Post by devilinthedetails on May 2, 2018 10:32:39 GMT 10
Title: In His Shoes
Rating: G
Prompt: In Another's Shoes
Summary: Jon's shoes are too big for Roald.
In His Shoes
“Thayet!” Jon called as he spun away from his wardrobe to realize that his shoes, which had been beside his nightstand when he turned his back on them, had vanished without a trace while his focus had been fixated on selecting a robe for the gathering they would be hosting in honor of a Corus merchant guild that night. “Have you seen the shoes that were next to my nightstand?”
“Yes, dear.” From the dressing room across the hallway where she was styling her hair in a braided bun before a mirror, Thayet sounded preoccupied with matters more important than the current whereabouts of Jon’s missing footwear. “They were next to your nightstand when I saw them last.”
“They aren’t there any more.” Jon lapsed into a muttered complaint that was for his own benefit, not Thayet’s hearing.
Lowering himself to his knees with a sigh—his body wasn’t as limber as it once was because a lack of exercise was part of the price he paid for kingship—he searched under his bed and nightstand for any sign of his disappeared shoes. Seeing none, he was about to conclude that some helpful but overeager and misguided servant had whisked them away for polishing when he heard the unmistakable clap of oversized shoes on tiny feet hitting the floor.
When he craned his neck around to discover the little troublemaker who had absconded with his footwear, he stifled a smile at the image Roald presented, resembling more a court jester than a prince, swimming in Jon’s shoes. The hilarity was only heightened by the seriousness etched into Roald’s face as if his small son were about to embark on a life-changing quest. Roald always appeared somber even if he was engaged in mischief.
“When they speak of following in your father’s footsteps, son, they don’t mean stealing his shoes.” Jon tried to be stern about his son’s theft but found his lips quirking in mirth.
“I didn’t steal them, Papa.” Roald’s eyes were wide and earnest as oceans. “I borrowed them.”
“Borrowing without permission is stealing, Roald.” Jon lifted a hand to ward off further argument from a six-year-old who seemed to grow more stubborn by the day. “That’s the first rule you should’ve learned in the nursery.”
“We could make a deal, Papa.” Roald shifted with obvious discomfiture in the shoes that threatened to swallow him like a monster that should have remained hidden under a nursery bed. “I could wear your shoes, and you could wear mine.”
“I think we’d both lose that trade.” Jon chuckled and opened his arms in an invitation Roald readily accepted, his awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his father’s embrace. “My shoes are plainly too big for you, and yours would be too small for me.”
“If you wore my shoes, you’d know how I felt all the time.” Roald’s words were squashed into Jon’s shoulder so he had to strain to hear them, and when he heard them, his forehead knotted.
“Are your shoes too small, son?” asked Jon, wondering if Roald had pulled this prank to attract attention to the fact that he in the midst of another growth spurt could no longer fit into his footwear comfortably. There was normally a motive behind Roald’s mischief, and sometimes Roald was reluctant to state his wants or needs directly. He could be quite shy in that way.
“They pinch my toes, Papa.” Roald pressed his fingers together to emphasize this point.
“We’ll have a cobbler make bigger ones for you.” Jon ruffled his son’s hair. “May I have my shoes back now please?”
“Yes, Papa.” Apparently excited with the prospect of new shoes, Roald tugged obligingly on the laces of his father’s shoes. “Your shoes were too big for me anyway."
Rating: G
Prompt: In Another's Shoes
Summary: Jon's shoes are too big for Roald.
In His Shoes
“Thayet!” Jon called as he spun away from his wardrobe to realize that his shoes, which had been beside his nightstand when he turned his back on them, had vanished without a trace while his focus had been fixated on selecting a robe for the gathering they would be hosting in honor of a Corus merchant guild that night. “Have you seen the shoes that were next to my nightstand?”
“Yes, dear.” From the dressing room across the hallway where she was styling her hair in a braided bun before a mirror, Thayet sounded preoccupied with matters more important than the current whereabouts of Jon’s missing footwear. “They were next to your nightstand when I saw them last.”
“They aren’t there any more.” Jon lapsed into a muttered complaint that was for his own benefit, not Thayet’s hearing.
Lowering himself to his knees with a sigh—his body wasn’t as limber as it once was because a lack of exercise was part of the price he paid for kingship—he searched under his bed and nightstand for any sign of his disappeared shoes. Seeing none, he was about to conclude that some helpful but overeager and misguided servant had whisked them away for polishing when he heard the unmistakable clap of oversized shoes on tiny feet hitting the floor.
When he craned his neck around to discover the little troublemaker who had absconded with his footwear, he stifled a smile at the image Roald presented, resembling more a court jester than a prince, swimming in Jon’s shoes. The hilarity was only heightened by the seriousness etched into Roald’s face as if his small son were about to embark on a life-changing quest. Roald always appeared somber even if he was engaged in mischief.
“When they speak of following in your father’s footsteps, son, they don’t mean stealing his shoes.” Jon tried to be stern about his son’s theft but found his lips quirking in mirth.
“I didn’t steal them, Papa.” Roald’s eyes were wide and earnest as oceans. “I borrowed them.”
“Borrowing without permission is stealing, Roald.” Jon lifted a hand to ward off further argument from a six-year-old who seemed to grow more stubborn by the day. “That’s the first rule you should’ve learned in the nursery.”
“We could make a deal, Papa.” Roald shifted with obvious discomfiture in the shoes that threatened to swallow him like a monster that should have remained hidden under a nursery bed. “I could wear your shoes, and you could wear mine.”
“I think we’d both lose that trade.” Jon chuckled and opened his arms in an invitation Roald readily accepted, his awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his father’s embrace. “My shoes are plainly too big for you, and yours would be too small for me.”
“If you wore my shoes, you’d know how I felt all the time.” Roald’s words were squashed into Jon’s shoulder so he had to strain to hear them, and when he heard them, his forehead knotted.
“Are your shoes too small, son?” asked Jon, wondering if Roald had pulled this prank to attract attention to the fact that he in the midst of another growth spurt could no longer fit into his footwear comfortably. There was normally a motive behind Roald’s mischief, and sometimes Roald was reluctant to state his wants or needs directly. He could be quite shy in that way.
“They pinch my toes, Papa.” Roald pressed his fingers together to emphasize this point.
“We’ll have a cobbler make bigger ones for you.” Jon ruffled his son’s hair. “May I have my shoes back now please?”
“Yes, Papa.” Apparently excited with the prospect of new shoes, Roald tugged obligingly on the laces of his father’s shoes. “Your shoes were too big for me anyway."
Their relationship is precious, and I like that Jonathan takes the time to decipher the method behind the mischief.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!