I think this is my first time writing fjorester? Pure fluff for them <3 Echoes of the Solstice spoilers!

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Caleb’s tower is swarming with activity: each cat servant shepherds villagers to rooms, or towards the dinning room as they deem appropriate. Fjord notices more: limping dogs and puff-tailed felines, too, cautiously sniffing spectral forms before a tail leads them to rest. 

Usually Jester would be in the middle of it all. The star, the centerpiece, the helm of the ship. Or Fjord would take that space for her, a grave duty he usually relishes for the glimpses of her latest prank. 

They don’t. Is the thing. 

“Fjord,” Jester giggles, prim and pleased and perfect, just perfect in his arms, her own wound around his neck. Tight because she wants them to be, not of any fear he’d drop her. 

(He could, and she’d shriek and laugh and tease him fondly for the stumble. She’s perfect because they can be imperfect. It makes sense. Really. Wildmother’s mercy, he’s a sap. For her.)

(His fiancée.)

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Fluff, of a sort! Wrote this while playing fetch with my cat <33

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He has worn and stolen many names in his time.

On this night, not in the Feywild but Wildemount, he goes by Frumpkin.

He is proud to, mind, and happy to bear the title at the exclusion of all his many. For this Caleb Widogast is a fascinating thing, his friends almost moreso, and the roads they travel fascinating, and the many forms and deaths he takes quite fun, figure. He’s never before been eaten, what an odd treat that had been!

Frumpkin (his other names? Pah, not for you!) likes this agreement. Very much so.

And this is why he waits until his person is in sound and leaden (read: quiet and deathly heavy) sleep to ooze from his arms, as cats are wont to do. On delightful soft paws he stalks around the encampment, unnoticed by their singular watch - the little green one, Nott who is not what she seems. Finding the plush nest with a head of blue hair, he goes still, watching.

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Treat! :D

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Zahra was not exactly sheltered, growing up. For all that she was kept in a cage, it did not shield her from anything. Hunger, fear, distrust, pain. You know.

When freedom was offered to her on a cold floor and a somehow warmer moonbeam, she embraced it carefully. Mostly because the first time she could eat - really, truly eat! To her heart’s content! Whatever she liked, claimed the kind tiefling that took her in! - she bloated up like a balloon and retched most of it. And panicked (at the waste, she couldn’t waste, she was a waste). 

Safe to say, she took to the lesson well. Free as she might be, there were still limits out there. To her body, to her powers, to the world. And, truthfully? She had no interest, none at all, in finding where the bars of this cage were.

All that droll prologue to say… well. This is new.

“Candy?”

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Treat! Gwennie deserves it after her scare last episode <3 Ended up being more all the de Rolo kids - Vesper, but! :D

–

Lady de Rolo does not look up from her ledgers as a faint giggle reaches her ears. Her attention thus captured, she notes the faint rasp of carpet as little shoes dart over them, and the rustle of a light dress.

Vex taps off the excess ink and smiles to herself. Oh, Gwen is getting good.

Just because she still enjoys a good hunt she gives her daughter a head start, waits until even her sharp hearing can’t find any sign of life but Trinket’s snores by her feet. Careful not to wake him, she slips from her desk and pads out of her office, door left ajar. Usually the children take it as an invitation to seek her out if they want her - one always does, and it never fails to make her feel richer than she is - but it also helps her keep tabs on their antics. 

Tracking indoors used to be Vax’s thing, not her own. But Whitestone castle is as familiar as any forest; the pale stone cliffside, the wooden doorway a tree, the rugs moss and lichen. Just as populated with bears as any she’s foraged in, courtesy of Trinket and his cubs. Vex smiles, inhales cold air and end-of-season flowers and old varnish. Just as much her home, if not moreso.

It’s easy enough to follow the hall, gets more interesting once it merges into another and passes by a few rooms. Vex has to slow her pace and - there! a trace in the carpet. Up the stairs to the right, then. White catches her eye - a handprint just the size for her youngest. 

From there, she knows exactly where Gwendolyn was off to.

Under her breath, Vex mouths a prayer to Pelor that Cassandra taught them all about the secret passages. If she wasn’t familiar with the hideholes in the wall, even she might be at a loss for where her daughter ended up.

But as it is, it’s trivial to pause, listen to the stifled snickers and mutters of her children, and push in the engraving that unlatches the hidden door.

Eyes, so many eyes, gleam back at her for a brief second, her little nest of raccoons. Most of them shut the moment the light hits them - all but Gwendolyn, grinning up at her, with a neat row of doughnuts ringing her tail.

Oh, that’s a new one.

“Children,” Vex scolds. She’s gotten very good on biting on her smile. “What have I told you about stealing from the kitchen?”

Dan gulps. Powdered sugar falls from his mouth, which he hastens to dab away with a sleeve. “We didn’t steal, Mum. That’s why we sent Gwen.”

The littlest de Rolo frowns, turning on her older sister, nestled in the back. “But you said it’s because I’m the littlest and have to listen to -”

“You’re just so charming,” Lenoa interrupts, taking a sweet impaled on her sister’s horns. She chews - with her mouth closed, at least - and meets Vex’s unimpressed look with a shrug. “What? She is. You know mister Darrence can’t say no to her! She’s spoiled!”

“Am not!”

Time to cut that short: “Those,” says Vex’ahlia, “were for the dinner tonight. You’ll all ruin your appetite, and we’ll have nothing to enjoy after supper.”

Wolfe clears his throat. “Sorry, Mother. Um…” He extends sticky fingers, holding up a yet untouched doughnut. “Want one?” 

Well. She has been working all day. And, on second glance, it looks very cozy in there: they’ve pilfered blankets and pillows, a teddy for good measure. It would be a shame to have tracked down her quarry only to leave empty handed.

“Scoot over,” Vex says.

(The children wail complaints that there’s no room. Well! Not with that attitude there isn’t.)

🎃Trick or Treat! Send me an ask and you’ll get a trick (angst) or treat (fluff) ficlet in return! 🎃