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When Teddy raced into the mosaic grove with wild eyes, babbling about a monster, it brought both of them to their feet in a moment. Eliot reached for their son and scooped the six-year-old into his arms as the boy ran to him. A quick visual inspection to confirm he isn't hurt, and a tight hug later he passes the boy to Q and reaches to the bow and quiver that he's pulled to him with his telekinesis.
“I'll go check.” Quentin hesitated, then nodded as he settled Theodore on his hip.
“Be safe.” Eliot slung the quiver over his shoulder and walked to them, then tipped Quentin's chin up into a quick reassuring kiss. Teddy's tiny hand gripped the fabric of his shirt to tug him closer, so Eliot ducked his head to press a kiss to the boy's soft hair.
“Which way, Ru?” The boy pointed in the direction that leads towards Whitespire, but his hand stayed firmly gripped in Eliot's tunic as he tried to step away.
“No, dad, you can't! It was huge! You can't kill it with a bow.” Eliot frowned down at him, then glanced sideways at Quentin.
“I can at least figure out what we are dealing with.” Just because something was large by Fillorian standards didn't mean it was malicious. “I'll be back in a jif, little guy.” He assured Teddy. He brought one hand up to gently cup the back of the boy's head in a reassuring hold, then gently pried the small fingers free. “I'll be alright.” He promised both of them as he stepped back. He jogged into the woods and started to follow the trail Theo had made as he'd crashed brazenly through the underbrush. It wasn't hard. Nearly ten years in Fillory had taught him how to live off the land. Once he and Quentin had decided just to have a life here, he'd come to love their home even more than he ever had as its king.
A few minutes walk from the grove lead him to the berry basket Teddy had dropped, and he knelt to collect the small fruits they had started allowing their son to collect. He popped a couple into his mouth then followed the trail deeper into the woods towards the edge of the hills that overlooked the castle. As the trees thinned he searched the horizon, then he spotted it, and his heart skipped a beat. It was even more magnificent than he'd ever expected and he turned to jog back to the cottage.
“El?” Quentin's concern made him grin as he crashed back through the trees. Teddy reached for him again as he slung the quiver off his shoulder and dropped it onto the stone mosaic tiles. He took the boy and slung him up onto his shoulders. Small arms wrapped tight around his neck
“Come with me.” He wrapped his hand into Quentin's and tugged him into the woods.
“Where are we going, El?”
“You'll see.” Eliot lead them back towards the overlook.
“Dad look!” teddy's arms tightened around his neck, and the boy's shriek was shrill because of how close to his ear he was.
“Is that your monster, Ru?” Eliot shifted the boy, so he was curled against his side. Theo tucked his head. Eliot felt his chin bob rapidly against his neck.
“Is that the...” Eliot turned to Quentin and smiled at the ear to ear grin on his husband's face.
“I would bet money that it is the cozy horse.” He confirmed. Teddy's head shot up so fast that he almost smacked Eliot in the jaw. Quentin had been telling the boy the more whimsical parts of the Fillory and Further books since he'd been too small to speak.
“Do you think we can ride him?”
“Can we ride him?” The almost simultaneous questions from father and son betrayed, just for an instance, that Theodore Rupert Coldwaughter was Quentin's biological child.
“If we can catch up to him.” The thing seemed to be moving in their direction.
“The mosaic... though...” Quentin's face fell just a little, and Eliot passed their child to Quentin.
“I'll go back to the cottage and get my sketchbook, and we'll work out some new patterns while we are up there.” The compromise brightened his husband's face instantaneously, and Eliot left the two of them to continue watching the horse as he walked back their grove. He threw his sketch pad and chalk into a backpack, gathered the blanket and a few small items from the cabin, then slung his quiver and bow back over his shoulder. Once he got back to the overlook, the three of them set out.
It took longer to track the horse down than they expected. They kept losing it in the overhead foliage, then they found the trail its velvet hooves had left, and the task became easier. The evening saw the three of them on the creatures back. By the time the sun started to set Quentin had managed to coax the beast to turn in the direction they had needed to go to get home. Eliot hadn't touched the eight colors of chalk, but he had used charcoal to sketch. As they returned to the grove around midnight Teddy was asleep on his shoulder, and Eliot carried him into the cottage to put him to bed. He found Quentin studying the mosaic in the torchlight.
“Stop thinking it was a day wasted.” He murmured as he wrapped his arms around his husband's middle. Quentin's hands came to his, and one of Quentin's fingers brushed against his ring.
“It wasn't a day wasted; it was a day lived.” He turned enough to meet Eliot's mouth as Eliot leaned down to claim a kiss.