inconsequential now: Moth is out of the picture. Puck will be King in the spring, and now that Oberon is dead . . ."
Veronica blanched. "You will choose a bride for him?"
Titania nodded. "It is my right and responsibility, yes."
Veronica's heart was a lead weight. She could not speak, but it was just as well, because the Queen was continuing to.
"Sabrina Grimm may have much yet to learn of the ways of the Fae, but she has shown that she is tenacious, faithful, brave and does not shrink back from a challenge. Those are not altogether terrible qualities for a future Queen of Faerie. And . . . I believe she loves my son and can . . . has . . . made him happy."
Veronica was stunned speechless, her knuckles still white around the teacup.
"Did you not see them in the garden?" Titania continued, mistaking Veronica's silence for skepticism.
"You watched them?" Veronica found her voice at last. Too?
"Yes."
"What are you saying, Titania?" Veronica managed in a hoarse whisper, fear and dread causing her to forget the title and address the Queen by name. She's only sixteen! She is still a child! She is my child!
"I remember when I was chosen as Queen," Titania digressed unexpectedly, her voice quiet as she reminisced. "It was an honor, of course. And I tried to think of it as that. But I was a young fairy girl, and terrified. I did not love Oberon when I first married him, and he did not love me; neither of us had had a say in the matter - I was picked for him, as was the custom. That is not to say we did not ever have feelings for each other. I think that by the end of his life, we did care for one another. And . . . I feel his loss. When I was watching Puck grow up these last few years, and when I was watching your daughter with him, I wished Oberon were here to tell; it is the kind of thing parents talk about, is it not? When the boys learned to fly, for instance, we talked about it. When Mustardseed made his first treaty and settled his first dispute with a neighboring kingdom, we talked about them. I was proud of him, my second son. But now, watching Puck become King, and falling in love . . ."
Veronica winced. It was her daughter, after all, that the falling-in-love was happening with.
". . . I miss him. I miss my husband. I returned to my bedchambers last night and felt his absence anew. He did not always understand me, or why I chose to treat Puck and Mustardseed differently from him. But he was their father, and if not him, who else would know them, or be interested in what they did, what they said, how they were becoming men? Sometimes I think motherhood can be very lonely. Is this something you can understand? You are a wife and mother yourself, after all."
Oh, yes, did Veronica understand. She nodded, her throat tight with so many words fighting to get out that they trapped each other and held each other down.
"I have made decisions that I am not proud of," Titania went on, "although if you tell this to anyone else, Veronica Grimm, I will deny it and have you beheaded, regardless of whether or not you are the mother of my son's future wife. Letting Puck be exiled, for example - I should have stood up to Oberon. Perhaps it goes even farther back than that; I never encouraged Puck to be better than he was. But that is all in the past; it cannot be undone. This next decision I make, however, I hope will be a good one. And I make it not as a queen, but as a mother."
Veronica was in a state of unparalleled panic. If the Queen was going to say what Veronica thought she was going to say, Sabrina was doomed. In love with Puck or not, she was too young. Too young to know for certain he was whom she wanted, too young to never experience love with anyone else, too young to rule a kingdom she knew next to nothing about, too young to abandon her own dreams for a career, a life of her own making, too young to be a mother and bear heirs, too young, too young, too young.
And once the Queen of Faerie pronounced it, it would be law, and nothing short of her daughter's death - or banishment - would change it. Veronica would have to stop Titania. She was Sabrina's mother; for Sabrina, she would fight the most powerful Fae in existence with her own bare hands - and a broken teacup - if she had to.
She rose from her seat, shaking.
"But I have been thinking," Titania spoke calmly, completely unaware of the storm brewing within her companion. "I could choose your daughter as his betrothed, as Moth once was. Puck is sixteen, after all - he is of age, and will probably be more amenable to the idea of marriage now. However, your daughter is sixteen also - that is young for humans, is it not? And . . . she might not want him."
Veronica blinked, confused.
"Now, Puck himself can repeal this law, but only as King. But he is not King until his coronation, and the next Queen must already have been named by then. Dreadfully circular; you see the problem."
Veronica was light-headed by now, and too weak to even scream by the time Titania spoke her next words.
"So I will abolish this law. I can, you know; I am still Queen. It will be my gift to him as his mother. He should be free to choose whom he wants to marry, if he wants to marry at all. It could be that he chooses her after all, and she accepts him in return, and no one has a broken heart, and they live a long, happy life together. But it should be their choice. Before I became a mother, and lost my son, I did not understand this. It is strange how things are sometimes."
Veronica collapsed in her chair, her mind reeling, every nerve in hyperdrive from the blast of adrenaline through her system.
What just happened? Or, more precisely, what just didn't?
Titania sighed and poured herself more tea.
"I apologize," she said quietly, playing with the rings on her fingers, "I am very tired. I think that it is more exhausting being a mother than a queen. I need to rest now. I may not join you and your daughter for dinner, so forgive me for not sending you off when you leave."
"Of course, Your Majesty," Veronica stuttered, still in shock.
"Titania, please," the Queen replied. "If our children, in spite of us, someday marry, you will be the Queen's mother. There need be no titles between us."
Veronica nodded dumbly, not having the wherewithal to even thank the Queen. She rose to go, then paused and turned back.
"But . . . what did you want to meet me for?" She asked, puzzled. "I hardly spoke a word, and you'd already worked out what you were going to do."
Titania released her hands from where they'd been kneading her temples, and looked at Veronica.
"To listen, of course. As a mother and . . . friend. I knew you would understand."
After Veronica had left, Titania continued to sit for some time, sipping cool tea, the fancy cakes ignored on the table.
Then she rose and went to her bookcase, searching among the volumes of written parchment until she found the one she wanted. She unrolled it and read the law inscribed there - the only copy in existence, its words filled with power, protected within the personal chambers of the immortal King and Queen of Faerie.
"Oberon," she spoke into the empty air. "I miss you, my love. I wish you were here with me tonight. So much has happened and I miss having you to share it all. Can you see us from where you are? Can you see your son? Would you recognize him, now sixteen, as the human years go? When you were alive, you did not have faith in his wisdom and his decisions, but I choose to. He has shown himself capable of making good choices, and surrounding himself with good people, even if they are outsiders. He cares for his kingdom, perhaps even more than you or I ever have, or will. And . . . he has fallen in love. Our little boy! Not the way we did, forced together before we were allowed to choose each other. I am allowing him to choose whomever he wants. Yes, I am changing the immutable law of Faerie. Forgive me, beloved, but I am hopeful that if you were here, seeing what I've seen, you would be proud of your son, too, and you might do the same."
She felt her magic warm her hand as she communed with her ghosts. She thought of what she'd seen in the gardens that afternoon and remembered how, at the mid-day meal, Sabrina Grimm had tried to protect her son's dignity when they'd interrogated him; how, in that private family conference later, he'd lost it and sworn he would not rest until he'd gutted out every selfish, stifling rule that his father had enforced on their people for his own stinking sake. It seemed that in spite of her own errors, her son had the makings of a fine king, and the girl would be a fitting mate for him.
Even more so if they chose those paths themselves; she would make sure of it.
She laid her palm on the scroll and watched it burn.
A/N: First, my apologies to Puckabrina shippers who were holding out for an explicit written kiss. I tried to write one in, but I liked the story more without it. It's not just the tension; I've always believed that intimacy is even more powerful when it happens at a level deeper than the physical, and the picture of intimacy even more powerful when seen through the eyes of observers. Hence this chapter, written in the POVs of the mothers, watching their children navigate that transition from friendship to something more. It was fun to write. My only regret is that Mustardseed - whom I LOVE - remained comparatively 2D next to everyone else. I didn't have it in me to flesh him out more in this context. Anyway.
Also, sixteen is such a wonderful age. I'm older than sixteen, obviously, but I think I'll always be partial to to that age over any other in my teenagehood - not quite old enough to leave home and face the Next Phase Of Your Life questions, but not so young that I didn't appreciate true friendships or know what/who I wanted to be. If only I could bottle time, as my mother says, I'd love to have saved a bit of it (except for my appalling fashion sense; that I'm happy not to remember). Well, Ma - maybe I am understanding what it's like, after all. Just a little bit.
And now, what age shall I write P+S next? Eighteen? Twenty? Four hundred and eleven? And what twisted plot shall I cast them in? Give me your ideas and requests, if you have any, and let's see if we can avoid the tired and old scenarios, shall we? Have a lovely weekend!