Fairytales for William

by Jade Hawthorne

TITLE: Fairytales for William
AUTHOR: Jade Hawthorne (jade_hawthorne@yahoo.com) DISCLAIMER: Not mine, just borrowing.
SPOILERS: Season 9, William

Fairytales for William

by Jade Hawthorne

Soft, soft whispers in the night. Lullabies, fairytales and fables. She never thought she would tell a child of her own fairytales, always believing that her son or daughter must be raised firmly in reality. No Santa, no Easter Bunny, no fanciful lies or useless myths, just the simple truths of reason. How many of her own expectations had been dashed because she was taught to believe in fairytales?

Faced with the soft and precious face of her baby son, she lost all such convictions with an urgent, instinctual need to shelter, to protect. With the reality they now lived in, somehow fairies and princesses and magic frogs were far preferable to alien hybrids, supersoldiers and impending doom.

So she rocks her son in the wee hours of the morning, telling him of curious little girls who invade the homes of absent bears, of princes transformed by the whims of evil enchantresses, of beautiful princesses who outwit their wicked stepmothers, of starcrossed lovers who triumph over all odds to live happily ever after.

She knows he cannot understand yet. He's not yet eight months old. But he listens to her speak with rapt attention, round blue eyes widening, enchanted by his mother's voice.

She tells him of a brave and bold man, kept apart from his true love, a man who would slay any dragon to protect her, or his kingdom. She tells him of the many times the man and the woman saved each other from monsters, demons, wicked creatures. And how many times they tried to separate them forever, to no avail.

Until one day, the woman told the man to go on a journey, a quest, to seek the dragon, once and for all, to make their family safe. She would be here, constant and true, with their beloved child.

Her voice breaks here, most times, and tears fall despite her best efforts. William's eyes follow their wet path down her cheeks. Once he reached a chubby finger to touch her face and she pulled him to her, cheek to cheek, in a close embrace, breathing in his baby scent, the scent of their miracle. She rarely cried before becoming a mother, but it's become a routine habit these days---one she laments---but at the same time, she marvels at her newfound capacity to feel again.

She knows she would do anything to protect this child, even if it demanded abandoning the reason she has sharpened like a steel knife all these years. She waits for a sign from him, but all signs are silent now. The dragon is here. The wolf is at the door.

So she tells her son of brave queens who place their children in the hands of others for safekeeping, until the time is right and the danger has passed. "The queen thought of her son every day, wondering how tall he was, how handsome he'd become, how brave and valiant and clever he must be," she says. "She thought of nothing else until the day they could be together again."

And she dresses William in soft pajamas with flying saucers that make her think of Mulder, wraps him in a blue, knit blanket, and packs his things. She places one long, soulful kiss on William's forehead before picking up his carrier and opening the apartment door.

"And so the queen went in search of the brave king, so that together they could slay the dragon and make way for the return of their prince. For on that day, there would be great rejoicing in their land... and the queen would finally smile again."


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