Chapter Twenty-Two

 

In the event that the Contract is terminated or nullified, each party will leave the marriage with the property they brought into it.  Therefore, Midas (no last name given) will retain his gold, his house, his horses, his business, and all material belongings related to any of the above.

He agrees to pay Guinevere Pendragon any alimony she wishes, even though she has repeatedly tried to talk him out of it.

Clause 19- Disposition of Property of Midas (no last name given) in Event of Contract’s Termination

 

The next week was the happiest that Midas had ever been.

Every morning, he’d knock on Gwen’s door, before the sun was even up, desperate to watch her come apart in his hands.  …And she always let him in.  His wife would drag him inside her room, like she’d been waiting for him, eager for his touch.  Even better, she then spent the rest of the day with him, saying delightfully unpredictable things and smiling.  For the first time in his life, Midas truly belonged with someone.

With two someones, actually.

Avalon owned him.  The little girl followed him around, asking non-stop questions, and proclaiming them best friends, and Midas was helpless to resist her.  He didn’t even want to resist her.  He was perfectly content.  He could go down to breakfast and Avalon would beam at him and Gwen would look at him like he was special.  And Midas would know that he’d somehow acquired the impossible.

His very own family.

It cost him stacks and stacks of gold to hold onto such a valuable commodity, but it was all worth it. He would have gladly paid in blood, if that’s what it took to keep them.  The dozens of armed men he’d hired, and the weapons he was stockpiling, and the massive losses to his business were all the wisest money he’d ever spend.

Midas finally had the best.

So long as Avalon’s “daddy” stayed away and Gwen never found the Right Man, Midas could keep his newfound riches.  …But he wasn’t sure how much longer his luck would hold.  He was fairly sure Avi’s father and Gwen’s dream man were the same person.  Someone Gwen hadn’t even met yet, but who Avalon saw coming.  Some handsome hero who would love them and give them his name.

Someone who would rip Midas’ world apart, given half a chance.

And that son of a bitch wasn’t the only dark cloud in his precariously happy existence.  Gwen remained determined to track down Merlyn’s wand.  They’d scoured the Emerald City from top to bottom and come up empty.  Midas was beginning to think it would never turn up and he was tired of waiting.  It suited Gwen not to have bloodshed in the streets, but Midas preferred a more hands-on approach.  He wanted the Scarecrow dead, as soon as possible.

He had so much to lose.

At least he had an army, now.  The Round Table had actually come through, plus Letty had sent a mass of Bad folk to Camelot.  Together, they were doing their damnedest to ruin the Scarecrow’s day every day.  Their mayhem wasn’t exactly carried out with military precision, but it would do.  Midas did worry that Scarlett would order her people back again if he didn’t soon find her the witch, though.

Wherever Esmeralda was hiding, it wasn’t in the Four Kingdoms, Camelot, Neverland, or Oz.  Midas had had all of them searched from pole to pole and come up with nothing.  All witches loved Oz!  Why couldn’t Esmeralda just be normal? It was beginning to annoy him that the woman was so well-concealed.  Maybe Ez and Merlyn’s wand were together someplace, which would explain why neither could be found.

“Your colonel is ridiculously attired and unfit for battle.”  Trystan informed him with a scoff.  “It’s no wonder your puny people starve.”

“We’re not fuc…-p’don starving.”  Clause 3- “Protection and Care of Avalon Pendragon” said Midas had to try to watch his language around the child, so he’d begun swearing in the gryphons’ dialect, whenever possible.  That way Avalon couldn’t understand him and couldn’t be shocked.  Not that she ever corrected his missteps, anyway.  She lectured everyone else about cursing, but she allowed Midas to say whatever he liked.  For some reason, that made him feel smug.  Special.

They were best friends.

Trystan was also his friend, even when he was an annoying jackass.  Midas felt closer to the man since Avalon and Gwen arrived. Caring about them made it easier to care about others.  The gryphon was the only other person on the planet Midas felt a bond with.  The only man he completely trusted with his family.

Trystan definitely sensed the shift in their relationship, too.  He seemed capable of feeling more than Corrah had been able to feel, but Midas couldn’t be sure how much more.  He’d never actually discussed it with the gryphon, because --well-- he was Trystan.  Still, there was no doubt that Trystan could get pissed off pretty fast for a man without emotions.

When Midas had offered him a huge raise to compensate for his expanded duties as Avalon’s bodyguard, Trystan had just about lost his damn mind.

“I will take no money to protect a child.  Especially that child.”  Trystan had been speaking in the gryphons’ language, without even noticing.  His jaw was set defiantly, his tone furious.  “I take no money to perform a sacred duty of my clan.”

He’d dropped the heavy bag of gold right back on Midas’ desk like it was tainted.

Instantly, Midas knew he’d fucked up.  In this case, he’d known right from wrong… and he knew he’d been wrong.  “I’m sorry.”  He’d quickly taken the gold back, haphazardly tossing it aside.  “That was an insult to you.  Forgive me, j’ah.”

The word was hard to translate into the common tongue, but its meaning was profound.  “Comrade in arms.”  “Most loyal friend.”  “Brother.”  Gryphons only used it with the men they fought beside and trusted the most.

With their clan.

Trystan’s eyes had jumped to his.

Midas hadn’t looked away, still using the gryphons’ dialect.  It was easier to say what he really meant in that language.  “Guinevere claims I try to buy things that aren’t for sale.  She is teaching me better ways, but it’s a difficult lesson.”

Some of Trystan’s tension had eased.  “You are slow, but you’ll eventually learn.”  He’d muttered.  “One hopes.”

Midas had inclined his head.  “I rely on you.  The gold was wrong, but the sentiment is real.  You guard the things I value most.  I thank you.”

Trystan had grunted, still not completely appeased.  “I need no thanks for guarding your woman and child.  I do it for myself.  They have come to us and now I awake each day, without…” Trystan paused like he wasn’t sure how to articulate it in any language, “darkness.”

Midas had known exactly what he meant.  “Yes.”  He’d agreed.

“So, they are yours, but they belong to me as well.” Trystan went on stubbornly.  “The innocent belong to all who would care for them.  You know that, j’ha.  Your mother taught you.  The Skycast Clan always honored our ways and so must you, as the last of the line.”

Midas had blinked.  Trystan had just declared him the final member of the Skycast Clan.  The heir to Corrah’s people.  In a ceremonial sense, he’d just made him a gryphon.  There was no higher compliment and Midas took the honor seriously.

“I will do my best to follow the old customs.”  The words had been formal and sincere.  “My family is your family.  My clan is your clan.  Always.”

Finally satisfied, Trystan had nodded sharply and stalked out of the room.

That was how Midas realized he had mother he’d loved and a lineage he was proud of.  …And an incredibly devoted, winged brother, who aggravated the hell out of him, most of the time.

“The citizens of Midasburg are doing just fine.”  Midas insisted in what he thought was a dignified tone.  “We’re recovering from the last battle faster than we’d dreamed.”

Of course, the statement wasn’t entirely true.  His army had been significantly depleted after the last assault by the Trystantonia hoards and everyone knew it.  Damn it.  This game was far more challenging and enjoyable than catur.  He really wanted to win.  Maybe it would be better if his colonel tried a different outfit.

He scanned the available options and settled on an orange hat, studded with tiny rhinestones.  Wedging it on the doll’s head, he assessed the effect and gave a grunt of satisfaction.  There!  He slammed Lady Kimberly down and fixed Trystan with a “Now what, asshole?”  kind of look.

Trystan gave a contemptuous snort and adjusted his own commander’s dark hair back into a lopsided ponytail.  He’d already used nail polish to decorate her face with vicious tribal markings.  The Trystonians weren’t a subtle people.  “The hat is a desperate bid for attention.  Lady Kimberly tries too hard to impress, but all it reveals is her mental weakness.  Captain Kill-botica will bury your pathetic colonel in her pointless finery.”

Trystan’s doll wore a trench-coat and miniature boots, which, Midas had to admit, looked much more intimidating then Lady Kimberly’s tangerine rhinestones.  …And why did he get stuck with “Lady Kimberly,” while Trystan got to be “Captain Kill-botica?”  It seemed unfair.

Avalon finished arranging Queen Lyrssa’s forces and flopped down between the two men.  “I think this will be the best battle yet!”  She informed them happily.

The floor of her bedroom had been divided off with different colors of markers to represent the various terrains of the dolls’ world.  Midas imagined that the permanent ink had ruined the hardwood, but so what?  There was no time for such a paltry concern in the midst of war.

Avalon’s dolls all had construction paper wings.  “That one is Corrah Skycast.”  She told Midas, indicating a white-haired warrior.  “I named her the same as your mommy.  I seen her.”  She tapped her forehead.  “She told you stories about rocking-horseflies.  They’s my favorite.”

Midas’ throat tightened with unexpected emotion.  “They’re my favorite, too.”  His mouth curved as he looked down at the doll.  “My mother was a great warrior.  She would have liked you very much.”

“Everyone likes me.”  Avalon gave Corrah a place of honor in her regiment.

Trystan ignored the byplay, scowling down at a different member of Avalon’s flying army.  “Something is gravely wrong here, for Suzanna Sun-Catcher perished yesterday.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yes, she did.”  He insisted.  Gryphons took all warfare seriously, even if it was waged with fashion dolls.  “My people slayed her in the Cupcake Village Massacre and you know it.”

Avalon shrugged.  “She’s a zombie.  She came back.”

Trystan gasped in outrage.

“Wait, we can have zombies?”  Midas perked up at that news, because it would bolster his flagging forces if he could reanimate some of his numerous dead.  He glanced over to the doll graveyard, where all the plastic victims were arranged in shoeboxes.  “Lady Stephanie and Lady Heather are both zombies, too, then.”  He decided.

“Fuck that!”  Trystan roared.  “You two only want zombies, because I’m winning!”

“Cursing is a no-no.”  Avalon told him piously.

“Yeah, Trystan, watch your p’don language.”  Midas grabbed his sparkly soldiers back. “You’re being a sore loser.”

Avalon smiled up at him.

Midas smiled back, because it was impossible to do anything else.  Love filled him.  Every day, the feeling grew stronger.  Deeper.  The child was a part of his soul, now.  Losing Avi would be as horrible as losing Gwen.  He’d die before he gave up either of them.

Unfortunately, Midas already knew that Avalon’s daddy was not going to give them up, either.  Not without a fight.  It had been ridiculous to think he could buy the man’s family.  Midas could offer that heroic fucking hero all the gold in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough.  Nothing would ever be enough to part with Gwen and Avi.  They were priceless.  Anybody could see that.  You might as well offer to buy someone’s beating heart, right out of their chest.

For the first time, the Kingpin of Camelot had found something that simply wasn’t for sale.  …So, Midas would just have to steal what he wanted.

No matter who Avi’s son of a bitch father was, the man wouldn’t stand in his way.  No one could keep Midas from the family he’d claimed.  His True Love and her baby daughter were secure in his evil clutches and he’d never let them go. He’d start a second goddamn war first.

Avalon glanced up at him again, seeing every thieving thought in his head and not looking particularly concerned.  “Can I have a ballet room with singing wallpaper in the new wing you’s building?”  She randomly asked him.

Midas shrugged.  “Yes.”

“Can it be pink wallpaper, with kitty cats and dragons?”

“Of course.”  Just so it wasn’t her daddy, she could have anything she wanted.  “You can pick some out with the decorator tomorrow.”  That pattern sounded like a special order, though.

“And I get my swing set soon?”

“It’s installed on Monday.  Just like I promised.”

“It gotta be big.”  She warned.  “You and Trystan’s gotta fit, so we’s can play.”

“It’ll be exactly what you want or the builder will start all over again.”  Gwen would no doubt accuse him of spoiling the girl, but Midas couldn’t help it.  If it was up to him, Avalon would have Christmas every day.

Avalon nodded in satisfaction.  She never seemed surprised by how tightly Midas was wrapped around her finger. “Thank you.”  She chirped happily.  “Mommy and me will get you a present, too.”

“You don’t have to get me anything, baby.”  Just having them there was enough.

“I’m not losing this game.”  Trystan growled, not caring about singing wallpaper samples or jungle gyms the size of small cities.  “You are losing, Midas.  And now you wish to cheat in an effort to prevent your inevitable failure, as do all of your treacherous kind.”

“Hey, my Midasburgians are an honorable people, not like your crazed barbarians.”  He flung a hand towards the sharply-dressed thugs who populated Trystantonia.  It was a wonder they could sleep at night, with all the depravities they’d committed on the battlefield.

“And Clarissa of the Clouds is a vampire!”  Avalon proclaimed holding another fallen warrior aloft.  “She was only pretending to get her head chopped off.”  It was a cunning deception, since her rubber skull was missing.  The doll was decapitated at the neck.

Trystan threw his palms up in exasperation.  “It is chaos to train you.”  He declared.  “This is no game, child.  You need to treat each strategy in a grave and thoughtful manner, because, one day, you will need to defend your kingdom and protect your people.”  He paused.  “Also, Clarissa of the Clouds cannot just reattach her head.  It was burned in the pyres of Demonica Rex.”  He pointed to another one of his dolls, who looked customarily smug about her countless victories and flawless wardrobe.

Midas hated Demonica Rex.  She was such a stuck up bitch.

Avalon frowned over at Demonica Rex, too, obviously thinking the same thing.  Not even she could think of a way that Clarissa of the Clouds could have escaped the general’s flames, though.  Demonica Rex was ruthlessly efficient.  She reluctantly surrendered Clarissa of the Clouds back to Trystan.

“Thank you.”  He tossed poor, headless Clarissa aside.  “She returns to the grave, eternally unmourned.”

“Most zombies do.”  Avalon allowed philosophically, moving onto other matters.  “Lyrssa gets to have the sword again.”  She informed them, balancing the platinum letter opener in the queen’s hand.

“She always gets the sword.”  Trystan whined and he wasn’t wrong.

“Because she’s the queen of Avalon City,” Avalon sniffed, “and it’s their ultimate weapon.”

Trystan wasn’t appeased.  “Using the same weapon again and again can become predictable to your enemies.  Why doesn’t Captain Kill-botica take the sword, for a while?”  He held out a hand and nodded persuasively.  “Then, your people can develop new and better techniques.”

Avalon eyed him like he was crazy.  “You must think I’m an idiot.”

A muffled laugh sounded from the doorway.

Midas glanced up to see Gwen standing there, watching them play.

“Hi, Mommy.”  Avalon cried cheerily.  “Wanna go to war?”

“I don’t know, baby.  It seems unfair.  Midas and Trystan are always so helpless against us.”  Her eyes met Midas’ and she smiled at him like he was everything she’d ever wanted in a husband.

Midas’ heart swelled.  So did other parts of him.

“Stop being smug and come defend Gwenville from the heathens.”  He tossed Gwen a doll from her stack of soldiers.  “Just because you win every single time, doesn’t mean you’ll win, again.”

“Maybe not, but I like the odds.”  She caught it and headed into the room, not even mentioning Clause 3.  She hadn’t reminded Midas to ignore Avalon for days, now.  It was like she’d forgotten their agreement entirely and he certainly wasn’t going to remind her.  “You realize, of course, that bedtime was twenty minutes ago.”

“Children should sleep when they are tired.  Eat when they are hungry.”  Trystan opined.  “You people make everything more complicated than it needs to be, with your reliance on clocks.”

“What can I say?  Gwenville’s success is based on discipline.”  But she didn’t press it.

Instead, she made her way across the battlefield and settled on Midas’ lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Midas’ breath caught in his throat.  For a second he was afraid to move, for fear that she’d leave. Gwen’s body curled into his, comfortably fitting herself against his chest.  Not afraid of the vast differences in their sizes or worried about showing affection in front of Trystan and Avalon.

It was… magical.

Midas’ eyes met Trystan’s and he knew the other man could sense his awe.

“Ha’na.”  Trystan said softly.

Gwen glanced over at him.  “I’ve heard you say that before, but I don’t know what it means.  How come you never tell me what any of your words mean, Trystan?”

“If you spoke my language, Midas and I could not secretly talk about you.”

Gwen threw her fashion doll at him and Trystan came as close to smiling as a gryphon could possibly come.  The two of them spend most of their time bickering with each other about nonsense and listing reasons why Midas was hopelessly trusting.  It seemed to work for them.

Trystan met Gwen’s eyes.  “Fine.  To my people, ha’na is… ‘light.’”

That wasn’t the translation.  Midas arched a brow at Trystan, who glanced away.

Gwen accepted the explanation, moving onto the doll battle.  “Hey, what happened to Clarissa of the Clouds?”

Trystan seemed eager not to discuss the gryphons’ language.  “She is now a dead decapitated zombie.”  He delivered the news with a pitiless smirk.  “Demonica Rex will soon eat her bones.”

“Bitch.”  Gwen muttered, flashing Demonica Rex a glower.

Midas carefully wrapped his arms around Gwen’s waist, reveling in the fact that she didn’t pull away.  “We should team up to destroy her.”  He offered, running a hand over her hair.  Frustration flickered, even through his happiness. Midas never hated his curse so much as when he touched his wife and wasn’t able to feel her warmth.  “We can divide Trystantonia between us.  Equal partners.”

She tilted her head back to grin at him.  “We do make an excellent team.”

Midas could no more have stopped himself from kissing her than he could have stopped the moon from shining in the night.  His lips dipped down to brush hers, love suffusing every part of him.

“Ewww.”  Avalon wrinkled her nose at Trystan.  “They’re kissing again.  Queen Lyrssa never kisses nobody.  It’s gross.”

“Married people get to kiss whenever they want.”  Gwen told her good naturedly, cuddling into Midas’ embrace.  “It’s one of the perks.”

Midas’ grip instinctively tightened on her.  She hadn’t said “fake married.”  She’d just said “married.”  The word was beautiful.

“This is why no queen should ever take a mate.”  Trystan instructed Avalon.  “It makes you soft.  Remember that as you ascend your throne.  Queens need only slaves and consorts.”

Gwen arched a brow and looked up at Midas, again.  “Are you my slave or my consort?”

“Both.”  His check rested on the top of her head and realized everything he cared about was sitting in this room.  He could lose every piece of gold in his counting houses and it wouldn’t matter, just so he still had these three people around him.

“I’m going to have a firebird on our team.”  Gwen decided, adding a stuffed parrot to Midas’ troops.  “Her name is Harriet.”

“Good Lord…  She’ll burn down Midasburg.”  The veterinarians he’d sent to oversee Gwen’s Dark Science-y pets were quick to report Harriet’s feathers were still aflame.

“Oh, she will not.  Harriet and I have been working with a dog whistle, I told you.  She’s getting much better at controlling the fire.”  Gwen gave the toy parrot a pat on the head and then looked up at Midas again.  “Hey, what were you doing locked in your office all evening?  I missed talking to you.”

Midas’ heart melted.  “You should have come in and talked to me, then.  I would have been thrilled to see you, believe me.  I was working on financial reports, trying to drag Camelot out of imminent bankruptcy.”

“Really?”  She seemed surprised.

“You told me to fix the kingdom’s finances.”  He reminded her, not sure why she would be startled.  “That’s what I’m attempting to do, but it’s a Gordian knot of make-believe math and poor decisions.  If you want me to stop, I would be…”

“No, I don’t want you to stop!  I’m just really excited you’re doing something to help Camelot run better.  I know that being king isn’t your dream job.”

Midas shrugged.  She was his dream.  Saving Camelot was a simple enough way to make her happy.  In a way, Midas was enjoying the challenge of the convoluted spreadsheets.

“I think it’s awesome that you…”  Gwen broke off mid-word.  “Why is there ice cream melting all over the brand new area rug?”

“That’s Celliwig.”  Avalon told her distractedly, busy cutting through her enemies with the letter opener.  “It has mud.”  She gestured to the puddle of chocolate-chip fudge seeping into the pink carpet.  “That’s the mud.”

Gwen sighed, her gaze flicking between Midas and Trystan.  “You two will just let her do anything, won’t you?”

“The child is a creative thinker.”  Trystan defended.  “My people honor such gifts.  You would prefer we stifle her genius?”

“No, of course not.  That’s the very last thing I would want you to do.  But, there are ways to encourage a child without damaging all the furnishings…”  Gwen stopped talking again, her attention jumping back to fake-Celliwig.  “The very last.”  She whispered.  “The very last place he’d want to look.  Midas!”  She grabbed his arm, excitedly.  “He meant you.”

“What?”

“My father remembered backwards!  When he told me where he hid the wand, he said, ‘It’s the very last place he’d want to look.’  Only Merlyn didn’t mean Arthur or the Scarecrow.  He meant you.” Her voice rose in exhilaration, her sentences coming out in a rush.  “He knew you were coming into my life.  That I’d eventually figure out what his words meant, but no one else would understand!  Because they don’t know you, like I do.”

Midas frowned.  “You think the wand is…?”

Gwen cut him off.  “Yes!”  She pointed at the brown stain on the rug that represented his hometown.  “It’s in Celliwig!  The very last place you’d ever want to go.”

Midas’ eyebrows compressed, thinking that over.  “…shit.”  He finally muttered.

“Cursing is a no-no.”  Trystan taunted.

“We have to go there first thing in the morning.”  Gwen bounded to her feet.  “Avi, sweetie, it’s time for bed.  Mommy has a very busy day tomorrow.”

Midas stayed still while she tucked the little girl under the covers and while Trystan scooped the dolls back into Avalon’s backpack.  All except Lyrssa, anyway, who stayed hugged tight in Avalon’s arms.

Celliwig.

A cold sense of dread crawled through Midas.  Whenever he thought of that hellhole, he was nine years old again and all alone on a cold porch.  It really was the last place he’d ever want to go.  Especially with Gwen.  Having her see where he came from --the dirt and misery and harshness of the village-- would be a nightmare.  For reasons known only to God and Good-hearted blondes, she believed Midas was honorable.  Once she saw where he’d been born, though, all her pretty fantasies about his gallantry would be over.

No one kind and gentle had ever come out of Celliwig.  It was impossible.  Gwen was too smart not to realize that.  After tomorrow, she would never see him the same way, again.

Son of a bitch.

“A trip to Celliwig will take supplies.”  Trystan announced.  “I will see to them.”

He paused by the bed to touch Avalon’s forehead, his thumb sliding from her hairline to the bridge of her nose.  It was a pledge of devotion.  Midas had never seen Trystan use the gesture with anyone except this little girl, but he recognized it.  Corrah had done it to him, just before she died.  That small ritual was the highest form of affection gryphons could show each other.

Gwen might not understand the full meaning behind it, but she knew the gentle action was important.  She glanced at Trystan and gave him a sad smile.

No gryphon offspring had been born in decades.  It was a hard blow for a race who had always seen the young as their future.  Now their future was dead, but their instincts remained.  All of Trystan’s energy and loyalty had swung behind Avalon, like she was the last daughter of his vanishing kind.  In a way, she was.  The Princess of Camelot, granddaughter of the genocidal madman who’d slaughtered Trystan’s people, was quite possibly the final child a gryphon would ever help to raise.

Trystan was training Avalon to be a warrior, the same way Corrah had trained Midas.  To survive.  More strikingly, though, Trystan was telling Avalon about his culture.  The heroes and villains and rituals and wars.  Stories that Midas had never even heard from Corrah.  Legends and myths, straight from their gods.  Tales of creation and ancient spells and forgotten magic than spanned farther back than any other people could possibly recall.

Trystan taught Avalon everything about the gryphons.  As if he wanted her to understand who’d they’d been and what they’d believed.  As if he expected that, one day soon, she would be the only one left to remember that they’d existed, at all.

“I will see you on the morrow, child.”  He said quietly, pretending not to see Gwen’s sympathetic look.  “You are safe this night.”

“I know.”  She smiled and yawned at the same time.  “Good night, Trystan.  I love you.”

He grunted, scanned around once more to ensure nothing was lurking in the shadows to threaten her, and then strode out of the room.

Gwen sighed and clicked on Avalon’s nightlight.  “Damn it, I think I adore that maniac.”

“Gryphon are the best.”  Midas said quietly.  “I wish I had been born one.  I wish I had come from their villages, high in the mountains, instead of…”  He waved a defeated hand at the melting ice cream that signified Celliwig.  “You would like me so much more.”

Gwen crouched down in front of him.  “It’s kind of impossible for me to like you more, Midas.”  Lake-colored eyes met his, sensing his distress.  “I know you’re scared to go back to Celliwig and you don’t have to ever see that place again.  I can find the wand by myself.”  She caught hold of his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  “I would never ask you to re-live something so painful…”

“No.”  He interrupted, her words cutting through the fog.  “Fuck, no.”  He shook his head, incredulous that she would even suggest such a thing.  “You’re not going there alone.”  Was she out of her mind?  He’d sooner send her, unarmed and blindfolded, into battle with a minotaur.  No Good folk could survive ten minutes in Celliwig.  The people who lived there would scent her innocence like hungry sharks scenting blood in the water.

“It’ll be fine.  I can take Trystan with me and you watch Avalon.”

“No.  I’ll go with you.”  There was no other option.  He was the only one who knew that shitty town.  Midas rubbed a hand over his face.  “I’ll go.  Celliwig is…”  He tried to find the right words to convey the abject vileness of the muddy cesspit, but there were none.  “It’s just a very Bad place.  So, be ready.  You might look at me differently, afterwards.”

She would look at him differently and it would fucking kill him.

Her palm came up to rest on his cheek.  “I could never look at you differently, Midas.”  She whispered.  “You’re my husband.”

His heart turned over in his chest, as it always did when she called him that.  “Just be ready.”  He repeated and got to his feet.

Gwen shook her head and backtracked to pet Avalon’s hair.  “Sleep tight, baby.”

“Night, Mommy.”  Her eyes had drifted shut.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  Gwen glided out of the room, shutting off the overhead light.

Midas followed her, stopping by the bed to kiss Avalon on the top of her head.  “Good night, princess.”  He whispered.

“Night.”  She murmured, half-asleep now.  Midas was already to the doorway when he heard the rest of her reply.  “I love you, Daddy.”