This was a joint effort between the bodaciously Butler-savvy WolfButler and myself. (Seriously, you want anything Butler related, or just heart-tuggingly family centric - go read her fics. She's the QUEEN of writing the Butlers. Maybe even THE QUEEN'S MOTHER). It was an honour to write the big man with the master in tandem and I proper enjoyed myself :)

So, in turn, we hope you all enjoy this!

Disclaimer: We're not Eoin Colfer. Just two young women in miners caps. (It's grim up North)

The 'B' word

"… and don't forget he's due his afternoon feed at three…"

"Angeline…"

"And if he gets a little grouchy, it's probably because he needs a nap…"

"Angeline…" Artemis interjected again, to no avail.

"Oh, and don't forget to play him Mozart if you do put him down for bo-bos, because I've been assured that it's excellent for his mental development. His favourite is–"

"Angeline!"

"Yes, dear?" replied the Fowl matriarch brightly.

Her husband sighed and took Angeline's coat from a waiting handmaid. "We will be fine. Now please, enjoy your trip."

"I know, I know," she huffed, slipping her arms through the outstretched garment. "And I know that Butler cares for him on a daily basis, usually without the aid of those dithering maids you hired, but I still feel rather odd leaving my little boy behind like this…"

"The 'dithering maids' as you put them, dear," Artemis Senior said with a slight frown upon his wide brow, "are in place to make your life more comfortable. And as for Butler's competence as a nanny; I would rather he concentrated on his duties as a bodyguard than became a fulltime babysitter to our son."

It's a bit late for that, Butler thought to himself, jiggling his charge slightly. The boy was small for his age, still barely the size of his bodyguard's forearm. But then again, Butler's forearms weren't exactly small.

Angeline finished fiddling with the buttons of her coat before reaching out and stroking a hand briefly across her son's head. "Well, I suppose you're right. And it's about time you had some proper father-and-son time with our little Arty, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Artemis said, sounding anything but excited about the prospect of spending the day in the company of a seven-month-old baby. But Butler would be there with him to handle the... messy side, of course. Although his own bodyguard, The Major, would be accompanying Angeline on her excursion to a large designer clothes store. If possible, the giant bodyguard looked even less enamoured with his end of the deal than his charge.

"For God's sake, don't let anything happen to them whilst I'm out. The woman will throw a hissy fit," he had muttered earlier to his nephew, whilst he checked his various 'equipment' was in full working order.

Butler had grunted an affirmative to his uncle and refrained from rolling his eyes. As if Missus Fowl's sanity was the only reason he would be more vigilant than usual whilst his uncle was away from the manor. His absence alone at least doubled Domovoi's workload. He was grateful only for the fact that Artemis Senior had no business trips planned for today and so the entire time should be spent within the manor grounds. Theoretically, this should be time spent bonding with his son, although that was a slim possibility with the Fowl.

Angeline fussed over her son, cooing at him in the large manservant's arms.

"Can you say 'Mummy', Arty? Say 'Mummy'. Come on, darling…"

Her son remained stoically silent, looking as his mother almost incredulously.

"Alright then, Major," Angeline said finally, turning from the baby who had yet to utter a word in his short life. "I'm ready to depart now. Shall we?"

"Certainly, ma'am," The Major said curtly, as though affirming that he was ready to engage in a battle with a sworn enemy.

"Right," she said again, as though assuring herself. "Then let's go."

She strode purposefully across the grand foyer.

Seeing that his mother was departing, clearly without an order in place for his following her, the baby immediately began to wail as though his small world was ending and his father's eyes consequently widened in horror. His brain ordered his hands to cover his ears, but common sense thankfully prevailed. His wife would almost certainly have objected to that course of action.

"Oh hush, hush Arty, what is it darling?" Angeline said, immediately trotting back up the stairs and smoothing his dark, downy hair from his brow. "Do you want Mummy to stay? Oh - can you say 'Mummy stay'?"

"Missus Fowl, I'm sure he'll be fine," said The Major firmly, not happy that they were already running behind his carefully calculated schedule. "It'll do the boy good to spend a little time with his father."

Angeline sighed, but she stepped away reluctantly. "Alright, yes… Yes, I know. But… I do worry…"

"Of course you do, dear. It's only natural," Artemis said, eyes still showing an excessive amount of white as he silently pleaded with his bodyguard, who point-blank ignored him. "But we'll be… fine. Perfectly fine."

"You will," confirmed the elder Butler.

And before either verbally-communicative Fowl could voice an opposing opinion, The Major closed the reinforced door of the Bentley and made his way round to the driver's side with a curt nod to his charge and nephew as a form of goodbye.

The engine started up and one of the rear windows buzzed down.

"Oh, and do keep an ear out for him saying anything," called Angeline. "Seven months is the ideal age for a baby's first words according to…"

But Artemis Junior was screaming so loudly by then that it was impossible to hear who had claimed the statement as fact. And in any case, the Bentley had purred into motion and glided down the driveway, away and out of sight from where the three figures stood, before anyone could ask her to repeat herself.

The car was barely out of the gates before Artemis Senior had stormed back up the Manor steps.

"For heaven's sake, shut him up!" he ordered the remaining bodyguard.

Butler swiftly obliged, tucking the baby into the crook of his elbow as his mother had taught him to do with Juliet. Good job she had, since the lesson had been missing from Madame Ko's curriculum and he had had rather a lot of use for it in the past few months. He hushed the baby automatically, bouncing him slightly as he followed his uncle's charge back up the steps to the manor door, simultaneously checking for possible threats to security as he did so.

Baby Artemis quietened, perhaps comforted by the fact that although his mother seemed to have callously abandoned him, the big one who sometimes looked after him was still around. The doors to the manor closed behind them, trapping all three males in for their day of 'paternal-offspring bonding, plus one'.

"How the hell do you do that?" Artemis Fowl Senior demanded after a few moments of silence.

"Do what, sir?" Butler asked, although he had a fair idea of what the man was talking about.

"You know. Quiet him. Hush him. Whatever it is you do to make him stop making that din."

"Err... well… I just sort of… hold him, sir."

"Well, why won't he do it for me?"

Butler didn't have an answer for that, nor did he think it would be a good idea to provide one. Artemis was intelligent enough to work out for himself that the baby didn't like being held by someone he didn't know very well.

"Sod it then," Artemis Senior threw up his hands in defeat. "I'll do what Angeline suggests and spend more time with him. He is the heir to the Fowl Empire, after all. I might as well start him on the right track now."

"Good for you, sir," Butler said, thinking that this probably wasn't going to end well.

"Right… well, then… hand him to me."

Butler shuffled his charge into both hands and held him out 'The Lion King' style. Artemis Junior hiccupped, his bright blue eyes shining as he locked gazes with the similar pair looking right back at him.

Artemis the Senior swallowed firmly and reached out his arms.

Butler wondered when, if ever, the time would be to entirely relinquish his grip on his charge. After all, he was supposed to protect the boy, even if that meant from his own father. Or rather from the hall tiles of the manor floor should the man accidentally drop him.

Fortunately, for everyone involved, before the boy's father could get a proper grip, a shrill ringing broke the somewhat tense silence.

Artemis Senior stepped back, licking his lips before speaking almost nervously. "I'll... I'll just get this."

Butler nodded, returning Little Artemis to his 'holstered' position.

You do that, sir, he thought, secretly more than a little relieved that his highly-trained ears would be spared from his charge's high-pitched screaming for a few moments more.

"Yes, this is Fowl," the crime lord said into the phone, his voice cold and confident once more.

Butler shook his head slightly in disbelief as the man turned to pace away from him, as was his custom when taking a phone call. His employer might as well be schizophrenic for all the similarities between his different 'modes'.

The bodyguard looked down and wondered whether, at some point in the not-so-distant future, the small bundle would ever become like his father. After all, The Major must have had a similar thought at some point, and looking at how his charge had turned out…

Butler shook his head again, this time in disbelief with himself. Here he was hoping the kid wasn't going to turn out exactly like his father and the boy hadn't even started to speak yet. Speaking of which…

"You know you should be talking already, young sir," he murmured softly. "Your mother is starting to worry. Of course, she doesn't need much of an excuse to worry. But still…"

The baby chuckled at him as though it had an ulterior motive for not speaking.

"I've made tougher guys than you talk in the past," Butler whispered to him mock-threateningly, before standing silent and professional once more as his employer reached the wall of the hall and spun on one foot to continue his pacing.

"You think you can blackmail me?" Artemis Senior chuckled lowly.

Butler wondered briefly exactly what life-threatening situation his uncle's charge was about to plunge them all into, speaking as he was to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

His own charge gurgled in his arms and Butler hushed him, moving away through the open doors of a nearby parlour lest his father complain at the noise.

"B…bla…bla…"

The seven-month-old was stammering baby noises and Butler fought to keep himself from smiling. Madam Fowl definitely worried too much. Juliet hadn't said her first word until she was nearly a year old. Now they couldn't shut her up if they tried.

"Blackmail? Really?" Artemis Senior continued from the hall, somewhat incredulously. "You would sink so low? And what, pray tell, do you suppose you have to blackmail me with? Don't be so pathetic …"

"Bla…bla..bla…may…"

Artemis Fowl Senior cut the call and walked through to his son and bodyguard, still muttering. "Thinks he can blackmail me... Me, Butler. Me."

"Bla…bla'may…"

Butler didn't really know what to say to that, so he just nodded silently in agreement.

"Bla… blaggmay…"

"Blackmail, indeed…"

"Blagmayul."

"Exactly," Artemis grumbled. "Right. Where were we?"

"Blagmail. Bla-kuh-mail. Blackmail."

"No, no, before that. And why are you repeating yourself? Christ, Butler; has looking after a small child addled your brain?"

"Uh… sir…" Butler said, gesturing at the 'small child' in his arms and wondering whether or not to be insulted that his employer had mistaken a child's voice for his own deep rumble.

"Blackmail," said little Artemis happily. "Blackmail, blackmail, blackmail!"

Artemis Senior's mouth fell open as he stared at his young son, aghast.

"Oh…" he tailed off, not wanting his son to pick up any more unsavoury words today.

"My thoughts exactly, sir," Butler said a little grimly.

"Blackmail!" chirped Artemis Junior.

"Now listen here," said Artemis Senior, stalking quickly towards his son. "We shall have no more of that, young man. Do you hear me?"

The baby giggled. "Blackmail."

"Oh for Heaven's–!" The Fowl patriarch turned on the younger man. "Butler, do something!"

Me? thought Butler, with a mental eyebrow-raise. How am I even remotely involved in this? Oh wait… because I'm 'The Butler'.

The bodyguard sighed and pivoted away, placing the youngest Fowl neatly in an armchair besides the hearth.

"Now," he said mock-seriously, tuttying down to the baby's eye level. "Say, 'mum'. Artemis? Say 'mum'."

Artemis just gnawed on an already spit-soaked fist.

"'Mum'. Say 'mum'."

Butler pushed his arms down gently and the baby whined.

"Muh-um. Say 'mum'."

"Muuu…"

"'Mum', Artemis. 'Mum'."

"Muuuh… Muu…"

"That's it!" hissed Artemis Senior, leaning closer in hopeful excitement. "He's nearly got it. He's nearly–"

Then the baby's blue eyes widened at this new addition to his personal space.

"Blackmail!" he screeched.

"Might want to back up a little, sir," said Butler, knowing the proximity of his uncle's charge without looking back over his shoulder.

"Why on ea–?"

"Blackmail!" his son yowled again.

Artemis Senior swore under his breath but moved away, still muttering.

"Fine. Fine. I'll leave you well alone, you little…"

"There we are," whispered Butler, hearing his employer clack away back into the hall. "Just you and me now, little man. You going to be good for me, Artemis? Are you going to show me how clever you are?"

The baby smiled coyly and squirmed.

"Mu-mu-mu."

"That's it. 'Mum'. Where's your mummy, eh? She's out with my Uncle isn't she? Best of luck to the both of them. Now come on, say it again. Muh-um."

Artemis laughed, clapping his little hands together clumsily.

"Muuuu! Muuuhhhuuu!"

"No, Artemis," Butler said calmly, breathing deeply through his nose. "That's what cows do. What do cows do, Artemis? Cows go…"

"Muuuu."

Butler smiled to himself. He was still holding the little boy's arms, allowing them to bounce whilst still keeping him upright. It was actually one of the rare occasions he'd been left alone with him; up until now, either a nanny or Angeline had been present in the room. He'd never had a chance to notice before just how spectacular his charge's eyes were. Just how intelligent the gaze was that beamed out from those blue orbs. The damn kid was playing them all. Butler was sure of it.

The bodyguard was snapped out of his musings by a sharp clattering and the grunting of someone carrying, or rather dragging, a cumbersome object.

"I have brought," huffed Artemis Senior, lurching into the parlour, "some assistance."

Butler reversed the baby until his back was supported by the chair's cushion and then rose to help before the Fowl managed to spear himself, or some other expensive object, with the awry legs of…

"A flipchart, sir?"

"Yes," confirmed the elder, snapping out the frame's metal legs properly and steadying it. "Perhaps with some visual stimuli we may have more success."

He gave a brief huff, and then tossed back the first sheet of paper.

"Now then. Artemis?"

The baby froze in his attempt to put his foot in his mouth. Artemis Senior pressed the button on his retractable pointer, which shot out with a small crack, and slapped it against a large, blown-up photo of Angeline.

Where the man had obtained the image, Butler had no idea.

"This is your mother. Moth-er, Artemis. Now…"

"Sir–?"

"What?"

Butler scratched his head. "Well, I was thinking perhaps we might stick to words of one syllable–"

"Butler," Artemis Senior said, scowling. "If he can say black-mail, he can say moth-er."

"Of course, sir."

"Now hold him or something. I want to be sure he's taking this all in."

The bodyguard scooped up the baby and sat, bone-straight, in the armchair.

"As I was saying…" Artemis Senior sighed, returning to the board. "This is your mother; the woman who gave birth to you subsequent to a nine-month gestation period. You shall know her, for the rest of your foreseeable lifetime, as… mother."

The baby had tilted its head back, attempting to clap Butler's chin between two squidgy palms. His arms were far too short and so he contented himself with pulling on the man's tie, the knot growing ever tighter by the second. Butler stared straight ahead, his gaze never wavering from the 'lesson'.

"The word 'mother'," continued Artemis Senior without concern, "originates from the Early Old English word 'mater', which then made its way into Latin, again as 'mater', into Late Old English, 'modres', then seen again in the thirteenth century as 'moderr', changing again to 'moder', to 'modyre', until finally, in 1526, we reach the modern spelling of 'mother'."

Well thank Christ for that, thought Butler drily. I was under the assumption that this presentation was going to be completely pointless.

"Muuu,"said Artemis, dribbling slightly.

His father froze, ears pricking hopefully for the next syllable. But his son merely blew some approximation of a raspberry and so, carding a hand through his neat hair, Artemis Senior flipped to the next sheet.

"Now, for the phonics. 'Mother', spelt phonetically, looks like this–"

"Blackmail," moaned Artemis, struggling in his bodyguard's grasp. "Blackmail."

His father ignored him. "Read as 'm', as in 'mine', the main stress being on the first consonant. Then 'ʌ' as in the 'u' in 'butter', or 'upset'. 'ð' then or the 'th' sound–"

"Blackmail," insisted the baby.

Artemis Senior took a thin breath through his nose. "The 'ə', as in the 'a' and 'e' in 'another'–"

"Blackmail!"

"Yes, God dammit! I heard you the first five dozen times!"

The Fowl patriarch slammed a hand onto the board which immediately toppled over, crashing to the floor and sending loose paper scattering over the carpet.

There was a moment of silence. Nothing in the room stirred. Even the fire in the grate had ceased its spitting.

Then Artemis Junior released a thin, miserable wail that was amplified by the high-ceilinged room. Artemis Senior threw up his hands, dashed his pointer to the floor, and stalked out of the room, clearly fuming.

Butler immediately moved into action. He knew the drill by now. Although the first few times his charge had started up such a noise it had been almost alarming for a bodyguard familiar, mostly, with the gruff screams of grown men (usually caused by himself, but that was another issue altogether).

"Hush now," he murmured, pulling the baby round and tucking its head under his chin. "What's all this noise, hmm? I've got you, Artemis. I'm here."

The baby sobbed into his shirt, his face a red prune of despair.

"Hey, hey, hush now. Shall we go for a walk around the room? A brief promenade, young sir? I think we should…"

He hoisted the baby up as easily as a bag of sugar, bracing him against a broad shoulder so the boy could still see around him. The Fowl heir immediately stopped crying, startled by the sudden change in height – but not afraid. The big one hadn't dropped him yet.

"That's better," murmured Butler with no little relief. "Right, let's go over here shall we? What do cows says, Artemis?"

"Muuuu."

"Clever boy!"

"Muu… Mu-mu-mu."

"'Mum'. Come on, say 'mum'. I know you can do it, young man."

The baby sniffed and then jerked out an arm, pointing stubby fingers at the fallen picture of Angeline.

"Mum," he said simply.

Butler's eyes widened, dismounting the baby from his shoulder and giving him a rare Butler-smile. "Yes! Yes, Artemis! Clever boy!"

"Mum," he repeated, with an almost toothless grin. "Mum! Mum!"

Artemis Senior appeared in the doorway, scuffing his shoe on the carpet in an amusingly similar fashion to a scolded child. "I'm sorry, Butler, old boy, I don't know what came over–"

"Blackmail!" squealed his son upon spotting him. "Blackmail! Blackmail!"

"No," said Butler hurriedly, as Artemis Senior's face fell. He pointed to Angeline's picture again. "Who's that, Artemis? Who's that?"

But the little boy was scowling heavily, his wide eyes fixed to Artemis Senior.

"Blackmail," he said, with a strange, unwavering finality.

His father shoulders slumped, his face crestfallen.

"I don't know what to do," he said simply. "Is that just going to be what I'm known as from now on? By my only son?"

Butler avoided his eyes, trying again.

"Artemis," he said gently. "That's your dad. Can you say 'dad'?"

"Blackmail."

Strangely, Artemis the elder suddenly clapped his hands together once and exited the room at a quick march.

"Dad," repeated Butler.

"Black. Mail."

The bodyguard suppressed a scowl. There was a certain stubbornness now present in his charge's infant expression, and, although he didn't know it yet, that expression was soon to become very familiar.

The clacking of shoes reached their ears once again and Artemis Senior poked his head around the doorway.

"Butler, could I trouble you for a moment?"

"But, sir…"

"Just here by the door, man!" the Fowl snapped exasperatedly. "Unless my son spontaneously achieves flight, he won't be going anywhere soon."

Butler settled his charge firmly on the armchair and stepped away, cautiously, towards the door.

Four steps: I could cover that distance in under a second, he assured himself.

"Right," said Artemis Senior, who had apparently regrouped and founded a new plan of attack. "I have an idea. Just play along."

Butler considered what Artemis Senior holding, on which was laid out a dissected, orange fruit.

"Of course, sir."

"It's simple. Standard trading. Positive reinforcement, you might say."

"Of course, sir," the Butler repeated, craning his head back around the door to check that his charge was still perched safely on his armchair.

"Now I'm going to need you to… act."

"Act, sir?"

"Yes. You know, dramatics and whatnot."

Butler stayed silent.

"Just… follow my lead," Artemis muttered and Butler raised an eyebrow as his employer swept past, bearing aloft the silver platter.

"Here, Arty," Artemis Senior said excitedly. "I've got a segment of satsuma orange here for you."

Ah well, might as well go all out, Butler thought, silently praying his uncle never heard of this incident.

"Oooh," he cooed, all enthusiasm. "Not a satsuma segment."

"Yes, a satsuma segment!" the elder Fowl gasped theatrically. "And we all know who likes satsuma segmentsnow, don't we?"

The baby was smiling hesitantly, his hands half raised, outstretched to the bait.

"That's my boy. Here it comes…"

Artemis Junior opened his pink mouth and in popped the fruit. He gummed it gratefully, half the juice dribbling down his chin.

Then Artemis Senior tested his theory.

"Arty," he said, pointing. "Who's that?"

The baby looked down at the picture of his mother.

"Mum."

"Yes!" cried Artemis Senior, apparently letting the one-syllable thing go. "Yes, Arty! And I? Who am I?"

He pressed his fingers to his chest.

"Dad."

"Yes! Ooh! I could kissyou!"

The baby giggled, but remained untouched.

For some minutes this continued: a simple formula of satsuma, desired word, satsuma, desired word…

At least until they ran out of segments.

"Right then, my little Arty. Let's go through it once more, and then you can show your mother when she gets home. She's going to be so pleased with you, my boy!" Artemis Senior prattled on, relief clear on his features. "Now, who am I?"

The little Artemis outstretched his hand expectantly... and blinked when no orange segment appeared in it.

"No, no, all gone now. All gone." His father displayed his empty palms and the equally vacant tray. "Now. Who am I, son?"

Artemis Junior's face crumpled, his bottom lip protruding slightly.

His father's grin froze, one hand still expectantly waving his son on to continue, before...

"Blackmail," Artemis said flatly.

Artemis Senior spluttered. "P-pardon?"

"Blackmail!" Artemis Junior screeched.

Oh heck, thought Butler (or words to that effect).

"For the love of Pete, child!" wailed Artemis Senior. "I have no more satsuma! Just do as you're damn-well told!"

"Blackmaaaiiilll," Artemis cried, with equal misery. "Blackmail, blackmail, blackmail!"

"Didn't you have a plan, sir?" Butler interjected quickly as he hoisted his charge from the armchair once more and began to bounce him almost frantically.

Artemis Senior's head was in his hands. "I don't know what else he likes!" he bemoaned. "Satsuma segments were my ace in the hole!"

"Perhaps I could help there, sir?" Butler asked.

By the look on the elder man's face, he was half a minute away from having to deal with two bawling Artemis Fowls and nobody, no matter how trained they were, could ever be considered competent enough to ably cope with that.

"Yes!" The man's gaze snapped up again. "Yes! Please do! Tell me anything he likes. Anything at all!"

"Well…" Butler thought rapidly. "He does rather enjoy nursery rhymes. And then there's puppet shows. Oh and…"

"Wait, wait!" Artemis Senior scrabbled to pull a pen and pad from his jacket pocket, starting to make a list. "Alright, continue. Singing, puppet shows….What else?"

"Erm…"

And so, for the next few minutes, the bodyguard rattled off anything from something that had managed to shut his charge up, soothe him to sleep, or simply make him smile in the past few months.

"Right," Artemis Senior said firmly, finishing the list with a stabbed dot at the bottom of the page. "You, my boy," he fixed his son with a determined stare, "are going to consistently refer to your parents by name if it kills me."

The baby glared right back, as though daring his father to follow through with his threat.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

Several hours later, there was very little the Fowl and the Butler had not tried in their attempts to cajole the baby into reliably and coherently enunciating the words 'Mum' or 'Dad' on command. No matter what rattles they shook, or how many satsumas they unpeeled; how many times they chanted, yodelled, danced, monologued, mimed, play-fought or rapped; whether they serenaded him in duo or as separate soloists; whether they rocked him, threw him, cradled him or dandled him; watched Postman Pat or Citizen Kane (Artemis Senior's choice) with him; whether Butler played 'Punch' or Artemis played 'Judy'; used sock puppets or their own, painted, hands for him … as soon as they stopped, the little Artemis would abandon all verbal co-operation and sit back, giggling, and say:

"Blackmail."

Artemis Senior collapsed against the sofa cushions.

"Well, that's everything on the list," he said dejectedly. "I honestly don't know what else to do."

Butler looked glumly at his charge sat on the play mat chewing on a plastic Einstein and burbling 'blackmail' over and over to himself. He couldn't help thinking that the plan of positively reinforcing the child's behaviour had somewhat backfired. Little Artemis was clearly training them, rather than the other way around.

If this is a sign of things to come, he thought, I may have something a little more than the average Fowl on my hands.

The baby took the Einstein out of his mouth and hit it a few times against the floor.

"Buh… Buh…" he gargled. "Buh…"

Worrying… Butler's eyes narrowed, but not… unexciting.

Guilt suddenly washed over him and he focused sharply back on his uncle's charge.

"Cheer up, sir," he suggested, knuckling the man's shoulder lightly. "There's always the chance that he'll not say it in front of his mother."

Artemis Senior frowned, and Butler thought that maybe he had taken unkindly to the friendly nudge. Then again, the crime lord had, minutes before, been sat on the floor with his employee performing a rendition of 'Row, row, row your boat' complete with joint actions, in-the-round vocals, and little Artemis sat, burbling, between them, so it would be slightly hypersensitive if that small breach of professionalism was what was causing the pained expression.

"Wait a second," said the elder man, hope suddenly dawning across his face. "There is something else. One more thing that we could try…"

Butler tried to remain optimistic that it was something less embarrassing than putting on a ridiculous voice and animating a sock puppet on his hand. His uncle was going to have a field-day with the security footage as it was. And, goddammit, he was still not going to put on a pair of green tights and adopt a warbling falsetto as Artemis Senior had suggested to him earlier – not even for the proposed recompense of three-thousand euros and next Thursday off, would he be the Fowl Patriarch's Peter Pan.

"I'll be right back!"

"What have you got me into this time, Artemis?" Butler asked the baby once his father had disappeared upstairs.

"Blackmail!" the baby giggled.

"Indeed."

"This is it! I've got it! The solution to our troubles, Butler!"

Your troubles, you mean, thought Butler, as he glanced over at what his employer was brandishing.

It was… a book.

Thankfully not 'Peter Pan', Butler noted.

Baby Artemis squealed happily and clapped, stretching for the recognisable tome.

"Ah, ah, Arty," Artemis Senior admonished lightly. "Firstly, I need you to listen to what I have to say. I know you're an intelligent boy, so you are going to consider my offer carefully and with full awareness of just how decent the terms are I am offering you."

"Erm, sir?" Butler said tactfully. "I'm not sure he understands the concept of an 'offer'."

"Of course he does, Butler. Look at him. He knows exactly what I'm saying. Don't you, Arty-boy?"

The baby did indeed seem to be regarding his father actively with his blue-eyed gaze, so Butler buttoned his lip and decided to see how proceedings unfolded.

They could hardly, he reasoned, get any worse.

"Right. Here is it. I, Artemis Fowl the First, your father, shall solemnly swear to read to you, Artemis Fowl the Second, my son, this book so entitled 'The Crock of Gold' every night from this date onwards for an entire month–"

Artemis Junior gasped.

"Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad!" he shouted happily.

"– if, and I mean if," Artemis Senior continued sternly. "If you promise to never say the 'b' word in front of your mother. Ever."

"Blackmail?" Artemis seemed to ask.

"Yes, that," his father told him.

The baby seemed to contemplate this for a moment… before reaching out desperately for the book.

"Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad!"

Butler felt slightly stumped.

"I think that's an agreement, sir."

"Shake on it?" Artemis Senior asked, holding his hand out to his son. The baby bashed his fist against his father's palm until the man grasped it gently, unfurled the fingers with his own, and pulled the infant's arm up and down in an approximation of a handshake.

A historic moment: Artemis Fowl the Second's first ever deal.

"Good boy," said his father, not even turning up his nose at the baby-goo that stuck to his fingers after he had released his son's. "Now, shall we begin?"

"Dad, dad, dad," Artemis said happily, gesturing to be picked up.

"Butler, would you…" Artemis Senior started, before catching himself and changing the intended end of his sentence considerably. "…hold this book for me?"

"Of course, sir," Butler nodded, hiding his smirk as his boss took a deep breath, rose to his knees, and placed two tentative hands around his son's middle. From there he lifted the baby to his chest, resting him against it as he got to his feet. Butler watched carefully, wary of the man falling or accidently dropping the baby should Artemis Junior struggled or squirm in any way. Fortunately, the boy seemed to realise the importance of the occurrences and remained entirely still throughout the proceedings.

Artemis Senior then settled himself on the sofa, tucking his son into the crook of his arm as he had seen Butler do before, and held a hand out for the book. Butler handed it to him and took a seat on the armchair by the sofa. The Fowl switched on the lamp on the table beside him, slid a pair of slim-line glasses from his pocket, donning them awkwardly with his arms full of baby and book, before settling more comfortably, flipping open the thick cover, and beginning to read.

"The Crock of Gold…" he began.

"You – get here and carry this," The Major growled at the poor, unsuspecting maid that greeted them in the main foyer upon their arrival home to the manor.

She held her arms out tentatively and he thrust one-handful of his bags at her. She promptly crumpled under the weight and besides, it was too late. Butler had already taken the wonderful mental photo of his uncle staggering under the weight of so many bags of designer clothes. It would make excellent blackmail material… Butler mentally scolded himself for even thinking the word.

"Did you have a good trip, Madame Fowl?" he asked politely, avoiding eye-contact with his uncle lest he risk bursting into hysterical laughter at the look of contempt on his face.

"Well, yes, I did, actually," replied Angeline, smiling. "Wonderful in fact. Although I think I must have bought half the store of clothing…"

After trying it all on in different combinations and repeatedly asking 'What do you think?' The Major thought to himself.

"Where are my boys?" the lady of the house asked.

"Through here, ma'am," Butler gestured. "Although you might want to keep quiet, I believe the young master is taking a nap."

The sight through the doorway of the parlour managed to draw a smile even to The Major's sour face. Surrounded by a pastel-plethora of toys, blankets, and (strangely) blown-up family portraits, Artemis Fowl Senior sat slumped on the sofa, his chin on his chest, one arm wrapped protectively around his son who was also fast asleep.

"Ohhh," Angeline cooed, eliciting a startled response from her husband who jerked awake suddenly, in turn disturbing his son who blinked blearily and, upon spotting his mother, cried out happily.

The bargaining book slipped from the elder Artemis's hand, landing with a heavy thump and laying forgotten on the carpet – or at least for now.

"Oh. Hello, Angeline," Artemis Senior said, struggling to hold their wriggling son upright as he reached for his mother. "I was just reading to the baby…"

"With your eyes shut, so I see?" Angeline teased.

"Well I…"

"It's alright Timmy, I am only jesting." She laughed, lifting baby Artemis by his armpits and rubbing her nose against his. "It's wonderful that you two have been spending time with each other."

"Yes, quite," her husband said, rising from the sofa awkwardly.

"So, Arty," Angeline asked. "How was your day with Daddy? Did you have fun?"

Artemis Junior giggled and waved his arms, babbling nonsense. Two of the grown men in the room drew twin breaths of dread. The third frowned, sensing something was up and mentally making a reminder to check the CCTV tape footage later.

"Did you learn lots today, little one?"

"Buh, buh, buh." Artemis chuckled. "Buh, buh, buh!"

"Arty..?" asked his father in a half-warning, half-pleading tone.

"Buh, buh, buh…"

Not the 'B' word, prayed Butler, glancing at the elder Artemis who was clearly undergoing the same mental process. Not the 'B' word.

"Buh, buh, buh. Buh, buh..."

Oh God.

"Buh, buh, buh…Butler!"

The room froze.

Heat, pleasant and unprecedented, rushed to the younger bodyguard's cheeks. His uncle was staring at him, his square jaw suddenly hanging loose. Artemis Senior was gaping at his son.

"Oh my little boy!" gasped Angeline, the first to recover. "You spoke! You said your first word! You said Butler! Did you all hear him? My little boy can talk!"

"Yes, dear," said Artemis Senior, releasing a relieved sigh. "Yes, he can."

"Oh, I must make a note of this! Emilie! Emilie!" The unfortunate maid, only just recovered from her bag-induced collapse, hurried forward. "Go and fetch the baby book – we must enter this at once!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And the calligraphy pens! I must make it official!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

And Angeline practically ran away up the main stairway, babe in arms, still calling orders as she went.

"I think… I think I shall just go and attend to business then," said Artemis Senior, as his wife finally faded out of earshot. "Butler," he said, turning. "Thank you for your contribution today. I shan't need you for the rest of the evening. Major, if you would accompany me..." He looked at his oldest ally and his expression darkened menacingly, all traces of 'Daddy' Fowl vanishing without a trace. "I received a call earlier which I believe you would be interested to know about…"

The elder Butler's spine straightened a few millimetres. "Of course, sir."

And Artemis Senior he made for the left-hand stairway. The Major followed him, giving his nephew a sharp look as they passed.

You'll explain what this was all about later, it said.

Butler's face remained impassive, and soon his uncle and the eldest Fowl were up the stairs and out of sight.

Ah well, he thought wryly, moving to take some of the shopping bags which a second maid was struggling to lift. What's done is done, whatever he wants to say about it.

He would just have to grit his teeth and bear the ridiculing that would certainly follow, for there was no chance of lying to his uncle. Besides, unless he was extremely sly about it, there would be no editing the security tapes to erase all evidence of the afternoon without throwing the elder Butler into a paranoia-induced panic about the missing footage. No, instead he would have the events held over him every time his uncle wanted something done… at least until the next embarrassing occurrence his charge would inevitably drop him into.

It seemed he would be hearing a lot more of the 'B' word after all.

She looked up as both man and servant entered the room.

"So you were his first word?"

Taken off-guard, his mouth already open in preparation to greet her, it took a second for the twenty-two-year-old Artemis to realise what she was talking about. The he noticed the over-laced, silk-covered binder she had been perusing whilst waiting for him and flushed a violent shade of tomato.

"Put that back this instant!"

Butler chuckled, closing the parlour door, as his grown charge lurched forward and snatched the baby book back from her.

"What?" laughed Holly. "I only saw the one page."

"Good. And that is all you shall be seeing."

Holly looked at Butler, apparently bemused. "What's his tofu?"

The bodyguard sat, quelling a wince, on a low couch. "They are a few contemporary examples of late-eighties, child shower-cap modelling in that book. I think he may not wish you to see them."

Holly's eyes lit up.

"No," repeated Artemis, slotting the book back onto its proper shelf.

The elf snorted and flumped down into a chintz armchair that immediately swallowed her. "You're no fun," she said, her voice muffled from behind a cushion.

Artemis pulled it away. "I am not willing to allow you any blackmail material."

She pushed herself towards him using the chair's padded arms. "I've seen you in your pants, Arty. Remember?"

"Yes," he said, not reacting to their sudden proximity, "but never naked."

Oh God, thought Butler, as a somewhat charged silence descended. Is this really going to be my afternoon?

"Right," he said, causing both Holly and Artemis's faces to snap back to him. "Shall we get on with it then?"

"Yes," said Artemis, pushing himself firmly away from the chair. "Foaly said he'd given something to you to give to me."

Holly sat up. "Yeah, it's on my belt, one second…"

Butler's mind soon began to wander as they discussed, argued about, and eventually fought over things which he couldn't quite bring himself to be interested in. It was something to do with fairy science. And he'd heard enough about fairy science to last a life time or three.

Maybe I should just leave them to it? he thought, tiredly.

Hmm. But then God only knows what they'd do to each other. Holly would probably either kill Artemis or maim him in some way, or…

Butler smiled.

"I'm just going to check the perimeter cameras," he said, heaving himself off the sofa and walking towards the door. "I'll be ten minutes, so try not to murder each other while I'm gone."

Both young folk made some gesture of acknowledgement, capably occupied as they were with screaming at one another.

He closed the parlour door softly behind him.

Ten minutes later, and he had the footage in hand. It was almost twenty-two years to the day that Artemis had said his first word. But, as Butler slotted the disk into his own computer, reviewing the short video of Holly and Artemis engaged, for once, in something not involving conflict, he thought back on how much things had changed.

"Buh… Buh…" cooed a baby in his mind.

"Butler?" said a voice from behind him.

He turned to see a grey-haired Artemis Senior framed in the door to the kitchen.

"Are you alright, old chap?" asked the man, lines creasing in the corners of his eyes. "You seemed far away."

"Hmm," nodded Butler, closing the lid of the computer. "I was."

"Where's my son got to? I've been looking all over for him."

Butler swallowed another grin.

It was going to take an awful lot more than satsuma segments and storybook tales to make him give up this blackmail.

So, what did you all think? :)

P.S. Shout out to all artists out there! I'd love for someone to design a cover picture for this set of stories (as I can't draw for toffee)! If you're interested, give me a PM! :D