Once A Tale (MXM, BXB)

Snow King and the Bee: Bonus Short

For the eighth time that morning, a child ran shrieking gleefully through the palace halls.

Oskar moaned, slumping sideways against a wall and pressing his hands over his face. "I hate him," he muttered into his palms, gripping with his fingertips at the bases of his antennae. A headache pounded fiercely behind his eyes, something to do with all of the whooping and hollering.

Malthe, just having caught up to him, panted and smiled indulgently at Oskar. "You can't hate Ernst, he's your son."

"I think that that gives me more right and reason to hate him." Oskar lowered his hands, jaw set. He had never considered himself a father. Damned and to hells with that! He witnessed neighbours and their spawn and knew true well the torture of parenthood and yet here he was.

Because he knew Malthe wanted one. And they would do it the proper way, with adoption papers and whatnot, a young snow bee child who had lost his parents and was so eager and bright-eyed to be adopted by the king, of all people. At first, even Oskar had been besotted.

Before he had to chase the youngster around the whole palace on a daily basis, at least.

"My darling," Malthe said, placing his hand to his chest in tried and true dramatic fashion, "these ups and downs of parenthood just enrich our lives all the more. I for one must say that it's charming to watch you chasing after him."

Oskar glowered.

"Oh, and here he comes."

Oskar was certain that Malthe was hiding his smile at Oskar's unpleasant face. He got ready, his hands flexing, and leapt out into the hall to catch the dashing boy mid-run. He swung him up into his arms with a bright laugh as Ernst squealed and kicked his feet but hugged Malthe about the neck. They were such a happy picture that Oskar threatened to melt then and there, battling against a smile, his arms folded stubbornly over his chest.

"You have lessons," he reminded the boy, who stuck out his lower lip.

"I want to play tag," was the stubborn reply. "With Fader and Pappa."

"You have lessons," Oskar said again, frowning. "Playing is for after lessons."

Ernst groaned and kicked his feet. "You're always busy after my lessons are over! You'll only play with me now, and even Fader is here. We never get to all play together." He knew Malthe was the softer out of the two of them and was totally playing him like a fiddle, considering Malthe fixed Oskar with one of those puppy-dog looks.

Oskar groaned.

"If, and only if, I finish my work in the mornings so all three of us can play together at night, will you attend your lessons properly?"

"Yes!"

It was a damn lie. Oskar knew it. Come morning he'd be chasing the youngster through the halls again. Bah. Malthe's softness was rubbing off on him.

"Then looks like we have a deal with your Pappa," Malthe chirped gaily, swinging Ernst about before setting him on the floor. He easily took his hand and tugged, beaming at Oskar. "Let's get you back to your teacher and let him finish his work."

Oskar shook his head as he watched the two of them skip down the hall together.

Honestly.

(Damned cute, though. Even he had to admit it.)