A/N: Yesterday I wrote twenty drabbles. None of them are on this site. They were a birthday gift to my sister (Happy Birthday, Sis!). For the record, that is NOT her age, just the number of drabbles. They were all tooth rottingly fluffy.
Well, fluffier than usual.
Fluffish.
Today we were celebrating, so not only is today's late, it's short. Aren't you glad I normally have no social life?
(For the record, we went book shopping. It was epic.)
. . . . .
In Camelot, if a child says there's a monster under their bed, most parents grab a weapon before they check. Not to reassure their children, but because this was Camelot, and their children might well be right.
(Don't be afraid of the dark, darling. True, the dorocha attacked then, and the dragon, and the skeletons, but I'm sure - never mind, the warning bell's ringing again.)