Chapter Text
It was barely past dawn, and Sarah was already reconsidering every decision that had led her to this moment.
“Helena, you don’t need four pairs of shoes. It’s Florida,” she said firmly, eyeing the overflowing suitcase her teenage daughter was trying to zip shut with a knee and a prayer.
“They’re essentials,” Helena insisted, her blonde curls bouncing in defiance as she fought the zipper. “You don’t understand my outfit plan.”
Across the chamber, their Ughlánas security detail was trying to balance a tower of snacks and plushies atop a magically rolling suitcase, humming some distorted version of a Disney theme. Nearby, Jareth—dressed in shockingly normal cargo pants and a casual button-up shirt—stood completely unbothered by the chaos as he examined a crisp printout of their color-coded itinerary.
“We’ll arrive through the west service gate at the Orlando airport,” he said, addressing Garthan and Anduin like this was a battle campaign. “Three SUVs. Keep the younger ones inside the boundaries this time.” He directed a hard stare at the Ughlánas, “And no tree climbing until we reach the resort.”
Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. “Why are we the ones trying to do this like normal people?”
“Because,” Jareth replied smoothly, as he turned toward her and smiled. “Disney frowns upon storming the castle. Besides, I booked us into the Grand Floridian. Presidential suite, top floor. I believe it comes with complimentary wine, fireworks viewing, and a string quartet.”
“Of course it does,” Sarah muttered. “Did you request a throne too?”
He arched a brow. “Do you think they'd let me bring one?”
A flicker of movement caught her eye—Zee, crouched beside Tippy, who was gently adjusting Peet’s little ears. He was glamored as a toddler in fuzzy, mouse-shaped pajamas. Tippy herself looked like a 12-year-old girl with a glittering pink sunhat and Sarah’s borrowed sunglasses. Zee’s glamor looked like a surfer kid, resplendent with a colorful Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts.
In the midst of the chaos, Jareth had pulled Toby and Sir Didymus aside. "Thank you for running the Kingdom while we're away," he said, offering them a sincere nod of appreciation. "If anything comes up, the Ughlánas can reach us instantly."
Sir Didymus nodded back smartly. Toby’s smile was almost radiant as he looked over at his wife. "Are you kidding? We did this last year. Once was enough. Besides, you’re taking Kris with you… giving us a whole week of alone time. I was happy to volunteer.” He clapped Jareth around the shoulders with a laugh as Aurelet winked at him from across the room. “Go have a good time, Jareth. Just try not to start an inter-realm incident at Epcot, okay?"
Jareth smirked. "No promises."
Nearby, Jacen was double-checking the luggage tags on each of their bags with a look of quiet determination, counting under his breath.
Madeline, who was about five months pregnant, knelt beside Mikael to tie his shoes while gently reminding him for the third time not to run off until they arrived.
Sarah made her way over, concern softening her features. “Are you sure you’re up for all this?”
Madeline looked up and smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “Honestly? I’m looking forward to it. I’ve never been to Disney before. And Mikael’s been talking about it nonstop ever since Kris went last year.”
“Well, if you need to rest, don’t hesitate to say something,” Sarah said gently.
“Don’t worry. I plan to milk the ‘pregnant lady’ card the moment I see a shady bench,” Madeline grinned.
Karina zipped up the back of Leianna’s princess dress—purple and gold, with sparkly trim, modeled after Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Randel beamed as he lifted Leianna onto his shoulder. "You look like a proper princess," he said proudly.
Zander, standing nearby and already bouncing with excitement, declared, "I can’t wait to ride Pirates of the Caribbean!"
Kris nodded in agreement. “Yeah… that’s the best. But… so is Big Thunder Mountain…”
A few feet away, Lily and Erynne were crouched beside little Lillibet, securing her sun hat and tucking her plush Minnie Mouse under one arm. Lillibet looked up at Lily, her expression sweet and serious. “Grammie... are you going to dress like Sleeping Beauty when we get there?”
Lily smiled and exchanged an amused glance with Sarah. “Of course, I am,” she said solemnly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
A few steps away, Darian was chattering endlessly at Tremane, bombarding him with questions. “Do the rides go upside down? Are there dragons? What about fireworks—do they explode really high?”
Tremane laughed, ruffling his nephew’s hair. “Darian, I’ve never been there either. I have no idea. But I’m sure we’ll find out together.”
The affection between the teen and his eager young nephew was plain to see, and it brought a quiet smile to Sarah’s face.
Just then, a faint pop echoed through the room as Yorg, one of the senior Ughlánas, appeared before them. "Coast is clear at the airport," Yorg reported with a crisp nod. "We’ve secured the drop zone, no humans in sight."
Randel looked around at the gathered crew and hoisted Leianna a little higher on his shoulder. “All right, everyone—ready to transport?”
Sarah suddenly looked up with alarm. “Wait—did everyone remember to pack sunscreen?”
Madeline laughed. “Sarah, I’m a ginger. There’s no way I’d leave home without it. I brought three bottles.”
Jacen added with a shrug, “And if we need more, it’s Florida. We’ll be drowning in sunscreen kiosks.”
Sarah glanced over the lineup: ten adults, two teenagers, four pre-teen boys, eight Ughlánas, two toddlers, and her husband somehow managing to look regal even in cargo pants. What could possibly go wrong?
“Ready,” she said, adjusting her blouse and brushing cookie crumbs off her pants. “Let’s go to Disney.”
As everyone gathered for transport, Jareth raised a hand to get their attention. “All right, before we go... vote time. Which park do we visit first?”
Before any of the adults could open their mouths, a chorus of tiny voices erupted.
“Magic Kingdom!” Leianna squealed.
“Pirates of the Caribbean!” Zander shouted.
“Big Thunder!” roared Kris.
“I want to see Minnie,” said Lillibet, quietly.
“Space Mountain!” yelled Darian.
“Yeah… Pirates, Big Thunder, AND Space Mountain!” Mikael declared, bouncing on his toes.
Jareth looked around at the clearly unanimous vote from the young crowd. Tremane shrugged with a smile. Helena nodded absently. The adults exchanged amused, mildly exasperated glances and a few mock groans.
Jareth acknowledged the vote with a grin. “Well... I guess that settles that.”
-*-
Notes:
Again, I am aware that this story takes place a few hundred years after Sarah’s Run. Disney may not even be there at that point in time, but… I’ve always loved Disney, so in my universe… the park remained popular and still exists for this story.
I thought it was a nice nod toward how much Jareth trusts Toby that he would leave the Kingdom in his hands while they go on vacation. Likewise, he trusts Sir Didymus as deputy Lord Martial.
The name of Erynne and Anduin’s daughter (Lillibet) comes from Queen Elizabeth II of England. My own daughter’s middle name is Elizabeth, after her and Elizabeth I. I’ve always loved the name, and when I found out that ‘Lillibet’ was the nickname that Queen Elizabeth’s family called her… I fell in love with it, too. It was also a cheeky way of naming one of the grandkids after Lily.
Also, Tippy and Zee’s first son (named Willie) was born before Helena and is part of their security detail. Peet is their youngest child.
Chapter Text
The party arrived in a quiet, shielded corner of the Orlando airport, tucked between unused service buildings and hidden from curious eyes. The moment they arrived, the roar of jet engines overhead caught everyone’s attention. The younger children and Ughlánas stared in awe as a massive plane thundered down the runway.
“Is it a sky whale?” Peet whispered, clutching Tippy’s hand.
“No,” Zee said reverently, “it’s a metal bird full of humans. And snacks.”
Even Tremane, normally too cool to show much emotion, stood mesmerized as another plane soared into the clouds. Sarah watched their faces, amused by how completely captivated they all were.
“I don’t care how many times we’ve been Above,” Garthan murmured beside her, “giant flying machines are still impressive.”
“You should see when they launch spacecraft,” said Sarah with a grin. “That’s right here in Florida, too.”
Jareth, Garthan, and Anduin made their way to the car rental kiosk while the others wrangled children, strollers, and at least twenty pieces of rolling luggage. Jareth returned moments later holding a set of sleek rental keys, dangling them with all the smugness of a king distributing royal steeds.
They were quickly assigned into the SUVs: Jacen and Madeline would take the kids and the Ughlánas, Garthan and Lily would drive with the other adults, and Jareth would drive the third for Sarah, Tremane, Helena, and the overflow of bags, snacks, and sunscreen. Sorting it all out took longer than expected.
“Wait—where’s Mikael?” said Madeline.
“I’m under the blanket!” came a muffled voice from the cargo area of the SUV.
Madeline pulled the blanket off her son with a flourish. “Oh no, young man. Into the seat you go, and buckle up.” She glanced above the door with a frown. “Noola, you can not ride on the roof.”
The wiry little Ughlánas grinned at her. “I was just checking the aerodynamics!”
By the time everyone was seatbelted and accounted for, Sarah had already lost track of half the questions she’d been asked.
The drive to Disney’s Grand Floridian Resort & Spa was smooth, at least on the road. Outside the windows, Florida unfolded in a blur of palm trees, bright signage, and lush greenery that looked like it had been painted with a jungle's brush. The sun blazed overhead, and the air had that distinct, wet heaviness unique to Florida summers—a mix of sunscreen, humidity, and the distant promise of an afternoon thunderstorm. Inside the vehicles, however, snacks flew, toddlers sang, and Zee tried to explain the difference between monorails and sky trams to Peet with mixed success.
Check-in at the resort was a spectacle all its own. Sarah found herself in line beside Jareth, doing her best to corral the group while the other guests looked on in a mixture of awe, confusion, and secondhand stress. Every time a child shrieked, an Ughlánas popped into someone’s purse, or a squeaky toy went off, the cast members behind the desk gave Sarah a sympathetic smile.
“I swear, they’re usually very well-behaved,” Sarah mumbled.
“Of course,” the clerk said gently, handing over their room keys with wide eyes.
When they reached the Presidential Suite, the reactions ranged from stunned silence to shrieks of joy. The suite was enormous—multiple bedrooms, opulent furnishings, balconies with castle views, and a bathroom bigger than Sarah’s college apartment. Jareth, ever the planner, had booked extra suites nearby for the overflow. The boys all wanted to bunk in together, so they would stay here, as would Helena.
Randel was the first to spot the sleek wet bar tucked beside the grand piano. He strode over, picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels, and grinned at Jareth. “You planned ahead!”
Garthan looked over with interest, already eyeing the selection of mixers, his smile widening when he saw the cans of Coke.
Jareth chuckled. “Of course I did. I intend to survive this week.”
Sarah raised a brow. “Did you remember my Stolichnaya?”
Jareth walked over to the bar and reached behind a bottle of cabernet, holding up the familiar vodka with a flourish. “Would I dare forget?”
Madeline gave a small, wistful smile as she looked over at the bar. “Looks like I’ll be toasting with ginger ale this trip.”
“We’ll raise one for you,” Sarah promised with a wink.
“I’ll be joining you with the ginger ale, Maddie,” said Karina. At Randel’s wide-eyed look, she laughed. “No… I’m not pregnant. But remember what happened the last time I had too much to drink? You thought I was kidding when I told you I would throw up on your boots if I drank anything stronger than ale.”
“And you weren’t kidding,” Randel replied with a smirk.
With the park opening in just half an hour, everyone scattered to unpack their suitcases. Helena immediately claimed her room next to the main suite, arranging her footwear like a sacred shoe altar. In the room next door, Mikael had already flung half his clothes onto the bed in search of his favorite shirt with Buzz Lightyear on it. Kris put his ‘Goofy’ hat on his head and laughed uproariously.
Zander and Darian unzipped their matching luggage and began comparing themed socks. Meanwhile, Lillibet and Leianna followed Erynne and Karina to their rooms next to the suite, dragging their mini backpacks across the floor like determined explorers in search of a place to stash their plush animals.
The adults weren’t much better. Jacen and Garthan were sorting through park maps and charging portable fans. Lily had a garment bag containing her Sleeping Beauty gown draped neatly across a velvet bench. Willie managed to unpack a full stash of snacks and a single change of clothes into a dresser drawer before loudly declaring he was “resort ready.”
After the unpacking, Madeline lowered herself onto one of the velvet couches with a relieved sigh. “Okay, I vote for a spa day before the trip is over.”
The other women agreed at once, nodding and murmuring in approval. The men and children groaned in harmony.
“I heard that,” Madeline said without looking up. “You’ll envy us if your feet are still functioning by day three.”
-*-
Notes:
Again, while this takes place hundreds of years from now, some things are more or less set in stone. Vehicles such as cars, while perhaps using an alternate fuel source, will probably not vary all that much from what we have now. After all, vehicles have followed a standard design for thousands of years… 4 wheels, a place for passengers, and a means of motion.
I figured the same thing would apply to airplanes. While the fuel source would likely have changed by the time of my story, basic aerodynamics would not have. A plane would still have wings and engines. The way a plane flies probably wouldn’t change all that much either, even a couple of centuries from now, so I felt pretty confident in describing them the way I did.
Chapter Text
Once everyone had ensured that they were in park-friendly clothes and sunscreen had been thoroughly applied, the group made their way to the Grand Floridian monorail station. As the sleek train glided into view, the kids and Ughlánas crowded forward, noses pressed to the windows.
“It’s like a sideways sky dragon!” Peet exclaimed.
Sarah chuckled. “It’s a monorail. It runs on a track. Perfectly safe.”
“Safe until it flies off and eats us,” Yorg muttered, though he still boarded eagerly.
The monorail glided smoothly above the lush resort grounds. Palm trees swayed in the balmy breeze, and manicured gardens framed winding pools. As they passed over the Seven Seas Lagoon, the spires of Cinderella’s Castle appeared on the horizon, shimmering in the morning sun.
Inside the train, the group took up nearly half a car. The adults juggled strollers, snack bags, and overexcited children while pretending to be totally unfazed.
Sarah watched as Tremane leaned into the window, wide-eyed despite himself. “Wow,” he murmured.
“I know,” she said quietly beside him. “First time’s always kind of magic.”
They disembarked at the Magic Kingdom station with the kind of coordinated chaos only a magical family vacation could achieve. Trying to wrangle that many children and Ughlánas through the turnstiles was something between herding cats and leading a circus parade.
Somehow, no one got lost.
Shortly after arriving at the park, Lillibet spotted Minnie Mouse near the gardens, and the entire gang made a detour to let her have her picture taken. The Ughlánas insisted on getting a photo too, jostling in with exaggerated grins. Jareth stood nearby, smiling indulgently as he snapped photos of the whole scene.
When they were done, he leaned over to Sarah and said with amusement, "I’m glad Toby tinkered with the cameras before we left. The photos won’t show the Ughlánas’ glamors when printed."
He held out the camera, showing her the image on the tiny LCD screen. In the human world, the Ughlánas looked like a bunch of cheerful children. But on the screen, there they were—green skin, sharp teeth, wide luminous eyes—laughing in their true forms.
Sarah grinned, a rush of affection warming her chest. "I love it."
Turning to the rest of the group, Sarah suggested, "Why don't we move methodically through the park? That way we don't miss anything, and we won't be doubling back all day."
The boys immediately protested. Jacen, Randel, and even Jareth—groaned in unison.
"Where's the adventure in that?" Jacen said, grinning.
"Spontaneity is the soul of magic," Jareth added with a wink.
Randel laughed. "Let’s just ride whatever looks fun when we see it."
Sarah shook her head, unable to suppress her smile. “Fine. But when we’re dragging ourselves across the park at midnight because someone forgot they wanted to ride Space Mountain, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Before they started to move off, Madeline held up a finger. “One ground rule before we unleash chaos,” she said firmly. “No souvenirs until the end of the day. Hats or water bottles are fine, but nothing else until we’re on our way back to the hotel.”
Mikael groaned. “But what if I see the best thing ever?”
“You’ll still see it later,” Madeline replied sweetly.
Sarah laughed. “That’s exactly the rule my parents had when I was a kid. They didn’t want to carry seven plastic bags full of souvenirs all day, either.”
Jacen gave his wife a sideways glance. “I feel like this is going to be harder on me than the kids.”
“Then it’s working,” Madeline said, patting his arm.
With the Magic Kingdom officially underway, and after a group consensus, the first ride on the agenda was unanimously chosen: Pirates of the Caribbean.
Among the family’s colorful crowd, Lily stood out effortlessly in her shimmering pink gown, golden hair flowing, with the serene grace of someone who had worn a crown long before plastic tiaras were invented.
Within minutes, a group of children stopped in their tracks at the sight of her. One wide-eyed girl whispered, “It’s Sleeping Beauty!” and then bravely approached with a crumpled autograph book and pen.
Lily smiled warmly and took the pen with regal poise. “Of course, dear heart,” she said, looping a graceful signature with a flourish that could rival the real thing.
Word spread quickly.
More children gathered, their parents looking equally charmed and mildly confused. Some mistook her for a newly introduced character. One even snapped a photo from a distance.
Sarah watched from a few paces away, utterly delighted. “She looks more real than the official one,” she whispered to Madeline.
Madeline laughed. “Disney’s going to panic.”
Sure enough, not long after, a clean-cut man with a clipboard and a polite but strained smile approached. He wore a subtle name tag and the pained expression of someone tasked with corralling magic he didn’t understand.
“Ma’am,” he said carefully, “we so appreciate your enthusiasm, but I’m going to have to ask you to change into regular park attire. For the safety of our guests and performers, only children and official cast members can appear in costume.”
Lily gave him a gracious smile and inclined her head. “Of course. Thank you for letting me know.”
Garthan—already wearing an oversized Mad Hatter hat with feather accents—grinned and stepped forward. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with theatrical flair. “Let’s find you something less princess, more pedestrian.”
They ducked behind a tall hedge where Garthan discreetly conjured her a breezy summer outfit: a soft pink sundress and sandals that sparkled just enough to keep the magic alive. She did, however, keep the tiara on.
When they returned to the group, Lillibet looked up, her eyes widening in disappointment. “Grammie? Where’s your dress?”
Lily knelt and smoothed the girl’s curls. “Sweetheart, the park has lots of little girls who dream of being Aurora. It wouldn’t be fair if I did too.”
Lillibet’s lip wobbled for a second, but then she nodded seriously. “Okay. But you were the best Sleeping Beauty.”
Jacen, watching from behind a nearby snack stand, leaned toward Sarah and muttered, “They just didn’t want her stealing thunder from their $150 meet-and-greets.”
Lily passed by him with a perfectly dignified shrug. “Honestly? I’m relieved. That dress itched.”
As they regrouped near the hub, the scent of warm butter and caramel drifted through the air like a siren song. It wasn’t long before a unanimous detour was made to the nearest popcorn cart. While the adults juggled snack trays and souvenir cups shaped like Mickey’s head, the younger kids compared popcorn bucket designs with deadly seriousness. Sarah handed off napkins like a field medic while Zee argued with the vendor about whether the “refillable” policy applied across realms. By the time everyone had their snacks, the group was laughing again—slightly stickier, moderately saltier, and absolutely ready for their first ride.
The wait for Pirates of the Caribbean wasn’t long—though with their group size, it felt like they were bringing a small militia through the queue. The moment they stepped into the darkened, lantern-lit interior, the younger kids and Ughlánas were immediately enchanted. Mikael pointed out every detail of the nautical props and flickering torchlight. Zander tried to crawl into a cannon display before being pulled back by Karina, who reminded him—again—that not everything was interactive.
Sarah had forgotten how cool and immersive the ride queue felt, with its stone corridors and echoes of distant cannon fire. Even Jareth seemed impressed, though he said nothing, only raising a brow as he ran his fingers along the carved banister. Lillibet was perched on Erynne’s hip, her wide eyes absorbing everything like a sponge.
When it came time to board, the ride attendants barely batted an eye at their odd, oversized group. It took two and a half boats to accommodate everyone, but they made quick work of it.
The boats creaked forward, slipping into the darkness of the ride. The children gasped as the air grew chill and the ceiling opened above a star-swept night sky. The familiar tune began to drift through the cavern:
🎵 "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me..." 🎵
And just like that, the entire family started to sing.
At first, it was just Randel and Zander, belting out the lyrics with piratey bravado. Then Jacen and Mikael joined in. By the time they passed the first town of animatronic chaos, the rest of the adults were singing at full volume. Jareth’s voice was rich and dramatic, matching the ride's theatrical flair.
“I always said you’d make a great Jack Sparrow,” Sarah said with a laugh.
Helena and Tremane sat side by side near the front of their boat, whispering to each other as they took in every detail—the treasure rooms, the dueling pirates, the swaying lanterns overhead. When the boats took a sudden drop into the lower caverns, Leianna squealed and clung tightly to Randel. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead, whispering that it was all just pretend.
The boys—Mikael, Darian, Zander, and Kris—leaned over the side during the treasure cave scene, whispering conspiratorially.
“We could jump out and grab some of those gold coins,” Zander said in a hushed tone.
“We could totally find a way out through the tunnels,” Darian added, eyes gleaming.
Anduin silenced them with a single sharp glance from the back of the boat, his dad-glare honed by years of chaotic mornings.
The ride continued, culminating in a final cannon battle and raucous pirate jail scene. As the boats reached the unloading dock, the group was still humming the tune.
“Best. Ride. Ever,” Mikael announced.
“Agreed,” said Randel, cracking his knuckles. “I might need to ride that one again before the end of the trip.”
And with their spirits high and the sun shining outside the exit tunnel, the group unanimously decided their next stop would be the Haunted Mansion—close enough to walk, eerie enough to entertain.
-*-
Notes:
My kids loved to wear their princess dresses when we’d go to Disneyland. My parents (who spoiled their grandchildren rotten) had spent an exorbitant amount of money on two deluxe costumes… Anna and Elsa. They looked absolutely adorable in them. But they only wore them once, because their favorite Princess was Tiana… so I acquired two Tiana dresses and put the expensive ones in the closet, eventually passing them to my stepdaughter for her girls (when she was little, my parents bought her a gorgeous Tinkerbell costume that she wore to rags during our trips to Disney).
Having Lily dress up as Sleeping Beauty would no doubt have resulted in exactly what happened here. For safety… maybe. But more likely so it didn’t confuse the kids (and take away from the very expensive photo op/meet and greet that the park sells.)
A quick note about The Boys... Kris is the oldest (he was about 18 months old when Madeline married Jacen). Remember, Goblin kids age at the normal rate for the first two years, then it slows down. Kris was first, then Darian, then Mikael (who was born maybe 4 months after Darian) and then Zander (who came along 5 years after Darian). At this point in time, you could say that Kris just turned 9, Darian and Mikael were 8 1/2 and Zander just turned 8. Of the toddlers, Lillibet was first, followed closely by Leianna (they were born about 7 months apart) and they are the equivalent of 4 years old. Now, Madeline is pregnant with Mikael's sister (and while it hasn't happened yet, Aurelet will have a girl in the next few years as well). I just thought I should explain why The Boys are so close in age when they'd been born (in some cases) years apart.
Chapter Text
The Haunted Mansion loomed ahead with all the theatrical gloom it was famous for—tall, foreboding spires framed against the bright Florida sky, with faux cobwebs glinting in the sunlight and a gentle pipe organ tune playing faintly in the background.
The queue wound through a shaded garden lined with humorous tombstones. The kids and Ughlánas read them aloud with delight.
“Here lies Good Old Fred, a great big rock fell on his head!” Zander announced, giggling.
“Look at this one!” Willie called. “‘Here lies Uncle Myall, done in by a cannonball.’ I bet he deserved it!”
Tippy pointed to one with wide eyes. “That one says Dear Departed Brother Dave... he chased a bear into a cave!” She looked up at Sarah with delight. “That’s very silly.”
Even Jareth paused to inspect one particularly poetic epitaph, murmuring it with theatrical flair before smirking to himself. The group laughed and snapped a few photos while inching closer to the front.
They reached the stretching room just as the crowds inside thickened. The Cast Member who welcomed them was as ghoulish and deadpan as expected, motioning them in with a slow, exaggerated wave of the hand.
The lights dimmed. The room creaked. The portraits began to stretch and elongate overhead. Lillibet and Leianna clutched their parents’ hands, but their wide eyes were filled with fascination, not fear.
“That lady’s sitting on a gravestone!” Leianna whispered in awe. “Why?”
Karina whispered back, “It’s part of the joke, sweetheart.”
They moved onto the ride itself, boarding their Doom Buggies in pairs. The gentle pace, eerie lighting, and ghostly illusions drew out more giggles than gasps. The singing busts were a huge hit with the Ughlánas, who immediately began trying to mimic the harmonies.
As the ride progressed, Sarah instinctively reached for Jareth’s arm—only to feel his lips brush her neck playfully.
“Mmm,” he murmured near her ear, “first time we’ve been alone all day.”
She laughed, low and quiet. “Jareth, there are cameras in here.”
“I’m a master of subtlety,” he said, grinning as the ghostly music boomed overhead.
By the time the ride ended, everyone was smiling.
“Wasn’t even scary,” Lillibet said proudly, hands on her hips.
“Nope,” Leianna agreed, “just really fun!”
Randel looked amused. “I think I saw Sarah jump in the elevator.”
“I tripped,” Sarah lied flatly, brushing past him with mock dignity.
As they moved away from the Haunted Mansion, still buzzing from ghostly delights and cheeky tombstones, the family clustered beneath a shady tree for a moment of hydration and debate.
“So,” Jareth said, stretching like a cat in the sunlight, “what next?”
“Space Mountain!” Zander shouted immediately.
“No, Big Thunder Mountain!” Kris countered.
“Food!” said Yorg, dramatically clutching his stomach.
Madeline raised her hand delicately. “Actually, I have a suggestion.” There was a gleam in her eyes that Sarah recognized instantly. “How about It’s a Small World?” She glanced over and the two women exchanged a slow, knowing smirk.
“Yes,” Sarah said smoothly. “That’s a perfect idea.”
The older boys groaned.
“Isn’t that the one with the dolls?” Tremane asked, looking suspicious.
“And the singing?” added Darian, already wrinkling his nose.
“Yes,” Sarah said brightly. “Lots of singing.”
They headed over to the iconic white and gold façade of the ride, sunlight gleaming off its whimsical towers and spinning clockwork sun. The line was short, and they were soon boarding the gently drifting boats.
As they climbed in, Leianna glanced up at Karina, brow furrowed. “Is there a drop in this ride too?”
Karina smiled and smoothed her daughter’s hair. “No, sweetie. This one just floats.”
The boats launched gently into the cool tunnel, and immediately the air filled with the impossibly cheerful melody:
🎵 “It’s a small world after all…” 🎵
Dozens—no, hundreds—of animatronic dolls in traditional costumes swayed and sang, their heads bobbing and arms outstretched in cheerful choreography.
The children were spellbound. Lillibet clapped her hands with delight. Zander and Mikael tried to guess which country each scene represented. Even the Ughlánas stared in open-mouthed wonder.
“This is so weird,” Noola whispered reverently. “I love it.”
About halfway through the ride, Jareth leaned over to Sarah with a half-smile. “That’s quite a catchy little tune.”
Sarah leaned closer to Madeline and murmured, “They have no idea.”
Madeline grinned wickedly. “Oh, I know. That’s why I suggested it. Let’s see how long it takes before one of them complains it’s stuck in their head.”
As they disembarked, everyone looked a little dreamy and very, very cheerful.
“That was... adorable,” Anduin said, a little surprised.
“I liked the penguins,” Peet announced proudly.
Helena had her camera out, already humming as she swiped through the dozen photos she’d taken.
The song lingered in the air—and already, a few of the group were humming it under their breath without realizing.
Sarah caught Madeline’s eye again, and they shared another conspiratorial smile.
-*-
Notes:
Yeah… that song…
While Madeline had never been to Disney before, I don’t think there’s a person on this planet that doesn’t know that song (and doesn’t groan in agony after an hour of it being stuck in their heads). I thought it was a cute touch to have the two human women in cahoots with torturing their families.
Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the pavement as the family made their way into Tomorrowland. The spires of Space Mountain rose above the crowd like a jagged ice crystal against the blue sky, and the line out front wound down and back like a sleeping serpent.
“I still can’t believe that whole building is one ride,” Darian said in awe, shading his eyes.
“That’s because it’s two rides,” Tremane corrected. “Twin tracks. They split you at the top.”
“Oh great,” Jacen muttered, “so double the chance of doom.”
“I heard it goes completely dark,” Zander added, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Like, you can’t even see your hand.”
Madeline raised a hand before the group got too close. “I think I’ll sit this one out,” she said, patting her bump with a gentle smile. “Erynne, want to hang back with me and the littles?”
Erynne, who had Lillibet perched on one hip and Leianna clinging to her other hand, nodded. “Absolutely. These two aren’t quite ready for high-speed darkness anyway.”
“We are going to get snacks!” Lillibet announced, raising her tiny fist with authority.
“Let’s make sure the snacks aren’t you,” Zee added cheerfully, giving Jareth a conspiratorial wink as he fell into step beside her.
Tippy followed, their son balanced on her hip. “It’s a bit much for Peet too, so we’ll come with you.”
“We’ll meet you at the exit,” Jareth said with a smile.
Sarah gave a jaunty wave, chuckling as the smaller group turned away toward a nearby snack cart. The rest pressed forward into the Space Mountain queue.
Inside, the line twisted through cool, dim corridors lit by pulsing lights and glowing space maps. Galactic “safety instructions” played on loop, accompanied by an ambient electronic hum that made the whole place feel like a launch bay.
“It kind of smells like space,” Zander whispered, taking a deep breath.
“How would you know what space smells like?” Tremane asked skeptically.
“I don’t,” Zander said with a grin. “But I bet it smells like this.”
Sarah smiled as she watched them inch forward. There was something oddly wholesome about their enthusiasm—even Jareth seemed enchanted, glancing around with a bemused half-smile as he examined the faux control panels and blinking lights.
“Remind me,” Randel said, stepping beside him, “why are we trusting a coaster designed in the 20th century with our lives?”
Jareth turned toward him with mock gravitas. “Because we’re brave. Also, statistically speaking, the odds of catastrophic failure are very low.”
“Is that the official Goblin Kingdom line?”
“No,” Jareth replied. “The official Goblin Kingdom line is ‘The gods mock a coward.’”
Before Sarah could interject, the queue surged forward, and the silver spacecraft-themed ride vehicles came into view, blinking invitingly in the dim light.
“This is it,” Jacen said, elbowing Mikael and Kris. “You guys ready to blast off?”
Anduin hooked his sunglasses onto the collar of his shirt. “What do you think, son?”
Darian gave him a bright smile. “We were born ready.”
They all climbed into their seats, safety bars clicking down one by one. Sarah tightened hers a little more than necessary. The music swelled. The lights dimmed further.
And then the chain pull began, the unmistakable clack-clack-clack echoing around them as the ride started its steep, shadowed ascent. The lift groaned beneath them, hauling the sleek ride vehicles higher and higher into the inky black. Colored stars blinked across the ceiling, and distant synth music pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. The group was scattered across two separate trains—Jareth was in front, followed by Sarah, then Zander, Randel, Kris and Mikael. The rest would follow in the next train.
“This is it!” Zander yelled over the rattling noise. “We’re gonna hit hyperspace!”
“Brace for launch!” Randel added in his best spaceship captain voice.
Then—
CLANK.
The sound was sharp and metallic, followed by an unsettling jolt as the cars jerked to a halt. The chain pull stopped abruptly, and the lights flickered faintly.
There was a long pause, then a garbled voice crackled through hidden speakers:
“Please remain seated. A Cast Member will assist you shortly.”
“Was that part of the ride?” Mikael asked, peering around suspiciously.
“Nope,” Sarah muttered.
“Definitely not,” Jareth confirmed. “This is the part where the ‘small world’ song would be oddly comforting.”
The red emergency lighting buzzed to life, casting everything in an eerie glow. For a few seconds, the cars sat in a surreal stillness—like a haunted space graveyard—before two Cast Members in fluorescent vests appeared along a narrow metal catwalk.
“Folks, we’re going to manually escort you out,” one called cheerfully. “This does happen sometimes. You’re safe. Just… slow steps.”
“Out?” Zander repeated, wide-eyed. “You mean... walk?”
“Yes, up and over,” said the other Cast Member. “You’ll exit backstage and re-enter the park.”
“Cool,” Mikael whispered. “We get to see the secret stuff!”
“Not that secret,” the Cast Member deadpanned.
One by one, lap bars released with a series of metallic clicks, and the family awkwardly climbed out of their spacecrafts and onto the narrow grated walkway. It was tighter than anyone liked to admit, and the incline back toward the launch platform was steep.
“This is not the magical thrill I signed up for,” Kris muttered as he tried not to trip.
“I was promised adventure,” Randel said, shaking his head. “Instead, I’m reliving our combat lessons.” Jareth nodded in agreement.
The Cast Members led them through a backstage hallway that looked very much like the kind of utilitarian service tunnel Sarah would’ve expected behind a mall, not a major theme park. There were stacks of spare ride vehicles, safety diagrams, and one very bored maintenance tech eating yogurt by a vending machine.
“Magical,” Tremane said flatly.
As they emerged into the bright sunlight of Tomorrowland’s outer edge, Zander sighed. “We didn’t even get to scream.”
“You’ll scream later,” Sarah promised, brushing dust off her shirt. “We’re coming back after fireworks.”
“You mean it?” Kris asked.
“Of course,” Jareth said, stretching his back with a pop. “What kind of cruel monarch would deny his people a shot at the stars?”
“I think that’s legally binding,” Randel added.
They were quickly joined by the others, who relayed that someone on an earlier train had dropped something on the track. The ride would have to be shut down until they found it and removed the offending item.
The group rejoined Madeline, Erynne, and the younger kids near the snack stand.
“What happened?” Erynne asked as the group approached.
“Space Mountain turned into Stair Mountain,” Sarah said. “Ride broke down. We had to walk out.”
“Tragic,” Zee said solemnly. “Did you find any aliens?”
“Just one,” Jareth said, nodding toward the vending machine tech. “He was eating yogurt.”
“No worries, we’ll just come back after fireworks,” said Jacen.
The boys were still slightly crushed but perked up at the promise of a nighttime return.
“Okay,” Zander declared. “But if it breaks again, we’re storming the launch bay.”
“No mutinies before dinner,” Sarah said. “We have reservations. Let’s go eat.”
-*-
The brick-paved path leading to Tony’s Town Square Restaurant glowed in the golden light of early evening. Nestled near the entrance of Main Street, the Italian eatery was a charming throwback—cozy lanterns, red-and-white checkered tablecloths, and music from Lady and the Tramp playing softly in the background.
“We’ve arrived,” Sarah said, gesturing like a grand maître d'. “All ye hungry souls, prepare for carbs.”
The Ughlánas gasped in unison. “Pasta?”
“Garlic bread?” Tippy whispered reverently.
“Meatballs,” Peet added, already licking his lips.
Zee stepped forward with a dramatic bow. “Don’t worry, Kingy. They promised to use their very best table manners.”
“Their best manners terrify me,” Jareth muttered under his breath.
They were seated at a long banquet-style table in a side room that was thankfully semi-private—Tony’s staff had apparently recognized that this many children and sleep-deprived adults required space and subtle containment.
Menus were handed out. Kids began bickering over who got to sit where. One of the Ughlánas attempted to fold a napkin into a swan. Once everyone had settled (somewhat), drinks were poured, breadsticks vanished, and orders placed with only minimal interruption.
“This place is adorable,” Karina said, sipping her lemonade. “Do you think they’ll let us reenact the spaghetti kiss scene?”
“Hmmm… we’ll have to remember to try that when we get home,” Randel replied with a sly smile.
As the main courses arrived—plates of steaming pasta, crispy eggplant parmesan, and enough marinara to stain a linen shop, Garthan leaned back in his chair and groaned theatrically.
“I swear,” he said, rubbing his temples, “if I hear ‘It’s a small world after all’ one more time, I’m taking a fork and jabbing it into my ear.”
Laughter exploded from the adult side of the table. Jacen clinked his glass with Garthan’s. “Too late. It’s already playing in my head. Hasn’t stopped since the boats.”
“I tried singing something else to push it out,” Lily added, “but all I got was ‘Small World’ in two-part harmony.”
“Help,” Tremane muttered. “It’s in me now.”
Sarah and Madeline caught each other’s eyes over their plates and exchanged wicked, utterly satisfied grins.
“I feel no guilt,” Madeline whispered.
“None,” Sarah whispered back.
Meanwhile, the kids were joyfully unbothered—Lillibet was feeding spaghetti to Peet, Kris was crafting a meatball tower with alarming precision, and Darian was trying to explain what “al dente” meant to Noola.
At the far end of the table, Jareth swirled his wine and said philosophically, “If the song is still stuck in our heads tomorrow, we may need an exorcism.”
“Just use Space Mountain,” Jacen replied. “I hear the sudden drop resets your brain.”
Sarah laughed, her heart full. For one brief moment, everything was exactly as it should be… no politics, no kingdoms, no disasters. Just pasta, jokes, and the warm glow of family.
-*-
As they stepped out of Tony’s, the fading sunlight gave way to the soft indigo of early evening. Main Street was alive with a warm buzz—families finding spots, Cast Members guiding traffic, and the distant murmur of anticipation rippling through the crowd like electricity in the air.
The group found a spot near the edge of the Hub, just close enough to see the castle in full view without being swallowed by the thickest part of the crowd. The Ughlánas clambered onto benches and shoulders, somehow managing to look like perfectly normal human children despite their low-grade fidgeting and gleaming eyes.
Erynne sat on the brick ledge of a flower planter, Lillibet in her lap, the little girl already beginning to nod off against her shoulder. Sarah handed Leianna a soft blanket from her bag, and the child cuddled up beside Karina with a contented sigh.
“Five minutes,” Madeline whispered, checking her phone. “If I fall asleep before then, someone wake me.”
“You won’t sleep through this,” Jareth said. “They weaponize nostalgia.”
Then, as if on cue, the castle lights dimmed—and the crowd hushed.
A single spotlight painted the tallest spire in gold. A soft voice echoed over the loudspeakers:
“Just remember… dreams come true.”
Then came the first boom.
A burst of color exploded into the sky, crackling in blues, golds, and shimmering reds. The children gasped. Even the adults fell silent, faces turned upward in reverent awe.
Music swelled—classic Disney themes woven into a grand orchestral medley. As the fireworks danced in synchronized rhythm, the castle itself shimmered with projected light, transforming into a thousand fairy tales.
Zander stood with his mouth open.
Darian whispered, “It’s like the sky’s singing.”
Jareth’s arm slipped quietly around Sarah’s waist. He didn’t say anything, just pulled her close as golden light spilled across their faces. She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder, breathing in the mix of smoke and sugar from a nearby churro stand.
Erynne gently rocked Lillibet, now reclining on her chest. Madeline had propped her feet on an empty stroller and was watching the sky through half-lidded eyes, smiling faintly.
Peet whispered something to Tippy, who nodded solemnly and said, “Yes. If I were a firework, I’d want to explode like that.”
As the finale crescendoed—a burst of white and gold that filled the entire sky and painted the castle in light—the crowd erupted in cheers. Sarah saw Lillibet stir in her mother’s arms and looked over to see the child rubbing her eyes, smiling sleepily.
“That was magic,” she murmured.
“Yes, it was,” Sarah whispered back.
As the music faded and the sky darkened once more, Madeline stretched. “All right. Bedtime for the littles. Space Mountain for the kids and kids-at-heart.” Jacen murmured something to her which made her smile and kiss his nose. “No. We’ve got the Ughlánas. Go play.”
“Leianna can stay with us if you want to go on that ride,” Erynne told Karina.
“Are you sure?” she asked dubiously.
“Of course. The girls will want to bunk in together anyway. Go have fun.” She looked over at Anduin. “That goes for you, too.”
With a smile of thanks, Karina took Randel’s hand and let him pull her to her feet. Tippy and Zee elected to return to the hotel with the rest of the Ughlánas and soon were ambling along with Madeline and Erynne.
“Bring me back a star, Grammie” Leianna mumbled drowsily.
Sarah smiled. “We’ll do our best.”
Then the others turned toward the glowing spires of Tomorrowland, their second chance at launch awaiting.
-*-
With the little ones headed back to the resort, the rest of the group turned toward the gleaming neon glow of Tomorrowland. The night air was warm and electric, full of laughter, distant music, and the scent of popcorn and cosmic pretzels. Above them, Space Mountain rose like a glowing cathedral of thrill-seekers.
“I’m not saying we were meant to ride this at night,” Randel said, “but the stars have aligned.”
“They literally have,” Zander pointed out, eyes wide as he tilted his head to the sky. “Look, Dad... actual stars.”
“This better be worth the walk,” Helena said, shifting her messenger bag. “I skipped dessert for this.”
“I’ve got you covered,” Tremane said. “I stole someone’s cannoli.”
“That was mine,” Anduin muttered, mock betrayed.
They reached the ride entrance and were ushered through with ease. Inside, the queue felt different now—quieter, calmer, the lighting a deeper blue, the background hum like a lullaby for space travelers.
The group loaded into their rockets with practiced ease, laughter echoing through the dark corridors.
Sarah found herself seated behind Jareth again, his arm casually resting across the safety bar like he owned the cosmos.
“Round two,” she said.
“Ah, but I am the King of second chances,” he replied with a flirtatious grin.
The ride jolted into motion.
Up the chain they went, the clack-clack-clack now familiar—but this time, it didn’t stop. It launched.
They were catapulted into the void.
Stars blurred past them, galaxies spun, meteor tunnels rushed up and vanished in a heartbeat. Zander let out a whoop that was barely audible over the thundering soundtrack. Kris shouted “FASTER!” like a tiny space warlord. Mikael’s laughter rang like a bell. Karina screamed once, then immediately started laughing. Randel and Jacen raised their hands in perfect synchronized chaos.
Even Anduin cracked a full grin—just before the sharpest turn spun him sideways with a surprised yelp.
In the darkness, Sarah closed her eyes for a moment—felt the wind, the rush, the thrum of something wild and weightless. When the ride came to its dramatic, screeching halt and the vehicles coasted into the unloading bay, everyone was breathless. Hair askew. Eyes wide. Hearts pounding.
“Again,” Zander said immediately.
“No,” Darian said. “Ten more times.”
Sarah leaned back in her seat and grinned at the ceiling. “We lived.”
Lily exhaled. “Small miracle.” Garthan chuckled and hugged her.
The group disembarked, buzzing with post-ride adrenaline, filing back out into the crisp night. The park had begun to empty, but Tomorrowland still glowed—a futuristic dream half-asleep.
As they walked toward the exit, their chatter slowly softened, tapering into comfortable silence. Even Zander was quiet now, trailing slightly behind as he stared up at the stars.
When they reached the bridge over the Tomorrowland moat, Sarah paused, brushing hair from her face. “That,” she said softly, “was a perfect ending to the day.”
The others nodded in agreement, some too tired to speak.
As they continued toward the monorail station, Sarah glanced over her shoulder one last time. The castle stood illuminated in the distance, peaceful and glowing, like a promise still unfolding.
She smiled.
Then turned to follow her family.
-*-
Notes:
Right when my kids were getting old enough for thrill rides, I decided that Space Mountain was the perfect introduction. We waited in line, got belted in, started up the lift, and… CLANK. We ended up having to climb out of the car (which is situated much higher on the track than it looks) and walk down the scaffolding. Considering what daredevils they turned into when they became teenagers, I’m surprised this incident didn’t scar my girls for life. It certainly terrified me.
And while I briefly thought about putting the gang on the Matterhorn, that ride (at least in Disneyland California) is the most painful, skull-crushing, spine-jarring ride in the entire park. I have nothing good to say about it. Not one thing. I’m only glad that my kids eventually got old enough that I could just wait for them at the exit gate while they rode alone.
Chapter Text
Disney Hollywood Studios…
The cracked pavement of Sunset Boulevard shimmered in the morning heat as Garthan and Lily stood at the base of the Hollywood Tower Hotel. The building loomed like a relic from another world—aged stucco, flickering neon, and a shadow that stretched just a little too far.
Lily tilted her head, squinting up at the towering façade as eerie music drifted from hidden speakers. “That’s... taller than I thought,” she murmured, arms folded neatly. She wore crisp denim capris and a sky-blue blouse that looked like it had been ironed with magic.
Garthan, standing beside her in aviator sunglasses and a park-exclusive Indiana Jones shirt, grinned ear to ear. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I say that like it’s a vertical thing.”
He chuckled and offered his arm with mock gallantry. “Come now, my love. It’s merely a gentle drop. With a few ghosts. And possibly some light temporal dislocation.”
Lily hesitated. “How... gentle are we talking?”
He waggled his brows. “Depends on your definition of gravity.”
The line moved quickly. Inside, the musty lobby was exquisitely themed… layers of dust, cobwebs on antique chandeliers, faded luggage, and a sense that something had gone terribly wrong in 1939 and simply stayed that way. It brought back memories of watching the Twilight Zone marathon in Sarah’s apartment, so long ago.
As they entered the ride chamber, the Cast Member in bellhop attire delivered their instructions in a voice that could curdle cream.
Lily’s eyes narrowed. “They do commit to the bit.”
Moments later, they were strapped into their seats near the front of the elevator car. Lily’s posture was perfectly composed, hands folded over the safety bar. Garthan was practically vibrating with excitement.
“I’m going to love this ride,” he said, his grin almost feral. “Best simulated near-death experience in the park.”
“That is not a normal thing to love,” she muttered.
The elevator rose in silence, then jolted to a stop. A window opened to show the park far below them, and then—
Drop.
Scream.
The car plummeted, bounced, rose, and plummeted again in a chaotic rhythm that seemed specifically designed to make people scream all the louder.
When it finally came to a halt, the elevator doors opened with a hiss, revealing the offloading corridor bathed in golden light.
Lily sat frozen, hands still white-knuckled on the bar, hair slightly askew. Garthan turned to her with a wide grin, sunglasses now hanging by one ear.
“So?” he asked. “What did you think?”
She blinked. “I think my spleen is still somewhere on the third floor.”
Garthan laughed and offered her a hand. She took it, rising with the grace of a woman who had absolutely just questioned her life decisions and was trying not to show it.
“I believe,” she said carefully, “that I’ll be sticking to attractions where the floor doesn’t vanish beneath me.”
Garthan put his arm around her, pulling her close. “We’ll work up to the rollercoaster.”
“No,” she said flatly. “We will not.”
As they stepped out of the elevator and into the dim exit corridor, Garthan steered Lily—still visibly recovering—toward the nearby photo display wall, where monitors cycled through snapshots of recent riders frozen mid-scream.
“There we are!” he pointed triumphantly. “Row two. Look at that—textbook thrill.”
Lily squinted at the screen. In the photo, Garthan had his arms raised in gleeful defiance, grinning like a lunatic. Lily, by contrast, looked mid-hover—her eyes wide, one hand clutching the safety bar while the other attempted to keep her hair down.
“Delete it,” she said flatly.
“Oh, absolutely not.” Garthan was already at the kiosk. “This is a keepsake.”
He tapped through the options and purchased the digital copy, clearly delighted with himself.
“We’ll have it framed,” he added, “and hung in the war room.”
“Over my dead body,” Lily muttered.
“You already promised to haunt me,” he said slyly, sliding the receipt into his back pocket. “This is just part of the process.”
But as they stepped back into the sunlight, Lily gave him a reluctant smile—shaken, yes, but just a little proud of herself.
“Did you see my face?” Garthan asked. “I think I made the best face.”
“I saw something,” she replied. “It might’ve been a seizure.”
He threw his head back and laughed as they walked on, the Tower of Terror shrinking behind them—still tall, still haunted, and now firmly on Lily’s "once was enough" list.
-*-
The winding path through Galaxy’s Edge was bustling with guests, the air thick with the hum of droids and the scent of roasted meat from nearby food stalls. Massive stone outcroppings towered overhead, partially obscuring the gleaming metal spires of Resistance ships hidden in the forested outpost.
Jareth and Sarah walked hand in hand; their pace unhurried as they approached the entrance to Rise of the Resistance.
“I still can’t get over how much effort they put into this,” Sarah murmured, taking in the Resistance banners fluttering above the queue. “It’s like walking onto a movie set.”
“It’s more convincing than some kingdoms I’ve visited,” Jareth replied, eyes scanning the rusted scaffolding and blinking consoles.
They stepped into the cavernous queue, lit by panels of cool white light. Sarah leaned into him slightly as they passed flickering control terminals and walls etched with alien writing.
“So,” she said, “if we’re captured by the First Order, are you going to defect dramatically or talk your way out?”
“I’m going to assume command,” he said confidently. “They’ll never see it coming.”
Moments later, the pre-show began, and they were “briefed” by a Resistance officer on the upcoming mission. BB-8 rolled into view, chirping excitedly. Jareth raised an eyebrow. “That droid just outranked me.”
The group was “launched” into space and quickly captured, funneled into the bowels of a massive First Order Star Destroyer. Sarah caught Jareth’s expression as the doors opened to reveal a full hangar of stormtroopers lined in perfect formation, lit by cold white spotlights.
His lips parted slightly. “All right,” he whispered. “That’s impressive.”
Sarah smirked. “Told you.”
They were marched down the corridor by scowling Cast Members dressed as officers. Jareth leaned in towards Sarah, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “If I surrender now, do I still get dinner rations?”
Her lips twitched with the effort to keep from laughing.
They were separated and “interrogated,” though the staging made it clear this was still all part of the experience. When the Resistance broke them out and the ride began in earnest—whipping them through corridors, turbolifts, and simulated space battles—Sarah laughed aloud.
They zipped past AT-ATs, dodged blaster fire, and felt the floor shudder beneath them as a Star Destroyer began to collapse around them.
Jareth sat perfectly upright, one hand braced against the side of the ride vehicle, the other casually clutching Sarah’s. His expression was somewhere between delight and grudging admiration.
As they exited the ride, stepping into the warm sun of Batuu once again, Sarah exhaled deeply. “That was incredible,” she said, a spring in her step.
“I may redecorate,” Jareth replied. “That Star Destroyer aesthetic? Understated. Brutalist. Surprisingly effective.”
She snorted. “You are not redecorating my castle to look like the First Order.”
He looked thoughtful. “But Precious, all I need are some emotionless guards in plastic armor and a better lighting technician.”
Sarah let her scowl be her answer.
They strolled through the marketplace, past stalls selling robes and creature plushies. Sarah paused to peek at a rack of Resistance pins. “I could see you as a Rebel leader,” she said.
“I’m more of a diplomat now,” he replied. “But I do enjoy a good rebellion on occasion.”
She grinned and looped her arm through his. “Then come on, General Danaaru. Let’s find something to drink before we defect again.”
They wandered back toward the rest of the park, two conspirators in love, leaving a galaxy behind them—though Jareth looked back once at the looming spires, just long enough for Sarah to notice.
“You’re still thinking about it,” she said.
He didn’t even try to deny it. “Just imagine the throne room with black steel walls, glowing floor panels, ambient battle sounds… We could install retractable blast doors. Very dramatic.”
“Jareth,” Sarah said, giving him a warning look.
“Minimalist. Functional. Intimidating.”
“No.”
He leaned in, stage-whispering, “And a sliding door that hisses open when you enter—”
“No,” she said again, laughing. “If I walk into my dining hall and hear a TIE fighter scream, I’m turning the Ughlánas loose on it.”
He sighed theatrically. “For a human, you have no vision.”
“I do. It just doesn’t include industrial sci-fi chic and Force-themed sconces in my home.”
He looked at her with mock disappointment before raising a mischievous brow. “What if it was tasteful sci-fi chic?”
“Nope.”
“Just the hissing door?”
She paused. “Maybe. In your study.”
“Done.”
They continued walking, still laughing, as the towers of Batuu faded behind them and the familiar soundscape of Earthly theme park joy resumed.
-*-
Tremane and Helena stood at the foot of the Millennium Falcon, staring up at its weathered panels and blinking lights like pilgrims who had just reached the temple.
“Okay,” Helena said, shielding her eyes from the sun, “this is cool. I’ll give them that.”
Tremane gave a low whistle. “Cool? This is legendary. Look at her. That’s the Falcon.”
“It’s very... round.”
“It’s iconic.” He turned to her, grinning. “Come on, don’t make me revoke your nerd privileges.”
They followed the queue through dim corridors and smugglers' lounges, the air filled with the hum of hidden engines and alien chatter. When the Cast Member handed them their role cards—pilots—Tremane held his up like a trophy. “I knew it!”
Helena’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ve never driven anything but a horse.”
“A highly spirited warhorse, thank you. And she never once collided with a space station.”
“We haven’t taken off yet.”
They boarded the cockpit with four strangers filling the gunner and engineer seats. Tremane took the left side—controls for steering. Helena took the right—up and down and light speed.
“This can’t possibly go wrong,” she muttered as she buckled in.
“Just remember: when in doubt, punch it.”
The ride began with a burst of lights and sudden movement. They launched into hyperspace—and within thirty seconds, Tremane had sideswiped a space freighter.
“LEFT! You were supposed to go LEFT!”
“I did! That was my left—oh wait, no—”
Helena yanked the yoke, sending the Falcon careening upward. Sparks flew across the screen, alarms blared, and their gunners were yelling incomprehensibly from behind them.
“DID WE JUST HIT A MOUNTAIN?” she shouted.
“No, no—it’s fine—definitely fine—punch it again!”
She hit the light speed lever. The Falcon stuttered, screamed, then rocketed into hyperspace just as smoke filled the cockpit (safely simulated, of course).
By the time the ride ended, the ship was limping and their score was somewhere in the “maybe just stick to walking” range. As the lights came back up, Tremane turned to Helena, eyes gleaming.
“That,” he said, “was amazing.”
Helena looked at him in disbelief, then burst into laughter. “We are terrible pilots.”
“The worst.”
She shook her head, cheeks still flushed from the adrenaline. “I think we blew up a moon.”
“We might have freed a moon,” he said smugly. “Hard to say. But I think next time… you should drive.”
As they exited into the marketplace, they wandered past glowing lanterns and the gentle sound of alien music. It was late afternoon now, and the crowd had thinned slightly. Helena stopped to admire a display of painted droid figurines while Tremane examined a table of lightsabers.
Near one of the stalls, a trio of teenagers was huddled together, speaking in hushed tones just loud enough to overhear.
“...starts at eleven, but you have to come back in through the East gate. Just keep your wristband on, no problem.”
“Wait,” Tremane said, turning slightly. “Did they just say after-hours party?”
Helena looked interested despite herself. “That’s a thing?”
“Apparently,” he said, glancing at her sideways. “Want to check it out?”
“I don’t know...” She hesitated—but there was a spark in her eyes that gave her away. “We’d have to sneak out. Past the parents. Past the Ughlánas.”
“Which makes it... fun,” Tremane said. “Come on. Think about it. Late night, empty park, no lines, probably lights and music and dancing—”
“And more chances to crash expensive fake ships.”
“Exactly.”
Helena bit her lip. “We’ll get in trouble.”
He shrugged. “Only if we get caught.”
That made her laugh. “Okay. Maybe. If we can figure out how to sneak out without waking half the hotel.”
Tremane bumped her shoulder gently. “We’ll figure it out.”
Helena smiled. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s my best trait.”
They rejoined the others with matching grins and the air of two people with a plan they absolutely shouldn’t be making. But under the twin suns of Batuu and the glow of galaxy lights, it felt like the beginning of something adventurous.
And maybe just a little reckless.
-*-
Bright carnival lights danced overhead as Jacen and Madeline stepped into the line for Toy Story Midway Mania, the cheerful sounds of animated toys and popgun effects echoing through the air. The ride’s entrance was decked out like a giant toy box—oversized Scrabble tiles, building blocks, and Crayola rockets flanked the queue like sentries of nostalgia.
“I’m not saying I’m going to win,” Jacen said, “but I’ve been training for this moment since I first picked up a Nerf gun.”
Madeline raised a brow. “You do realize this is all digital, right?”
“Which means no ammo limit.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’m just warning you.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Well, try not to cry when I destroy your high score.”
As they entered the indoor portion of the line, where board games and tinker toys covered the walls like ancient murals, Jacen slowed slightly, falling into step beside her as the path wound through oversized playing cards.
“You sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked quietly. “We’ve been on our feet for a while.”
Madeline gave him a warm look. “Jacen, I’m pregnant. Not made of glass.”
“I know,” he said, sheepish. “I just don’t want you pushing yourself too hard.”
She squeezed his arm gently. “I promise, the second I need a break, you’ll be the first to know. Probably because I’ll start yelling.”
“That’s fair.”
They reached the loading platform, stepping into the ride vehicles shaped like giant carnival carts. Jacen helped Madeline settle in carefully before dropping into his own seat beside her, grabbing the pull-string shooter like it was an ancient weapon of war.
The cart lurched forward, and the first game began—ring toss. Digital ducks quacked. Balloons popped. Plates shattered. The ride was fast, colorful chaos, with Toy Story characters shouting encouragement while the carts spun and jerked between screens.
“Ha!” Madeline shouted as her score climbed.
Jacen fired back with a smirk. “You’re going down.”
“No way, boyo. I’m still beating you!”
“You’re inspiring me to try harder!”
By the time they hit the final round—bonus targets flying across the screen like bottle rockets—they were both laughing too hard to aim properly. The cart came to a gentle stop, and the final scores flashed up.
Madeline leaned over to inspect them. “Victory.”
Jacen sighed. “You will never let me forget this.”
“Never,” she agreed sweetly. “Maybe I’ll tell our new daughter about it. ‘Let me tell you about the time I bested your father in a plastic cart of chaos.’”
He chuckled, resting his arm across the back of her seat. “Well... if I had to lose to anyone...”
As they exited the ride, they paused by one of the colorful benches near a giant statue of Mr. Potato Head. Madeline sat for a moment, one hand resting lightly on her belly. “You know,” she said, gazing at the neon canopy of Toy Story Land, “when I was growing up in Solace, I used to dream about coming here.”
Jacen looked at her, his expression softening.
“I’d see photos in magazines or watch commercials on the pub TV. It felt like... this other world. Like a place that only existed for happy people.” She smiled, not sadly, just thoughtfully. “And now I’m here. With you.”
Jacen reached out and took her hand. “You deserve every happy world there is.”
She smiled. “We both do.”
A pause hung between them—quiet, content, full of possibility—before Madeline stood and dusted off her hands.
“Now,” she said, grinning, “where do we get funnel cake?”
“Somewhere very close,” Jacen replied, offering his arm like a dashing knight. “Your champion awaits.”
They walked off toward the snack carts, the hum of carnival music fading behind them, arm in arm.
-*-
The doors to Mickey and Minnie’s Runaway Railway slid open with a cheerful chime, and the group shuffled inside.
“I still can’t believe they took out the Great Movie Ride for this,” Anduin muttered, eyeing the Mickey-shaped overhead signage.
“Oh hush,” Erynne said, gently elbowing him. “Let the kids enjoy the living cartoon ride. You can mourn your black-and-white Casablanca later.”
Lillibet gasped as the loading platform came into view—bright colors, oversized gears, and an enormous smiling train engine all danced with animated cheer.
“I think the train is alive,” she whispered, awestruck.
Darian looked skeptical. “Alive how? Like... sentient? Because that’s horrifying.”
“It’s a cartoon, Darian,” Kris replied, already craning to see around the queue. “You’re not supposed to ask how it works. It just does.”
“Which is exactly why it’s terrifying.”
They boarded their open-air cars, settling in with only minor scrambling—Erynne managed to keep Lillibet beside her, while Anduin was wedged between the boys, who were already vibrating with anticipation. Then the ride began.
What followed could best be described as... animated anarchy.
The train cars separated immediately—Lillibet squealed in delight while Erynne’s laughter rang out beside her. The ride flung them through a whirlwind of cartoon scenes: stampeding cows, flooding subways, a flamenco-dancing Daisy Duck, and a volcano that somehow turned into a picnic.
At one point, the floor rumbled beneath them and Anduin’s car dropped an inch with a mechanical shudder.
“That’s not physics,” he muttered grimly.
“This is better than physics!” Kris shouted. Darian was holding onto the safety bar like he expected the entire thing to explode in confetti at any second.
When they finally coasted into the unloading platform, the group looked equal parts exhilarated and confused.
“What was that?” Anduin asked flatly, hair slightly askew.
“A fever dream,” Erynne said with a grin. “I loved it.”
“I think my socks are upside down now,” Darian mumbled.
“That,” Lillibet announced proudly, “was wonderful.”
Kris pointed toward the exit. “Do we get to ride through a tornado again?”
“Let’s let the world stop spinning first,” Anduin said, placing a steadying hand on Kris’s shoulder.
As they stepped outside into the mid-afternoon heat, a breeze drifted through, carrying with it the unmistakable aroma of wood smoke and sizzling meat. Darian’s head snapped around like a hunting hound. “Is that… smoked turkey?”
“Oh no,” Erynne said, already laughing. “I know that look.”
“Turkey legs!” Kris echoed, eyes widening. “The giant ones!”
Lillibet looked skeptical. “Those are bigger than my head.”
“Which means more for us!” Darian said. “Right, Dad?”
Anduin sighed. “Every time. It’s like a growth spurt triggering a homing instinct for protein.”
“He’s been this way since birth, and I lay the blame squarely at your feet. But he has a point, it’s time for lunch,” Erynne said, taking Lillibet’s hand. “I’m sure your metabolism can handle prehistoric bird limbs.”
They veered toward the nearest food stand, Kris and Darian already listing which sauces were best while Anduin counted how many napkins he could reasonably request without drawing attention.
As the group settled under a shady umbrella with their absurdly oversized meals, Anduin allowed himself a joyous smile.
Cartoon logic. Giant meat. Minor chaos.
Disney.
-*-
The covered bleachers of the Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular offered a welcome patch of shade as Randel and his brood filed into their row. Zander and Mikael immediately leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes fixed on the crumbling stone temple across the stage.
“This is going to be so cool,” Mikael whispered.
“Watch for the boulder,” Zander replied with the authority of someone who had seen exactly one YouTube clip.
Karina shook her head, amused, while Leianna adjusted her sunhat and climbed into Randel’s lap. He shifted to accommodate her, arm wrapping easily around her tiny form.
“Are you sure she’s going to like this?” Karina asked in a low voice.
“She’ll love it,” Randel said with quiet certainty. “It’s storytelling with explosions.”
At this, Karina snorted. “I mean, she is your daughter.”
The lights dimmed. Music swelled. And then — the temple scene exploded into action.
Indy ran across the stage, dodging arrows and leaping over pits. Fireballs erupted from hidden traps. The audience gasped as a massive stone boulder rolled toward him. Leianna squeaked, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.
But then... he dodged it. Just in time. Cheers erupted. Leianna’s hands moved back down. “He’s okay,” she said, her voice small and relieved.
Randel smiled. “He’s tough. Like you.”
The boys were on their feet by the finale, shouting and clapping as Indy swung from a rope and landed in a crouch surrounded by pyrotechnics.
“Best. Show. Ever.” Mikael declared, vibrating with adrenaline.
Zander nodded solemnly. “We’re definitely doing that in the backyard.”
“Absolutely not,” Karina said, without looking up from her map.
“Controlled explosions,” Randel offered. “We’ll make it educational.”
“No.”
Later, in the much cooler interior of the Hyperion Theater, the group settled in for the Frozen Sing-Along Celebration—a very different kind of epic.
The narrator-guides were ridiculous and hilarious. Karina was genuinely laughing by the time they introduced Anna and Elsa, and even Randel had to admit that the comedic bits were sharper than expected.
When the big number came—“Let It Go,” projected with swirling snow effects and dazzling lights—Leianna’s breath caught.
She didn’t sing at first. She just watched, wide-eyed, as Elsa raised her arms and the stage exploded with icy blue light and artificial snow drifting from above.
And then, slowly, Leianna began to sing along. Soft at first. Just a few words. But then louder. More confident.
By the end, she was singing as loudly as the rest of the kids in the theater, her voice ringing clear and sweet, clutching Randel’s hand tightly the whole time.
The show ended with confetti and cheers. As they rose from their seats, Mikael was still humming under his breath and Zander was already quoting jokes from the narrators.
“Hey,” said Mikael, a look of puzzlement on his face. “Am I the only one who thinks that Elsa looks like Aunt Aurelet?”
Zander looked at him with an expression of enlightenment on his face. “Yeah… you’re right. She does. And Aunt Erynne looks like Anna.”
Leianna tugged on Randel’s arm. “Do you think she really made the snow with her hands?”
“I think she made it with her heart,” he said.
Karina rolled her eyes affectionately. “You are such a sap.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll punch something later to balance it out.”
As they made their way out of the theater, the lingering glitter of artificial snow still clinging to Leianna’s curls, Karina glanced sideways and caught the expression on Randel’s face—just a flicker of something… unguarded.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
He nodded, swallowing once. “She’s just… so happy.”
Karina smiled, but before she could reply, he turned to her, voice casual—too casual.
“So,” he said lightly, “that whole ‘I’m a lightweight so I’m drinking ginger ale’ thing back at the suite. Was that really it? Or was it… something else you didn’t want to share with the crowd?”
She blinked once, surprised by the sudden shift, but understanding clicked almost instantly. Her steps slowed. “You mean—am I sure that I’m not pregnant?”
Randel didn’t respond directly, just looked ahead, hands casually tucked into his pockets, as if the answer didn’t matter. But the slight furrow in his brow told her otherwise.
She touched his arm, smiling gently. “I’m sure, love. I’m not pregnant.”
His face remained neutral, but she caught the faintest trace of disappointment in his aura, the way he nodded a second too late.
For a moment, it surprised her, knowing how resistant to the idea of parenthood he was at the beginning of their relationship. Having Zander and Leianna had certainly changed his attitude. Karina leaned over and kissed his cheek, then lingered near his ear. “But it’s bound to happen eventually.”
He turned to look at her then, his expression softer, warmer.
She raised an eyebrow. “So... would you want another girl or another boy?”
Randel’s smile bloomed slowly, deep and real. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll take whatever Danu decides to gift us with.”
Karina slid her hand into his. “That,” she murmured, “was the perfect answer.”
Ahead of them, Leianna was still skipping, her arms held out like wings, singing softly under her breath.
Randel gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, all was quiet between them—just two parents walking through the most magical place on Earth, thinking of futures they hadn’t quite spoken aloud.
They moved off toward the next adventure, the last sparkles of snow still clinging to Leianna’s hair and a little bit of magic still hanging in the air.
-*-
As the sun dipped low over Hollywood Studios, casting long golden rays across the pavement and turning the buildings into silhouettes from another time, the family slowly began to drift back together. Some returned buzzing with excitement, others with tired smiles and popcorn dust on their shirts. They talked of turkey legs and toy lightsabers, sunhats and souvenir pins, and more than a few quiet glances were exchanged—between parents, between partners, between kids who were growing up just a little more with each ride. Magic had been made that day—not just the kind with fireworks or animatronics, but the kind that slipped in unnoticed, settling gently between heartbeats.
Tomorrow would bring more adventures, but for now, they were simply together.
And that was enough.
-*-
Notes:
I thought it was cute, that the one guy who absolutely, positively, didn’t want to be a father would end up disappointed that his third kid wasn’t on the way. Randel has certainly become domesticated since ‘The Magic of You’.
While technically, Aurelet and Erynne are not 'Aunts' to Zander and Mikael, back in my day, you addressed your parents' close friends as 'Aunt' and 'Uncle', at least until you reached adulthood, where you were then free to address them by their first names. I figured that given the convoluted familial relationships between the kids; the Goblins would do the same thing.
Just a quick reminder… there is a home theater up at the Estates, which is why these guys know the movies. They’ve seen them. It might have seemed jarring that the Othánas would be so familiar with human cinema, but they regularly go to the Estates for ‘movie night’. It was a tradition started by Sarah back in ‘Kingdom’, and the home theater at the Estates was her idea.
And while ‘Small World’ is the most notorious Disney song ever to be implanted in someone’s brain, my personal nemesis was ‘Let it Go’. Like millions of other parents, I had taken my kids to see ‘Frozen’ in the theater and loved the movie. I even liked the song.
At first.
Then, a curious thing happened. Everywhere I went (and I do mean everywhere), kids would be singing this song. I have very sensitive ears, and it is a rare singer indeed that can sing a song ‘a Capelo’ without making me shiver in revulsion. There was no escape… even the line at the grocery store had at least one kid singing the song. My stepdaughter (who used to torment me with singing ‘Once Upon a Dream’ from Sleeping Beauty) called me shortly after the release of Frozen, to apologize profusely for torturing my ears back when she was a kid. Apparently, her daughters were repaying her in spades for the torment she put me through by singing ‘Let it Go’. Constantly.
Let it go…… let it go….
Can’t hear this song anymooooore…
Let it go…… let it go….
Slam my head into the dooooor…
Chapter Text
It was quiet.
The kind of stillness unique to late hours in a place that had spent all day humming with laughter and life. The Grand Floridian, regal even in silence, had settled into a hushed calm—distant elevator chimes, the soft whoosh of air vents, the muffled roll of a luggage cart somewhere far off.
In the darkness of the suite, Jareth’s eyes opened.
He lay still for a moment, listening. Nothing stirred. No voices. No footsteps. Not even the rustle of sheets from Sarah’s side of the bed, where she still slept deeply, one hand curled under her cheek.
And yet… something pulled at him.
It wasn’t a sound. Not a dream. Just a sense—a tightness just behind his ribs, ancient and instinctive. The same sense that had guided him through battlefields and political halls, through the birth of his children and the long silences of waiting.
He rose without a sound, pulling on a black dressing robe and slipping barefoot through the suite. The carpeting muffled his steps. Moonlight slanted in through the balcony doors, casting long silver lines across the plush furniture.
He paused first at the makeshift sleep-nest where the Ughlánas were curled up in a happy, tangled pile of blankets and pillows. Peet was snoring softly, an oversized plushie clutched in one arm. Tippy lay sprawled sideways across two cushions like a cat, her sparkly sunglasses perched lopsided on her face.
He checked the small side rooms—Mikael, fast asleep with his Buzz Lightyear tucked under one arm. Kris, Darian, and Zander, all limp with exhaustion, tangled in the sheets like they'd been fighting in their dreams.
Then he turned toward the hallway that led to the other bedroom. Helena’s door was cracked open.
Jareth frowned. He knocked softly—once, twice—and pushed it open.
The room was empty. The bed was made. Not just unrumpled—untouched.
A flash of something sharp gripped his chest. Not panic. Not yet. But it hovered near.
He stepped inside, scanning. No note. No signs of hurried exit. Just absence. She hadn’t come back to sleep. He turned sharply, jaw tightening.
And that’s when he saw Zee—sitting on the back of the settee in the sitting room, cross-legged, a cup of something that steamed faintly in his hands.
“I was wondering when you’d notice,” Zee said, voice quiet but not surprised.
Jareth narrowed his eyes. “Where is she?”
Zee sipped. “She and Tremane went out.”
Jareth’s tone dropped several degrees. “Out. Where?”
Zee didn’t flinch. “To an after-hours party. Hollywood Studios.”
Jareth’s fingers curled into a fist at his side. “You let them—”
Zee raised a calming hand. “No. We let them think they snuck out. They’re being followed. Willie, Yorg, and Noola are on them. They’re keeping just out of sight. No danger, no trouble.”
Jareth’s expression didn’t soften. “You should have told me.”
Zee gave a mild shrug. “You were asleep. If I woke you, I’d be waking Queenie too. And we all know what happens then. Better to keep an eye on them and tell you in the morning.”
Jareth couldn't argue with that. The silence that followed was heavy—not angry, but weighted with the weight only a parent could feel. That teetering edge between they’re probably fine and I need to go get them right now.
Jareth turned toward the suite’s outer door just as a quiet knock sounded from the other side. The knock was soft, almost tentative, but in the quiet of the suite it struck like a hammer. Jareth crossed to the door in two long strides, pulling it open.
Garthan stood in the hallway, rumpled and barefoot, dressed in a plain black tee and sleep pants. His usually immaculate hair was sticking out in ways like he’d fought the pillow and lost. He looked tired, but alert—something in his expression told Jareth this wasn’t a coincidence.
“I assume you’re up because you noticed too,” Jareth said, stepping aside to let him in.
Garthan entered with a nod, casting a glance around the dim suite. “Tremane’s bed hasn’t been touched. I thought maybe he’d come here to…”
“Spend time with Helena,” Jareth finished grimly. “She’s gone, too.”
Garthan stopped mid-step, shoulders stiffening. “He left with her?”
Zee raised a hand from the arm of the settee, where he still perched like a lounging cat. “They’re at an after-hours party in the park. Willie, Yorg, and Noola are shadowing them. They’re safe.”
Garthan turned toward him slowly. “You let them sneak out of the hotel?”
“We let them think they snuck out,” Zee corrected with a roll of his eyes. “There’s a difference. No one is more invested in their safety than we are. We’ve got eyes on them.”
“That’s not the same as permission,” Jareth muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the edge of the kitchen island. “Or accountability.”
Garthan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why I’m surprised…” He sighed deeply. “This is exactly the sort of stunt he pulls when he’s trying to impress someone.”
Jareth gave a quiet huff of agreement. “Karina tried something like this when she was about Helena’s age. Slipped out to meet her friends in the Market District. Sarah found out the next morning. She ended up grounding Karina for a week.”
“Did she?” Garthan asked, his voice a mix of amusement and dread.
“And it didn’t go over well,” Jareth said. “I still have the memory of it. Felt like the castle dropped a few degrees.”
Garthan gave a low whistle. “And here we are. History repeats.”
“Helena is ten times as confrontational as Karina ever was,” Jareth added. “Which is why I haven’t woken Sarah yet.”
Garthan exhaled and dropped into a chair. “Anduin and Aurelet? Easy. Sensible. Responsible.” He shook his head. “Then came Tremane. Mischief and wildfire in boots.”
Jareth offered a dry smile. “Your son’s sense of mischief mixed with my daughter’s folly-driven courage. May the gods help us all.”
That drew a weak chuckle from Garthan—fatigue worn thin by affection and worry.
At that moment, another soft knock sounded at the main door. Garthan rose and pulled it open a bit. Randel’s head appeared, bleary-eyed but curious.
“I heard voices,” he said. “Figured I’d come see what the old men’s club was up to.”
“Perfect timing,” Jareth muttered. “We’ve just reached the part where we question our past decisions and contemplate drinking.”
“Then let me join in,” Randel said, padding barefoot into the room. “It’s tradition, after all.”
He pulled up a stool beside the bar, and Jareth quietly retrieved glasses and a bottle of dark amber liquor from a high cabinet. The room, lit only by the glow of a distant lamp and the faint shimmer of the resort lights outside the balcony doors, settled into an uneasy, unspoken rhythm.
Three fathers.
Three versions of worry.
Three lives lived long enough to know that every new generation brings its own kind of storm.
Jareth slid three glasses across the bar, the amber liquid catching the light as it swirled into crystal. The men clinked their glasses with the quiet solemnity of people who had fought both monsters and toddlers and still didn’t know which was worse.
“So,” Randel said, leaning back slightly, “what’s the late-night meeting about?”
Garthan gave a tired grunt. “Your niece and my son snuck out of the hotel.”
Randel blinked. “Tremane and… Helena?”
Jareth gave a terse nod. “After-hours party. Hollywood Studios.”
Randel’s eyebrows rose. “Ballsy.”
“Idiotic,” Garthan corrected. “They snuck right out of their rooms, probably thought they were being clever. Zee tells us they’re being shadowed by Willie, Yorg, and Noola.”
“Still,” Randel said, shaking his head. “That’s bold. Or reckless.”
“Both,” Jareth muttered. He took a long sip, then glanced into the glass like it held answers. “I can’t help but think back to all the worrying that Momma used to do… when we were out in the field.” He paused, grimacing. “I guess I’m being paid back for every white hair I gave her.”
Randel smirked. “Aren’t we all.”
“We used to vanish for days,” Garthan admitted. “Sneaking into Fae war camps. Fighting their hunting parties. It barely got my heart rate up. Now? I lose track of Tremane for fifteen minutes and my stomach knots.”
Jareth raised his glass. “To karma.”
They drank.
Randel laughed into his cup. “At least I know what’s coming. Zander’s already trying to build a trebuchet in our garden.”
Jareth chuckled. “He’ll be catapulting squirrels by summer.” Sarah’s voice echoed briefly in his mind… something about how boys never outgrew the desire to launch things through the air. “Why do they do it?” he muttered.
“Because we did,” Randel replied. “And we survived.”
“Helena and Tremane are different, though,” Garthan said quietly. “They’re not just kids acting out. She’s his heart-mate. And whether either of them realizes it or not, he’s already bound himself to her.”
Jareth rubbed his jaw. “Then he’d better start acting like it.”
The room fell into silence as the three men became lost in their thoughts, drinks half-finished and conversation drifting toward memory.
Then—pop.
Willie appeared near the wet bar, slightly breathless and smelling faintly of sugar and citrus. “Don’t panic,” he said immediately, which of course caused all three men to stiffen in unison.
Jareth was on his feet in an instant. “Why would I panic, Willie?”
“Because you’re you,” Willie said mildly. “And because I’ve come to report a small amount of trouble. Emphasis on small.”
Garthan was already standing too. “Where are they?”
“On their way back,” Willie said quickly. “We didn’t lose them, Yorg and Noola are right behind them. They’re both okay. But... there was an incident.”
Jareth’s voice dropped into something cold and commanding. “Explain.”
Willie cleared his throat and pulled himself onto one of the bar stools. “Hellie was approached by a group of teenage boys near the bathroom. They were trying to get her attention. Seemed harmless at first. She ignored them until one of them decided to get handsy.”
Jareth’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the bar.
“We were moving in,” Willie continued, “but before we could even reach them… Tre reacted. Fast. Took down two of them, then shoved the head of the one that grabbed Hellie into the wall of the bathroom.”
“He attacked them?” Jareth asked, voice tight.
“He protected her,” Willie corrected firmly. “Didn’t escalate. Just... ended it. No lasting harm. Just dropped his glamor for a few seconds and growled. The punk that grabbed Hellie crapped himself. And honestly? It was beautiful. He looked like a young Garth, when Garth is pissed.” He glanced at Garthan with a smirk. “Like now.”
Garthan opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. “What happened after?”
“They left right after. No confrontation with park staff. No injury reports. Noola cloaked the area before security arrived. She’s kept them in sight since. They’ll be here in twenty, maybe thirty minutes.”
Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. “And Helena?”
“Unharmed,” Willie said quickly. “Annoyed. Not at Tre—at the boys. She called one of them a ‘cheese-brained tourist peacock.’ I wrote it down. Might embroider it later.”
Randel stifled a chuckle. Garthan did not.
“But she’s alright?” Zee asked from his perch on the settee.
“Shaken, maybe. But proud of him. She’s sticking close to his side.”
Jareth finally nodded. “Thank you, Willie.”
Willie beamed. “I’ll go watch the lobby. They’ll try to sneak in quiet.”
“I’m sure they will,” Jareth muttered.
“Let me guess,” Randel said. “You’re planning to wait for them in the dark?”
“Oh, we’re doing better than that,” Garthan replied, already standing.
Jareth gave a grim smile. “We’re going to his suite and having a little talk with Tremane.” He turned to address Zee. “Don’t let her know that we’ve caught her. Let her get to her room and think she’s pulled one over on us. For now.”
Randel raised his glass in farewell. “I’d wish you luck, but I think he’ll need it more.”
Willie popped away in a swirl of air and smug anticipation.
-*-
Tremane eased the door open with a caution honed from years of sneaking around the castle halls and dodging Ughlánas. He slipped inside like a shadow, soft-footed, eyes scanning for movement. He was almost to his bedroom door when—
Click.
A lamp flared to life. Garthan sat in the armchair, elbows on his knees, his gaze sharp and furious. Jareth stood near the window, arms crossed, partially shadowed. His presence was less theatrical, but no less imposing.
Tremane froze. Completely. “Oh...”
“Sit,” Garthan said, his voice like a hammer wrapped in velvet.
Tremane sat.
The silence that followed was long and heavy. Jareth didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His silence was a weight all its own.
Garthan finally broke it. “You took her.”
Tremane opened his mouth, but Garthan raised a hand. “You took her,” he repeated, voice tight, “out of this suite. Out of safety. In the middle of the night. Without telling anyone.”
“I—”
“No.” Garthan’s voice sharpened. “You decided. You didn’t ask. You didn’t think. You decided that sneaking Helena out to a park filled with strangers, without security and without anyone else knowing, was a good idea.”
“She wanted to go,” Tremane said quickly. “It was just a party—”
“And when someone grabbed her?” Garthan cut in, eyes narrowing. “When she was in danger—what then?”
Tremane flinched. “I stopped them. I didn’t let—”
“That’s not the point,” Jareth said, quiet and cold.
Tremane turned toward him.
“You didn’t just risk yourself,” Jareth continued. “You risked her. Her safety. Her dignity. Her trust. You are her heart-mate, Tremane. You are bound to her, even if she doesn’t know it yet. That means her well-being is yours to protect. You don’t get to make selfish decisions anymore.”
“I wasn’t being selfish,” Tremane protested, voice cracking slightly. “I just—I thought it would be fun. I didn’t think—”
“Exactly,” Garthan snapped. “You didn’t think.”
Tremane’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t mean to put her in danger.”
“But you did,” Jareth said.
Silence stretched between them again. Tremane looked down at his hands, twisting them once in his lap before looking back up at Jareth. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice raw. “To both of you. I swear—I’ll never do anything like that again. Not if it means risking her. Not ever.”
Jareth studied him for a long moment, unreadable. Then he nodded once. “Good.”
Tremane looked over at his father. Garthan still looked grim, but the fire in his eyes had cooled to something more reflective. “You scared me tonight, son. Not just because you snuck out. Not just because of what happened. But because you forgot what it means to love someone more than you love yourself.”
Tremane’s shoulders slumped even further. Garthan leaned forward slightly, hands clasped between his knees, voice low and steady. “And if things had gone differently—if one of those boys had done more than just touch? If one of them had been armed? If you’d hesitated for even a second?” His jaw tightened. “We could have lost her. We could have lost you both.”
Tremane looked up sharply.
“That’s what you’re not understanding yet,” Garthan continued. “Her safety is your safety. Your life is bound to hers. When you chose to bring her into that situation, you weren’t just gambling with her safety—you were gambling with your own. With your mother’s peace. With my sanity. And with that of her parents.”
Tremane opened his mouth, but Garthan held up a hand. “And if you truly want to be worthy of the bond you share—if you want her to look at you in the next century and say, ‘Yes, I choose him’—then you cannot show her that you’re willing to risk her. Not ever.”
Tremane swallowed, his throat tight.
“She might not see it that way now,” Garthan said. “She’s young. She feels invincible. She trusts you, and she believes you’d never let anything happen to her. But one day, she’ll look back on this night. And she’ll remember how you chose the thrill over caution. How you thought you knew better. And when she’s weighing your worth as a mate, she won’t just be thinking about herself.”
His voice softened, but the steel remained. “She’ll be thinking about the children you’ll have. The ones she’d be entrusting to you. So ask yourself—if she can't trust you to do what’s in her best interest now, what makes you think she’ll trust you with them later?”
The words hit like a blow—not cruel, but heavy with truth.
Tremane looked down at his hands. He was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady. “I understand. I do. I wasn’t thinking about all that… but I will now.” He looked up at his father, then at Jareth. “I swear to you both. I’ll never act so recklessly again. Not with her. Not with anyone.”
Jareth watched him a moment longer, then gave a slow nod. “Good,” he said as he moved away from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “I suggest we keep this to ourselves. We don’t need the drama that will mar this vacation if Helena gets punished for her little adventure. She doesn’t even need to know that we’ve had this… discussion.”
Tremane swallowed hard and nodded. “I understand, Sire. I won’t tell her. And… thank you.”
Jareth exhaled slowly and turned toward the door. “I suppose it could’ve been worse.”
“How?” Tremane asked warily.
Jareth gave him a faint smirk. “Sarah could’ve been the one to find out.”
Tremane visibly paled. “Oh no.”
Garthan let out a breath of laughter. “You think I’m scary? Try facing the Queen when she’s angry with you. Let alone what your own mother would do to you if she found out.”
Tremane groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
“Let this be your warning,” Jareth said, stepping into the hallway. “Don’t ever give me a reason to deceive my wife on your behalf again.”
“Y-yes, sire.”
The door clicked shut behind him. Garthan stood slowly, ruffling his son’s hair once before heading to his own room.
Tremane stayed there for a moment longer, sitting in silence in the darkened living room—chastised, sobered, and very aware that he’d just taken his first step out of boyhood.
-*-
Notes:
This is the incident that Helena recalls to herself, back in ‘Shadow of the Vale’. And because of the drama from when Karina got busted (back in ‘Always’), Jareth figured it was best to just let it lie, once Tremane had been properly chastised. It was also the reason why Zee didn’t wake Jareth immediately. He didn’t want to take a chance on waking Sarah too.
And while it might seem odd that they were so angry at Tremane and Helena going off by themselves, especially since they’ve been allowed to at all the parks so far, it should be remembered that the Ughlánas are trailing them for security reasons the whole time (notice that when Erynne and Madeline sat out the Space Mountain ride, Zee and Tippy made sure to accompany them). Instead of simply asking to go to the party, the kids snuck off without telling anyone (and had no idea the Ughlánas had sniffed out what was going on). That was what was so dangerous… going off by themselves without anyone knowing and no security. While things with the Fae are quite tranquil at the moment, Jareth is still wary of his family members being Above without being properly guarded (which is smart, in my opinion).
While most human men have an instinctive desire to protect women, this instinct is extremely strong in Othánas men, especially when it comes to their heart-mates. And while it might seem overbearing to a human woman, an Othánas woman would see it very differently. They would look at it with an eye towards whether the man was trustworthy enough for the responsibility of family. Someone who was more interested in thrills than the possible danger to his heart-mate would be looked at with skepticism.
That line Jareth used about deceiving Sarah was one my father used on me when he busted me after a similar escapade. After getting quite the lecture (and coming from a man who embodied Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry, it was terrifying) that was exactly what he told me before shooing me off to bed. Mom never knew, and I never gave him a reason to hide anything from her on my behalf again.
Chapter Text
Animal Kingdom…
The early morning sun filtered through the canopy as the open-air safari truck rumbled across the dusty trail, swaying gently with each bump and dip in the earth. The sounds of Animal Kingdom faded behind them, replaced by the quiet rustle of tall grasses and the distant cry of birds on the wind.
Lily sat beside Garthan, her posture graceful even in the lurching vehicle. She wore a wide-brimmed hat that cast soft shadows across her face, and her eyes moved slowly across the landscape—watching, absorbing.
Garthan leaned back in his seat, arms draped over the back of the bench, one foot planted firmly against the floor to brace against the movement. He’d been the one to suggest the safari. “We’ve been going non-stop,” he’d said. “Let’s do something that doesn’t involve screaming or track restraints.”
Lily hadn’t argued. Now, she was glad he’d made the suggestion.
Their guide, a cheerful woman with a lilting accent, pointed out animals as they passed—antelopes grazing near the trees, zebras crossing the dusty trail, a pair of rhinos wallowing contentedly in a muddy pool.
Then the truck crested a gentle hill, and before them stretched a wide-open savanna.
Giraffes ambled slowly across the grass, elegant and unhurried. Elephants flapped their ears lazily as they moved through tall grass. Wildebeests grazed in the golden light, distant and peaceful. Everything moved as though the world had been dialed down to a slower rhythm.
Lily inhaled softly, not realizing until that moment how tightly her shoulders had been held. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
Garthan turned his head slightly. “Yeah. It really is.”
She was quiet for a long moment, watching the giraffes move in that strange, graceful way that seemed to defy gravity. The truck rumbled slowly past a small watering hole, where a trio of hippos dozed half-submerged. Overhead, a bright blue bird darted from branch to branch, its feathers catching the light like bits of flying gemstone.
Lily followed its path with her eyes, then spoke softly, “It’s strange, isn’t it? There’s so little magic on Earth compared to the Underground… and yet—” she gestured to the savanna with her free hand, “this feels like something out of a dream.”
Garthan nodded. “No sorcery. No enchantments. And still, you’ve got creatures taller than houses, birds that wear sunlight, and a sky that stretches forever.”
Lily smiled, the corners of her mouth soft. “It’s not the kind of magic we know. But it’s still magic.”
“Older magic,” Garthan said. “The kind that never needed a spell to work. Just time. Patience. And enough stubborn life to say, ‘I’ll grow here anyway.’”
They fell into silence again, but it was a warm, companionable silence, one born of shared understanding. Around them, the Earth breathed. Trees swayed. Herds wandered. Somewhere distant, something large let out a deep-throated call.
Garthan glanced at her again, quietly grateful. Not just for the moment, but for her. For this rare stillness between heartbeats. The truck rolled on, the sun rising higher. Flamingos stood on one leg in the shallows. A lioness yawned atop a warm rock, her cubs curled beside her like shadows.
No one spoke for a while. They didn’t need to.
By the time the truck turned back toward civilization, Lily was leaning against Garthan’s shoulder, their joined hands resting quietly between them.
-*-
The mountain loomed above them, jagged and snow-capped despite the Florida sun.
Expedition Everest twisted and curled through its peaks like a silver thread, the telltale clatter of coaster cars echoing off painted stone. Tourists streamed around the base, necks craned, phones raised.
Sarah stood with her hands on her hips, sunglasses pushed into her hair, studying the track. “Are you sure your back can take this?” she teased, elbowing Jareth. “You’re older than you look, remember.”
“I’ve survived battlefields and parenthood,” he replied dryly. “I think I can handle a glorified mine cart.”
She gave him a sidelong smirk. “When you rode the Matterhorn, you winced for the rest of the night.”
“I was being theatrical.”
“Of course you were.”
They joined the line, weaving through temple ruins and expedition gear, past prayer flags that fluttered in the breeze. A carved statue of the Yeti loomed over them from an alcove, mouth frozen mid-roar. Sarah paused to take a selfie with it, sticking her tongue out while Jareth looked on with patient amusement.
“I like him,” she said, reviewing the picture. “Misunderstood. Fluffy.”
“He looks like he eats people.”
“Only the rude ones.” She looked at the little screen on the camera, frowning in thought. “I never realized… Ludo looks a lot like a Yeti. Only… red. And sweet.”
“He is a Yeti, Sarah.” At her wide-eyed look, he continued. “I don’t know if they came over during the Sundering and some stayed behind. Or if they’re just a type of Yeti that evolved concurrently in the Underground. But that’s what he is. The ones that live higher up in the mountains have white fur, yes. And they’re just as peaceful as Ludo. I’m sorry… I thought you knew.”
“No, but it makes sense, I guess. I mean, the Boys ran into an Underground version of Bigfoot, so it stands to reason that Yetis would be found Below too.”
They boarded the coaster near the back—Sarah insisted it had the best drop—and strapped in. As the ride began its slow clack-clack climb, Jareth cast her a sideways glance.
“You know,” he said, “I could summon a snowstorm and a real mountain if you wanted the full experience.”
The cars crested the first peak—and plunged.
Wind whipped past them. The track twisted through tunnels, into darkness, and then abruptly stopped at the broken rails high above the gorge. A beat. Then the car launched backward into the dark.
Jareth laughed.
An actual, unfiltered laugh—sharp, boyish, loud. It burst out of him between twists and drops, unexpected and utterly delighted. Sarah turned her head mid-scream, just to see it.
When the ride ended, and they staggered out onto the platform, her cheeks were flushed and her grin wide. Jareth was still smoothing back his hair, the last trace of laughter hanging around his mouth.
“You needed that,” she said, squeezing his arm.
He looked at her. “I need you. The coaster was just a bonus.”
She snorted. “That’s your line now?”
He shrugged. “You inspired it.”
They stepped off the platform, weaving back into the flow of foot traffic. Somewhere behind them, another train of riders crested the peak and screamed. Sarah reached over and took his hand without a word.
And in the space between rides, amid thousands of strangers, there was no kingdom, no crown, no pressing matters. Just two people who had never stopped being each other’s greatest adventure.
-*-
Pandora was otherworldly even by Underground standards.
Bioluminescent vines twisted along rock formations. Massive, floating mountains hung in the sky, seemingly defying gravity. The air shimmered with color and sound that didn’t quite match Earth—or any realm either of them had known.
Tremane and Helena stood in the queue for Flight of Passage, moving slowly past glowing displays and softly humming machinery. The ground pulsed faintly beneath their feet. Around them, the illusion of alien jungle wrapped them in layered light and mist.
“This is insane,” Tremane whispered, craning his neck to stare at a massive banshee skeleton suspended overhead.
Helena didn’t answer right away. Her arms were crossed, but her expression wasn’t skeptical… it was reverent.
“It’s… beautiful,” she murmured. “It doesn’t even feel like a ride. It feels like a ceremony.”
He turned toward her. “You okay?”
She hesitated. “I’m just… not used to feeling so… small.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t tease her. He just nodded, quietly.
They were guided into the ride chamber, fitted into their link chairs like they were strapping into some ancient rite. The Cast Member explained the neural syncing process, the breath-through-your-nose safety speech—none of which either teen was listening to very closely.
The lights dimmed. Then, a flash of light, and the world changed.
They were flying.
Soaring over a landscape of floating cliffs, crystal-clear oceans, vast stretches of jungle alive with motion and color. The banshee beneath them moved with every breath—wings beating powerfully, body flexing with each swoop and dive.
Wind rushed past their faces. Water misted across their cheeks. The banshees breathed beneath them. Laughed. Responded.
Helena gasped when they banked hard over a waterfall, and Tremane’s hand found hers in the dark—without thinking, without hesitation.
She squeezed back.
By the time the flight ended and the lights returned, neither of them moved right away. They sat in stunned silence, hearts pounding, still holding hands.
When they finally stepped off the platform, it took them a moment to find their voices again.
“That was…” Helena shook her head. “I don’t even have a word for that.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, their hands still loosely clasped, the air alive with the soft bioluminescent glow of Pandora’s forest. Overhead, glowing vines swayed gently in the artificial breeze, as if the planet itself were breathing with them. Helena glanced skyward, watching a mechanical banshee silhouette glide across the projected sky.
“I get it now,” she said quietly.
Tremane looked over.
“Flying,” she clarified. “The males’ owl forms. I used to think it was just some flashy display of magic and ego. But up there…” She gestured vaguely behind them, where the ride still hummed with another group of passengers. “That freedom. That sense of flight… it was like the world let go of you for a moment and trusted you to soar.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it feels like.”
She gave him a wistful smile. “I’ll never get to do it for real, though. Not like you do.”
Tremane didn’t speak right away. When he did, his voice was low and thoughtful. “No. You won’t.” He paused, then turned toward her more fully. “But you have something else. Something I’ll never have.”
Helena blinked, surprised.
“You have the gift of life,” he said. “Not just bearing it—but restoring it. Healing. Nurturing. Creating. My wings can carry me across a battlefield. Yours can carry a soul into the world. Or call one back from the edge of the abyss.”
She stared at him, caught off guard by the depth of his words.
He shrugged, a little self-conscious now. “I’m just saying… wings are flashy. But what you carry? It changes everything. It touches everyone. That’s the kind of power that doesn’t fade when the feathers fall.”
Helena swallowed once, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You’re not always an idiot,” she whispered.
He grinned. “I have my moments.”
They continued down the glowing path, and though her feet were on the ground, something in Helena’s gaze suggested she was still flying—just in a different way. Tremane watched her out of the corner of his eye. The way she held her shoulders a little higher now. The thoughtful stillness in her expression. The fire that never left her but had settled into something steadier—like a lantern instead of a flame.
“I’ll always make sure you have room,” he said suddenly.
She turned to look at him, her brow raised.
He met her gaze. “To spread your wings. Even if they’re not the kind that lift you off the ground.”
Helena’s lips parted slightly, something like surprise flashing through her eyes. But before she could reply, he added—quietly this time, more solemnly: “I’m sorry.”
She tilted her head. “Tremane, you don’t have to—”
“I do.” His voice was firm, but not harsh. “I tempted you to sneak out. I made it feel like an adventure. Like something thrilling and harmless. But it wasn’t going to the party that put you in danger, it was how I went about it. Sneaking. Hiding. If something worse had happened...”
He trailed off, jaw clenched. She didn’t interrupt.
“I exposed you to danger,” he said finally. “And I’ll never do that again. Not ever. Not even by accident. You mean too much to me to treat your safety like an afterthought.”
Helena’s expression shifted and softened. There was still that spark of steel that was always behind her eyes, but now it mingled with something else. Something older. Quieter. She didn’t speak right away. Just watched him. And then… a look. Part respect. Part affection. And part something deeper, still unfolding.
Love.
She reached for his hand again, not with the quick eagerness of a girl caught up in a moment, but with the steady, sure touch of someone who chose. He laced his fingers through hers.
They walked together into the glowing night of Pandora, hand in hand, the alien beauty around them a perfect mirror of something still blooming between them: uncertain, wild, and utterly real.
-*-
The air inside the Harambe Theater buzzed with anticipation—drums thumped rhythmically from unseen speakers, and the vibrant colors of woven tapestries and animal carvings glowed under the soft lighting. Jacen and Madeline slid into their seats near the middle section, just in time for the show to begin.
Madeline settled in with a soft sigh, resting her hands on the slight curve of her stomach. Jacen glanced at her sideways, just long enough to make sure she looked comfortable.
“You good?” he whispered.
She smiled at him. “I’m sitting down, in the shade, and about to be serenaded by singing warthogs. I’m great.”
Jacen chuckled. “It was really nice of Anduin and Erynne to take Mikael today. Same way Randel and Karina scooped him up yesterday.”
“I know,” Madeline said, her smile deepening. “Erynne told me—very gently—that our days of quiet together are numbered. She said we better take the peace while we can still hear ourselves think.”
Jacen gave a mock solemn nod. “Wise words.”
“She also reminded me that once this baby comes, we’ll need a spreadsheet just to schedule alone time.”
“I’ve already started drafting one,” Jacen deadpanned.
Madeline laughed quietly, her fingers brushing over the fabric of her sundress. “Still, it’s nice. Just… being. Here. With you.”
Jacen took her hand and gently pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“Always,” he murmured.
The lights dimmed.
From the moment the performers burst onto the stage—spinning, leaping, calling out across the crowd—the entire room came alive. Dancers in animal regalia whirled like windblown banners, puppeteered creatures swayed to the beat, and the fire-juggler earned a collective gasp that rippled through the children in the audience like a wave of electricity. Then came the music.
🎵 “He lives in you…” 🎵
As the voices rose, layered and echoing, calling across generations, Madeline glanced over at Jacen, her smile faltering for just a heartbeat. His eyes had misted over as the chorus swelled, and she instinctively squeezed his hand.
Jacen felt it and turned slightly in his seat, leaning toward her. “One day,” he murmured, “we’ll bring her here. Our daughter. And the child that comes after. We’ll sit right in this spot, and they’ll dance in the aisles, and ask a thousand questions, and I’ll tear up during ‘He Lives in You.”
Madeline laughed softly, wiping the corner of his eye. “You’d cry even if it was just the puppets.”
“True,” he said without shame. “They’re extremely talented puppets.”
She turned her head to him, voice low and warm. “I want that. I want all of it. The shows. The noise. The chaos. The memories.”
“We’re already making them,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “And we’ll make more.”
As the final number reached its crescendo, the performers beckoned to the audience to clap and sway along. Jacen, without hesitation, lifted her hand and waved it gently in time with the music, earning a bright smile from a nearby toddler.
When the lights came up, Madeline was still smiling, her cheeks flushed and her heart full. On their way out, Jacen stopped at one of the small kiosks near the exit. While she browsed beadwork earrings, he quietly purchased a tiny plush Simba and tucked it into her backpack when she wasn’t looking. He didn’t say anything about it.
He didn’t have to.
-*-
The Gorilla Falls Exploration Trail was a winding path of dappled light and thick green shade, tucked away behind the splashier attractions of Animal Kingdom. The air was thick with humidity, buzzing with birdsong, and the occasional trill of unseen monkeys high in the trees.
Lillibet walked just ahead of Anduin, her small hand tucked firmly into Erynne’s, her eyes wide as they passed through a shaded arch lined with ferns. Up ahead, Mikael and Darian had taken it upon themselves to become official wildlife experts, narrating their way past each exhibit with equal parts imagination and misinformation.
“That one,” Mikael whispered dramatically, pointing to a resting antelope, “can jump higher than a goblin on fire.”
“Incorrect,” Darian said with mock authority. “That one eats snakes. Probably whole. That’s why it looks so calm.”
Erynne just shook her head. “Where do they get this?”
“I can’t imagine,” Anduin said, quietly amused. He strolled alongside them, hands in his pockets, letting the boys drift just out of arm’s reach but never out of his line of sight.
They reached the aviary, where vibrant birds flitted just inches away from the walkway. Lillibet gasped as a bright green parrot landed nearby, its feathers shimmering like it had been dipped in emeralds.
“Momma,” she whispered, tugging at her arm. “Do you think it knows we’re watching?”
Erynne knelt beside her. “I think it knows you’re gentle. And curious. That helps.”
Lillibet smiled shyly, eyes fixed on the bird.
A little ways behind them, Anduin had paused near the low wall overlooking the gorilla enclosure. One of the great apes lounged on a rocky ledge in the sun, eyes half-lidded, chest rising and falling with slow, meditative calm. Erynne and Lillibet walked back and stood beside him in the stillness.
“Thinking deep thoughts?” she asked softly.
“No,” he said. “Just... admiring someone who knows how to be still.”
She smiled. “You’ve mastered that already.”
“Maybe on the outside.”
They stood together in companionable silence, watching the gorilla stretch and then roll lazily onto its back. Back on the path, Darian darted forward, pointing through the trees. “They have fish here too! We should’ve brought snacks to feed them!”
Mikael scoffed. “You always want snacks.”
Lillibet turned and looked up at her father. “This is my favorite day,” she said simply.
Anduin glanced down at her with a smile. “It ranks right up there for me too.” Without turning his head, he reached out and gently took his wife’s hand.
As they exited the trail, the boys regrouped with wild energy, Mikael practically bouncing on his heels. “Okay, that was awesome,” he declared, “but now we need speed. And drops. And maybe screaming.”
“Expedition Everest,” Darian said with the certainty of a prophet.
Lillibet tilted her head. “Does it have snakes?”
“No,” Mikael assured her with a grin, “just a big furry monster.”
Lillibet stopped mid-step. “A monster?” Her voice had gone small.
Erynne crouched beside her, smoothing a hand gently over the girl’s curls. “You’re not tall enough to ride that one, sweetheart. But don’t worry. While Papa and the boys go, you and I can visit the gift shop. Maybe find something sparkly.”
Lillibet’s eyes lit up. “With glitter?”
“All the glitter.”
The child nodded solemnly. “Then it’s fine.”
Erynne winked at Anduin, who mouthed a silent thank you as Mikael and Darian resumed their campaign of Everest enthusiasm.
Still laughing, they turned down the path together, the sound of bickering, excitement, and light-hearted mischief echoing through the trees as the group headed toward the mountain.
-*-
The air in the Asia section of Animal Kingdom was thick with the scent of wet stone, spice, and damp bamboo. Mist drifted lazily around the shaded trail as Kali River Rapids came into view—its stone entryway carved with swirling, ancient patterns, the roar of rushing water echoing in the distance.
“I’m just warning you,” Karina said, hands on her hips, “you will get wet.”
Kris beamed. “Good. I want to get soaked.”
“I want to ride twice!” Zander declared.
“No,” Randel said immediately.
Kris turned to Leianna. “You’re not scared, are you?”
She shook her head, but clutched Randel’s hand anyway.
“You sure about this?” Karina asked him with a smirk.
“No,” he replied, “but they’ll never let me live it down if I say no.”
They were ushered into a giant circular raft and strapped in, each family member occupying a segment like passengers on some chaotic merry-go-round of destiny.
It started calmly enough—lush forest, gentle currents, a few friendly splashes. Zander was just starting to scoff at how “not scary” it was when Karina reached into her bag with the ease of someone who had planned for this. From the depths of her waterproof tote, she produced a neatly folded plastic poncho.
“What—?” Randel blinked as she shook it out.
Without a word, she slipped it over her head and spread it out to cover both herself and Leianna, who giggled as the transparent plastic draped over her like a makeshift shield.
Randel stared at her, incredulous. “You had that the whole time? Were you planning on sharing?”
Karina glanced at him, deadpan. “Nope.”
He opened his mouth to respond—
And that was when the raft spun perfectly, positioning Randel to take the full brunt of the first cold, unforgiving wall of water. It hit him like a bucket.
Zander let out a shriek-laugh. Kris whooped in victory. Leianna peeked out from under the poncho and whispered, “Poor Daddy.”
“Why is it always me?” Randel sputtered, slicking his hair back with both hands.
A second splash soaked Kris, who let out a battle cry and tried to redirect the water toward Zander. This, naturally, failed—but Kris got his revenge on the next spin of the raft.
By the end of the ride, they were all dripping, water pooling in their shoes, laughter spilling louder than the waterfalls.
Leianna glanced at her father and the boys and grinned. “You look like drowned squirrels.”
“I feel like a sponge,” Randel groaned, examining his soaked shirt. “A cold sponge.”
As they staggered off the platform, Kris pointed proudly at the exit photo display. “We should frame that. That’s the moment Uncle Randel got betrayed by gravity.”
“I didn’t get betrayed,” Randel said with mock dignity. “I got ambushed.”
Karina handed him a towel from her bag—of course she’d packed one.
“This is why I bring zip bags,” she said, as if awarding herself a merit badge.
They made their way toward the sunniest stretch of path, squishing with every step, still laughing, still soaked.
-*-
They gathered for dinner beneath the lantern-lit canopy of the Yak & Yeti restaurant, the smells of ginger, garlic, and grilled meat drifting through the air as laughter rose from their long table like music. Clothes were damp, hair windswept, shoes still squeaking faintly with river water—but no one complained.
Tremane and Helena shared quiet smiles across their plates. Madeline leaned into Jacen’s side, smiling at Lily’s description of the savannah. Zander and Kris reenacted their wild ride with exaggerated splashes, while Mikael added unnecessary sound effects and Darian issued corrections. Lillibet chattered to Leianna about birds and shiny rocks and a parrot that might have winked at her. Randel muttered under his breath every time Karina’s poncho made a crinkling sound from where it hung on the back of her chair. Anduin and Erynne were recounting the day’s adventure to Garthan.
And through it all, Jareth and Sarah sat watching, content and amused, hands clasped beneath the table, the golden light catching in Sarah’s hair and the corners of Jareth’s smile.
It had been a day of wild rivers and soaring skies, of fire-dancing lions and quiet gorillas. But here—together, surrounded by their strange, brilliant, stubborn, beloved clan—it was easy to believe that the real magic hadn’t been in the parks at all.
It had been with them the whole time.
-*-
Notes:
The betrayal Randel feels at the fact that Karina brought a rain poncho (and refused to share) came directly from my husband, when I did the same thing.
And, like Jacen, I tear up when I hear "He Lives in You" too.
What Tremane so eloquently pointed out to Helena... about her wings carrying a soul into the world or calling one back from the brink, sort of sums up the inner feelings of Othánas men about their women, and why they venerate them so much. It's not just that they see their women as life partners (which they do, of course) but they are also collectively held in awe by what their women are capable of. It is one of the reasons that Othánas men are so protective of their women (and rather chivalrous even to women that aren't Othánas). While to a human woman, it might look like possessive patriarchy, it's far from that (and the Othánas women know it). It is awe and wonder, and it not only inspires protectiveness but also admiration and a desire to always be worthy of them. Tremane underwent a shift in his (until this point, immature) thinking from viewing Helena as his playmate, friend, and possibly future wife, to really understanding what she represents and what he needs to become in order to be a mate worthy of her.
Chapter Text
Epcot Center…
The scent of flight hung faintly in the air—clean, dry, and tinged with the subtle whir of fans and machinery. The interior of Soarin’ was dimly lit, evoking the calm of a runway at dusk.
Lily and Garthan stood in the queue beneath the flickering glow of departure gate signs, surrounded by soft murmurs of anticipation and the occasional squeak of sneakers on polished floor. She glanced up at the projected flight path with one eyebrow raised. “Let me guess. Another flying ride. Should I be concerned about how often human entertainment involves being hurled into the air?”
Garthan, amused, didn’t take the bait. “Don’t worry, love. This one is supposed to be peaceful.”
“Peaceful,” Lily echoed. “You mean slow death by simulated hang glider.”
Despite the complaint, she followed him into their row without hesitation, obediently stowing her bag and securing the shoulder restraint. As the lights dimmed and their feet lifted off the ground, Lily’s expression shifted, her usual poise giving way to something childlike and open.
Then the screen blossomed to life. They were soaring.
Above snow-capped peaks, across rolling green savannas, into the curve of a desert dune bathed in gold. The wind tugged gently at their hair; the scent of grass and ocean drifted past like whispers. As the Great Wall unfurled below them and the Taj Mahal shimmered like a dream in the early morning haze, Lily leaned slightly sideways, resting her head against Garthan’s shoulder. He didn’t move—just breathed.
“Wherever the world takes you,” she murmured, “I’ll be there.”
He didn’t answer. Not with words. He merely laid his head atop hers, squeezing her hand gently. His gaze remained fixed on the sweep of landscapes unspooling before them—wonders both natural and built, created by hands and time and the quiet ache of hope.
When the ride slowed and the floor gently rose beneath them once more, neither spoke. Not until they had gathered their things and stepped out into the daylight beyond the exit corridor. Lily tucked her arm through his as they walked, still quiet, still riding the high of impossible vistas.
And then Garthan said softly, “Funny thing about this place. For the first time in a long while… I don’t feel like I have to choose.”
She looked up at him, brow lifted.
“Between duty and dreaming,” he clarified. “It’s always been one or the other. And I've always chosen duty. Except for you… with you, I think… maybe I got both.”
Lily’s smile was gentle, eyes shining. “You were always allowed to have both, you know.”
He kissed her temple. “I believe it now.”
They walked on together, the crowd swirling around them, but for a moment it felt like there were no borders—no kingdoms, no burdens, no wars.
Just sky.
-*-
Tremane rubbed his hands together with exaggerated glee as the queue led them into the design chamber of Test Track, where glowing panels awaited them like futuristic altars.
“Alright,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “Time to build the fastest, sleekest, most aerodynamically questionable vehicle this park has ever seen.”
Helena raised an eyebrow. “You’re not the engineer. That’s Aurelet.”
“Exactly,” he said, already poking at the touchscreen. “Which means I’ve been waiting my whole life to prove her wrong by doing it better.”
The interface blinked to life. Together, they started assembling their custom test car—if one could call it that. Tremane ignored every handling and efficiency prompt, choosing only the flashiest shapes, the bulkiest tires, and the largest possible engine graphic.
Helena tried to interject with a few practical suggestions but eventually gave in with a sigh and a smirk. “Fine. If we crash, I’m haunting you.”
“Make it dramatic,” he replied. “Like… lightning and echoing footsteps.”
“Or just a very disappointed groaning noise.”
They stepped into the ride vehicle, the platform glowing beneath them. Helena hesitated for half a heartbeat as she pulled the harness down.
“You okay?” Tremane asked, watching her carefully.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Just... mildly concerned that you have zero respect for physics.”
“Physics,” he said, waving a hand, “is more of a suggestion than a rule.”
She gave him a look. “Aurelet would have you arrested for that.”
“I’d argue my case. Probably while she smacked me upside the head.”
The ride launched.
Their ridiculous car hurtled through obstacle tests—failing nearly every metric with comedic flair. It oversteered, underperformed, and left a digital wake of failure warnings. But none of that mattered when they hit the outdoor loop.
Suddenly they were flying—nearly 65 miles per hour, wind in their hair, laughter torn straight from their lungs as the world blurred around them. Helena screamed—not in fear, but pure exhilaration—and Tremane threw his hands up like a child on a dragon’s back.
When the ride finally screeched to a halt, they stumbled out of the vehicle breathless and exhilarated. Helena had tears in the corners of her eyes from laughing.
“That was,” she gasped, “an unmitigated disaster.”
“And yet,” Tremane said, brushing wind-tossed hair from his face, “completely worth it.”
They wandered into the post-ride area, still chuckling, and flopped into the virtual race simulation game. Their digital car spun out on the first corner. On the second try, it caught fire. Neither of them cared.
Helena finally leaned against the console, laughing into her sleeve. “We should never be in charge of anything that moves.”
Tremane smirked. “The good thing is… we probably won’t be.”
She grinned, still panting a little from the ride. “You’d be a terrible mechanic.”
“And you’d be an even worse getaway driver.”
“I’d stop for snacks.”
“And I’d forget the map.”
They shared a look—eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, hearts light—and suddenly the broken virtual car didn’t matter at all.
-*-
The inside of Spaceship Earth was cool and dim, the soft scent of faux ancient stone and climate control clinging to the air. Jacen and Madeline settled into the slow-moving ride vehicle, which curved upward into the geodesic dome with a gentle hum. As the lights dimmed and the voice of Dame Judi Dench began narrating the history of human communication, Madeline leaned back with a soft smile, already visibly charmed.
“I love this,” she said. “They don’t rush it. They let the story breathe.”
Jacen smirked. “Should we petition to have you replace the narrator?”
“I’d be excellent,” she whispered dramatically. “Behold—papyrus scrolls. Used by humans and goblins alike, mostly for passive-aggressive grocery lists.”
He chuckled, lacing his fingers with hers. “And what would you call this chapter? The Age of Proper Penmanship?”
“No. The Age of Doodling in the Margins.”
They passed beneath the stars, into the glow of ancient astronomers and twinkling constellations painted on the curved ceiling above. Then through medieval scribes and printing presses, across telephone wires and computer labs, as the slow, steady story of human civilization unfolded around them.
Jacen glanced sideways at her. Madeline’s expression was one of rapt attention, her eyes sparkling with wonder. He didn’t speak. He just watched her watching the world. A world of wonders, with technology that was almost its own magic. A world that had once been her home. A world she left behind for a life… a family… with him.
It was a humbling thought.
Eventually, the ride transitioned to the “Build Your Future” segment. A glowing screen flickered to life before them, inviting them to answer a series of whimsical, optimistic questions.
“Where would you like to live?” it asked.
Jacen tapped ‘countryside’.
“Preferred transportation?”
Madeline selected ‘solar-powered hover car.’
“Energy source?”
They both picked ‘renewable.’
The final question appeared: “What matters most to you?”
Jacen glanced at her. Without hesitation, Madeline chose ‘family.’
The animation began. Their future unspooled in exaggerated technicolor—an eco-friendly home tucked into a green hillside, robotic houseplants that spritzed themselves, hover-strollers zooming past solar panels, and a fridge that politely reminded Jacen he was out of snacks.
Jacen chuckled. “You know, this was all supposed to be invented two centuries ago. Still waiting on that fridge.”
Madeline grinned, but didn’t answer immediately. She was still watching the cartoon family—a smiling couple and two children—waving from the virtual porch. Then, softly, she squeezed his hand a little tighter. “I like our future better.”
He turned to her. She didn’t mean hover cars. Or robots. She meant the tiny, fluttering life between them. The daughter waiting just over the horizon, real and growing and theirs. And their firstborn son, all laughter and sharp wit and boundless curiosity. A boy who was growing stronger, kinder, more grounded every day. A boy who would prove to be a man of worth—not because of bloodlines or magic, or even his destiny of one day becoming King, but because of her. Because of Madeline.
Jacen leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Me too.”
They descended slowly into the light of the exit tunnel, quiet and content, their hands still clasped as they moved forward—together.
-*-
The purple dragon appeared barely two minutes into the ride, bouncing across the screen with googly eyes and a voice that could only be described as deliberately absurd.
“That's him!” Lillibet whispered with awe, gripping the lap bar as if Figment himself might leap into her lap. “That's Figment.”
Anduin stared straight ahead, his expression pained.
Erynne sighed beside him, arms crossed. “I warned you. I said, ‘Pick literally any other ride.’ But no, someone wanted whimsy.”
“She wanted whimsy,” Anduin replied, jerking a thumb toward Lillibet.
Erynne raised her brow with a smile that was just this side of a smirk. “You wanted it too.”
Anduin looked down at his daughter with a soft light in his eyes. “Yeah. I did. I admit it.”
She chuckled and squeezed his arm affectionately. The ride bounced cheerfully along its track, each scene louder and more chaotic than the last. Figment’s screeching laughter echoed through the sound lab, the scent of skunk hit them like a slap, and color exploded across the screens in an unrelenting storm of primary tones and puns.
Lillibet, meanwhile, was enthralled. She cackled when Figment reappeared dressed as a cowboy. She pointed and gasped when the upside-down room spun into view. And then, during the final musical number, she started singing along in a whispery, high-pitched voice:
🎵 “One little spark... of ins-pi-ray-shun…” 🎵
Anduin blinked. Erynne’s lips twitched.
Lillibet kept going, louder now, increasingly off-key:
🎵 “Is at the heart... of all crea-TIONNNNN!” 🎵
By the time the ride ended, Anduin looked like he had aged a century, much to Erynne’s amusement. As they exited into the gift shop, Lillibet darted to a bin of stuffed Figments with laser focus. She picked up the biggest one—nearly half her size—and hugged it like it held state secrets.
“Oh no,” Anduin said, taking a wary step back. “You know who’s going to end up carrying that thing for the rest of the day…”
Erynne took the plush from Lillibet and studied it with mock severity. “Maximum mischief capacity. Loud colors. Irrepressible smile. Absolutely dangerous.” Then she handed it back to Lillibet while smiling back at him. “And yes… you’ll be carrying it.”
He looked at the dragon in his daughter’s hands like it might detonate. “Why do I feel like this is going to come back to haunt me?”
“Because it will,” Erynne said sweetly. “Eventually.”
Lillibet grinned and skipped ahead, swinging the tail of her new plush back and forth like a weapon of joyful chaos.
Anduin watched her go. “She’s going to name it, isn’t she?”
“She’s probably already taught it a song.”
They followed her into the sunshine, Figment in tow and mischief very much in progress.
-*-
The clamshell vehicle rocked gently as it moved through The Seas with Nemo & Friends. It was a slow ride, painted in soft blues and glowing purples, the kind of pace that matched the gentle hush of the ocean floor. Leianna sat between Randel and Karina, her chin lifted, eyes wide as projections of animated sea life swam across darkened tunnel walls.
She gasped as a giant sea turtle glided past on-screen, and when the jellyfish scene flickered in bursts of color and shimmer, she whispered, “They're like floating flowers…”
“They’re even prettier in real life,” Karina said softly, already anticipating what would come next.
When the ride ended, they stepped off the platform and made their way into the vast, cool space of the aquarium. The lighting dimmed to a tranquil twilight, casting rippling shadows across the walls as real marine life drifted silently through their massive tanks.
Leianna pressed her face against the glass, nose barely grazing the surface as she stared at a school of moon jellies drifting past. Their translucent bodies pulsed like glowing lanterns.
“Why do they glow?” she asked.
“Bioluminescence,” Karina answered, crouching beside her. “Some creatures use it to find each other. Some use it to scare things away. It’s their way of being seen.”
Leianna blinked, still watching. “I think they’re magic.”
Karina smiled. “That too.”
Across the way, Randel stood near a curved tank filled with odd, slow-moving fish. One swam by with a squashed face and a nose like a blunted arrowhead.
“Kari,” he said, tapping the glass gently. “Tell me that one doesn’t look exactly like old Farvik the Stubborn. You remember him—the Dwarf who tried to wrestle a rock troll at the Bleeding Goblin...”
Karina glanced over and gave a wry grin. “That fish has better posture.”
“Barely.”
They continued through the exhibit at an easy pace, stopping when they reached the upper deck of the dolphin enclosure, where two dolphins were gliding in slow, lazy circles. The air was hushed here, the sound of the water lapping against the glass rhythmic and calming. Randel lifted Leianna into his arms so she could see better over the railing.
The girl leaned forward slightly, her eyes fixed on the animals below. They dipped and turned, slicing through the water with effortless grace, surfacing in tandem before disappearing again beneath the blue.
“Why do they look so happy?” she asked quietly.
Randel didn’t answer right away. He watched them with the same gaze he sometimes wore when sitting by the fire with a story on his lips, somewhere between wistful and wise.
“Because,” he said at last, “they’ve got nowhere to be. And all day to get there.”
Leianna tilted her head. “That sounds nice.”
“It is,” he said, holding her a little closer. “When you’re lucky enough to have people who walk beside you, you don’t have to rush.”
Karina came to stand beside them, slipping her arm through his. Together, they stood in silence, watching the dolphins glide like slow thoughts across the water.
-*-
Sarah’s plan had been simple.
A calm stroll around the World Showcase. Leisurely appreciation of global architecture. Sampling one or two regional treats. Perhaps even a brief, sophisticated discussion of art or cultural symbolism.
She should have known better.
By the time they reached Japan, Kris had disappeared into the Mitsukoshi Department Store and returned wearing a plastic katana, a headband, and a look of intense purpose.
“I’m a ninja now,” he declared. “Officially.”
Darian, not to be outdone, grabbed a samurai helmet from the rack and jammed it onto his head. “That’s fine. I’ll be your rival. We’ll duel at sunset.”
“You don’t have a sword,” Kris pointed out.
Darian brandished a chopstick. “Improvisation.”
Mikael and Zander exchanged a quick look before dashing into the same store, coming out dressed in a motley of Japanese-style armor. The epic battle that erupted between the four boys drew the laughter of more than one passerby before Sarah broke it up and got them moving.
Jareth, walking a pace behind them with his arms crossed, gave Sarah an amused look. “Remind me again why we brought the entire Goblin Army in miniature?”
At this, she snorted, “As if you weren’t just as rowdy at their age. I’ve heard the stories…”
“Lies,” he responded with a smirk. “All lies.”
“Right,” Sarah didn’t miss a beat, elbowing him good-naturedly in the side. “Besides, tomorrow, Jacen and Madeline are taking Mikael, Zander, and Leianna for the day, while Garthan and Lily take Darian, Kris, and Lillibet. Today was just our turn.”
Jareth blinked. “We’re... releasing them in groups?”
“Think of it as targeted chaos,” she said. “And it gives the rest of them a whole day to themselves.”
He chuckled, nodding. “And the day after that, we turn the tables. The fathers take the kids so the mothers can go relax in a spa.”
Sarah sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “I’ve dreamed of that mud wrap since we arrived.”
Jareth arched a brow. “I’m not even sure what that is.”
“It’s heaven, darling. With eucalyptus oil.”
They reached Germany, where Zander strode confidently up to a vendor and, with the enthusiasm of someone who had heard just enough Duolingo to be dangerous, announced, “Ein bratwurst, bitte. Und... uh… no sauerkraut. Please.”
The vendor blinked. Jareth gently intercepted. “Two bratwursts. Just the standard. Thank you.”
Zander looked proud anyway.
In France, Mikael made a beeline for the patisserie and emerged with four separate pastries balanced in a paper tray.
“This is for diplomatic purposes,” he said between bites. “You can’t not eat croissants in France. That’s offensive.”
“You’re not in France,” Jareth pointed out. “You’re in Orlando.”
“Which is currently under French jurisdiction,” Mikael replied, licking frosting off his thumb.
Sarah tried—valiantly—to linger in Morocco, admiring the intricate tilework, and paused again at the fountain in Italy, reading the engraved Latin aloud to herself. But the moment she pulled out her camera to take a scenic shot, Kris yelled something about “strategic advantage points,” and Zander tripped over a hedge.
When they reached the UK Pavilion, Jareth looked around with mild approval. “This,” he announced, “is acceptable.”
Sarah arched a brow. “Because it looks vaguely like home?”
“Because none of them are currently climbing a wall.”
They paused on the bridge between France and the UK, overlooking the shimmering lagoon. The sunset painted the water in shades of rose gold and deep blue. The faint smell of sugar and roasted nuts drifted on the breeze. Behind them, for just a moment, the boys fell silent—too full, too tired, or perhaps just momentarily distracted by ducks.
Sarah rested both hands on the railing and stared out across the water. Jareth stepped up beside her, gently placing a hand on her back. She leaned into it.
For a breathless beat, they weren’t rulers or parents or guides; they were just two travelers, standing still while the world turned quietly around them.
And then—sploosh.
Mikael knocked over his drink. It splattered across the park map, the railing, and the edge of Kris’s shirt.
“Mikael!”
“It was an accident!”
“My pants are sticky now!”
Jareth sighed and pulled out a napkin. Sarah laughed and handed him another. “So much for stillness.”
He didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes softened. “Stillness is overrated.”
Together, they wiped up soda, wrangled boys, and moved on toward Canada—chaos and all.
-*-
They met again just outside the glowing geosphere of Spaceship Earth, the sky deepening into violet behind it, the soft twinkle of evening lights reflected in puddles from an earlier misting. Some arrived chattering and flushed from laughter, others calmer, more thoughtful, but all wore the warm exhaustion of a day well spent. Kris and Darian still sported mismatched souvenirs from three different pavilions. Lillibet clutched her plush Figment like a trophy. Mikael offered everyone leftover pastries, which no one trusted. The adults compared notes, traded photos, and gently herded the children back toward the monorail with practiced ease. Jareth and Sarah lagged behind for a moment, watching as their family… loud, mismatched, chaotic, beloved… moved ahead like a tide neither of them wanted to resist.
-*-
Notes:
Lily’s fear of heights is actually mine. I’m probably the only person in the family who goes through the ‘Soarin’ ride with their eyes closed and their hands clenched.
And my heart went out to Anduin. Having a toddler singing a song off-key ranks right up there on my list of unbearable torture techniques.
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Spa Day…
The suite was a battlefield.
Not of swords and sorcery, but of socks, half-eaten muffins, and one unclaimed shoe that had been missing since Tuesday. Someone was humming the Small World song under their breath (possibly on purpose), and an Ughlánas launched himself across the room with a squeaky battle cry before vanishing into the cushions of the couch.
Jareth stood near the kitchenette with a mug of tea in hand, eyes narrowed over the rim as he scanned the chaos like a war general surveying a hopeless map. Jacen was trying to wrangle a shirt onto Mikael, who had apparently decided shirts were for “formal occasions only.” Garthan was on all fours under the dining table looking for a sock, while Randel attempted to barter with Leianna over the TV remote.
Sarah, serene and annoyingly prepared, swept through the kitchen with a basket of spa essentials and an expression of radiant calm. “We’re leaving, Gentlemen,” she called sweetly over her shoulder. “All yours!”
“Have fun!” Madeline added, already halfway out the door with Karina, Lily and Erynne in tow. “Don’t forget snacks!”
Jareth muttered something that might have been a curse.
As the door clicked shut behind the departing moms, Tremane stepped forward, hair slightly tousled, expression determined. Helena was crouched across the room, helping Lillibet get her shoes on the right feet.
“We’ll help wrangle the young ones today,” Tremane offered, standing a bit straighter than usual.
Jareth turned to face him, slowly lowering his mug. A long pause stretched between them. “Still working off that debt, are you?” he asked, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Tremane, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “Trying to retire it early.”
Helena, focused entirely on fastening Lillibet’s sandal, didn’t hear the exchange. She was humming Figment’s theme song under her breath.
Randel stepped beside Jareth with Leianna balanced on his hip and a glittery sticker stuck to his cheek. “Okay, we’ve got everyone except Kris. Has anyone seen Kris?”
“He’s combing his hair with a fork, like Ariel did in the movie,” Anduin deadpanned from the hallway. “We’re pretending it’s a cultural exercise.”
By sheer miracle—or perhaps dark magic—all of the children were dressed, vaguely clean, and in possession of shoes (even if not their own). The dads convened near the door.
“Magic Kingdom again?” Jacen asked hopefully.
“No,” Jareth said firmly. “That’s for our final day. End on a high note.”
“Water park’s tomorrow,” Randel reminded them.
“Which means today...” Garthan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Animal Kingdom.” Anduin declared. “Nature will judge us. And possibly devour us.”
There were no objections.
Jareth took one last sip of tea, looked over the assembled ranks—small bodies in mismatched sunglasses and hats, chattering and bouncing with unspent sugar—and sighed.
“Alright,” he said. “Let's move.”
And with that, the Fathers of the Apocalypse herded their army of chaos into the hallway, toward the waiting day.
-*-
Escaping the suite felt like slipping past enemy lines.
Sarah led the charge, a confident glint in her eye and a satchel of lavender-scented lotions over her shoulder. Karina followed closely behind, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown of freedom. Lily had one hand on her tea and the other gripping Erynne’s wrist so she didn’t get pulled into a last-minute child request. Madeline trailed behind, her steps a little slower, but her smile was bright.
They made it to the Grand Floridian spa without incident, passing like ghosts while their husbands took the field. And as soon as the doors opened—
The world changed.
Soft music lilted in the air like a lullaby. The scent of eucalyptus and warm stones wrapped around them like a balm. Light filtered down in pale golds, calming and quiet, bouncing gently off the polished tile and muted pastels. A spa attendant appeared like an angel in linen and welcomed them with a serene smile.
They were ushered into a private lounge. Robes. Slippers. Hot tea with citrus slices. Foot soaks in warm water infused with rose petals. Within minutes, the stress began to melt from their shoulders like wax under gentle heat.
Lily leaned back with a contented sigh. “I almost don’t want to go back.”
Karina lifted a cucumber slice off one eye. “I think I already forgot my children’s names.”
Erynne giggled. “Same.”
Soon they were tucked into massage chairs, warm towels draped around their necks, and then into a serene chamber where practiced hands kneaded away tension with fragrant oils and gentle strength. By the time they regrouped in the relaxation lounge—swaddled in robes and surrounded by the gentle clink of teacups—they looked less like battle-tested mothers and more like royalty in hiding.
That’s when the stories started.
“I remember distinctly,” Sarah said, smiling as she wrapped her fingers around a warm mug, “when Jareth let Jacen do cannonballs into the bathing pool in our chamber. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Oh no,” Madeline said, already laughing.
“He called it ‘a morale exercise.’ I called it ‘splash-induced flooding.’”
Karina grinned. “Randel once had a complete meltdown because Zander decided to paint the exterior of the manor. Paint it red, no less. He was trying to act calm, but I caught him whispering to the wall. To the wall. Like it would answer him.”
Erynne snorted into her tea. “I remember that incident. Darian came back that day with red paint all over his hands and no explanation as to how it got there. From what Aurelet said, Kris had the same red hands and lack of knowledge.”
Sarah raised a hand. “Which Toby still talks about. He told me that Kris once tried to build a treehouse by himself, and it was so crooked that squirrels moved out of the trees nearby in protest.”
“That sounds accurate,” Karina said.
Lily chuckled, tugging a towel around her shoulders. “Garthan once spent an entire afternoon doing war drills with stuffed animals just to make Anduin laugh. Full commands. A strategy map. Tactical repositioning. The bear brigade lost to the bunny infantry.”
Erynne’s eyes softened. “When Lillibet was teething, Anduin paced the floor with her in his arms all night. Never said a word. Just… walked. I woke up at dawn and found him standing near the window, still rocking her like she was made of glass.”
There was a long, tender silence.
Then Madeline added, “Jacen was so good at changing diapers, I gave up trying to compete. I just… handed him the baby and backed away like it was a ritual only he understood.”
They all burst out laughing.
-*-
The sun was directly overhead, beating down on Animal Kingdom with humid authority. Somewhere in the distance, a distant drum rhythm thumped from the Africa section. Children squealed. Parrots screamed. A churro stand hissed like a geyser.
The fathers were done.
Jareth stood just outside the shaded seating area near Flame Tree Barbecue, Kris perched on his shoulders, legs swinging contentedly while Jareth’s jaw was clenched like a man attempting to hold reality together through sheer will. One of Kris’s hands held a melting Mickey-shaped ice cream pop that was slowly dripping into Jareth’s hair. The other gripped a pair of souvenir sunglasses.
Randel slumped next to him, leaning on a trash can for support, half a churro drooping from his mouth. His shirt bore the ghost of at least three condiments and what might have been applesauce. His hair looked like he’d wrestled a raccoon. “They’re multiplying,” he muttered.
Garthan dropped onto a nearby bench, removing his sunglasses just long enough to rub his eyes. “They always do,” he said. “That’s how they get you. Divide and conquer. Or multiply and wear you down.”
From somewhere nearby, glitter floated in the air like fairy dust after a thunderclap.
Mikael came flying past, cape fluttering behind him, pursued by Lillibet wielding a foam sword and shrieking something about “glitter justice.”
Anduin emerged slowly from the shadows of the tamarin trail, face calm, posture serene… and a streak of pink glitter firmly embedded in his hair.
He said nothing. No one asked.
Tremane, meanwhile, was sorting through various lunch trays at the nearby picnic tables with military posture, issuing orders like a seasoned field commander. “Leianna gets the fruit cup, not the parfait—she traded with Darian. Zander doesn’t like chocolate, so double-check the granola. Kris wants mustard with his fries, not ketchup, and Mikael asked for no mayo on his cheeseburger.”
Helena flanked him, arms crossed, eyes scanning the field like a sentry. Together, they’d built a mobile command center at a picnic table, where juice boxes were rationed with precise timing and small toys were distributed on a rotating basis to prevent rebellion.
They had achieved the impossible. Order.
“Do we salute them?” Anduin asked quietly, lifting Kris off Jareth’s shoulders and shooing him toward the table.
“No,” Jareth said, watching as Tremane plucked the slingshot from Mikael’s hands with practiced grace, gave him a look that needed no words, and redirected him back to the table like he’d been doing it for years. “We just don’t get in their way.” He exhaled slowly. “How did my parents cope with three boys?”
Jacen, standing beside him and watching Darian use his churro like a fencing foil, chuckled. “You had three children too, you know.”
“Please,” Jareth said dryly. “Mine were spaced out in age. You were already grown when Helena was born. It wasn’t like this. There was room between disasters.”
Randel snorted. “You forget. Papa kept us all half-conscious from combat training most of the time. That’s how we stayed out of Momma’s hair.”
Garthan leaned back against the bench with a smirk. “We do that too. It’s not working.”
A faint huff of a laugh escaped Anduin. He adjusted the satchel slung across his chest, now oddly lumpy with snacks and spare socks. “I’m just grateful for my wife,” he said simply. “She makes it look easy.”
The others nodded—all of them.
There was a quiet beat, then Jareth rubbed his temples and muttered, “I swear, when we get back to Caladh, I’m talking to Sarah about opening a spa. A real one. Every mother in the kingdom deserves it after... this.”
“That might be your greatest legacy,” Garthan murmured.
“Second only to surviving this day,” Randel added.
Jacen lifted his cup. “To the mothers.”
“The champions of the battlefield of parenthood,” Anduin replied.
And with that, they watched as Darian dropped half his churro and immediately tried to eat it anyway.
No one moved to stop him. They’d fought their battles for the morning. They’d reached that part of the day where all bets were off, and survival was victory enough.
-*-
The spa lounge was quiet, cocooned in soft lighting and the faint scent of lavender. Gentle harp music drifted through the air like a dream that refused to be hurried. Plush chairs and warm blankets surrounded the group like a nest. Outside the frosted glass doors, the rest of the world carried on, but in here, time moved slower.
Sarah leaned back in her chair, a cup of cucumber-mint water in her hand, robe wrapped around her like armor. Across from her, Karina sat curled up like a cat, eyes closed. Erynne and Lily were still flushed from the steam room, both of them glistening slightly, with towels twisted around their damp hair. Madeline sat nearest the window, her hands gently folded over her belly.
No one spoke for a long while. Then, softly, Sarah broke the silence.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
The others stirred slightly at the sound of her voice. She looked around at them, all warriors in their own ways—and smiled. “All of us. I still remember the first time I met some of you. We were younger. Fewer gray hairs. Less glitter in our homes.”
Karina snorted, “Pretty sure I was responsible for some of that glitter.”
Sarah’s voice was amused. “You and Tippy. And now… look at us. Raising the next generation. Together. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know this… our children will never feel alone.”
A silence fell again, even warmer this time.
Karina let out a slow sigh. “This might be the first quiet moment I’ve had in almost a century.”
“You say that every time we leave them for more than fifteen minutes,” Erynne said, laughing.
“And I mean it every time,” Karina replied. “But... I wouldn’t trade it. Not a single second. Even the time Zander tried to shave the dog’s head into a mohawk.”
Lily let out a soft laugh, tipping her head back and rolling her shoulders against the chair. “I wish we had one of these back in Caladh.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Sarah said with a smile. “We brought karaoke down Below. Why not a spa?”
Erynne exhaled, long and slow. “Oh, that would be heavenly… something to look forward to now and then. The guys have the cabin. We could have this.”
Sarah reached out her hand and took Madeline’s. “And it was all your idea.”
The others added their hands, one by one, forming a loose circle of fingers and warmth and understanding.
-*-
Evening settled over the resort like a sigh of relief.
The sun dipped low across the sky, painting the clouds in honey and rose. Lanterns flickered to life along the paths, casting golden halos on the stone and softening the edges of the day. The lobby of the Grand Floridian buzzed with the gentle noise of clinking glasses and distant laughter.
The fathers were already there, slouched on oversized chairs and benches like a row of battle-worn soldiers after a long campaign. Zander lay upside-down on a couch armrest. Kris was half-asleep with a churro wrapper stuck to his shirt. Darian was meticulously trying to comb glitter out of his hair while Lillibet colored on a napkin using lipstick she probably wasn’t supposed to have.
Anduin sat perfectly still, staring into the distance. Garthan had claimed a small table and was eating peanuts one at a time like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Jareth stood nearby, arms folded, expression tired—his hair definitely messier than it had been that morning. A sparkly sticker clung to the back of his coat.
When the mothers walked in, robes traded for dresses and spa bags over their shoulders, it was like watching a sunrise crack across tired eyes. They looked fresh. Radiant. Floating on some impossible serenity.
Sarah scanned the room, spotted Jareth, and smiled. He straightened, visibly taking her in, and said with a half-smile, “You look two centuries younger.”
Sarah arched an eyebrow, glancing over him with practiced grace. “You look like you fought a kraken.”
“Several,” he replied gravely.
The others rose slowly, children rousing, arms lifting, little legs charging forward.
Madeline knelt to catch Mikael in a hug, and he wrapped his arms around her neck like she was the sun returning. Erynne scooped up Lillibet with a tired laugh. Karina patted Zander’s head and murmured, “I see you’re still upside-down.”
Tremane approached Garthan as the group began to gather their things and make plans for baths, pajamas, and room service. “We made it,” he said simply, his tone a mixture of pride and disbelief.
Garthan clapped a hand on his shoulder, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “You might just make a decent father someday.”
Tremane looked over at Helena, who was helping collect someone’s coat from the back of a chair. He nodded slowly.
“Someday.”
They began the slow walk back toward the elevators; children dozing or buzzing with sugar, adults exchanging amused glances. And as they passed beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers, someone—maybe Sarah, maybe Karina—said softly, “Same time next year?”
No one answered. But no one said no.
-*-
Notes:
While Jareth certainly loves children and has quite a bit of experience with them, it should be remembered that he usually deals with them individually, and not in a mob. Also, as he pointed out to Jacen, his kids were spaced apart in birth, with about a century between each of them. This is probably the first time any of the dads had to deal with such a crowd, at least… the first time without the moms to help. Tremane and Helena did so well with them because in a sense, they were still kids themselves.
But I did like how Jareth marveled at the fact that his own parents were able to wrangle three very rowdy and rambunctious boys, back in the day. And I like how each group of parents expressed their appreciation for the other… with the dads appreciating how the moms handle the chaos, and the moms recounting the dads’ patience and sense of fun.
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Castaway Creek, Typhoon Lagoon…
The water was warm, the current gentle.
Sunlight filtered through palm fronds above, casting golden ripples across the surface of the lazy river as Sarah drifted past a faux stone archway. The soft sound of cascading water echoed off painted rock, mixing with the far-off shrieks of children tumbling down slides and the occasional bell-like clang of an overturned inner tube. She sighed, content, arms resting loosely on the sides of her float.
Just ahead, Jareth spun slowly in his own tube, one hand trailing through the water, his long legs stretched out before him. He looked suspiciously relaxed.
“No thoughts of strategic withdrawal?” she teased, lazily kicking toward him.
“One,” he said, keeping his eyes closed. “But I’m ignoring it.”
“Progress.”
They drifted together under a canopy of overhanging branches, their tubes bumping gently. Sarah reached over and hooked her fingers through his, anchoring herself beside him.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
“It is,” Jareth admitted. “Though I keep waiting for a child to cannonball into my serenity.”
Sarah smiled. “Give them time. They’re probably plotting it as we speak.”
He looked over at her then, taking in the relaxed tilt of her head, the slight damp curls framing her face, the faint tan beginning to warm her skin. Her eyes were closed, but there was peace in the set of her mouth that he rarely saw during the bustle of everyday life.
“I’ve missed this,” he said softly.
She cracked one eye open and looked over at him. “Water parks?”
“No,” he said, voice quieter. “This. Time with you. Without lists. Or schedules. Or people needing things.”
She didn’t reply right away. Then, “Time feels different here. Slower. Like it’s finally letting us catch our breath.”
He nodded, his free hand swirling idly in the water. “I can barely remember when it was just us… before the children, before…”
“I know what you mean. I have a hard time remembering life before the goblins,” she said with a smile.
He chuckled. “It was simpler, I’m sure.”
“It was lonelier,” she said gently.
He glanced at her. Sarah squeezed his fingers. “I wouldn’t trade what we have now. The noise, the chaos, the glitter. I love all of it. But this…” she gestured around them. “These quiet moments… they remind me why we do it.”
“For them,” he said.
“And for us.”
They floated in silence for a long while, the current carrying them along a winding path beneath archways and through artificial caves. Somewhere nearby, a child screamed with laughter. It wasn’t one of theirs. Not yet.
“I may need to build one of these,” Jareth said solemnly. Sarah glanced over. “A lazy river,” he clarified. “For emotional detox. Staffed with Ughlánas butlers and silent float marshals.”
She laughed, leaning her head on the side of her float. “That sounds ridiculous.”
He smirked. “So does being king of the Goblins. It doesn’t stop me.”
Their fingers stayed twined as they drifted out into the sunlight again, the sky wide above them and the water pulling them forward. Not too fast, not too far. Just enough.
-*-
Summit Plummet, Blizzard Beach…
Helena squinted up at the towering structure of Summit Plummet, its faux-snowy slope glistening under the Florida sun like an improbable mountaintop. The sign below boasted its stats proudly; one of the tallest and fastest free-fall body slides in the world.
Tremane stood beside her with his arms crossed and his chin high, doing his absolute best impression of confidence. “We should conquer it. For honor.”
Helena arched an eyebrow, arms loosely crossed. “You go right ahead, warrior. I’ll hold your towel.”
Tremane glanced sideways, his look almost sly. “I mean, I assumed we were doing it together. Battle bonding. You know. Glory and shared trauma. But if you’re afraid…”
Helena gave him a look, then smirked. “Fine. I’ll go. But if I hear you scream like a tea kettle, I will tell everyone.”
“Pfft.” He waved a hand. “I don’t scream. I yell strategically.”
Without another word, she turned and began climbing the winding staircase to the summit.
Tremane blinked. “Wait—Hellcat?”
But she was already several steps up, not even glancing back.
He sighed, muttered something about pride before gravity, and followed her up with considerably less swagger.
The line at the top was short, and before he could fully prepare himself, Helena had disappeared down the chute with nothing but a whoosh and a flash of blue swimwear.
Tremane stepped up next, eyed the drop that looked less like a slide and more like a controlled fall, and laid back stiffly as the attendant gestured.
“This is fine,” he muttered.
“Three, two, one—”
The slide released him like a whisper. And then:
“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”
It was not strategic. It was not dignified.
He landed in a splash, half-drowned and blinking up at the blue sky as if betrayed by the laws of physics. Helena was already standing nearby, arms crossed, expression smug. “You squealed.”
He coughed up water. “I roared.”
“You squealed.”
He pushed wet hair out of his eyes and gave her a wobbly smile. “Did I at least look good doing it?”
“No,” she said cheerfully. “But you get full marks for commitment.” She bent down and kissed his cheek, which felt suspiciously like a reward and a consolation prize. “I like you brave,” she murmured.
“I like me alive,” he replied, and took her hand. They walked together down the hill toward the less terrifying slides, hand in hand, his pride slightly bruised, her smile brighter than the fake snow surrounding them.
-*-
Wave Pool, Typhoon Lagoon…
The wave pool was deceptively peaceful between sets, a wide expanse of glistening blue gently lapping at the sandy shore. Families floated on rented tubes. Teens lounged half-submerged in the shallows. The occasional whistle from a lifeguard rang out like punctuation in the tropical soundtrack.
And at the edge of the water, Garthan stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the pool like it owed him money.
“Okay,” he said, turning to Kris, who was hopping from one foot to the other, already soaked from three ‘warm-up dives.’
“Stance. Legs apart. Knees bent. Brace your core.”
Kris did a dramatic pose straight out of an action movie. “Like this?”
Garthan laughed, “You look like you’re posing for a battle painting. Adjust your weight, not your chin.”
About fifteen feet away, Lily reclined in a lounge chair, sunglasses on, towel draped over her lap, sipping from a pineapple-shaped cup. She was watching the entire exchange with mild amusement and the unmistakable expression of someone who had absolutely no intention of intervening.
The warning siren sounded. Garthan snapped to attention. “Here it comes. Stand firm. Channel your center.”
Kris grinned and bounced excitedly. “I am the wave!”
Moments later, the massive surge hit—rolling forward like Poseidon’s own punchline. Garthan was mid-instruction “—remember to shift your wei—!” when the wall of water bowled him over completely.
He disappeared.
Kris cackled as he dove sideways, using the wave’s momentum to barrel-roll dramatically, arms out like a flailing dolphin.
Lily snorted into her drink.
Garthan surfaced a moment later, coughing, hair plastered to his head, a pair of pool goggles now inexplicably hanging from one ear. He looked around, stunned, like he’d just been personally attacked by the ocean.
“I said brace,” he muttered.
Kris came bounding over. “You got launched! It was amazing!”
“I was demonstrating.” Garthan coughed again, spitting water. “Worst-case scenario preparedness.”
Lily sauntered over, towel in hand, and handed it to him with regal detachment. “You’re banned from training drills. Stick to floating.”
Garthan took the towel with the defeated dignity of a knight whose horse just slipped in mud. Kris was still doing “recovery rolls” across the shallows.
“You’re not helping,” Garthan muttered to Lily.
“Oh, I am,” she said, smiling. “Just not in the way you wanted.”
And with that, the next wave rolled in, catching Kris mid-cartwheel and sending him giggling back into the froth.
Garthan sighed. “We need a new strategy.”
Lily adjusted her sunglasses. “You need a new strategy. I need another drink.”
-*-
Raft Slides, Typhoon Lagoon…
At the top of the winding staircase, the inflatable raft waited; bright blue, bobbing gently in the shallow launch pool. Zander was practically vibrating with anticipation, eyes wide and grin feral.
“We’re going again after this,” he said, not for the first time.
Randel, standing behind him with one arm slung around a slightly hesitant Leianna, gave a theatrical groan. “There’s no end to your ambition, is there?”
Zander just grinned harder.
Karina stood beside them, braid already damp, her towel abandoned at the foot of the stairs. She was grinning too, though it was the knowing kind of grin worn only by someone who had accepted that once you had children, dignity was optional.
They climbed into the raft, Leianna tucked safely between Randel and Karina, with Zander at the front like a pint-sized general commanding a chariot.
“Ready?” the attendant asked.
“No,” Randel replied. “But that’s never stopped us before.”
And with a push, they were off.
The raft spun into motion, banking hard to the left, water spraying up as they plunged into the first curve. Zander whooped with triumph. Leianna shrieked and grabbed Randel’s arm, but not out of fear, more out of delighted surprise. Karina laughed out loud, her head tilted back, hair flying in the wind and mist.
At the halfway point, the raft climbed the walls and dropped back down again. Zander cackled. Leianna squealed. Karina was laughing like a loon.
They hit the final drop and splashed down into the landing pool, the raft slowing, turning gently in lazy circles. Leianna sat blinking for a moment, her curls damp and eyes wide. Then she burst out, “Let’s do it again!”
Karina raised an eyebrow. “I think we’ve created a monster.”
“Two monsters,” Randel said, nodding toward Zander, who was already halfway out of the raft and plotting the next ascent.
Karina helped Leianna out, wringing out the hem of her cover-up. “You know, I was dreading the water park.”
Randel blinked, “You’d never know it from today…”
“I think it’s them. They’re what makes it different.” She smiled, looping her arm through his as they followed the kids. “They make the chaos feel like joy.”
He kissed the side of her head. “That’s because we’re outmatched.”
“That too.”
The kids were already at the base of the stairs again, waving their arms and yelling for them to hurry up.
Randel sighed. “No rest for the soaked.”
Karina laughed. “Better start climbing.”
-*-
Ketchakidee Creek, Typhoon Lagoon…
The Ketchakiddee Creek play area was alive with squeals and spray. Miniature slides, water cannons, tilting buckets, and shallow splash zones made it a self-contained kingdom of chaos. And at its center, Lillibet reigned supreme.
She stood atop a wobbly platform in a ruffled pink swimsuit and oversized sun hat, hands on hips, surveying her domain. Below her, Darian crouched behind a water cannon like a seasoned tactician. “Ready, your majesty?”
“Fire the warning shot,” she ordered grandly.
He let loose a burst of mist across the walkway, catching an unsuspecting toddler who laughed and retaliated with a plastic cup full of water.
From a shaded bench nearby, Erynne watched with her arms crossed and a bemused smile tugging at her lips. “You know,” she said, “if she starts demanding tribute, we’re pulling them out of here.”
Anduin, standing just off to the side in the splash zone, had a waterproof satchel across his chest and a towel slung over one shoulder like a banner. His tee shirt was damp. His patience, however, was steady as stone. Darian darted toward him, trailed by Lillibet yelling something about defending the royal popsicles.
“You are now the bodyguard,” Darian declared, shoving a dripping water cannon into Anduin’s hand. “Defend the queen with honor!”
Anduin blinked, water already trickling down his arm. “I was not informed of my appointment.”
“Too late,” Lillibet shouted. “You're already a soldier, Papa. Serve your Queen!”
Anduin chuckled and lifted the cannon like a knight brandishing a reluctant lance.
From the bench, Erynne watched them go… her husband, the solemn war strategist, now gently shielding a small girl from a rogue spray bucket while being declared “Sir Splash-a-Lot.”
And something in her chest warmed.
Later, as the kids played in the sand nearby, she stood beside him beneath the shade of a wide palm and spoke softly, her tone more thoughtful than teasing.
“You’re so good with them.”
Anduin didn’t look up from where he was watching Lillibet build a crooked sandcastle. “They’re so good for me.”
She was quiet for a beat. “I remember when I didn’t think I’d ever have a future like this.”
He turned to her then, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s because you didn’t know me yet.”
Erynne reached for his hand. He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed gently. Somewhere behind them, Lillibet yelled, “THE QUEEN DEMANDS SNACKS!”
Anduin sighed. “My liege calls.”
Erynne laughed. “Go on, Sir Splash-a-Lot.”
-*-
Castaway Creek, Typhoon Lagoon…
Compared to the noisy thrill of slides and the splash zones echoing with shrieks of laughter, the lazy river felt like another world entirely. The current moved gently beneath the tropical canopy, dotted with sunbeams filtering through the palms. The occasional mist spray gave the air a sweet, cool touch.
Jacen, stretched out in his float, drifted slowly behind Madeline, who lay on hers with one hand trailing in the water. Mikael, in a miniature tube of his own, was paddling with exaggerated effort just ahead of them.
“I’m the navigator!” he declared. “We’re headed due south! Or maybe east. There’s moss. That means something.”
Jacen reached out with one foot and gently nudged Mikael’s float straight again. “You’re drifting.”
“I’m adjusting for wind resistance,” Mikael said solemnly.
Madeline let out a soft laugh and stretched one leg toward Jacen’s tube, hooking them gently together so they drifted side by side. “You’re quiet,” she said softly.
Jacen didn’t answer at first. His eyes were on her face, the way her smile lingered even after the laugh had faded. How the light caught the damp curve of her jaw. The calm in her.
“This is what peace looks like,” he murmured. “You and him. Floating. Laughing. Just… being.” He exhaled. “I knew that having a family was in my future at some point, but I never dreamed it would be as wonderful as this.”
Madeline reached over and laced her fingers through his. “It’s yours. Ours. And it’s only just beginning.”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened.
Later, when they returned their tubes and wrapped up in warm towels, Mikael led them on a determined march to the ice cream stand, eyes scanning the menu with the gravity of a war councilor reviewing strategy.
“I vote we get the big one,” he said, pointing at a cartoonishly oversized sundae in a pineapple-shaped bowl. “It’s got four scoops.”
“We’re three people,” Jacen pointed out.
“I’m counting the baby.”
Madeline laughed so hard she had to sit down.
They split the sundae, of course. Madeline fed Mikael a bite that ended up on his nose, and Jacen wiped it off before the child could smear it further. The sun warmed their backs, the syrup ran sticky down the sides of the bowl, and none of them rushed.
Before they finished, Madeline pulled out her camera. “Smile.”
Jacen blinked. “Now?”
“Yes,” she said, scooting close. “You, me, Mikael, the pineapple of joy.”
He didn’t quite smile, but his arm went around her and the boy, and when she snapped the photo, his eyes were looking at her… not the lens.
-*-
Ketchakidee Creek, Typhoon Lagoon…
If the kids' play zone at Typhoon Lagoon was a kingdom, then the Ughlánas were its unruly, unofficial security council. A council made up of sticky hands, unpredictable logic, and deeply committed childcare instincts.
Tippy had claimed the lifeguard chair, not the real one, but a small plastic perch near the splash zone, and sat atop it with an inflatable duck ring looped over her middle like royal regalia. Her nose was smudged with what may have once been sunscreen. A pair of pink sunglasses perched crookedly on her forehead.
“State your name and business!” she declared as Darian tried to sneak past with a cup full of ice.
“I’m carrying cargo for the Queen,” Darian replied, gesturing toward Lillibet, who was busy attempting to enchant a water cannon with a plastic mermaid wand.
“Hm.” Tippy grunted with a teasing light in her eyes. “Cleared for passage. But no bellyflopping near the baby fountains. Last time, Peet got stuck.”
“Did not!” came a shrill voice from a nearby bush.
Peet, still drying off from his last escapade, had wrapped himself in a towel and wedged into a shady corner, chewing on what looked like half a granola bar and half a pool noodle. Zee, meanwhile, patrolled the area with all the seriousness of a royal steward. He wore a floppy straw hat and three whistles around his neck.
The other parents—humans who had long ago given up trying to figure this group out—watched in a strange mixture of awe and confusion. To them, the Ughlánas looked like a bunch of kids, but they kept order better than most adult staff. They anticipated tantrums before they happened, had band-aids for invisible wounds, and could locate missing flip-flops like bloodhounds.
And they never left a child unattended. Even those of strangers.
Tippy hopped down from her post and ambled over to Lillibet, who was now perched on a water cannon like a queen surveying her armory. “You need a break, Highness?” Tippy asked, tugging the girl’s sunhat down to shield her nose.
“I’m fine,” Lillibet said solemnly. “But Peet needs more supervision.”
“Peet always needs more supervision.”
Peet, from the bush: “Do not!”
Zee leaned over, glancing toward Tippy. “They’re happy. No one’s crying. No one’s sticky in a way that can’t be fixed. I call this a win.”
Tippy nodded, her voice softening. “They don’t even know we’re watching most of the time.”
“We always are,” Zee said.
Then Lillibet turned the water cannon on Peet, who shrieked, “BETRAYAL!” and bolted from the bush like a greased watermelon. The Ughlánas sprang into motion—not to stop the mayhem, but to manage it. Efficiently. Lovingly.
Exactly like always.
-*-
As the last golden rays of daylight stretched across the water park, the family slowly regrouped at the covered patio of the Surfside Grill, where the scent of grilled pineapple and smoked meats drifted lazily on the breeze. The tables were long and made for gatherings, shaded by fluttering umbrellas and strung with soft globe lights that began to glow as the sun dipped lower. Everyone looked a little waterlogged, a little sun-drowsy, and completely satisfied.
Randel and Karina had arrived first; Leianna half-asleep on his shoulder while Zander tried to convince a server that churros counted as vegetables. Garthan, hair still damp and dignity mildly bruised, dropped into a chair next to Lily and groaned. “I’m too old for wave warfare.”
Kris beamed proudly. “I saved him twice.”
“You pushed me once.”
“Semantics.”
Jacen, Madeline, and Mikael strolled in together, the remains of a sundae on Mikael’s face and a camera in Madeline’s hand. “We conquered the lazy river,” she announced, “and there were no casualties.”
Anduin and Erynne entered next, flanking Lillibet and Darian, who were both chattering about cannon battles and water slide alliances. Jareth and Sarah stepped onto the patio behind them, hair dry, clothes clean, and utterly serene—until someone pointed out that Jareth had a child’s sticker still plastered to the back of his jacket.
“I like it,” Sarah said. “Very king-of-the-jungle chic.”
Tippy, Zee, and Peet arrived, Peet trailing a stream of water and two unmatched sandals. Shortly after, Helena and Tremane came hurrying around the corner, slightly flushed and still damp at the edges.
“Sorry!” Helena called, waving as they approached the table. “Bit of a traffic jam at the Blizzard Beach exit.”
“Some kid dropped a float ring on the tram track,” Tremane added with a shrug. “It had a name. Kevin.”
Lillibet looked up, interested. “The float or the kid?”
“No one knows,” Helena said gravely.
They squeezed into open seats amid laughter and jostling, but it didn’t take long before Kris leaned forward, eyes wide. “Well?! Did you do it?”
“Oh, she did it,” Tremane muttered, reaching for a drink. “Like it was nothing.”
“And he screamed,” Helena added sweetly, resting her chin in her hand. “Like a songbird meeting a cold shower.” The table burst into laughter.
Tremane took it in stride, sipping from his cup with as much wounded dignity as he could muster. “I was expressing my respect for the force of gravity. Loudly.”
“Your voice cracked,” Helena pointed out.
“I’m sure it was majestic,” Lily assured him, her tone soothing.
“Heroic, even,” Garthan deadpanned.
Tremane grumbled, but there was a smile tugging at his lips as Helena bumped her shoulder against his, and someone passed him a basket of tortilla chips in a show of solidarity.
The family filled the tables, laughing, trading stories of slides and spills, and comparing tan lines and sunburns like battle scars. Plates of tropical skewers, macadamia-crusted fish, and pineapple-glazed ribs were passed back and forth. Kids snuck extra dessert bites. Adults exchanged tired, smiling glances over slushy cocktails and iced teas.
As the last light faded and the stars began to peek through the deepening blue sky, Jareth sat back and surveyed the long table. His children, his nieces and nephews, his grandchildren, the bonds between them tangled like vines but growing strong, vibrant, and full of life.
Sarah reached over and took his hand beneath the table. He looked at her, and in a voice just loud enough for her alone, he said, “I wouldn’t change a thing about this day.”
She smiled. “Even the part where you got smacked in the face by a toddler’s pool noodle?”
“Especially that part.”
Their glasses clinked quietly, and around them, the family buzzed with warmth and joy.
-*-
Notes:
I personally have a fear of water and absolutely HATED going to the water park when my stepkids were little (although I hid it as best I could). I didn’t even like the lazy river (my imagination populating it with hidden alligators probably didn’t help). When my twins came along, that was an activity I saved for when they were old enough to do the slides on their own. I’d park myself in a shady spot and let them have at it.
It is certainly part of the nature of the Ughlánas to watch over ALL of the children at the splash zone, not just the Othánas. I giggled a bit picturing Zee with his lifeguard whistles (all three of them) patrolling the perimeter and making sure everyone was safe.
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Last Day…
The suite was a war zone of open suitcases, discarded maps, half-zipped duffel bags, and sun-crisped mouse ears.
“Has anyone seen Darian’s shoes?” Erynne asked, scanning the floor with a mom’s honed radar.
“He packed them,” Madeline replied, sipping a cup of tea. “In my bag. Along with a cookie and two action figures.”
“That tracks.”
“I got them out,” Madeline continued. “He took them with him to the bathroom.”
Across the room, Jacen and Anduin were playing luggage Tetris with grim determination. The larger cases were already lined up by the door like obedient soldiers. Jacen paused, wiped his forehead, and muttered, “If I have to zip one more expandable pocket, I’m going to scream.”
Anduin didn’t reply. He was deep in battle with a rogue wheeled suitcase that refused to steer in a straight line.
Garthan passed behind them with three backpacks slung across his shoulders and a fourth clipped to his front like a stubborn child. “This is what we get for letting them buy souvenirs. We should have just conjured them after our return and left the money.”
Karina peered into a tote bag. “Zander tried to smuggle a rock from Animal Kingdom. A rock.”
“He named it,” Randel added helpfully. “It’s sentimental.”
“Then it stays in his luggage.”
Amid the chaos, Sarah remained calm, weaving through the packing with the precision of someone who’d done this a dozen times before. She did a final sweep of the suite, checking under beds, behind bathroom doors, inside drawers. She gathered receipts, magic bands, and souvenir brochures, and tucked them into the front of her bag with practiced efficiency.
As the last of the bags were zipped and children were herded into shoes they’d claimed were “missing,” Sarah turned to Jareth, who was eyeing a lollipop stuck to his coat with resigned horror. “Ready?”
“I was born ready. But not for that,” he said, flicking the lollipop off with a dramatic sigh.
They filed out of the suite and down to the lobby in waves, Jacen and Anduin rolling the heavier luggage toward the parking garage while Sarah handled checkout, exchanging pleasantries with the desk staff and fielding last-minute questions from Kris about “one more ride” and whether anyone had claimed the leftover churros.
Finally, as the last receipt was printed and the last goodbye was waved, Sarah stepped back outside and looked at her family… sun-kissed, slightly wrinkled, rumpled and wonderful. They were tired. A little chaotic. Maybe still a bit sticky. But they were ready for one last adventure.
“Magic Kingdom?” someone suggested.
And with grins and knowing glances, they all nodded.
One last day. One last ride.
-*-
The SUVs pulled up to the gates of Magic Kingdom one final time, tires crunching on familiar pavement. This time, no one rushed.
There was a quiet reverence to their steps as they crossed under the arches, pausing to look up at the train station, then to the flag waving high over Town Square. The air was thick with sun and the scent of popcorn. The music piped through the speakers, upbeat, whimsical, and it felt like an overture to an encore.
They didn’t race for the rides. They walked.
And as they moved down Main Street, surrounded by families and balloons and the distant shimmer of Cinderella’s Castle, it was clear that this wasn’t just about the park anymore. It was about memory.
-*-
They started with Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, a definite favorite and one more thrill to shake the last bits of sleep from their bones. The train screamed and bucked through canyons and dynamite-blasted mines, and even the adults raised their arms for at least one drop. Mikael let out a howl of dramatic terror that made Karina laugh so hard she nearly missed the final curve.
Next was the Jungle Cruise, where their boat captain delivered the same corny lines the ride had always boasted, but somehow… funnier this time. Maybe it was Kris laughing too hard at every pun, or Zander trying to outdo the guide with jokes of his own (“That elephant has better posture than Uncle Garthan!”), but by the time they passed the backside of water, everyone was smiling.
Then came the Mad Tea Party.
It started off innocent enough. Most the adults bowed out with excuses ranging from back pain to “inner ear instability.” But the rest loaded into the pastel teacups, and the spinning began.
Tremane and Helena spun with the fierce joy of competition, while Mikael, Zander, and Jacen tried to keep up with their speed. Lillibet and Darian’s cup wobbled wildly, clearly enchanted by Peet and Tippy, who were riding with them and grinning like gremlins. Sarah and Jareth sat in theirs, barely spinning at all, watching the swirl of color and laughing from the sidelines of motion.
As they disembarked, everyone laughed to see Helena and Tremane making their way to the exit gate with an almost drunken stagger. Then Madeline tilted her head and said, entirely too innocently: “Anyone want to go on Small World again?”
The silence was immediate. Then: a collective groan.
“Why would you do that?” Anduin muttered.
“I just got that song out of my head,” Jacen groaned, covering his ears. “Now it’s back. It’s back and it brought backup.”
Kris started humming.
“Don’t you dare!” came from three different directions.
“I swear,” Randel muttered, “I’d build a rocket just to launch that ride into the sun.”
“You don’t even like space engineering,” Karina reminded him.
“It’s a cause now.”
They laughed, groaned, and meandered toward the front gates with that familiar post-park limp. Tired feet, full hearts, and souvenirs hanging off their backpacks like badges of survival.
-*-
The drive to the airport was quiet.
Not solemn, just… satisfied. The kind of silence that comes after a feast, after a victory, after something you know you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Children dozed in the back seats, their heads leaning against windows or bundled under sweatshirts too big for them. A Figment plush had become a pillow. Someone’s mouse ears had been borrowed by a napping Ughlánas. Zee was humming softly under his breath, too tired even for commentary. The adults rode with soft conversation; occasional laughter, and quiet memories already becoming stories.
When they arrived at the car rental return, the process was surprisingly smooth. The SUVs were unloaded in a blur of bags and bodies. A few employees waved to them without knowing why, just sensing something different in the group, something unusually warm, unusually wide.
Then, in a quiet, roped-off corner near a glass wall that overlooked the runway, Jareth raised his hand. The children, sleepy but practiced, stood in a loose semicircle. The adults gathered behind them. The Ughlánas scampered into place with suspiciously coordinated precision.
A ripple shimmered through the air, then with a ‘pop’, the entire group and their luggage vanished.
-*-
The magic of transport faded, leaving a soft golden glow in the stone and candlelight of the family solar. There was no fanfare, just the gentle hush of evening. Cool air, the crackle of a low-burning hearth, and the familiar scent of lavender, old books, and something faintly sweet from the kitchens.
Toby rose from the settee, hugging Kris lightly as the boy barreled into him. He glanced over at Jareth with a smile. “All is well. We can catch up tomorrow. Or the next day.”
Jareth nodded almost numbly as the other adults staggered around, blinking and slightly disoriented by the sudden change in atmosphere. After a full week of theme park color and noise, the dim grandeur of the Underground felt... sacred.
As the adults began the process of sorting luggage, untangling coats from mouse-ear hats, and unzipping overstuffed satchels, a quiet stillness settled over the castle. The children all moved toward the seating area the moment they arrived, seeking the comfort of familiar couches and well-worn corners.
It didn’t take long for Sarah to notice the silence.
She peeked over by the fireplace, and there they were—curled up on cushions, nestled into armchairs, sprawled across the floor in a tangle of limbs and soft snores. Mikael had a book still open on his chest, Lillibet tucked neatly to his side and hugging her Figment plush. Leianna was half-on, half-off the chair, mouth slightly open and her feet resting on Darian’s back. Zander and Kris had fallen asleep mid-whisper on the same settee, shoes barely off.
Sarah smiled and stepped back to the luggage pile. “They’re all out,” she whispered.
Jareth glanced toward the sitting area, then grinned back at her. “Let them sleep.”
The others nodded in agreement, their faces softened a mix of affection and exhaustion. No need to disturb them. Not after everything. Not after this week. One by one, the adults turned, shuffling off toward their own chambers with muffled goodnights and tired sighs. The sounds of the castle shifted back to quiet again.
Jareth and Sarah were the last to remain. Together, they walked over to the seating area, careful not to step on scattered mouse ears or souvenir swords. The fire still glowed in the hearth, casting warm gold over the sleeping children.
Jareth looked at them for a long time. “You realize most of them didn’t even unpack.”
Sarah conjured a blanket and gently draped it over Mikael and Lillibet. “It can wait until tomorrow.”
“She’s been hugging that Figment plush all night,” Jareth said softly, smirking as he pulled Leianna into a less precarious position on the chair before wrapping her in a flannel throw. “Should we be concerned?”
Sarah chuckled. “We have goblins. I think we passed concerned a long time ago.”
After covering all the youngsters, they stood side by side for a long moment, eyes moving across the faces they knew better than their own. And Jareth, his voice barely above a breath, said: “Look at them.”
Sarah nodded, emotion soft in her eyes. “We’ve built something... good.”
“Better than good.”
“Home,” she whispered.
They turned to make their way to their chamber, the flicker of lanternlight glancing off the polished floor. She glanced up at Jareth, her brow raised quizzically at his expression. “What?” she whispered. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he whispered back with a grin. “I was just thinking… that day in the Escher room. The crystal. It showed me your dreams... our dreams... it showed me us, and what we would be together. And every day since, I’ve thanked Danu for sending me such an angel.”
She kissed him before taking his hand and tugging him toward their chamber. And then—softly, innocently, like a memory sneaking out of a dream—Sarah began to hum. A simple, familiar tune. High-pitched. Maddening.
Too familiar.
Jareth stopped in his tracks. “Then again, you could be a demon, sent to condemn my soul to perdition.”
Her humming continued.
His eyes narrowed. “Stop.”
She turned to him, her smile wicked. 🎵 “It’s a small world, after all…” 🎵
He groaned, long and dramatic. “Sarah.”
She twirled once, graceful as ever, arms lifted in faux theatricality.
🎵 “It’s a small—” 🎵
“Don’t you dare finish that verse.”
She laughed and vanished behind the door, leaving him in the solar with a hand to his temple and the haunted look of a man who knows it will be stuck in his head until Spring.
He sighed. Then he smiled.
And followed her in.
-*-
Notes:
So, this was pure, unadulterated domestic fluff. And I’m not ashamed.
You might ask… why not just transport themselves to and from the resort? A few reasons… Jareth and the rest of the guys had never been there. In the centuries of Jareth’s scouting for the Labyrinth, he had at least been near the Orlando airport. In the days leading up to the vacation, he transported the other men there so they could get a link.
Also, it was much easier to find a deserted area in the airport than it would be in a bustling resort. They also would have wanted a means of transportation, in case they decided to go sightseeing.
Dastardly plot points, all of them. Oh well. But it was all in good fun.
Next up, another somewhat lighthearted tale, where Jareth and the Ughlánas take their long-awaited revenge on Sarah's wicked mother.
Chapter 13: Appendix - Realistic Photos
Chapter Text
I really did try to do photorealistic images for the scrapbook, and had such a hard time with it that I scrapped the project and turned to the Pixar versions. Midjourney (and other AI art generators) seem to have a much easier time of doing scenes that are in an animated style, probably because it doesn't take as much 'brain' power to do. The main issue was putting multiple characters into Disney scenes... it just couldn't cope with it. It had a lot less issues doing medieval style pictures, but the combination of my characters and Disneyland was just too much for Midjourney. Still, I thought I'd share the ones that I did get out of it, for your perusal.
Jareth and Sarah on Main Street
Leianna Dressed as Esmeralda
Lily Dressed as Sleeping Beauty
Zander, Kris, Mikael and Darian
Garthan and his Mad Hat
Jacen and Madeline
Randel and Karina
Anduin, Erynne, and Lillibet
Tremane and Helena at the Summit Plummet
I may revisit this one someday, when Midjourney gets a little better and I get a lot more patience. The newest version of Midjourney now has an animation feature that I'm playing around with (and it animates photos as well as cartoon characters). I was idly messing around with the intention of doing a video slideshow of animated clips with my characters, both realistic and Pixar style. But the AI art generators are starting to crack down on anything that looks even remotely copyrighted, making video generation a lot more tricky. An example is a Pixar style image I did of Garthan (and it wasn't the cartoonish style as in the scrapbook here, it was way more cinematic and awesome) and the AI told me that it was a copyrighted image... even though it was generated through the AI itself. Apparently, my image of Garthan resembled a male version of Elsa (something that never occurred to me). It did a version of David Bowie's Jareth just fine, but this apparently was too close to copyright. Ugh.
Another issue was trying to get the photo of Tremane and Helena at the water park. It absolutely would not generate a picture of teenagers in bathing suits (or, more specifically, a female teenager in a bathing suit). Now, I get it. Some pretty sketchy images could be made of that. But I wasn't trying to do a NSFW image of an underage girl in a bathing suit or anything. And in my prompt, I specifically mentioned that she was wearing a sarong over her bathing suit, but it just wouldn't do it. The amount of tweaking I had to do just to get the image I got... it was migraine-inducing. That meant that there was no way to do the pictures at the kiddie splash zone, either. Again, I get it... but the restrictions really made doing the vacation photos a pain in the neck. While I understood (and agreed) with the spirit of the rules, I found it ironic that there are AI generated video clips out there using the likeness of celebrities, that apparently didn't get the ban hammer.
At any rate, I decided to cut my losses and just go with the Pixar ones for the scrapbook and move on.
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 1 Fri 08 Aug 2025 10:33PM UTC
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anbchancellor on Chapter 1 Tue 02 Sep 2025 03:11AM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 2 Mon 11 Aug 2025 08:47PM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 3 Wed 13 Aug 2025 11:00PM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 4 Fri 15 Aug 2025 10:11PM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 5 Mon 18 Aug 2025 09:02AM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 6 Mon 18 Aug 2025 09:47PM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 7 Thu 21 Aug 2025 01:01AM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 8 Sat 23 Aug 2025 07:58AM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 9 Tue 26 Aug 2025 01:53AM UTC
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Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 10 Sat 30 Aug 2025 01:41AM UTC
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