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These quarterly reports are the driest read Wriothesley has ever had the pleasure of reading.
Wriothesley takes comfort in the fact, truthfully. The less that there are interesting things included in these reports that Roquefort hands him, the better. It means the Fortress is running smoothly. It’s for the best, anyway. Today is not a day Wriothesley is supposed to be working much. He’s just going to finish reading up on the metalworks productions, sign off on them, and then he’s–
A giggle down the hall interrupts his train of thought. It’s followed by a chorus of shh’s and Wriothesley cannot help the warm, loving smile that appears on his face. As the giggles draw closer, Wriothesley pretends to be engrossed in his reports. A gentle rapping of knuckles on his door has him smiling again, and he also fights it down as he responds.
“Enter!” He calls, already setting the reports aside.
How full his heart feels when the door to his office opens and his beautiful Tidefolk Mate steps through. His long white hair flowing in cascades of waves woven with pearls. The cake he’s carrying is of course third in Wriothesley’s notice to the four faces that peer out from behind his Mate.
The youngest of their clutch, little Minuet, with her dark hair pinned up so it looks like she’s got floppy little puppy ears darts past Neuvillette. Her little arms outstretched upwards as she rounds Wriothesley’s big desk to get scooped up into her father’s arms.
“Hey Minnie,” Wriothesley greets her, kissing her round cheeks, “You brought everyone along! What’s the occasion?” he teases.
Minuet’s tiny face is unimpressed, and she pinches her Papa’s cheeks as her velvety little tailfin flicks impatiently. Wriothesley is momentarily distracted when the form of their oldest barrels into his leg. He adjusts Minuet in his arms to pat Bolero’s wild dark hair. Their oldest purrs a rumbly purr as his fluffy tail wags a mile a minute.
Neuvillette has set the cake on Wriothelsey’s desk and has scooped up their third-hatched, Sonnet. Sonnet clings to a plush toy of a snowy owl made by their Auncle Piper, and trills and then softly chuffs in greeting to their Papa. Their fluffy dark tail thudding happily against Neuvillette’s side.
Aria, their second oldest, is content where she is next to Neuvillette. Her tiny hand in his larger one. The only child of their clutch to inherit Neuvillette’s pale hair. Hers is done up in little twin tails at the moment. She’s inherited Wriothesley’s pale eyes too, which stare up at him as she gives her Papa a wave in greeting.
Wriothesley’s tail hasn’t stopped wagging for a second since his family joined him. He leans in to kiss Neuvillette sweetly, mindful not to crush Sonnet and Minuet in between them. When he makes to pull back, Wriothesley finds he cannot because Sonnet has grasped onto the front of his warm wool shirt. He laughs, adjusts Minuet in his arms again, and offers his other for Neuvillette to hand him their Sweet Sonnet.
“They’ve been so eager to see you,” Neuvillette says with a gentle laugh once Sonnet is happily snuggling up to their father. Oh, how Wriothesley loves to hear that laugh. Loves sweet, snuggly Sonnet. Neuvillette continues softly, “I hope you don’t mind we came to surprise you, My Heart. It is your Hatching Day, after all. Our little ones were adamant that you get your cake as soon as possible.”
“D’you like it, Papa?” Bolero asks, his voice muffled until he stops nuzzling into Wriothesley.
Wriothesley finally looks at the cake in question sitting there on his desk. It’s a mess. A delightful, horrific mess. Some sort of cake effigy of a Frostdweller’s head. Complete with peppermint stick antlers and what looks like patchy explosions of chocolate sprinkles to serve as the fur. He can’t help but notice a sizable swipe of the icing has already gone missing. Undoubtedly that is Bolero’s doing. Half of the evidence is smeared into Wriothesley’s clothing from a messy little Frostdweller’s face. Wriothesley’s face already hurts from smiling.
“I love it! My children are such talented cake decorators!” Wriothesley tells Bolero with a laugh.
He can tell from the way Minuet scrunches her little face, that she clearly disagrees but loves her older siblings too much to critique them. At least on Papa Wriothesley’s Hatching Day. It only makes Wriothesley laugh harder. He can only imagine the side eye she was giving them while they were all helping their Papa Neuvillette finish the cake.
His children and Mate’s efforts will make the cake taste all the sweeter, regardless if it is a masterpiece of culinary art or not.
“It might taste better in our dining room and not in my office with papers everywhere,” Wriothesley says, smiling.
Sonnet nods in agreement. Wriothesley knows they don’t particularly care for the scents that cling to all the messages he’s sent from all over the Fortress. Bolero on the other hand would stick his nose in the trash chute if it meant he got to discover new, interesting smells. His hands are not free for Wriothesley to pat his oldest on the head again as he thinks on this fact fondly, but he does curl his fluffy tail around Bolero, who giggles as it tickles him.
Neuvillette moves to carefully gather the cake back up, looking down at Aria as he does. “Help Papa get the door open, would you Little Fish?”
“Yes, Papa!” Aria agrees, letting go of Neuvillette’s hand to do as he asks. Her dark blue rhinophores bob behind her as she trots to the door and stretches up to open it. She turns to her fathers to beam proudly when she manages to get the heavy door open. “There we go!”
“Thank you, Little Fish,” Neuvillette responds warmly as he moves to the door, cake platter held carefully in both hands. “Let us return to the family wing.”
Wriothesley will never tire of the sheer affection in Neuvillette's tone whenever he speaks to their children. His tail wags harder and Bolero screeches a joyful laugh as it smacks into him.
“Papa’s happy!” Bolero cries, clearly proud to have a hand in Wriothesley’s joy.
“Very much so!” Wriothesley agrees, beaming.
Sonnet snuggles into his neck and Wriothesley turns to smooch the side of their head. Minuet pinches his cheek with a pout until Wriothesley turns his attention to her so she too can get a kiss.
“Papa!” She scolds when Wriothesley blows a raspberry against her cheek. She’s smiling though even as she pinches his cheek and admonishes him. “Gross!”
Sonnet giggles like Sigewinne and their little tail wags happily. Aria impatiently hops next to where she’s holding the door open, Neuvillette is already stepping through with the cake.
“Go with Papa,” Wriothesley says, kneeling to set his children down. “I have to lock up the office.”
Minuet nor Sonnet are happy to be set down but they do run to Neuvillette’s side. Bolero follows behind, somehow still managing to beat them to Neuvillette first despite their headstart. As expected of their little Dragonling who learned to run before he learned to walk. Wriothesley gives a fond huff as he fishes out his key to his office.
“Out you go,” Wriothesley says, giving Aria an affectionate nudge as he motions for her to join Neuvillette out in the hall.
When she does, Wriothesley follows and locks up the office behind him. As soon as the lock clicks, Sonnet is at Wriothesley’s side again. They look up at him with their amethyst-coloured eyes and after grumbling to themselves, make the sound of the lock clicking shut. Wriothesley grins and knowing what they want, scoops Sonnet up into his arms again, where they immediately snuggle into him again. Their snowy owl plush toy clutched close.
Minuet takes his free hand as Wriothesley steps to Neuvillette’s side. Bolero is already running ahead in the wide hall, brightly telling any of the couriers or staff he sees that it is his Papa’s Hatching Day. Wriothesley doesn’t have the heart to tell him the staff already knows and has been helping to prepare a grand feast for their Drake Warden for some time now. Still, the staff play along with Bolero’s enthusiasm and give him their Hatching Day wishes as they pass by their family in the hall. Wriothesley can see some of them are also incredibly endeared to the mess of a cake that Neuvillette proudly carries.
With their oldest in front, Sonnet in his arms, and Minuet at his side, Wriothesley looks for Aria. Finds her on Neuvillette’s other side, watching the cake platter like a hawk. Seemingly determined to help Papa Neuvillette carry it if he tires of holding it steady. Wriothesley just smiles fondly.
He catches Neuvillette’s eye as they walk, smiling warmly. His tail reaches for Neuvillette’s, and his Mate’s tail reaches back and curls around it. Twines tight.
Together they return to their family wing, their home, where they celebrate Wriothesley’s Hatching Day with the family of their making.