writing

Matara and the Unbearable Party

Matara Beverly was sick of all this nonsense. Another royal baby celebration that was an excuse for the court to show up and show out and a way for the parents to discreetly squeeze every local fairy for as many blessings as they could without looking like the greedy jerks they were.

Now, of course, she knew most of the royals who threw these baby parties weren’t INHERENTLY jerks, these crappy baby parties were tradition. But these jerks at this party? Yeah, the food was good but not worth dealing with their nonsense. They actually had everyone RSVP their gifts! They sent out a parchment and you had to reply with the blessing you were giving so they could approve it!

I sent a missive four times. They rejected the gifts and blessings of turning earrings into trail mix, power to consume rocks for sustenance, and the ability to make themselves fall asleep at will before they finally accepted ability to remain unharmed from spontaneous combustion. I admit that I was willfully divisive.

It’s a lovely party I suppose. Though the baby seems to hate it. That child is getting fussed over and it is most definitely making them fussy. Their nanny is doing her best the poor girl.

The blessing section of the festivities couldn’t begin soon enough. There’s the usual good looks, cleverness, song, charm… then it goes into the more nuanced and specialty gifts such as dance and the ability to mimic any bird call or cat noise they hear. Of course, the poor child is crying throughout all this. They must be in their crib for all this. Not to assist with any magic mind you, it’s only because of tradition that the child is out of the comfort of their nanny’s arms and has to deal with the face of every fae.

That child would coo whenever it was held properly but seemed to dislike beds, or perhaps just disliked parties and needed the emotional and physical support. The child’s parents and many members of the court looked either embarrassed or irritated at the baby’s spectacle. Which is silly. It’s a baby. They cry.

At last it was my turn. I intended to give my blessing and skedaddle out of there as quickly as possible. I’d much rather prefer to be at home, reading a book, curled up by the fire of mystical flames.

The child still cried as I approached, when upon them I decided to hang propriety and picked them up. I held the child and whispered soft, encouraging words until they had calmed down. The child was actually rather sweet, just in no mood to attend such a party, which I greatly understood. It made me despair that I could not find a way to spare this child all the future gatherings it would be forced to attend. As royalty, and a member of such a large and prominent family, there would be many such gatherings. I could only sympathize.

“Ah. I can’t make it so you never have to deal with such things, but I can give you the power of a short reprieve perhaps.” I whispered so softly that no one but the child heard me. “Now. If ever you need it, or if ever you merely want it, a good ten minutes to yourself might be in order, even if in a crowd, you and all that is necessary for your time, will not be seen or heard. Invisibility and quiet, when wanted, is indeed a great blessing.”

I kissed the baby upon their head and put them back in the crib. Straightening up, I readjusted my cloak before speaking, “Well. That’s that. My blessing is given and I am off.”

And indeed, I was gone before I could be roped into another game of musical chairs.