Clementine Flavor Binge
Author: Casey
Story: Nothing is Ever Easy (NIEE) universe, Pre-NIEE
Challenges: Clementine Flavor Binge
Toppings & Extras: Whipped Cream, Sprinkles (a bunch of these are Sprinkle character POVs), Hot Fudge, Malt (BTS Challenge: Mick : if I could turn back time), Gummy Bunnies (Origfic Bingo June Card: Orphans and runaways)
Word Count: 4747 (plus prompts)
Rating: PG
Summary: 'Playtime'!
Notes: My NIEE characters as children, including Russ, who is within six months of age of Jez, but doesn’t appear until the second story. Also, this reminded me just how many sibling groups I have in my cast - I swear it was not done on purpose/consciously! Also, if you look closely, you can probably see the unconscious echoes of being a younger sibling to an older brother :P Some of these got rather long, involved and plotty. Not chronological. For the binge race against roisin_farrell and Summer Challenge 6/18 :)
4. Toy Soldier
Mick audibly groaned and Beau grinned at him. This usually would have flattered the older boy since he knew how rarely his friend favored anyone with one, but today he just could not manage it. “Soldiers, your Highness? Again?”
Beau’s grin instantly faded and he wrinkled his nose. “Mick, stop calling me that!”
“It’s what you are,” the nine-year-old pointed out.
“Maybe by title, but not in real life,” Beau argued, bashing his small wooden soldier against one of the horses and knocking it over.
Mick was amused by how this seemed to make Beau feel better. “Your mom is still the queen.”
“Can we just play? Dobson gave me an awesome battle my father fought in when he was young and I wanna play it out.”
Mick plopped himself down across from the six-year-old. “Fine, Beau,” he said, and felt strangely gratified when the grin reappeared.
2. Training Wheels
Jasmine stood very, very still, eyes glued on her father. At her side, Colin mimicked her, shoulder pressed against hers. At five and six respectively, the pair had been on horses with their parents before, but never on their own. However, just that morning, their dad had announced it was time for them to learn, sharing the same pony that their older brothers had learned on.
Both kids were ecstatic, but trying to be patient and listen.
“Do you both understand?”
“Yes, Dad!” they chorused eagerly.
Denham eyed them both and smiled. “Who first?”
Jasmine and Colin looked at each other. Finally, Jasmine made a face. “Fine, you can, but only ‘cause I’m nice!”
Her brother beamed and then bounded over to his father, accepting a slight boost to get his foot in the stirrup and then heave himself up over and into the saddle. Denham then made him get down and do it again three times until he looked semi-graceful and could do it without much help. After a short guided ride around the paddock, they returned.
“Okay, Jasmine, your turn,” Denham said as Colin slid off the pony’s back and to the ground. He patted it gently on the nose and grinned as it snuffed at him, taking the piece of carrot he offered daintily.
Then he skipped out of the way as she joined her father. “Give it a try,” Denham encouraged.
Jasmine pulled herself into the saddle and then glanced at her dad.
He was grinning. “Right in one, Jasmine.”
She waited until he was looking away to beam smugly at Colin, who stuck his tongue out at her.
1. Make Believe
“Ry?”
“Yeah, Bean?”
“Is Whistler really gonna kill you?”
“No,” Rylia said flatly, patting the knife at her side. “I can take Whistler if he thinks he can try something.”
Her brother frowned, but dropped it, well aware of how capable his sister was. He fell silent for about five minutes and then rolled over to face her. “I can’t sleep.”
“Bean, you haven’t even tried.”
“But I can’t, Ry, honest! Please?” he added.
“You’re getting a little old for bedtime stories,” Rylia said, shooting a fond exasperated look at her seven-year-old brother.
He either missed it in the dark or did not care. “Please? C’mon, Ry, no one else’ll hear! Just me!”
She let out a breath. She hated the story he wanted about her parents. She had made it up, three or four years earlier, to soothe both of them after a particularly bad day. Bean believed it to be the truth. Rylia could only wish it was.
“Once upon a time, Dashall and Connie met at school.”
“Dashall Schid,” Bean corrected sleepily.
“Yes, now be quiet and let me tell it,” Ry said. “They were pretty young, only in their last year of grammar school, but Connie knew in her heart it was love at first sight…”
12. Toy Box
Ren tried his best to stand still. He was seven now, which meant that bouncing around like a baby was not at all what he was supposed to do. However, he could not help his excitement. It had been almost six months since he had last seen Kento, because his friend had just had another baby brother - his third, which was so very unfair when Ren did not get to have any.
“Patience, Renier,” his father, King Patrick, rumbled.
Ren stilled under his calming hand and settled on beaming as Kento, his father and their entourage rode through the gate. Kento swung off his horse and then looked up to his father as the earl did the same. Then they approached. Ren glanced up at Patrick and was not surprised to see his father smile, even as rare as those had been since they had lost Ren’s mother almost four years prior.
“Denham, you old dog, it’s been too long!” Patrick boomed, sweeping his old friend up into a bear hug.
Denham pounded him on the back while Ren returned his attention to his friend. “Hi, Kento,” he said, feeling a bit shy.
“Hi, R-your Majesty,” Kento quickly corrected himself and bowed.
Ren made himself return the bow with a nod and glanced at his father to make sure formalities were over - not that he and Denham had ever showed the least bit of formality in their dealings. “How’s your mom and brothers?” Ren asked even as he motioned Kento to follow him, ready to retreat to his room for quality friend time.
“Good. Mom’s all recovered from the birth and Colin’s cute, I guess. Jordan gets into all my stuff and Jonny’s even worse. You’re lucky you haven’t got any brothers. Mom and Dad were hoping for a girl, but they keep doing weird grown-up stuff so I think I’m going to get at least one more sibling,” Kento said.
Ren frowned slightly but decided not to debate the siblings point. Kento and the other kids his age who visited were good substitutes while they were around. He bounced into his room and pointed at the large, fairly ornate toy box in the corner. “You can pick what we play first,” he said magnanimously.
Kento brightened and bounded over. “You’re the best, Ren!”
4. Building Blocks
Sorin sat in the backyard, watching his toddler sister rummage about in the garden, occasionally picking flowers and bringing them over for his inspection. He was fairly certain Edward would hit them both if he knew, but their father was gone for the day and he never stepped foot into the backyard anyway. Sorin figured he was allergic to the beauty of it all.
As he watched, Ani knelt and strained to pick up a brick. It failed to budge. “Rin!” she said crossly and pointed imperiously at the brick. “Up,” she added, pointing to a place on top of the brick lying adjacent.
“What’s she doing?” Vlad asked irritably, looking up from where he had his nose buried deep in some old tomb from their father’s library.
“She wants to stack ‘em,” Sorin said, hopping to his feet to go help her.
“Bricks aren’t a good thing to stack,” his brother said. “She could drop them on her feet. Or you could drop them.”
“I’m not a baby,” Sorin retorted. “I can pick up a brick.” He crouched next to the two-year-old and placed the brick where she wanted it. “That better, Ani?”
“Better,” she echoed with a wide grin, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Then she strained to pick up another brick. She scowled when she met with the same lack of success. “Rin, heavy,” she complained.
Sorin glanced at the pile of bricks and scratched his head, not particularly thrilled with the idea of stacking them all and then having to scatter them again so Edward would not notice. Especially since Ani would probably protest every last brick during the dismantle. “Vlad’s got a point, Ani, even if he’s being a fuddy-duddy about it.”
She blinked at him. “Brick?” she asked hopefully.
“How about I make you some wooden ones?” he said. “With all different shapes, like triangles and circles and squares?”
Ani eyed him and Sorin again wondered how much she picked up of what he said. He could not remember being two himself, but he was certain Ani was smarter than the average toddler.
“Lots?” she asked shrewdly.
“Sure. If you’ll go look at the flowers again, I’ll get started. Then it’ll be naptime.”
She scowled. “Dun wan’.”
He smiled. “Don’t care. And when you wake up, there will be a whole bunch of new blocks for you.”
Ani pondered this bribe before apparently finding it acceptable because she nodded. “’kay,” she said and returned to her explorations.
Sorin turned to find Vlad still watching them. “I think Father’s got some old paints in the cellar. If you’re going to teach her her shapes, you might as well teach her her colors too.”
He grinned. Vlad always had the best ideas. “Thanks!”
5. Jump Rope
Brighton shielded his gaze and peered over the embankment. “Jim, where the heck are the girls?”
“Tessie and Lydia promised they could get Margareta here, they’ll come through,” James said. “S’not my job to keep track of them,” he added crankily.
“If it’s not my job, it’s your job,” Bri said.
“Not fair.”
“Am I ever?” the twelve-year-old asked.
James made a face at him as a new voice cut through their cousins’ backyard, which they were currently overlooking. The younger boy grinned. “That’s Lydia.”
“Yes, Margie, we can make flower crowns,” Tessie could be heard too, sounding exasperated. “And jump rope.”
Bri’s face absolutely lit up. James felt a bit of nerves at that. They always got in more trouble than usual when they picked on Margie, but their older cousin made it too easy.
“C’mon, James,” Bri hissed and then slid over the side of the embankment and landed on his feet, ignoring fresh grass stains.
James quickly followed. “What’re you planning?” he asked.
“A way to get Margie out of our hair all day.”
His brother rubbed his nose. “Is that a good idea?”
Bri shot him a shocked look. “Whose side are you on, Jim?”
“Just saying. Do we really wanna get in trouble today?”
The older boy winked and peered around the side of the house, meeting Tessie’s eyes, who was telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he had better hurry up. Bri bit back a snicker at how Margie was carefully weaving together daisies.
James was still a bit uneasy about Bri’s new plan, but that rapidly changed as Margie gave the two younger girls a superior look. “Isn’t this so much better than playing with the boys?”
Tessie looked horrified, slowly ripping apart her daisies. Lydia cringed, looking ready to bolt.
“Ready?” Bri asked and James nodded, scowling. Bri held up three fingers and slowly counted down. At zero, they burst around the corner of their cousins’ house and Bri snatched up the momentarily forgotten jump rope. “Jim!”
James caught the rope and had no problem wrapping it around his older cousin.
Margie squawked. “Brighton! James! You two are in so much trouble.”
“Can we tie it around her mouth too?” Tessie asked grumpily, the eleven-year-old regarding the tying with much satisfaction.
“Please don’t! Mom and Dad’ll be really mad if you do,” Lydia said. She found her sister as insufferable as the others, but also had to live with her all the time.
Bri tied the jump rope off with a flourish. Margie continued to spout angry accusations at them. The three older kids - Tessie, James and Brighton - exchanged glances and then Tessie reached out a foot and tipped her over. She didn’t stop spouting even as the four other kids started giggling, in spite of themselves in a couple cases.
“C’mon,” James said, grinning. “Race you to the river!” he said and instantly took off, Lydia, Tessie and Bri on his heels.
8. Baby Doll
“So why’s Mama having another baby?” Stella asked her older brother.
George, twelve and thus very wise, shrugged. “Because she and Frank love each other and that’s what grown-ups do when they love each other.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That seems silly to me. Aren’t you and me good enough?”
“Of course, but c’mon, Stell, you’re a girl, you should love the chance to have a baby to mother.”
Stella seriously debated that for a moment. “Why does it matter if I’m a girl?”
George sighed. “You’re such a bad girl. Rachel says proper girls wear dresses.”
“Well, that makes no sense. Couldn’t help much with the chores if I wore dresses all the time. I wear ‘em to school,” Stella said practically, swinging her legs from where they sat on the back of the wagon. They had been exiled out to the yard while their mother gave birth to their little half-sibling. Then she tilted her head. “I am excited for the baby,” she said after a minute, “once it gets a little older, because then I’ll have someone more fun to play with than you.”
George shoved her shoulder as she giggled. “You’re no fun.”
She shoved him right back. “Anyway, I don’t know what to do with a baby and it’s just silly if you think I should just ‘cause I’m a girl.”
“Aren’t girls supposed to have dolls to…I dunno, do baby stuff with?”
Stella shrugged. “Probably. Mama got me one once. It’s cute, I guess, sits on my dresser.”
Her brother nodded, opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again, hopping off the wagon to meet their stepfather. “Is Mama okay? The baby?” he asked anxiously.
Stella looked over her shoulder and was fairly sure the answers would be yes considering the stupidly large grin Frank had on his face. “Both are healthy! Want to come meet your new brother?”
Her face crinkled slightly. Another girl would have been better, but she liked George well enough, so a boy was not bad either. She scrambled down. “Sure!” she said.
The two kids trailed Frank into the house and to the backroom which had been used for the birth. The midwife was still there and she smiled at both children, having delivered them years before. “Your mom is going to be very tired for a while, so be nice and no jumping on her, okay, kids?”
“Okay,” George said dismissively, since they had already had that lecture.
Stella crawled carefully up onto the bed at Frank’s gesture and smiled at her mama and the small bundle she held to her chest. “Hi, Mama! Are you okay now?”
“Yes, Stella, sweetheart.” She then held the bundle up for her inspection. “This is your new brother, David.”
“David,” Stella repeated and squinted down at the small form. He was so incredibly tiny, smaller than she had been expecting. She reached out cautiously and pushed a bit of the flaming red hair out of his face. Then she looked up at her mama and beamed. “He has my hair!”
“Your eyes too, I think, my dear,” her mother said. “Would you like to hold him?”
Stella eyed her for a moment before nodding cautiously. Frank sat down beside her, showing her how to position her hands, before carefully transferring the infant from mother to daughter. Stella cautiously cradled tiny David to her chest and felt herself smile. Why bother with dolls when you could have the real thing?
11. Puppet Show
Kira peeked out from behind the curtain and beamed. “Ben, Ben,” she hissed, “they’re here.”
Her older brother rolled his eyes. “Of course they are, Kira. Father told them they had to be so they came.” He yelped a second later as their father, who had come around to the back of the makeshift stage, lightly cuffed his son across the head.
“Kira,” Duke Richard said, “I didn’t tell anyone they had to come tonight. I merely let it be known that the two of you were putting on a little show and there would, of course, be no penalty for not coming.” He frowned slightly. “I want you to understand, though, sweetie, that some people out there are there for the reason your brother said.”
“I know, Daddy, because you’re the duke and people wanna impress you,” the five-year-old said and then hugged her father’s knees. “I don’t care as long as you and Mommy see.”
Richard smiled, crouching to return the hug. “Do your best, sweetie,” he said and then ruffled his son’s hair. “You too, Ben.”
“It’s going to be the very best puppet show ever in the whole world,” Ben told him solemnly.
“I don’t doubt it for an instant.” Richard straightened, favored both the kids with another of his smiles and then headed back out into what was acting as seating. Kira peeked to watch him join their mother, leaning over to whisper something to her.
“Ready?” Ben asked her.
Kira scrunched her face, not sure she remembered all her lines, despite her brother drilling her for almost a week. “Yup,” she said, thrusting her chin out.
Ben saluted her, trying hard to look like a soldier, despite only being seven, and then pranced out into the front of the stage. Kira again peered out. “Welcome, ladies and gentleman,” Ben said, recalling his carefully memorized introduction.
Kira recited it along with him in her head.
“This is the first puppet show of Walters Productions. Kira and I made all the puppets with a little help from Kira’s nanny.”
She frowned. That was a change from what they had rehearsed. Their nanny was for both of them in the afternoons, when their governess was off. She resolved to punch him later for making her sound so much younger, even though there were only two years separating them.
“It is a true story from when the duke and King Patrick were teenagers and fought in lots of awesome battles. I hope you will enjoy the show,” Ben said and then ducked back behind. “Okay, Kira! Go!”
11. Board/Card Game
“Do we have to play a card game?” Trigger Rees whined.
His older, larger and therefore in charge brother, grabbed him around the neck and proceeded to give him a noogie until he yelped and scrabbled to get out. “Jerry! Stop!” he said.
“Leave Trig alone,” their sister said easily. “Trig, it’s Jerry’s night to pick the game.”
The younger boy, only seven compared to his sister’s twelve and brother’s fourteen, sighed. “Okay, fine, but why do you have to pick such boring games?” he asked, finally wiggling free of Jerry’s headlock.
“Boring’s not so bad. And they’re fun. Make you think.”
Trigger scowled, knowing that much of the problem with playing cards with his siblings was the age gap. He just could not mentally keep up with the sometimes complicated games. “Fine.”
Jerry grabbed the deck of cards and started to deal, as Melody played with her set, picking them up and looking through them.
Trigger did the same listlessly. “If I play for a half hour, then can I go outside and play?”
“You just had your bath, Trigger,” their mother called over. “You’re staying in tonight.”
He sighed loudly, making a show of it. “I won’t get dirty, Mom!”
“Trigger, you can’t stay clean for more than ten minutes even in the house,” Melody said.
He stuck his tongue out at her, briefly glancing at his hand before haphazardly playing a card.
“C’mon, Trig, actually try,” Jerry said. “I try when you pick.”
The boy wished for a moment his parents had never made the stupid bonding rule, in which each night it rotated between the three kids who got to pick the activity, then all three had to participate. It was their way of ensuring that, despite the age gap between Jerry and Trig, they would still spend quality time together. Trigger would have much rather been outside with friends his own age.
“Fine,” he muttered and turned his focus to the game.
10. Train Set
Jakium sat on his knees and made creaking noises as he drove his cart around the table. His eyes, however, were focused intently on the two adults speaking quietly across the room. His ears strained to hear their conversation, but he was only able to pick up snippets.
The nine-year-old frowned, absently swiping at his eyes, barely even realizing he was crying again. He did not like the almost anger in the grown-ups voices. It was not his fault that he had no other family in Tira. He was not even sure he had any other family anywhere for that matter.
He led his cart around the table again and glanced over his shoulder out at the bright morning sun. He would have much rather been out there, even if he would just be called a cry baby and pushed aside because he was not one of them. Jakium knew he was being a cry baby, but accepted it, considering he was the only one in the town who had lost both his parents in the raid three days prior. The ‘not one of them’ stymied him a bit, but he suspected that was what the whispered conference was about - he was the only person in the village who had not been taken in by neighbors when his house was destroyed. That meant something.
Jakium stopped his horse and cart as the mayor, a woman with a smile that she did not mean, and the innkeeper came over. The innkeeper had been nice enough to allow Jakium to stay in a small empty room until they ‘decided on the best course of action for his future.’
“Mr. McRuoes, we need to talk.”
He knew that meant he needed to listen. That was also his dad’s name, not his, so its use made him nervous. When she did not immediately continue, he nodded.
“We had a town council meeting last night and we decided that the best place for you right now is not in our little village. We can’t offer you the support and care that you need right now.”
He frowned. Until the Alyian raid, he had had lots of friends and his parents had had lots of friends and what had happened to all of them?
“There is an orphanage in Holly that has room to take you.”
Holly was two whole days of travel away. Jakium had visited once with his father.
“Why do I have to go away?” he asked, pulling his horse and cart off the table to clutch it to him.
“It’s nothing personal, Mr. McRuoes, you’re a very nice boy, but no one here can afford to take a child into their house permanently right now. You know we are not a rich village.”
Jakium slid off the bench and faced the two adults. He understood, understood it in the sidelong glances, the whispers, the outright admittance by some of the kids, and in her insistence on using his father’s name to talk to him to distance herself. “No,” he said, “you shouldn’t lie. You’re sending me away because it was Alyians who raided us and I was born in Alyia so no one wants me.”
“That’s not true,” the mayor started.
“Is too,” he said. “All the other kids say so.” He kept his gaze on the innkeeper until the man squirmed and looked away, then he returned it to the mayor. “When do I leave?”
“This afternoon.”
“’kay. I’ll go pack,” he said, and trudged for the stairs.
9. Action Figure
Russell raced down the dirt street and skidded to a stop in front of his house. Then he turned and grinned at his two best friends as they came to a stop next to him. “Beat you,” he said smugly.
Matt socked him in the shoulder good-naturedly. “You’ve always been the fastest, right, Shan?”
“Yup,” the sole girl said between gulping breaths.
“I’ll go get it, be right back,” the eleven-year-old promised and then bounded up his front steps and let himself into the house. “Mom? I’m home for a minute!” he yelled.
“Hi, Russ,” his mother said, appearing from somewhere down by the kitchen. “Do you need something?”
“I’m just grabbing those cool wooden guys Dad brought me home from Oakbridge to show Matt and Shannon.”
“Ah, all right. Tell them that they’re welcome to stay for dinner if they want.”
He grinned. “Okay, Mom,” he said, sprinting up to his room and grabbing the three wooden figures before bounding back downstairs and out the door. “Here!” he said, and held them up for inspection. “It’s King Patrick, Duke Richard and General Denham,” he added proudly.
“These are awesome,” Shannon said with just the proper amount of awe. “They’re legends.” She carefully moved the arms and then traced the painted facial features. “Your dad musta paid a lot for these. They’re way better than anything you can buy here!”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “The ones that Combs’ Corner Store has are awful. I bet we could make an awesome battlefield out of your backyard.”
Russ’s proud grin disappeared with a suddenness that surprised his two friends, but also gave them a fair idea of the source.
“Hello, kids,” Chris drawled as he approached. “What are we doing today?”
Russ did not answer, holding his hand out for the two figures, wanting to get them back inside and away from Chris. As Shannon went to pass hers, Chris darted forward, as stunningly fast as always, and snatched it away, holding it up. She looked instantly stricken as her gaze darted between the two boys.
“Fancy little toys, Russ.”
“Give it back.”
“I don’t think I shall. You didn’t ask nicely.”
Russ gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry, Chris. Would you please give it back to me?”
Chris twisted it every which way as he examined it and then, far too calmly, snapped off one of Duke Richard’s arms.
“Give it back, now,” Russ ordered, shoving the other two figures into Matt’s hands, who bobbled them in his surprise.
“Or what, Russ?”
“Give it back,” he said again, stepping past his two friends so that he and Chris were almost nose to nose, although Russ had an inch on Chris, despite being a year younger.
Chris grinned at him. “Make me.”
To Matt and Shannon’s everlasting surprise, Russ did just that. Before Chris had even finished speaking, Russ launched himself at the older boy, driving his shoulder hard into his chest. The figure went flying as Chris stumbled back. Shannon sidestepped and managed to field it. Russ straightened and looked coldly at the other boy. “Don’t test me.”
“Don’t test me,” Chris snarled back and leapt at him.
7. Picture/Coloring Book
“Jessica, dearie, where did you go?”
Jessica glanced towards the voice and frowned. She was eight, and thus far too old for a nanny, especially considering she had a governess as well, but her parents refused to listen to reason. She glanced down again at the book spread open in her lap - colorful pictures showing exotic worlds. She was also too old for picture books, being a proficient ruler, but this particular book held distant memories of snuggling with her mother. A habit that was not becoming to a blossoming young lady, or whatever it was her father said. Jessie rarely listened.
She stood, dutifully brushed the dirt off her skirt - since her parents would pitch a fit if she had the tiniest speck of dirt on her - and scooped up her book, trudging back to the clearing. “Right here, Miss Matilda,” she said.
“Ah, good,” her nanny said, smiling. Jessie felt instantly guilty for thinking her earlier thoughts. She did like Matilda, even if she was a big girl now. “Your parents should be home soon and we need you presentable.”
Jessie scowled. “I am presentable.”
Matilda tutted. “Don’t you remember, child? Guests tonight. That means your best dress and we need to tame that unruly hair.”
“When I get old,” Jessie said, taking Matilda’s hand obligingly, “I’m going to wear my hair short and no one’s going to tell me how to do it.”
Matilda tittered. “Well, one day you will be the lady of the house, dearie, and I suppose then you can do anything you want within reason.”
“No, because I’ll have a husband,” Jessie said and tilted her head. “I shall have to run away.”
“Oh, now, that isn’t a very good idea.”
Jessie brightened. “Yes, it is, it’s the best idea, Miss Matilda. Please promise you won’t tell Mother or Father!”
“Well, I…”
“I promise it won’t be until I’m a grown-up,” the girl tried.
Matilda smiled indulgently. “Very well, child, your secret is safe with me.”
Story: Nothing is Ever Easy (NIEE) universe, Pre-NIEE
Challenges: Clementine Flavor Binge
Toppings & Extras: Whipped Cream, Sprinkles (a bunch of these are Sprinkle character POVs), Hot Fudge, Malt (BTS Challenge: Mick : if I could turn back time), Gummy Bunnies (Origfic Bingo June Card: Orphans and runaways)
Word Count: 4747 (plus prompts)
Rating: PG
Summary: 'Playtime'!
Notes: My NIEE characters as children, including Russ, who is within six months of age of Jez, but doesn’t appear until the second story. Also, this reminded me just how many sibling groups I have in my cast - I swear it was not done on purpose/consciously! Also, if you look closely, you can probably see the unconscious echoes of being a younger sibling to an older brother :P Some of these got rather long, involved and plotty. Not chronological. For the binge race against roisin_farrell and Summer Challenge 6/18 :)
4. Toy Soldier
Mick audibly groaned and Beau grinned at him. This usually would have flattered the older boy since he knew how rarely his friend favored anyone with one, but today he just could not manage it. “Soldiers, your Highness? Again?”
Beau’s grin instantly faded and he wrinkled his nose. “Mick, stop calling me that!”
“It’s what you are,” the nine-year-old pointed out.
“Maybe by title, but not in real life,” Beau argued, bashing his small wooden soldier against one of the horses and knocking it over.
Mick was amused by how this seemed to make Beau feel better. “Your mom is still the queen.”
“Can we just play? Dobson gave me an awesome battle my father fought in when he was young and I wanna play it out.”
Mick plopped himself down across from the six-year-old. “Fine, Beau,” he said, and felt strangely gratified when the grin reappeared.
2. Training Wheels
Jasmine stood very, very still, eyes glued on her father. At her side, Colin mimicked her, shoulder pressed against hers. At five and six respectively, the pair had been on horses with their parents before, but never on their own. However, just that morning, their dad had announced it was time for them to learn, sharing the same pony that their older brothers had learned on.
Both kids were ecstatic, but trying to be patient and listen.
“Do you both understand?”
“Yes, Dad!” they chorused eagerly.
Denham eyed them both and smiled. “Who first?”
Jasmine and Colin looked at each other. Finally, Jasmine made a face. “Fine, you can, but only ‘cause I’m nice!”
Her brother beamed and then bounded over to his father, accepting a slight boost to get his foot in the stirrup and then heave himself up over and into the saddle. Denham then made him get down and do it again three times until he looked semi-graceful and could do it without much help. After a short guided ride around the paddock, they returned.
“Okay, Jasmine, your turn,” Denham said as Colin slid off the pony’s back and to the ground. He patted it gently on the nose and grinned as it snuffed at him, taking the piece of carrot he offered daintily.
Then he skipped out of the way as she joined her father. “Give it a try,” Denham encouraged.
Jasmine pulled herself into the saddle and then glanced at her dad.
He was grinning. “Right in one, Jasmine.”
She waited until he was looking away to beam smugly at Colin, who stuck his tongue out at her.
1. Make Believe
“Ry?”
“Yeah, Bean?”
“Is Whistler really gonna kill you?”
“No,” Rylia said flatly, patting the knife at her side. “I can take Whistler if he thinks he can try something.”
Her brother frowned, but dropped it, well aware of how capable his sister was. He fell silent for about five minutes and then rolled over to face her. “I can’t sleep.”
“Bean, you haven’t even tried.”
“But I can’t, Ry, honest! Please?” he added.
“You’re getting a little old for bedtime stories,” Rylia said, shooting a fond exasperated look at her seven-year-old brother.
He either missed it in the dark or did not care. “Please? C’mon, Ry, no one else’ll hear! Just me!”
She let out a breath. She hated the story he wanted about her parents. She had made it up, three or four years earlier, to soothe both of them after a particularly bad day. Bean believed it to be the truth. Rylia could only wish it was.
“Once upon a time, Dashall and Connie met at school.”
“Dashall Schid,” Bean corrected sleepily.
“Yes, now be quiet and let me tell it,” Ry said. “They were pretty young, only in their last year of grammar school, but Connie knew in her heart it was love at first sight…”
12. Toy Box
Ren tried his best to stand still. He was seven now, which meant that bouncing around like a baby was not at all what he was supposed to do. However, he could not help his excitement. It had been almost six months since he had last seen Kento, because his friend had just had another baby brother - his third, which was so very unfair when Ren did not get to have any.
“Patience, Renier,” his father, King Patrick, rumbled.
Ren stilled under his calming hand and settled on beaming as Kento, his father and their entourage rode through the gate. Kento swung off his horse and then looked up to his father as the earl did the same. Then they approached. Ren glanced up at Patrick and was not surprised to see his father smile, even as rare as those had been since they had lost Ren’s mother almost four years prior.
“Denham, you old dog, it’s been too long!” Patrick boomed, sweeping his old friend up into a bear hug.
Denham pounded him on the back while Ren returned his attention to his friend. “Hi, Kento,” he said, feeling a bit shy.
“Hi, R-your Majesty,” Kento quickly corrected himself and bowed.
Ren made himself return the bow with a nod and glanced at his father to make sure formalities were over - not that he and Denham had ever showed the least bit of formality in their dealings. “How’s your mom and brothers?” Ren asked even as he motioned Kento to follow him, ready to retreat to his room for quality friend time.
“Good. Mom’s all recovered from the birth and Colin’s cute, I guess. Jordan gets into all my stuff and Jonny’s even worse. You’re lucky you haven’t got any brothers. Mom and Dad were hoping for a girl, but they keep doing weird grown-up stuff so I think I’m going to get at least one more sibling,” Kento said.
Ren frowned slightly but decided not to debate the siblings point. Kento and the other kids his age who visited were good substitutes while they were around. He bounced into his room and pointed at the large, fairly ornate toy box in the corner. “You can pick what we play first,” he said magnanimously.
Kento brightened and bounded over. “You’re the best, Ren!”
4. Building Blocks
Sorin sat in the backyard, watching his toddler sister rummage about in the garden, occasionally picking flowers and bringing them over for his inspection. He was fairly certain Edward would hit them both if he knew, but their father was gone for the day and he never stepped foot into the backyard anyway. Sorin figured he was allergic to the beauty of it all.
As he watched, Ani knelt and strained to pick up a brick. It failed to budge. “Rin!” she said crossly and pointed imperiously at the brick. “Up,” she added, pointing to a place on top of the brick lying adjacent.
“What’s she doing?” Vlad asked irritably, looking up from where he had his nose buried deep in some old tomb from their father’s library.
“She wants to stack ‘em,” Sorin said, hopping to his feet to go help her.
“Bricks aren’t a good thing to stack,” his brother said. “She could drop them on her feet. Or you could drop them.”
“I’m not a baby,” Sorin retorted. “I can pick up a brick.” He crouched next to the two-year-old and placed the brick where she wanted it. “That better, Ani?”
“Better,” she echoed with a wide grin, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Then she strained to pick up another brick. She scowled when she met with the same lack of success. “Rin, heavy,” she complained.
Sorin glanced at the pile of bricks and scratched his head, not particularly thrilled with the idea of stacking them all and then having to scatter them again so Edward would not notice. Especially since Ani would probably protest every last brick during the dismantle. “Vlad’s got a point, Ani, even if he’s being a fuddy-duddy about it.”
She blinked at him. “Brick?” she asked hopefully.
“How about I make you some wooden ones?” he said. “With all different shapes, like triangles and circles and squares?”
Ani eyed him and Sorin again wondered how much she picked up of what he said. He could not remember being two himself, but he was certain Ani was smarter than the average toddler.
“Lots?” she asked shrewdly.
“Sure. If you’ll go look at the flowers again, I’ll get started. Then it’ll be naptime.”
She scowled. “Dun wan’.”
He smiled. “Don’t care. And when you wake up, there will be a whole bunch of new blocks for you.”
Ani pondered this bribe before apparently finding it acceptable because she nodded. “’kay,” she said and returned to her explorations.
Sorin turned to find Vlad still watching them. “I think Father’s got some old paints in the cellar. If you’re going to teach her her shapes, you might as well teach her her colors too.”
He grinned. Vlad always had the best ideas. “Thanks!”
5. Jump Rope
Brighton shielded his gaze and peered over the embankment. “Jim, where the heck are the girls?”
“Tessie and Lydia promised they could get Margareta here, they’ll come through,” James said. “S’not my job to keep track of them,” he added crankily.
“If it’s not my job, it’s your job,” Bri said.
“Not fair.”
“Am I ever?” the twelve-year-old asked.
James made a face at him as a new voice cut through their cousins’ backyard, which they were currently overlooking. The younger boy grinned. “That’s Lydia.”
“Yes, Margie, we can make flower crowns,” Tessie could be heard too, sounding exasperated. “And jump rope.”
Bri’s face absolutely lit up. James felt a bit of nerves at that. They always got in more trouble than usual when they picked on Margie, but their older cousin made it too easy.
“C’mon, James,” Bri hissed and then slid over the side of the embankment and landed on his feet, ignoring fresh grass stains.
James quickly followed. “What’re you planning?” he asked.
“A way to get Margie out of our hair all day.”
His brother rubbed his nose. “Is that a good idea?”
Bri shot him a shocked look. “Whose side are you on, Jim?”
“Just saying. Do we really wanna get in trouble today?”
The older boy winked and peered around the side of the house, meeting Tessie’s eyes, who was telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he had better hurry up. Bri bit back a snicker at how Margie was carefully weaving together daisies.
James was still a bit uneasy about Bri’s new plan, but that rapidly changed as Margie gave the two younger girls a superior look. “Isn’t this so much better than playing with the boys?”
Tessie looked horrified, slowly ripping apart her daisies. Lydia cringed, looking ready to bolt.
“Ready?” Bri asked and James nodded, scowling. Bri held up three fingers and slowly counted down. At zero, they burst around the corner of their cousins’ house and Bri snatched up the momentarily forgotten jump rope. “Jim!”
James caught the rope and had no problem wrapping it around his older cousin.
Margie squawked. “Brighton! James! You two are in so much trouble.”
“Can we tie it around her mouth too?” Tessie asked grumpily, the eleven-year-old regarding the tying with much satisfaction.
“Please don’t! Mom and Dad’ll be really mad if you do,” Lydia said. She found her sister as insufferable as the others, but also had to live with her all the time.
Bri tied the jump rope off with a flourish. Margie continued to spout angry accusations at them. The three older kids - Tessie, James and Brighton - exchanged glances and then Tessie reached out a foot and tipped her over. She didn’t stop spouting even as the four other kids started giggling, in spite of themselves in a couple cases.
“C’mon,” James said, grinning. “Race you to the river!” he said and instantly took off, Lydia, Tessie and Bri on his heels.
8. Baby Doll
“So why’s Mama having another baby?” Stella asked her older brother.
George, twelve and thus very wise, shrugged. “Because she and Frank love each other and that’s what grown-ups do when they love each other.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That seems silly to me. Aren’t you and me good enough?”
“Of course, but c’mon, Stell, you’re a girl, you should love the chance to have a baby to mother.”
Stella seriously debated that for a moment. “Why does it matter if I’m a girl?”
George sighed. “You’re such a bad girl. Rachel says proper girls wear dresses.”
“Well, that makes no sense. Couldn’t help much with the chores if I wore dresses all the time. I wear ‘em to school,” Stella said practically, swinging her legs from where they sat on the back of the wagon. They had been exiled out to the yard while their mother gave birth to their little half-sibling. Then she tilted her head. “I am excited for the baby,” she said after a minute, “once it gets a little older, because then I’ll have someone more fun to play with than you.”
George shoved her shoulder as she giggled. “You’re no fun.”
She shoved him right back. “Anyway, I don’t know what to do with a baby and it’s just silly if you think I should just ‘cause I’m a girl.”
“Aren’t girls supposed to have dolls to…I dunno, do baby stuff with?”
Stella shrugged. “Probably. Mama got me one once. It’s cute, I guess, sits on my dresser.”
Her brother nodded, opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again, hopping off the wagon to meet their stepfather. “Is Mama okay? The baby?” he asked anxiously.
Stella looked over her shoulder and was fairly sure the answers would be yes considering the stupidly large grin Frank had on his face. “Both are healthy! Want to come meet your new brother?”
Her face crinkled slightly. Another girl would have been better, but she liked George well enough, so a boy was not bad either. She scrambled down. “Sure!” she said.
The two kids trailed Frank into the house and to the backroom which had been used for the birth. The midwife was still there and she smiled at both children, having delivered them years before. “Your mom is going to be very tired for a while, so be nice and no jumping on her, okay, kids?”
“Okay,” George said dismissively, since they had already had that lecture.
Stella crawled carefully up onto the bed at Frank’s gesture and smiled at her mama and the small bundle she held to her chest. “Hi, Mama! Are you okay now?”
“Yes, Stella, sweetheart.” She then held the bundle up for her inspection. “This is your new brother, David.”
“David,” Stella repeated and squinted down at the small form. He was so incredibly tiny, smaller than she had been expecting. She reached out cautiously and pushed a bit of the flaming red hair out of his face. Then she looked up at her mama and beamed. “He has my hair!”
“Your eyes too, I think, my dear,” her mother said. “Would you like to hold him?”
Stella eyed her for a moment before nodding cautiously. Frank sat down beside her, showing her how to position her hands, before carefully transferring the infant from mother to daughter. Stella cautiously cradled tiny David to her chest and felt herself smile. Why bother with dolls when you could have the real thing?
11. Puppet Show
Kira peeked out from behind the curtain and beamed. “Ben, Ben,” she hissed, “they’re here.”
Her older brother rolled his eyes. “Of course they are, Kira. Father told them they had to be so they came.” He yelped a second later as their father, who had come around to the back of the makeshift stage, lightly cuffed his son across the head.
“Kira,” Duke Richard said, “I didn’t tell anyone they had to come tonight. I merely let it be known that the two of you were putting on a little show and there would, of course, be no penalty for not coming.” He frowned slightly. “I want you to understand, though, sweetie, that some people out there are there for the reason your brother said.”
“I know, Daddy, because you’re the duke and people wanna impress you,” the five-year-old said and then hugged her father’s knees. “I don’t care as long as you and Mommy see.”
Richard smiled, crouching to return the hug. “Do your best, sweetie,” he said and then ruffled his son’s hair. “You too, Ben.”
“It’s going to be the very best puppet show ever in the whole world,” Ben told him solemnly.
“I don’t doubt it for an instant.” Richard straightened, favored both the kids with another of his smiles and then headed back out into what was acting as seating. Kira peeked to watch him join their mother, leaning over to whisper something to her.
“Ready?” Ben asked her.
Kira scrunched her face, not sure she remembered all her lines, despite her brother drilling her for almost a week. “Yup,” she said, thrusting her chin out.
Ben saluted her, trying hard to look like a soldier, despite only being seven, and then pranced out into the front of the stage. Kira again peered out. “Welcome, ladies and gentleman,” Ben said, recalling his carefully memorized introduction.
Kira recited it along with him in her head.
“This is the first puppet show of Walters Productions. Kira and I made all the puppets with a little help from Kira’s nanny.”
She frowned. That was a change from what they had rehearsed. Their nanny was for both of them in the afternoons, when their governess was off. She resolved to punch him later for making her sound so much younger, even though there were only two years separating them.
“It is a true story from when the duke and King Patrick were teenagers and fought in lots of awesome battles. I hope you will enjoy the show,” Ben said and then ducked back behind. “Okay, Kira! Go!”
11. Board/Card Game
“Do we have to play a card game?” Trigger Rees whined.
His older, larger and therefore in charge brother, grabbed him around the neck and proceeded to give him a noogie until he yelped and scrabbled to get out. “Jerry! Stop!” he said.
“Leave Trig alone,” their sister said easily. “Trig, it’s Jerry’s night to pick the game.”
The younger boy, only seven compared to his sister’s twelve and brother’s fourteen, sighed. “Okay, fine, but why do you have to pick such boring games?” he asked, finally wiggling free of Jerry’s headlock.
“Boring’s not so bad. And they’re fun. Make you think.”
Trigger scowled, knowing that much of the problem with playing cards with his siblings was the age gap. He just could not mentally keep up with the sometimes complicated games. “Fine.”
Jerry grabbed the deck of cards and started to deal, as Melody played with her set, picking them up and looking through them.
Trigger did the same listlessly. “If I play for a half hour, then can I go outside and play?”
“You just had your bath, Trigger,” their mother called over. “You’re staying in tonight.”
He sighed loudly, making a show of it. “I won’t get dirty, Mom!”
“Trigger, you can’t stay clean for more than ten minutes even in the house,” Melody said.
He stuck his tongue out at her, briefly glancing at his hand before haphazardly playing a card.
“C’mon, Trig, actually try,” Jerry said. “I try when you pick.”
The boy wished for a moment his parents had never made the stupid bonding rule, in which each night it rotated between the three kids who got to pick the activity, then all three had to participate. It was their way of ensuring that, despite the age gap between Jerry and Trig, they would still spend quality time together. Trigger would have much rather been outside with friends his own age.
“Fine,” he muttered and turned his focus to the game.
10. Train Set
Jakium sat on his knees and made creaking noises as he drove his cart around the table. His eyes, however, were focused intently on the two adults speaking quietly across the room. His ears strained to hear their conversation, but he was only able to pick up snippets.
The nine-year-old frowned, absently swiping at his eyes, barely even realizing he was crying again. He did not like the almost anger in the grown-ups voices. It was not his fault that he had no other family in Tira. He was not even sure he had any other family anywhere for that matter.
He led his cart around the table again and glanced over his shoulder out at the bright morning sun. He would have much rather been out there, even if he would just be called a cry baby and pushed aside because he was not one of them. Jakium knew he was being a cry baby, but accepted it, considering he was the only one in the town who had lost both his parents in the raid three days prior. The ‘not one of them’ stymied him a bit, but he suspected that was what the whispered conference was about - he was the only person in the village who had not been taken in by neighbors when his house was destroyed. That meant something.
Jakium stopped his horse and cart as the mayor, a woman with a smile that she did not mean, and the innkeeper came over. The innkeeper had been nice enough to allow Jakium to stay in a small empty room until they ‘decided on the best course of action for his future.’
“Mr. McRuoes, we need to talk.”
He knew that meant he needed to listen. That was also his dad’s name, not his, so its use made him nervous. When she did not immediately continue, he nodded.
“We had a town council meeting last night and we decided that the best place for you right now is not in our little village. We can’t offer you the support and care that you need right now.”
He frowned. Until the Alyian raid, he had had lots of friends and his parents had had lots of friends and what had happened to all of them?
“There is an orphanage in Holly that has room to take you.”
Holly was two whole days of travel away. Jakium had visited once with his father.
“Why do I have to go away?” he asked, pulling his horse and cart off the table to clutch it to him.
“It’s nothing personal, Mr. McRuoes, you’re a very nice boy, but no one here can afford to take a child into their house permanently right now. You know we are not a rich village.”
Jakium slid off the bench and faced the two adults. He understood, understood it in the sidelong glances, the whispers, the outright admittance by some of the kids, and in her insistence on using his father’s name to talk to him to distance herself. “No,” he said, “you shouldn’t lie. You’re sending me away because it was Alyians who raided us and I was born in Alyia so no one wants me.”
“That’s not true,” the mayor started.
“Is too,” he said. “All the other kids say so.” He kept his gaze on the innkeeper until the man squirmed and looked away, then he returned it to the mayor. “When do I leave?”
“This afternoon.”
“’kay. I’ll go pack,” he said, and trudged for the stairs.
9. Action Figure
Russell raced down the dirt street and skidded to a stop in front of his house. Then he turned and grinned at his two best friends as they came to a stop next to him. “Beat you,” he said smugly.
Matt socked him in the shoulder good-naturedly. “You’ve always been the fastest, right, Shan?”
“Yup,” the sole girl said between gulping breaths.
“I’ll go get it, be right back,” the eleven-year-old promised and then bounded up his front steps and let himself into the house. “Mom? I’m home for a minute!” he yelled.
“Hi, Russ,” his mother said, appearing from somewhere down by the kitchen. “Do you need something?”
“I’m just grabbing those cool wooden guys Dad brought me home from Oakbridge to show Matt and Shannon.”
“Ah, all right. Tell them that they’re welcome to stay for dinner if they want.”
He grinned. “Okay, Mom,” he said, sprinting up to his room and grabbing the three wooden figures before bounding back downstairs and out the door. “Here!” he said, and held them up for inspection. “It’s King Patrick, Duke Richard and General Denham,” he added proudly.
“These are awesome,” Shannon said with just the proper amount of awe. “They’re legends.” She carefully moved the arms and then traced the painted facial features. “Your dad musta paid a lot for these. They’re way better than anything you can buy here!”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “The ones that Combs’ Corner Store has are awful. I bet we could make an awesome battlefield out of your backyard.”
Russ’s proud grin disappeared with a suddenness that surprised his two friends, but also gave them a fair idea of the source.
“Hello, kids,” Chris drawled as he approached. “What are we doing today?”
Russ did not answer, holding his hand out for the two figures, wanting to get them back inside and away from Chris. As Shannon went to pass hers, Chris darted forward, as stunningly fast as always, and snatched it away, holding it up. She looked instantly stricken as her gaze darted between the two boys.
“Fancy little toys, Russ.”
“Give it back.”
“I don’t think I shall. You didn’t ask nicely.”
Russ gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry, Chris. Would you please give it back to me?”
Chris twisted it every which way as he examined it and then, far too calmly, snapped off one of Duke Richard’s arms.
“Give it back, now,” Russ ordered, shoving the other two figures into Matt’s hands, who bobbled them in his surprise.
“Or what, Russ?”
“Give it back,” he said again, stepping past his two friends so that he and Chris were almost nose to nose, although Russ had an inch on Chris, despite being a year younger.
Chris grinned at him. “Make me.”
To Matt and Shannon’s everlasting surprise, Russ did just that. Before Chris had even finished speaking, Russ launched himself at the older boy, driving his shoulder hard into his chest. The figure went flying as Chris stumbled back. Shannon sidestepped and managed to field it. Russ straightened and looked coldly at the other boy. “Don’t test me.”
“Don’t test me,” Chris snarled back and leapt at him.
7. Picture/Coloring Book
“Jessica, dearie, where did you go?”
Jessica glanced towards the voice and frowned. She was eight, and thus far too old for a nanny, especially considering she had a governess as well, but her parents refused to listen to reason. She glanced down again at the book spread open in her lap - colorful pictures showing exotic worlds. She was also too old for picture books, being a proficient ruler, but this particular book held distant memories of snuggling with her mother. A habit that was not becoming to a blossoming young lady, or whatever it was her father said. Jessie rarely listened.
She stood, dutifully brushed the dirt off her skirt - since her parents would pitch a fit if she had the tiniest speck of dirt on her - and scooped up her book, trudging back to the clearing. “Right here, Miss Matilda,” she said.
“Ah, good,” her nanny said, smiling. Jessie felt instantly guilty for thinking her earlier thoughts. She did like Matilda, even if she was a big girl now. “Your parents should be home soon and we need you presentable.”
Jessie scowled. “I am presentable.”
Matilda tutted. “Don’t you remember, child? Guests tonight. That means your best dress and we need to tame that unruly hair.”
“When I get old,” Jessie said, taking Matilda’s hand obligingly, “I’m going to wear my hair short and no one’s going to tell me how to do it.”
Matilda tittered. “Well, one day you will be the lady of the house, dearie, and I suppose then you can do anything you want within reason.”
“No, because I’ll have a husband,” Jessie said and tilted her head. “I shall have to run away.”
“Oh, now, that isn’t a very good idea.”
Jessie brightened. “Yes, it is, it’s the best idea, Miss Matilda. Please promise you won’t tell Mother or Father!”
“Well, I…”
“I promise it won’t be until I’m a grown-up,” the girl tried.
Matilda smiled indulgently. “Very well, child, your secret is safe with me.”