by Maya Goodfellow Follow @mayagoodfellow “But, do you really think Empire was really all that bad?” Everyone in our corner of the pub went silent as one of our course mates brazenly put this question to our Indian professor. “It was an absolute catastrophe – all we got out of it was the railways, and even that we’d have done ourselves”. Furious, panicked backtracking ensued. He’d been expecting…
Imagine Puck staggering into his bedroom in Arcadia at some ungodly hour of the night, having spent the entire day stuck having to deal with nobles and meetings and Titania’s sickening smile. He struggles to get out of the court clothing he was forced to wear for the day, never minding that Lady Weaver will have his head for dropping them so carelessly on his floor, and finally collapses on his bed, face down.
Immediately he senses that something is different and goes still for a moment. It takes him a second to realize his mattress is breathing.
“You’re heavier than I remember,” comments a dull voice, and when Puck sits up, startled, it’s to see Ash laying on his bed, arms folded his over his chest, eyebrows raised as the Jester sprawls across his abdomen.
Puck blinks, then his face splits into a huge grin.
“Babe!” he cheers, flopping onto Ash again.
“But just as obnoxious as ever,” Ash adds under his breath.
Elf? Wizard? A dash of Hobbit in there for good measure? Nobody quite knows what species Garth is - but nobody really cares… Garth is a great guy to be around, and enjoys making butterflies burst from the top of his wand when people need cheering up.
Imagine Puck spending an usual amount of time around Ash during one Elysium. Or it’s unusual for Ash. Every time he turns around, the Jester is there with a large smile plastered on his face.
“So, what’s all this about, Goodfellow?” he asks after about the fifth time he’s turned around and nearly run into the Jester.
“What’s what about?” Puck asks innocently, pouting.
“This,” says Ash, gesturing to the way the Jester is currently clinging to his sleeve. “You haven’t put more than three feet between us since I got here. Are you having withdrawals or something? Some nymph turned you down and you’re needing moral support?”
“Ha ha, you think you’re funny,” snorts Puck, rolling his eyes, “As it turns out, I am in a very involved relationship right now. Very deep. Very romantic. Very…well, you get the idea.”
“No, please, continue,” says Ash sarcastically, walking towards the end of the hall with Puck still latched onto his arm, “You know how absolutely riveting it is to hear all about your love life.”
“Speaking of that, actually,” says Puck slowly, and Ash hesitates, sensing trouble. “I gotta tell you, Ash, um…”
Ash slowly turns, eyes narrowed at Puck. “What did you do?” he demands.
“You assume I did something, which might not necessarily be wrong,” says Puck, grinning feebly.
“You never call me Ash,” says the Prince coldly, glaring. “What did you do, Goodfellow?”
“Uh…well, I, uh…” Puck clears his throat, still greening meekly. “I’m sorta…kinda…datingyourdaughter…”
He pushes his lips together, leaning back from Ash as he watches the Prince’s eyes narrow to mere slits of silver, sensing an impending explosion.
“You…what…?” whispers Ash.
Puck begins to back away, hands up, smiling warily.
“Oh, well, gee, would you look at the time? Gotta get going. Don’t want to be late for my date and all that, ha ha!”
“Date?” repeats Ash in a menacing voice.
But the Jester has already run off into the crowd, fleeing the hounds of hell are at his heels.