Work Header


Chapter Text





For how long will you deny?

How long until you walk away?

Your facade can't disguise

The fact that you're in misery


Tap. Tap. Tap.


One handed typing was not efficient at all.


Tap. Tap. Tap.


Owen had come to such a realization not long after the cauldron incident. The closer the clock on the wall got to 2 am, the closer together the q and a keys got to each other on the keyboard. Removing his glasses, the stoic majordomo let out an uncharacteristic groan.


Everything about him had been uncharacteristic for sometime.


David was beginning to give him looks, when he was on the clock. Looks that clearly said 'I know you like the back of my hand...what's wrong?'


It did not help that the after negotiations with some rather unsavory members of society a week prior went south, he sorta...flipped out. No magic though. Just one rather unassuming personal assistant. Beating the holy hell out of 8 professional thugs and their boss . With his fists.


Granted, one of those fists was magically enhanced stone. Nevertheless getting blood out of an Armani suit is possible but raises too many questions with the dry cleaner. Especially if the dark purple suit jacket you give them is supposed to be blue. So he threw the whole outfit, shoes and all, away. It had too many rips. You can't buff teeth marks out of leather anyhow.


Bottom line: Both Puck and Owen Burnett were loosing it, fast.


Realistically, there was nothing preventing him from ditching his wooden alterego. Or his bargain with Xanatos all together. One could argue the whole decree and banishment thing. To which he'd respond: Oberon is a self-deluded megalomaniac.


But not for the reasons many would assume.


Oh no. The Puck has played many a role not only because it is fun but inspires complacency. Assures the sheeple keep their heads held too high to bother looking where they where they are being led.


He couldn't understand what the appeal was to sitting on a throne and lording over minions. It's so...damn...boring when everyone is too afraid of pissing you off to do anything remotely interesting. No one acts natural, they all stand on ceromony like obedient little dolls.


Fuck that noise.


Eons ago he gave up that post and let someone who wanted to deal with that headache take it up...Oberon and Titania. Oh yes, his greatest trick happens to be the illusion of control. The fae king was dense as a brick when considering anything could possibly be beyond his sphere of influence. Though his queen, not so much.


He suspected the Lady of Avalon to have some idea of the jester's true nature, just no where near the true scope of things. At least that the impish trickster was far more powerful than he appeared. Her behavior a year prior at the Gathering fiasco certainly suggested she did not want him angry at her husband. Oh, her discreet, crafty manipulations did him so proud! Why wasn't her brother more like her? Oberon was as subtle as a hammer to the skull with his machinations. Yes, brother. Though only in the sense that they were given form and subsequently life by the same creator. No other relation. And no, THAT bit he knew Titania had not worked out.


Still, it was better this way. He wasn't about to tear out his gorgeous hair from dealing with bullshit. The little big man got to play king of the castle. Unless you know who's head started to get a little too big, he was content at his 'station'. After all, the Mighty Lord of Avalon hadn't a clue he was merely an emissary.


What irony...especially since went all was said and done, Puck had trapped himself in his own prison. Driving himself crazy.


"Unc! Unc!"


By his feet sat another reason for his continued charade; reaching up, clearly wanting off the floor. When did he crawl in here? Did Fox know Alex wasn't in his bed? More than likely no...


Frustrated by seemingly being ignored, the quarter fae vanished in a shower of green sparkles only to reappear in his teacher's lap with the same dislpay. Looking quite proud of himself, the small boy proceeded to bang his little hands on the keyboard with gleeful abandon. There goes the report he'd been working on...


"Unc!" Alex shouted to gain his attention again. He looked upset not being the center of attention. There's a trait he got from both sides of his heritage. Despite his age, the Xanatos heir was very intelligent. His young underdeveloped body unfortunately only allowed him to do so much unless he borrowed another means. Be it a body, or toy, or...a sly smile graced Owen's face as he allowed himself to transform.


"Heya kiddo. You really don't have to call me uncle ya know."


A squeal answered his statement. Followed by the light tapping of keys, depressing seemingly on their own. The monitor showing just how brilliant he was.


/Okay, Grandpa Puck/


"Oh, that's my boy!"


The thing about making your own prison, you always have the keys. But sometimes you need a good enough reason to use them. Making sure his youngest descendant didn't have to deal with the same clusterfuck he ran away from himself seemed as good as any. Besides, a trick isn't truly a trick until revealed right?


This would be fun.