The House of the Hearth was warm and steady, a monument to structure and stability.
The Fairy King, however, was neither of those things.
"Hearth, my old friend!" The Fairy King burst through the heavy wooden doors, his golden wings shimmering with mischief, his eyes alight with the wild energy of the untamed fey. "I have come to visit, and I demand a grand welcome! Where are the banners? The music? The chaotic feasts that last for days?"
Father Hearth, seated at the great wooden table, did not even look up from his work—methodically carving a block of wood into what looked like the beginnings of a sturdy chair.
"This is a home," he said simply.
The Fairy King blinked. Then laughed. "A home? What nonsense! A home is a thing of stories and revelry, of songs and wild dances beneath the moonlight!"
He flitted forward, ready to fill the space with his boundless energy—
And immediately stopped short.
For across the room, chaos was already unfolding.
A small child was hanging upside-down from the beams, their face covered in honey. Another was attempting to herd an entire flock of geese—which, judging by their bloodcurdling honks, did not appreciate the effort. A group of children were engaged in a fierce battle of what seemed to be—was that a game of tag played with actual pies?
The Fairy King stared.
He turned to Father Hearth. Then back to the mad spectacle before him. Then back to Father Hearth.
"…Hearth." He pointed toward a toddler attempting to wrestle a potato sack larger than themselves. "What is that?"
"A child."
"A child doing battle with a sack of root vegetables?"
"She is learning."
"Learning what? How to engage in single combat with her future groceries?"
Father Hearth calmly continued carving the chair. "She will learn to carry what she needs. Strength is built through necessity."
The Fairy King ran a bewildered hand through his golden hair. "I expected stoic structure from you, Hearth! Not—this—this unhinged mortal circus!"
From the kitchen, a voice yelled, "CATCH IT!"
Followed by a rolling pumpkin barreling out of the doorway at terrifying speeds.
The Fairy King barely sidestepped in time, watching as a child dove after it, caught it, and immediately hoisted it overhead like a trophy of war.
"THE GREAT HUNT IS COMPLETE!" the child bellowed.
The other children cheered.
The Fairy King slowly turned to Father Hearth.
"What in the name of the Elder Glades is going on?"
Father Hearth finally looked up from his carving, utterly unbothered. "Dinner preparations."
The Fairy King squinted. "Dinner preparations should not require a pumpkin chase."
Father Hearth shrugged. "They like to earn their meal."
The Fairy King rubbed his temples. "Hearth. You do realize I come from the courts of madness? From the land where reality is nothing but a suggestion?" He pointed toward a child who was currently riding on the back of a goose, wielding a wooden spoon like a lance. "And this is still somehow more insane than anything I have ever seen."
Father Hearth took a sip of his tea. "They are children."
"They are warriors in training for a battle that does not exist!"
Father Hearth merely nodded, as if this was the most reasonable conclusion in the world.
The Fairy King sighed dramatically, throwing himself into a chair across from Hearth. "I need a drink."
Father Hearth poured him a cup of herbal tea.
The Fairy King stared at it. "You have ale, yes? Mead? Feywine?"
"No."
"You are a cruel host."
"I am a practical one."
The Fairy King took a sip of the tea, grimacing at its utter sobriety. "I loathe this. And yet, I am too afraid to ask for something else, lest one of your little goblins decides to fetch it through combat."
He watched as the children continued their chaotic revelry—climbing beams, battling with loaves of bread, negotiating pie trade agreements with the sharp wit of seasoned diplomats.
Finally, he shook his head in disbelief.
"Tell me, Hearth. Do they ever tire?"
Father Hearth glanced at the youngest ones, already starting to droop, the flickering firelight lulling them into sleep.
"Eventually."
The Fairy King sighed. "At least some laws of nature still apply here."
Father Hearth continued drinking his tea, as calm and unmoving as the house itself.
The Fairy King glanced at the chaos one more time, then muttered under his breath, "Remind me never to question your domain again."