Anonymous asked: ok but ever since ur post about harry and corlath's children where u said smth like "corlath is too thrilled with his life to deny his children, esp when it's so unimportant" all i can think about is one of them when they are Small braiding his hair with flowers and getting sad when he tries to take it down and then he ends up going to some Very Important Kingly Meeting with a flower crown and keeping a straight face while harry's dying of laughter. (i hope your day is going well!)
Let’s be clear, Corlath is nailing the fuck out of fatherhood. He’s acing that shit. (He remarks very dryly, with tiny baby Aerin Amelia reaching up to clutch in fascination at his hair, that corralling armies is good training for corralling children.) Now, Tor takes very much after his father once he’s older, trending toward seriousness with a deadpan sense of humor, but as a baby he’s talkative. Not, like, coherent, but he’ll sit there and just kind of babble at you for as long as you seem to be paying attention. He is also very attached to his parents and something of a hit at court–of course he is, the child of their hero-king and their damalur-sol, of Corlath, direct down the centuries from the Dragon Slayer, and Harimad, Hurler of Mountains.
- (”Oh, gods, they’re really going to call me that,” Harry murmurs in horror to Corlath at a feast not long after their wedding, and Corlath laughs at her, and the fire in the hearth snaps and crackles and a grinning pale face flashes for a moment before vanishing.)
So when Tor just can’t bear to be left with his nurse, a very patient woman who puts up with A Lot from the royal family, Corlath and Harry look at each other and shrug and just take him with them. He sits on one of their laps, as they hold court from their twin stone thrones, and sometimes when he starts burbling away his parents–more often Corlath, much to the surprise of everyone–will pause and listen attentively, and tell the petitioner in a grave tone “Well, you see, the young lord believes that you should bring your neighbor next week and he’ll see what can be done to resolve your dispute.” It makes open court about a hundred and fifty times more entertaining for everyone. Tor’s first birthday present from Innath is a tiny version of his father’s crown, carved out of wood, and Tor immediately attempts to put it in his mouth.
Aerin is much quieter as an infant, and only too glad to toddle behind her older brother, so she attends court less than Tor did. However, she does enjoy flowers very much, so the court is disappointed to not have a small child in attendance, but they’re enjoying the periodical appearance of their sovereigns with crowns of whatever Aerin could get her hands on. She decides very young that Corlath looks best in daisies, and she likes to find the reddest pimchies to weave into Harry’s golden hair.
When Jack is a baby, things are pretty quiet. Aerin carries on with draping her parents in local flora (Jack and Aerin are very close in age), and Jack mostly smiles and blinks and coos quietly. He’s a very compliant sort of infant.
Then Jack’s kelar comes in when he’s seven and the court gets a lot more lively. Corlath and Harry can’t in good conscience leave Jack with his nurse–can’t really leave him with anyone but themselves or Luthe or his siblings, for fear that his strength might get the best of him. So he starts coming to court, and banquets, and whatever else Tor and/or Aerin is attending with their parents, and he’s still a kid, so sometimes his magic sort of…leaks.
They got the chandelier back on the ceiling eventually, with Harry’s help, and honestly he and Tor didn’t mean to animate the fine china and, well, Corlath got it under control anyway, didn’t he?
Hari, of course, attends court pretty much from day one, because by then Tor is old enough to be there in a slightly more formal capacity as the not-yet-formalized-but-still-recognized Crown Prince who could do with seeing how a country works. Between the draw of her beloved eldest brother and her parents, Hari can’t be pried away.
Then she turns three and she’s walking reliably and she can talk and it’s very hard to keep her under control, so she starts causing trouble at court. And banquets. And every other place she’s allowed to roam free.
- “Honestly, Jackie,” Harry sighs, surveying the damage to the banquet hall that needs to actually host a banquet in three hours. The walls are scorched and the chandelier is down again, among other, more solveable problems. “What happened?”
- “I just turned my back for a minute,” Jack says helplessly. “Tor’s off with Papa and Aerin’s fixing her gown and she told me to keep an eye on Hari and–” He gestures to his little sister, who has soot smudged across every visible inch of skin and a seraphic smile on her face. “I only looked away for a couple minutes, I swear.”
- “I believe you, Jackie,” Harry says, and drops a kiss on his hair. It’s difficult to manage this while also trying to look forbidding in her youngest’s direction. “Hari,” she calls.
- “Yes, Mama?” Hari says brightly.
- “How did this happen?”
- “I found a recipe in an old book, Mama. Only I don’t think I did it right, because instead of just making smoke it exploded.”
- “You don’t say?”
- Needless to say, the banquet is held outside in the setting sun, and Corlath and Harry try not to look too visibly amused and/or dismayed when Hari pops out from under her sister’s skirts to steal a fistful of grapes.
