Red Queen One-Shots

Off-Duty (Shade x Farley)

A/N: Imagine Shade was still alive spoiling Clara and pining for Farley to return from a dangerous mission just in time for a ball - and to see him off right before his own mission. Incredible fluff and self-indulgence of the author. Maybe more will come because I need it.

The rain pounded a rhythm on the makeshift balcony roof both irritating and comfortable. The first because of its dissonance with the ball's music wafting up, the latter as the sound was certainly more homely than the howls of the storm ruling the skies of the Monfort capital for the last days. It was its own kind of uplifting, despite the wetness and still dark horizon, that Shade gave up keeping Clara indoors and set up their picnic on the balcony.

The light at least was shining in a warm red from the gathered night lights beside them, reflecting the colour of the rain protection foils above. To keep them dry, Shade had scavenged umbrellas, wires and canvas and fumbled them into the resemblance of a roof through some risky ledge gymnastics relying on his teleporting ability to save him in case of falling. He hoped the same ability made him fast enough to grab Clara should her constant, curious skygazing lead her to lean too far over the ledge. In fact, he didn't trust on teleporting alone when it came to her, as he was too nervous to leave her out of his sight for a second too long and eat in peace.
He tried to lure her away with some of the food he'd sacked from the snack buffet for the party downstairs in the palace. Though Clara did turn around, she ignored the orange-glazed yeast cake he held out in favour of a tiny rice and vegetable bowl.
Shade exhaled with relief, but Clara seemed barely so. When he offered the rice pudding with cherries next, she shook her head.
"For Mama," she said.
"Sure," he replied with a forced smile.
Clara could be more perceptive than he expected at her two and a half years. Did she understand Diana was missing her own party? Or had he been too exact about her anticipated return from the Lakelands?
It wasn't officially "her" party, more an annual ball to remember the fallen and the veterans, but in Davidson's circle, it was known that General Farley was to meet with representatives from Prairie who finally showed the start of an interest in brokering an alliance – with Monfort and the Scarlet Guard, no less. Diana wasn't the usual choice for diplomacy though given Ella's advice, the warlord from Prairie would rather be convinced by a brusque military leader.
More so if she brought as a negotiating feature intelligence on the latest lakelander movements. As she'd been engaged in them. Or still was. As of, right now.
Shade bit off some spicy bread with a slice of smoked ham.
He supposed he would've heard of it if things had gone that wrong and Diana's unit was still tied in battle. But if the situation was that dire, anything could've happened and with the communication cut off.
No wonder Clara stared at the sky as if she could see the light of the plane returning her mother. He couldn't wait for it, either.
Diana had been set to be back two days ago. Leaving them three whole days of family life before his own mission to Ciron loomed and whose preparations he felt less and less inclined to proceed with. While Mare was with Cal in Piedmont and Kilorn and his brothers in Norta, Shade had been recommended to scout in the western country for possible allies, ideally to initiate first contacts together with other high-profile spies he barely knew. The opposite to quality time with his longed-for beloved and their daughter couldn't be harsher when the lack of contact also made him worry - if not freaking out - about the well-being of the rest of his family.
He felt terribly egoistic and also almost unashamed of it. He was fed up. It broke his heart enough to see Clara staring after a glimpse of her mother, how could he abandon her now, without Diana to relieve him? As if it could be called relieve, like a battle strategy, but it was the plan the two of them had come up with: Just one of them would be engaged in operations at one time, and this had lasted for almost two years now.
Only Shade doubted the system more and more. He hardly wanted to leave Clara out of his reach and miss her growing each day. He'd also wanted to welcome Diana, had dreamed of her skin, her smell, her voice. The way she only smiled at Clara. Yesterday should've been theirs and this pitiful picnic should've included her. In the sunshine. Climbing the hills as if on a vacation, to forget the dangers they were in or just escaped even though she would've questioned him about his mission in her way to see him off safe.
Thanks to the storm, any part of this became impossible and Clara's glare at the cloud didn't lessen in concentration. If she could, she'd challenge the weather itself.
Shade risked a second to dip a pig-shaped cake in caramelized milk and devour it in one go before trying to offer another to Clara. This time, she took it, dipping it absentmindedly, yet on the way to her mouth, she let it drop. "There!" she pointed, jumping up.
Shade was too startled to think and, still struggling to swallow the food, simply reached for Clara. She grinned, pointing again. But he didn't see, too relieved to have Clara secure against his chest. Then he heard the aircraft approaching the palace.
When he grasped its meaning, his grin mirrored Clara's.


The storm drove rain in his face before Shade was fully materialized, and the ground swayed beneath his feet.
The truth about teleporting was that the dizziness never went away, not even for a teleporter himself. The irritations and imbalances coming with contradicting the corporeal world had to be fought with resilience, willpower, and focus, whether you were sneaking behind an enemy or escaping them.
Now, though, he was grounded by Clara on his shoulder and before him –
Her eyes, bright despite the dark, finding them immediately –
The surety of her gait, approaching –
Her smile, growing clearer and broader with every step –
She was a woman in parts, and he longed to have her whole in his arms, and so he strode to her – until Clara heaved and then he stumbled for real, glancing at his daughter, trying to shift or steadying her. But to no avail, as she puked all over his chest and he was thrown out of his dreamy desires and stood there, frozen and dumbfounded.
He jerked his head to the sound of a snort and there she was, Diana standing right before him.
"Come here, dove," she said, taking Clara from Shade and already comforting and cleaning her with her scarf, as efficient as ever.
"Mama," cried Clara, and Diana was quick to answer with soothing phrases. He searched her eyes darting between Clara and him and around and when their gazes locked, he found her glance full of joy and amusement as she bit her lips to keep from laughing.
"Well, Dee," he said finally, "the ball's food we ate was better than it seems right now."
"Was it?" she asked, smirking, and reached out to caress his cheek with her thumb.
It sent a shiver over his whole body. He hoped there wasn't vomit on his face, too, and he cursed the rain for interfering with the intensity of her touch. He wanted to take her hand and pull her close, despite it all, because who gave a shit, but then her hand was back to hold Clara whose temple she kissed while he was still full of sick.
He decided he didn't care after all and shook off his freeze, just when Diana changed direction.
"Ah, there's Grandma, dove, let's greet her and Grandpa," she said as she walked ahead where, indeed, Shade's parents approached, supposed to have Clara while he and Diana attended the ball.
Diana looked over her shoulder. "So we all have to get changed," she said to him. Winking. "I bring Clara to Ruth and Daniel and we meet upstairs, okay?"