Tybault

There are events in lives that lead to moments which freeze the hearts of those whom live them. As Tybalt looked into Toby's eyes, at her anger and fear and pain, all that mattered was that moment; despite the events which lead there. Finding the Luidaeg and trading a favor (A favor he knew he would regret the paying though not the asking), walking the Shadowroads to finding himself with Toby's moving car (a trick he dearly hoped he would never have need for again), and then returning to the Court of Cats with Toby that she may find her lost changeling and perhaps his missing prince, Raj.

He'd hated to add to her burden, but knew she'd have flayed him had he not told her of Raj's disappearance.

"You didn't tell me you died!" Toby hissed, her voice clawing at his heart.

"I got better," he tried, aiming for levity to disarm the situation. Alas, his skill was not up to the task. At her continued glare, he added, moving his hand from her wrist to the small of her back to steer her towards the next room, "You can shout at me for dying later. For now, we have larger things to worry about. Come."

Somewhat calmed by his visit to Milliways, Tybalt returned to the Court of Cats and found himself intruding on the kittens practicing their hunting skills. Any last vestiges of vexation he felt was quickly chased away by the tiny heads of kittens, both as cats and fae, popping in out of the worn furniture and detritus that collected in his Court. He could even feel the corners of his mouth pull towards the heavens.

Of course, this was when he noted Sampson and Raj enter, and so he schooled the smile before it could claim him. Raj and his Court could see him smile, and know it for the pleasure at his strong Court. Sampson would read it as mocking at best, and a challenge at worse. And as much as Tybalt loathed the man, he was Raj's father and he would grant the man mercy for that.

This tableau held for some minutes when Tybalt caught a whiff of calla lilies. It was all the warning he, and the Court, received before a portal opened and a screaming, panicked changeling girl burst through. She ran straight at Raj and before Tybalt could cry a warning, lava poured into the Court from the portal. For the briefest of moments, Tybalt became Rand and he was in the Great Fire of London again, frozen in terror before Tybalt leaped for the nearest of his subjects and threw them from the room. A Prince is allowed to fear, but a King must act.

The smoke came quickly as he worked, throwing furniture aside to reach the kittens within. Coughing, he heard others grasping and pulling the children from the room, but it was all too slow. The fire, a hungry beast at the best of times, was ravenous.

Tybalt's jacket caught fire then, so he jumped through the Shadow Roads to the far side of the room, both to pull more of his people to safety and to extinguish the flames. He did this several more times until the smoke was choking him and the light from the flames chased away any shadows.

Still Tybalt fought on. He would save his subjects. Every last one. He was King and nothing so lowly as fire would end his Court. Silently he raged at the flames, for the smoke stole his breath.

And still he fought to find his people and get them to safety.

Pain was beneath him. Air a weakness he could ignore.

The Court of Cats, despite what one might assume from the name, is not a body that typically calls for mediation in disputes. There are certainly traditions defining the protocols, but as a rule, cats and cait sidhe settle matters with tooth and claw before ever deigning to speak before an audience or mediator. Tonight, Tybalt wishes the two parties before him had followed the rule and not been the exception.

"So, allow me to be certain I understand clearly the purpose of your coming before me," he drawls in his most patient, yet put upon voice. "You both have separated and no longer bed together. Regardless of the cause," here Tybalt arched an eyebrow at the father before him whose indiscretions ended things, "your time as a pair has ended? Yet there is a child to complicate matters, and neither of you can come to an agreement as to the treatment or residency of the child?"

"No sire," the father answers while the mother scowls at the man.

She, at least, Tybalt thinks, has the forethought to be shamed by this farce. If Tybalt didn't know better, he'd think this was another feint by Samson to needle at his rule. Yes, any within the Court of Cats had the right of mediation by the King or Queen, but typically to do so was assumed to be a sign of weakness.

"And you both agree to my ruling?" A nod from the father, followed by a reluctant one by the mother.

Tybalt sighs and is about to speak when he catches the scent of pepper and burning paper. Turning, he sees Raj stepping from the shadows near the chair that is currently serving as Tybalt's throne. Looking closer, Tybalt notices the tension in the young prince's fingers and lips. A spike of worry stabs Tybalt but he cannot act upon it now.

Returning to the petitioners, he reconsiders his decision and words. They, and the Court, wait to see what the king will do in this and Tybalt can't help but wonder how many of them expect him to rule as one of the Divided Courts. Leaning back against his seat and steepling his fingers, he speaks. "Very well. Since you cannot settle this matter between you, the child is now my ward. You two shall be responsible for her care and feeding, but I will supply any needs you are unable to provide."

The father looked alternatingly pleased and shamed by this, while the mother's scowl deepens. She at least catches the jab at her strength as a provider. "And do trust that I shall have my eye on the child and will take it as a personal attack should I discover any mistreatment. When the child is of an age to decide, she shall pick which parent is hers. I advise you to raise her wisely and fairly. Furthermore, I shall visit the child as I deign. You would do well to divide the time she spends between you, for I will be visiting you both as the mood takes me."

"But what of when we need to hunt?" the father sputters.

"A perfect time to teach then." The father looks away and Tybalt can't resist the chance at a strike. "If the responsibility is too much for you, then perhaps you should have considered such things before deciding to have a child." The man's nostrils flare, finally feeling shame in this, but Tybalt turns from him to gauge the mother's reaction. She is displeased at the arrangement, but knows better than to challenge the rulings. He doubts he'll ever need to visit her and the child beyond the sake of appearances.

The matter closed, Tybalt stands and gestures for Raj to follow him, stepping through the shadows to his private chambers. As the light fades, Tybalt just catches Samson's glare of outrage. Inwardly, Tybalt sighs. He'll have to take care of Samson once whatever danger Toby had caught herself into this time was past.

"What news, nephew?"

"Toby is out late and Quentin is working himself into a frenzy. I thought it best we get involved before he injures himself." Raj sniffs as if he weren't just as worried.

"That certainly wouldn't do now, would it?"