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Chapter Text

Family in tow, Sophie stormed down the hallway to the pretty little room in the back of the palace that she had been settled into. It was near the conference room, which Calcifer flickered over to as they passed and squinted at a spot on the wall by the door. "I wonder if the King knows there are passageways hidden with magic here?" he asked and then bobbed behind Twinkle when Sophie sent him a sharp glare.

"What'th the matter, Thophie?" the blond boy asked sweetly. "Didn't you mith uth?"

Sophie juggled a sleepy Morgan to her left arm to pull the key to the room out of her clutch purse. The sweet voice piped up again but was silenced by a door slamming in its owner's face.

Calcifer, who was now hovering over Twinkle's head and smiling, said, "I suspect you might be over doing it."

"You can never have too many curlth," Twinkle replied, running a hand through his shining hair.

In the room, when Twinkle and Calcifer magically appeared on and over the rich red comforter of the four-poster bed respectively, Sophie was setting up a crib in the corner of the room with magic. Morgan giggled at their sudden appearance, from his similar perch on the bed, and crawled over to tug on Twinkle's hair.

Twinkle resented this and, instead, handed the toddler a crumpet he pulled out of the air. "Dumpet!" squealed Morgan and then sat peacefully eating with his short legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

"You can't always bribe him, Howl," Sophie said. It was the first thing she had said since they had left the front parlor, but the two in trouble took it as a good sign.

"Aren't you happy at all to thee uth?" Twinkle smoothly asked.

"You can sleep in the crib with Morgan," replied Sophie and then smirked at the tragic expression on the boyish face. She went to place a few logs in the dead fireplace and received a contented sigh and a thank you from Calcifer, who moved in right away.

Soon, the room was bathed in a warm glow and the soft snores coming from both Morgan and the fire demon. Sophie went to the window to look out on the grounds in back. There was a cracked, empty fountain in the center of a weed-covered garden. Clearly, the King and his daughter were hard-pressed for money, yet, even from inside, the falsely-golden roof was casting a bright radiance across the dilapidated garden.

There was a creak of the springs on the bed and a slight whirling sound of spell. Morgan mumbled something in his sleep and then was silent.

"Did you have to cause such a fiasco back there?" she asked the space behind her.

Howl, full-grown and smiling, rested his chin on her shoulder and said, "What is wrong with some toyth?"

He quickly moved when Sophie aimed a light hand at his face and spun around. He held up his hands in surrender with his blue satin suit sleeves trailing. "I apologize," he said, but he was grinning. "I couldn't resist."

"Bah," muttered Sophie and walked past him to see that Howl had set Morgan in the crib to sleep.

"I know you can handle this yourself," Howl claimed as he came up behind her again. He was whispering though. Both of them knew that it would not do to have a loud argument now, as, even with a silencing charm, Morgan still had the mysterious ability to wake up at the drop of a hat. As she watched, a blue rubber duck appeared above Morgan's head and drifted lazily in circles in the air. Strange wizardly dreams, she suspected.

"But he missed you," Howl continued dramatically. "And he seemed to like his newly created playmate Twinkle, so I killed two birds with one stone and decided to take us to you."

"That's the real reason?" Sophie asked, turning to him. "Your silly pride wasn't injured by not being invited at all?"

"Of course not," he said, although he added, "even if it was very foolish to not invite me. I figured you would take more kindly to this than my other plan."

"And what was that?"

"Showing up as yowling cats on the roof," Howl said quickly and then sailed away to check on the weather outside.

"You're lucky you didn't then," Sophie grumbled. "He's spoilt enough without that."

"Precisely, cariad," Howl said. "Clearly, I was nobly thinking of our son."

Sophie shook her head and went to stand with him. "You can stay, but only if you stop terrorizing poor Princess Hilda with this madness."

"I can't stop him conjuring up toyth – " At Sophie's dark look, he amended, "Sorry. Toys. I will have to stay as Twinkle though. It solves several issues."

"Fine," agreed Sophie. "I didn't particularly want to explain why my husband was masquerading as a child to our hosts anyway."

"Lovely," Howl exclaimed. "In that case…" He stole a kiss from Sophie's lips and stepped back and shrank into a child before she could do anything about it. With a sigh, she shook her head at the beautiful blond boy innocently smiling at her.

"Auntie Thophie!" he exclaimed, as Sophie rolled her eyes.

Chapter Text

"Mum-mum-mum!"

"Yes-yes-yes," sighed Sophie, as she looked up from her suitcase. Surely, she could pack for longer than a minute without an interruption, but, already, Howl had been up to see if was sure she did not need him in High Norland and Lettie had been by claiming she could tie Howl to a chair with a spell to keep him from following her and even Martha and her five – Five! Sophie thought with a shudder – children had come to tell her that she and Michael could watch Morgan if she thought Howl might need help. Sophie was not sure how Martha and Michael managed with being graduated from their separate apprenticeships, a year married, and the parents of infant quintuplets.

Morgan came toddling into the room to bury his tear-streaked face into the front of her dress. "Bad dider!" he squealed.

"Spider?" Sophie repeated. "Where?" She stared around suspiciously at her bedroom. Thankfully, there were no stray cobwebs in the corners or hanging from the ceiling, but, then again, she did not generally let them. As it was, she suspected that she could be gone a day in High Norland and Howl would be giving them a hand just to annoy her when she came home.

"Diddeeeerrr," Morgan moaned.

Sophie gathered up her son and went out on the landing. To her horror, there was a pony-sized arachnid in the room below. It was black and fuzzy and currently poking one feeler at Howl's second apprentice, a boy of sixteen with light, orangish hair. He looked both terrified and fascinated.

"Howl!" she hollered. "What have you done?"

"Nothing that Jeremy can't handle" came her husband's reply from somewhere in the vicinity of the backdoor.

"You couldn't have perhaps waited to do this somewhere that wouldn't require me to scrub down the room afterwards," Sophie muttered, as she went down two steps.

Meanwhile, Jeremy had pulled himself to his feet and was now edging towards the worktable and reaching for a fistful of yellow powder. Sophie poked her head around to see Howl getting much too close to the spider's back legs. "Howl!" she warned.

With a weird whining noise, the spider whipped around and struck Howl in the chest with one of its front legs. "Dad!" yelped Morgan from Sophie's arms. Howl let out a little oomph noise and landed with his head smacking against the wall behind him and his gold-trimmed sleeves spread out around him.

At that moment, Jeremy had managed to toss the powder at the spider. Instantly, it shrank and hissed, giving Sophie enough room to race down the stairs and sidestep the creature.

Calcifer, who had just arrived in the grate, took in the scene very calmly. "Is he dead?" he asked in interest.

Sophie sent him a glare, as she set Morgan down. Kneeling beside the wizard, she smoothed back Howl's flaxen hair. "Is that you, Sophie?" he gasped.

Sophie's face took on a distinctly pinched expression then. "Howell Jenkins," she said firmly, "did you or did you not let that spider attack you to try to get me to bring my poor injured husband to High Norland with me?"

"Don't be unfeeling, Sophie," Howl sighed, but Sophie had already stood up.

"I am going upstairs to finish packing, Howl," she said.

"Please bring me with you," Howl said in his most-pleading voice.

"Maybe if you clean up this mess."

Howl's head picked up at that. "Really?" he asked.

"No." With a sigh at the state of the room, Sophie stomped upstairs with Calcifer laughing below.

Chapter Text

In the front parlor, Sophie watched with a satisfied smirk as the newly-appointed nursemaid held up a plain-looking, red cotton suit for Twinkle. "I won't wear that!" he shouted and tried to scramble out of the room. Meanwhile, Morgan was sitting on a chair and clapping his hands in delight as he made a dozen stacks of coloring books and what looked like hundreds of crayons scattering across the carpeting appear from the ceiling.

Sophie shut the door behind her as she left the woman to her work. She almost felt sorry for the nursemaid, although she knew that Twinkle would be escaping for his rooftop plan any second now. Glancing around, she made sure that the spell that Twinkle had bundled up in a cloth napkin was still firmly in her clutch purse and then headed towards the library. When the screaming started, she would be able to sneak in and plant it.

And Howl never did anything by halves, so when the screaming did begin, it rolled through the palace like thunderclouds to be topped by Morgan's higher pitched wails. "Oh, for heaven's sake, was that really necessary?" she asked when she had slipped back out of the library. Calcifer was sailing past trying to calm the nursemaid, who had a bawling Morgan under one arm and a wad of tissues in the hand of the other.

"That poor boy!" she was shrieking. "Poor Master Twinkle!"

"The boy will be just fine, madam," Calcifer was saying, although his voice was tinted with just a hint of his hissing, wet fire laughter. "Twinkle is always getting into these sorts of scrapes."

The nursemaid was clearly not listening as Calcifer muttered, "He certainly survived the drunken singing at his bachelor's party and Sophie's wayward frying pan and that time with the weed killer and Morgan's upset stomach and – "

"The Fire Brigade is coming!" yelled one of Princess Hilda's ladies, as Sophie snuck past and up the stairs. Best to wrap things up then, she thought.

Of course, her husband was sitting as calmly as can be with Charmain on the roof, as if they were having tea and crumpets. The gold roof tiles nearly blinded her in the sun, but thankfully, it was easy to get the both of them back down once Twinkle had had his fun.

"Here's the naughty boy," Sophie said to the frantic party of the nursemaid holding Morgan, the King, and Princess Hilda, once they had gotten down to the bottom of the stairs.

"I am not naughty!" Twinkle yelled from Sophie's arms, although no one could hear his complaints for long as Sophie calmly tapped his lips and commanded them to keep closed for the time being.

"That was unfair," whined Twinkle back in the bedroom. With little surprise, Sophie noted that, at some point, he had turned his plain red cotton suit into shining blue satin.

"What?" she asked. "You try to use magic on Morgan to get him to stop crying half the time. Clearly," she added, crossing her arms, "you didn't think through this second childhood business and I am going to make sure you see that."

Twinkle muttered something that sounded like "Thpoilthport," and hopped down from the bed. "Thee if I thare Charmain'th dithcoverieth with you tonight," he said more loudly.

"Oh, but you forget, my little man," Sophie noted with a dangerous smile, "your nursemaid has you scheduled for a nap then."

"Damnation," grunted Twinkle, crossing his arms and pouting up at her with his beautiful blue eyes shining like sapphires, or, at least, she suspected that was the idea, in any case.

Sophie's smile widened. "Naughty-naughty," she said, shaking a finger at him. "How about I go tell her that you can spend your timeout with her and Morgan?"

"Ha-ha," said Twinkle. "You're funny, auntie."

She advanced on him before his short legs could take him very far and then carried him out the door, kicking and screaming and squealing, "Thophie! Thophie!"

Chapter Text

Sophie was pouring over Charmain's notes when the door to the bedroom opened. "I thought you were supposed to be taking a nap," she said without looking up.

"I am taking one," Howl reassured her, as he sat beside her on the bed.

"Oh goodness, there are two of you now?" Sophie asked, scribbling a quick note on a fresh pad of paper.

"Who wouldn't want two of this?" He ran a hand through his impossibly golden hair and smiled.

Sophie ignored this and asked, "What do you know about a Wizard Melicot?"

"Flashy man," her husband replied. "I believe he was rather fond of making objects look like precious metals back in the day."

"Hence the roof," she muttered, as she took the order for golden roof tiles and placed it on a pile of papers that referenced Melicot. "It's a wonder you haven't done the same for the moving castle. You do so like to show off."

"That wouldn't be fun though, Sophie dear," Howl said, leaning back against the wooden headboard with his long legs spread out over her notepad. "It's already been done, as you can see."

Sophie rescued her pad and lightly swatted him on the leg with it. "True, and it isn't as if anything could really make the castle not look hulking and ugly."

"Not even a woman's touch," Howl said with satisfaction.

Sophie hid a smile behind her hair and changed the subject. "Did you go to this nap without a fuss and all that?" she asked. "You've caused that poor nursemaid to look ready to sprout wings and sail out the nearest window at any moment now."

"Of course I did," he replied. "If I have to hear 'Master Twinkle' one more time, I may do something particularly nasty. I was thinking of making a large rocking horse land on her."

"Be nice," Sophie insisted, as she turned to Charmain's first draft of the family tree. "The woman barely even knows what to do with Morgan, let alone the disgustingly pretty boy who decided to take up circus tricks on the roof."

"I wouldn't be too sympathetic," he stated, threading his fingers together behind his head and stretching. "There is something distinctly suspicious about our nursemaid."

"And so your better half is keeping an eye on her with Morgan, I hope?"

"Better half?" Howl repeated, leaning forward to move her hair and kiss the back of her neck.

"Yes," Sophie said, even as a pleasant shiver ran down her spine. "At least Twinkle doesn't slither out as much as you do." Howl nuzzled his way up her neck to kiss her ear. "Although he does whine about as much," she continued.

"Is that so?" He rested his head beside hers and reached around her to tickle along her ribcage.

"Yes, although I'd say even Morgan is better behaved than Twinkle."

Howl said, "Probably true," and then moved his hands to tickle her sides.

"Howl!" She squirmed and whipped around so fast that all of the papers on the bed went flying. It was just as well, as Howl leaned forward and pressed her down on her back to kiss the curve of her throat.

"I hope you're going to help me pick those up," she said a little breathlessly.

"Yes, Mrs. Compulsive Cleaner," Howl sighed and kissed her mouth.

Chapter Text

Stop your investigation and leave High Norland, or your child suffers.

Sophie tried to remain very calm for about five seconds before she gave up and yelled, "Howl!"

Twinkle appeared at her feet with an unbelievably large, swirly lollipop in one hand. "Yeth?" he asked.

She handed him the note that had appeared under the door when her back had been turned. "Well, that'th interethting," he said finally.

"That's all you have to say?" she asked. "I'm beginning to think that I might have solved this debacle by now if you weren't always botching me up."

"It ithn't as if thomeone can get patht uth and Calthifer to Morgan," Twinkle said confidently.

Sophie let out a strangled noise and began to pace around the room. The boy watched her with the lollipop in his mouth, making exaggerated slurping noises that eventually drove Sophie to flop down on the bed with a pillow over her head.

"You had better have left half of yourself watching Morgan and his nursemaid," she said finally.

"Of course," Howl said soothingly, sans lollipop and suddenly quite a bit taller. "And I can think of about a hundred and one means of protection for him off the top of my head, so I wouldn't worry much."

Sophie lowered the pillow silently to eye him. "When you take on that gentle tone with me, I sometimes wonder if you're lying to yourself," she said.

Howl pretended to look thoughtful long enough for her to groan and toss the pillow at his head. The soft white bundle bounced innocently off, but his expression became tragically injured. "Wonders above, Sophie," he said. "Haven't you realized that I know my own business by now?"

"I trust your judgment about as far as I can throw you," Sophie grumbled without sitting up.

"Which is actually quite far considering your persuasive, nagging brand of magic," the wizard noted and had to dodge another pillow. "I suspect you could bully gravity to stop working for a bit."

Frowning, Sophie sat up and crossed her arms. "You're masking your cowardly ways quite well, I'll admit, but let's be serious. What are we doing to keep Morgan from getting hurt, Howl?"

"Why, this, to start," he said. With a wave of a long sleeve, there were suddenly about twenty rocking horses tipping back and forth all around the room.

Sophie squinted and shook her head. "I can't sense the spell," she said. "What have you done to them?"

"That is precisely the point, Sophie," he said with a flourish. "We can line the room with them at the party tonight. That way, I can really be several places at once and still look perfectly innocent."

"I suppose the guests will just put it to the peculiar wizard family with the obnoxiously loud children," she agreed, smiling. She paused and added, "You? Innocent? You probably didn't look innocent in the cradle, even the first time!"

"I'm sure, if you had been there, you would have been the one poking and prodding and getting in the way of everything," Howl said. "I don't have quite your knack of getting my nose into things."

Sophie leaned back to prop herself up on her forearms. "Oh," she replied, "but I wasn't there. I'm afraid I'm not quite so old as you, dear."

He put on a great show of looking offended, including picking at his smooth face to show the flawlessness. "Wrinkles shall not touch this noble visage, Mrs. Nose. Nor shall a gray hair blemish these tresses. I will produce green slime before either of those events occurs."

She snorted loudly. The sound managed to carry over the constantly moving rocking horses, which were creaking irritatingly all the while. "Someday," she explained, "it might help you act your age if you let those changes show."

"I'll have you know that I have been acting out a fabulous recreation of a child. No one has questioned my authenticity because I am so youthful."

"Yes, but children don't act like you in reality."

"Most children aren't as perfect at childhood as I am – "

"I will bring out those photograph things your sister gave me, so help me – "

"Oh, my dear, don't think that I would let those things in the castle for more than a day without disposing of them," Howl said cheerfully. "You shall not find them again."

Sophie's smile was positively nasty, as she smoothed out the creases in her blue dress. "Oh really? Don't you know how convenient your world's technology is? I just asked Megan for new copies. She was more than happy to oblige, especially when I explained."

There was a brief moment where he faltered (a moment in which Sophie had time to stick her tongue out, of all things), and then Howl's face smoothed over into his most sunny expression. "Insensitive harpy," he said cheerfully. "Can't I have my second childhood without worrying about reminders of the first horrible one?"

"The photograph of you on the bicycle is adorable."

"You have no eye for beauty," Howl grumbled. "I'd fallen and scuffed up my Sunday clothes."

"An improvement, dear."

"You are tasteless, Mrs. Pendragon."

"Oh, get over yourself," Sophie sighed. "It's not as if I don't have experience with surviving old age."

"Only because you like disguises," muttered Howl.

Sophie let out another snort. "Pot calling the kettle black. Anyway, what is going to be the sign for you to start aging? When Morgan is being chased to our front door by an angry aunt with a rolling pin?"

"I suppose he might become popular with ladies someday," he mused, "but first he'd have to get past the difference between a triangle and a square." He flipped back some stray blond curls that had gotten into his face and said, "I think I'm safe."

"For now," she assented. "I suppose you'll be returning to your second childhood at the moment though?"

"Yes, Morgan requires some attention," Howl said, staring at a spot on the wall like it was one of his nephew Neil's picture boxes. "That nursemaid is trying to get him to wear a silk cravat to the party this evening and he's fussing. Morgan seems to have inherited your lack of taste."

"Oh, yes, but we can't all be flouncing around in velvet suits," Sophie muttered, rolling her eyes.

"It's sad but true," Howl said. "Now, you'll have to fill Calcifer in on my plan." He was beginning to shrink back into child-sized, so that in a moment, as Twinkle, he added, "Bother. Now, I'm really needed elthwhere. Morgan'th turned the cravat into a rather large thilkworm."

He turned to leave but paused to glance back at her over his velvet-covered shoulder. Sophie tried to keep her face in line, but she could not remove the hint of worry at the corners of her mouth. She was beginning to wish that she had taken Martha up on her offer to care for Morgan, even if the poor girl already had five children to watch.

Twinkle smiled and said in a normal, Howl voice, "Everything will be fine, cariad." And, with a speck of magic, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Sophie received Morgan's crayon drawing of a stick figure with curly yellow hair as if it were a masterpiece. To a nearly two year old, it certainly was, especially a nearly two year old who, when asked what he wanted for his birthday, wished that 'Dinkle' would come over to play.

Sophie was beginning to wonder if it would be advantageous to have another wizardly child running around just to get Morgan past this phase. It was not as if she believed in silly Ingary superstitions about children anymore. Still, even though being the eldest of three did not really make one a failure, she still wondered about the consequences of two children like Morgan.

"Fidge! Fidge!" Morgan shouted.

This, Sophie reasoned, was the problem with traveling between two worlds. Since the rather mystifying occurrence of a Jenkins and Perry dinner at Megan's house in Wales about a month before they had all gone to High Norland, Morgan had become fascinated with little unique things about the other world, including the neatly-placed doodles on his aunt's food box thing. Sophie could not remember the name, although apparently it was something like 'fidge,' but Morgan had delighted in arranging the pictures on the front of it and opening the big door to poke his head into the cold air. That is, until Gareth, Megan's space-consuming husband, had grabbed him by his collar and laughed at Morgan for acting as if he had never seen such a thing before. Morgan had taken this treatment by wailing and making about two kilograms worth of chocolates and three oranges splatter off the countertop and across the floor of Megan's pristine kitchen.

Of course, Megan had attributed this to Neil's poor stacking abilities.

In any case, Sophie dutifully did what she always did with Morgan's drawings. With a whisper of "Come now, paper. You absolutely must stick to the wood," she pressed it to the bathroom door, so that Howl also saw the picture of Twinkle when he was sure to sail in from getting his hands dirty in the backyard with the metal contraptions.

A good reminder of foolishness, Sophie thought, eyeing the picture. Morgan stood next to her with a wide grin plastered to his little features.

When Howl and his apprentice Jeremy did come in, it was drizzling out in Market Chipping, making the backyard damp and unusable. Morgan had made four ice cream cakes appear in the space of an hour because apparently his newest ability was to make food instead of toys appear (all splattering on her clean floor with alarming spreading capabilities), and Sophie had disposed of all of them in the sink to cries of "Mum-mum-mum!" ("They're dirty, Morgan! You can't eat off the floor even if it is spotless.")

After that, Morgan had made three brownies wrapped in napkins fall from the ceiling. His mother let him eat only one though.

"Dad!" Morgan yelled when a slightly moist Howl entered the main room through the former broom closet. The boy toddled over to his father, only to be stopped short by one of Howl's hands. In the other, a white handkerchief had appeared. Bending down, he wiped away the chocolate smudges before he allowed the boy to smother his face in the smooth velvet fabric of Howl's suit.

Jeremy trudged in after Howl with a bucket of rusty scrap pieces and set it on the worktable. "I think I salvaged it," he said, although, when Sophie peered over the side, she noticed that raindrops had smeared the chalk lines on the biggest piece.

"Keep out of that," said Howl with Morgan tucked under one arm. "It's very delicate work for the king and I don't want to have to explain any nose prints." With his free hand, he pulled out the big piece and handed it to Jeremy to redo. The boy went to complete his task on the stool by the hearth, where Calcifer leaned out and critiqued his chalk lines.

Letting out a snort, Sophie began to reorganize the books lined up on the shelf over the workbench. It was a task that always thoroughly annoyed Howl because he liked his orderly chaos. In this case, orderly chaos actually meant that some of the books were not even stacked up, but rather leaning and ready to fall off the shelf and potentially strike someone in the face. Howl claimed that this had never happened to him, but she liked to bring up the loud curses she had heard at four in the morning about two years before after a clatter of heavy books resounded downstairs. He insisted that she had been dreaming, but Sophie knew that he had actually been working on a secret project at the time.

This secret project had actually been a spell to make a rather brightly-colored baby room in the castle. With all of the spells for the king involving the war going on at the time, awful hours were apparently the only time he had to sneak around and do something like that. (And, for once, Sophie had found no way to critique this surprise.)

As she dusted the books, she said, "As if your work is ever neat, Mr. Slapdash."

"Let it be known that Mrs. Pendragon has not been performing magic as long as I have, and, therefore, is not an expert in the art," Howl proclaimed.

Morgan giggled and reached across Howl to yank on his father's other wide blue and silver sleeve. With both tiny fists curled in the fabric, he stuffed his head inside and yelled, "Hat!"

Sophie smirked at the lopsided grin that came over Howl's face.

Chapter Text

She left before he woke up because she knew the goodbye would be too ridiculously dramatic for the moving castle or even the kingdom to handle. As it was, she had secretly said goodbye to Morgan the previous night ("Mum bring sweets back?" Morgan had asked because, according to a nearly two year old, sweets were what trips should always end in), and she waved to Calcifer as she was leaving in the morning.

Still, it was hard to depart. It did not help that she could not stop herself from leaning over the bed and smoothing a faded blond curl from Howl's sleeping face. It would be an unnatural shade of flaxen when he went down to the bathroom, but that would not be for another two hours. By then, she would have safely used a transportation spell to get to High Norland after it would likely take her half that time to get it properly set up in the flowers at the edge of the Waste.

First, Howl would notice the note. It was a neat little sheet of paper with her average, tidy handwriting. She had already set it out on the workbench next to a vase of freshly picked daffodils. The daffodils had been an afterthought when she had been dragging one of Howl's metal contraptions out through the purple-down door at four in the morning. They had been gleaming wet with dew and she had paused in her whispers of "That's it, you heap of metal. Stay nice and quiet so you don't wake up the castle" to pick them. They had reminded her of the ones that she had been trying to make when there had been the weed killer incident.

So there were the daffodils and the note, which read:

I have left for High Norland. I cannot imagine this business being that difficult, so, like I have said over and over again, expect me back by the end of the week.

Jeremy, make sure Calcifer is supplied with logs for when he comes in and that Howl remembers to feed and change his son. Take care of the shop no matter how much Howl tries to get you to do his projects for the king.

Howl, if you leave me green slime, I swear I will tear apart everything in your wardrobe. Everything, that is, except for that ugly red shirt with the stains I found at the back of the closet. See how you like that.

Calcifer, make sure neither of them forget about Morgan. I give you permission to set the workbench and all of Howl's bathroom products on fire if they turn him into a kitten to get him to stop crying.

That was the long and short of it. Sophie had a feeling that Howl would mess it all up somehow, but she still carefully set up her spell to leave. It was easier to do it without him standing over her shoulder too. They rarely got anything done when trying out spells because she would inevitably get angry with him.

Often times, some volatile magical ingredient would then explode. One time, it had been a particularly nasty blue powder sitting in a jar on the table, which had stained Howl's then-new purple and gold suit. Green slime had been averted, but just barely.

With a fizzle of magic, Sophie completed the circle and vanished off to High Norland. It was a little like being pulled in two and then set back together again, but she survived it.

When a particularly blond man walked past her on her way to the palace, she felt a tiny spike of guilt that she quickly subdued. Oh, come off it, she told herself, as if Howl isn't always running off to business with the king. I can have tasks on my own without feeling bad about leaving him.

Still, the feeling persisted.

That is, until Twinkle had come into the picture.

Chapter Text

When the Pendragons arrived home, there were several letters sitting in the postbox in Market Chipping. One of them was a cheerful note from Jeremy thanking Howl for the time off. Apparently, not long after Sophie had gone, Howl had dismissed Jeremy to do what he wanted and packed up Morgan to leave. Sophie could just imagine the debate Jeremy had likely had with himself over trying to get Howl to stay where he was supposed to and being terribly glad for a chance to visit his family in Kingsbury.

With the castle melded back in its proper place, Calcifer had sailed away to see some sights. Sophie knew that this was just because he did not feel like being around for the impending peak of Howl's fowl mood.

The mood had been growing for the last day or so, especially while they had been traveling in the castle with occasional transport spell jumps in the journey. Sophie had first chalked it up to him not wanting to return to the king and all of his demands, but she knew that was not it when he spent an extra amount of effort sulking.

Now, in the silence of the castle with Morgan upstairs in his crib, he looked up from a spell he was toying with on the workbench and held up a slightly crumpled sheet of folded paper behind his bent head. Sophie recognized it instantly by her handwriting peeking out.

"You left without saying goodbye," he accused.

Sophie sighed. This was going to be a matter of green slime if she was not careful. As it was, she was surprised to return home to find the castle so neat. Apparently, Howl had not even had time to dirty it too much before he had set out after her. "I told you I was leaving on the twelfth," she said, tidying the bathroom sink. There was a suspicious ring of blue around the bowl, likely from whatever spells he had used before he had left.

"I understand that," Howl whined, "but it wasn't fair to my poor abused feelings." He swiveled around on the workbench stool to face her in the bathroom, sighing dramatically.

"You would have given quite a show," she said, as she glanced at him. The suspicious blue ring was stubbornly sticking despite how hard she was scrubbing. "And Morgan would have wailed and Jeremy would have retreated to the shop and you would have produced green slime in the end." (To be fair, he had not produced green slime since the original incident and that one time she had found what looked suspiciously like it in the sink. It had been after he had refused to get up quickly enough to get her cheddar cheese and avocadoes when she had been pregnant with Morgan. In retaliation, she had cut up his black and red suit to make curtains for the baby room.)

"You wrong me, Sophie," he sighed. "I could have toiled a thousand days and nights following you and you still would have unfeelingly asked me if I had remembered to feed Morgan in all of my anguish."

"Well, I should hope you would feed him, or you'd have been better off not toiling," Sophie muttered and then ducked her head closer to the sink. "Now, don't be difficult, stains. There's no use holding out. Let up." The marks then obligingly slid off onto her rag.

When she lifted her head again, he looked a little oily and maybe a bit greenish. "Howl," she said warningly.

When this only made him look more mournful and affronted, she left the cloth in the sink and came out of the bathroom with her hands on her hips. She noticed, for the first time, that the daffodils she had left were still happily sitting in a vase on the table. "It's not like you don't have a month's worth of orders from the king piled up," she noted. "You could have caught up on those instead of all this."

"You don't seem to have realized yet, Mrs. Neat-Freak," he said, leaning on the workbench, "but I generally try my best not to listen to most things the king says. I do, however, listen to you."

Sophie leaned along with him on the table, so that his face was dangerously close, and raised one eyebrow. "Really?" she asked. "You mean you were listening when I insisted that I would be perfectly fine in High Norland without you and I'd only be gone a week at most."

"Oh yes. I just chose to use my own judgment."

She rolled her eyes. "And how brilliant it always is," she said sarcastically. "Because really, who wouldn't think that parading around as a child and being a general nuisance to the royal family of another country would be a bad idea?"

"The point of this conversation still remains." The wounded look on his face actually seemed almost real, she noticed.

"That I left without saying goodbye," she stated.

"Yes."

"The letter wasn't enough? I had to go through all of your dramatics and be late to see Princess Hilda too?"

In response, Howl trailed his finger along the bench. A green slime trail was left in its wake.

Shaking her head, Sophie said, "Perhaps I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Lately, you've been off running errands for the king before even I'm awake, and that's saying something."

"Try to deny it all you like," he said confidently, "but you must at least feel a little guilty."

"I feel about as guilty as you do for sliming the bench," she grumbled.

"Sophie," he whined in a wheedling tone. It set her teeth on edge.

"I will not be charmed, Howell Jenkins."

Smiling slyly, Howl pulled her even closer towards him. Sophie almost let him, but then felt the sticky gooiness of his hands on her poor dress. "You slimy peacock," she hissed, extricating herself from his arms. His hands had left two trails of green slime down her sides that would probably only come out with magic.

He laughed and she had to retreat to keep him from seeing her blush like a schoolgirl at the lovely sound. "Sophie – "

"Don't 'Sophie' me." It was times like these that she wanted to feel ninety years old again just to keep him from slithering his way into her good graces after being so ridiculous.

His cheerful voice sailed over from the workbench, while she went to the bathroom to try to use the rag to remove the slime. "Don't you want to know the real reason why I went to High Norland?"

"I thought it was because of your silly pride or Morgan's crying." She was dabbing at the slime with the rag, but it was only spreading greenness over the blue fabric. "Botheration," she mumbled. "I won't have you permanently on my dress, green slime." The slime slid off onto the rag, but her dress was now a little damp.

"Aren't I allowed to just miss you?"

Sophie's head went up slowly so that he would not see that his answer had surprised her. Still, she could not tell if he was lying. "I suppose you are selfish enough for that to be the reason you followed me, you ridiculous man," she conceded.

"You wound me," he sighed, running a slime-free hand through his blond hair. "I was only thinking of you."

Sophie let out a soft snort. "Oh, stop it. You're beginning to sound like I'm one of your little conquests. Shall I recite poetry to you to get you to forgive me?"

"It would be a start," Howl said somberly.

"Thou, when thou returnest, wilt tell me all strange wonders that befell thee," she recited easily enough. "And swear no where lives a woman true and fair."

She did not go on, nor recite any of the beginning of that curse-bearing poem, but Howl began to smile. "How could I deny my forgiveness to such a woman?" he asked. Sophie could not quite keep her own face in check either.

"I daresay you are just smart enough to know that if you didn't let the matter rest that I would start tearing into your closet for sliming me," she noted. Still, when she returned to stand beside him at the workbench, she allowed him to close the space and rest his forehead against hers. With him on the stool, it had put them at just the right height to do this and Sophie finally let the smile spread out over her features.

"You can threaten my clothing all you want – well, not all you want, but close to it – but I still want you to promise not to leave without saying goodbye again," Howl insisted.

"You're actually sincere about this," Sophie said with surprise, watching the curious emotions in his green eyes.

He clutched at his chest dramatically, which only caused Sophie to laugh as he said, "Of course it's heartfelt."

"Literally," she muttered. "All right then. You can win this time. I promise."

Howl sprang up, grabbing her hands and practically swinging her around the room. "Wonderful."

"Although, if you're that dependent on me, perhaps I should leave more often," Sophie joked.

It earned her a glare. "Stop acting like I only need you as a cleaning lady, Mrs. Nose. You're surprisingly much more to me than that."

And even though it was absolute sentimental mush and probably something he had rehearsed in his head at some point, she smiled and maintained, "I promise, Howl."

Chapter Text

Sophie felt about as large as a dragon, and she had seen those so she should know. (That particular incident had occurred when she had been irked enough at Howl to try some magic to banish his blue and silver suit. Ultimately, she had ended up sending herself somewhere near Montalbino. It had been pretty, almost travel book scenic really, but also up a mountain and cold and then there had been a dragon. She was surprised that half of Ingary had not heard her loud, colorful cursing.)

He could be as cheerful as he wanted, but Sophie could not help but glare at Howl from her spot on the armchair near the hearth. Her feet ached, there were tiny limbs slamming into her abdomen from the inside, and she was too off balance to haul her body out of the chair by herself.

"Look on the bright side," Howl said, sweeping past her to put a log in the fireplace for whenever Calcifer returned, "the castle won't get abducted by any djinns this time. I have specifically blocked it from future pilferage."

"Fabulous," she grumbled and tried again to get off the chair. However, no matter how hard she gripped the armrests or tried to silently coax the chair into giving her a boost, she could not stand.

Howl was at her side before she had noticed that he had moved. "Easy there, my dear," he whispered, as he slid his hands behind her back to hook around her expanding middle. With a little lifting on his part and a lot of griping on hers, Sophie found herself vertical again. She was annoyed to discover that the effort had made sticky sweat drip down her back.

"For all the aches and pains, there could be a lubbockin in my gut," she grunted.

Howl sailed back over to the workbench, where Jeremy was dutifully putting together a spell for her to relieve her back pain. She would have made it herself, but Howl insisted that performing magic so close to her due date was out of the question. (Of course, that did not mean that she did not, but only little stuff instead.) He sighed theatrically and asked, "Now, is that any way to discuss our unborn child?"

"As a bloodsucking pain? Yes." She tottered to the empty fireplace, feeling now a bit larger than even a dragon. She needed the baby-naming book that Megan had given to her during the time they had gone to Wales to announce the news. It had been a strangely nice gesture, but now Sophie was beginning to think that there had been an ulterior motive, such as endless worrying over the choice and impending madness for Megan's sister-in-law.

Looming insanity or not, the book was sitting on the stool, so it was a little easier than if it had been on the ground. Still, Sophie had to press one hand to her back and spread her legs out to brace herself before she could reach down and grab it.

She had been marking names she liked. Her ability to pronounce some of the Welsh names was a little limited, but the ones she could were nice. Mostly, she just knew that, after Howl had insisted on naming Morgan in the dramatic way that only he could, she was adamant on choosing this one. ("So-phie, after all you've put me through in these last eight months, you really must let me choose a good name. Morgan is clever and will work whatever comes."

To which she had replied, "Whatever comes? Are we expecting some sort of slime-spewing monster?"

"Slime-spewing maybe.")

Sophie awkwardly sat on the arm of the big chair by wiggling up. It would make it easier to stand when she needed to, but it was dreadfully uncomfortable on her spine.

"Busy, busy," muttered Howl somewhere behind her head but close to the workbench. "Nose to your work as always, Mrs. Restless?"

Sophie had not told him of her insistence on the naming of the baby this time (because he would then spend weeks trying to weasel her into picking what he wanted like he had last time), so she casually shut it and turned it over to reveal a blank black cover on that side. Unsurprisingly, that was what made Howl curious about her doings.

Sophie saw the moment his green eyes switched to a more calculating glint and took action. "Is that spell ready yet, Jeremy?" she asked, reaching around to massage her back even though the pain had dulled.

The boy glanced up from his work to say, "Oh yes, it'll just be a moment."

Sophie sighed knowingly at her own thought processes. He was just a boy, like Michael had been to her mind when she had been a ninety year old woman. Goodness, what a change being married and having a baby (with another on the way) made her.

This diversion caused Howl to look away for a moment to check on Jeremy's progress. The spell was a tiny circle of powder and red chalk lines where Howl could have just relieved her discomfort with a muttered word. Jeremy, like Sophie, was still just a student, however, and the kind of power in that type of spellwork was still something she was working towards. So, instead, it was the long way for her, and, as it was, pregnancy seemed to sap her magic anyway. (The mop, at least, was being particularly reluctant to be bullied into doing its job.)

The distraction was fleeting. When Howl's eyes returned to her, there was a knowledgeable smirk there.

The game is up, she thought.

"What have you got there stashed away, my dear?"

"Nothing very interesting," Sophie lied. "Just reviewing the care of infants. Morgan's growing up so quickly, you know, that I feel like I need to study." She knew she had blown it there. The lofty tone had been just too much and too Howl-like, and now he was advancing on her with quick fingers.

He filched the book before she could do something and turned it over in his hands. "Minx," he muttered. "You're planning on sneaking the naming around me. I'm hurt. That could affect the child's whole life, you know."

As he stood there beside her, the cloud of hyacinths around him that day made her a little dizzy, even when she was sure she had become immune to his various flowery scents before then. Nevertheless, she steeled herself and said, "As if I got any say in the last naming."

"You could have changed it. You were there for the birth while I was stuck in a lamp, of all things."

Jeremy had shifted as close to the workbench as possible while sitting on a stool, in case something flew.

"Yes, I was there all alone without you after you turned me into a cat. Brilliant idea, Howl. You are the one who insists that I not so much as lift a finger to do magic during this." She made a sweeping gesture at her stomach and then had to clutch the back of the chair with the other or she would have fallen off. She almost wanted to admit that she was feeling a bit strange and then dismissed the notion. But Howl will just abuse the weakness, she thought and added aloud, "Besides, it's not as if you care about names, Mr. Jenkins. Or is it Wizard Pendragon? No one can quite be sure around here."

"I like playing with names as much as you like your disguises and eavesdropping, Mrs. Nose," Howl sighed.

Sophie pressed a hand to her lower stomach, where a particularly sharp kick had been aimed. "I'm the eavesdropper?" she asked. "You're the one who spied on me when I was interrogating Percival? Or have you forgotten?"

He dismissed it with a careful wave of a hand and a flapping sleeve. "That was just good business, Sophie… Sophie!"

She had not noticed that she was tilting and about to fall off the chair until Howl grabbed her upper arms. Then, she had to blink up at him and concentrate to remember what he had been saying. The book, she noticed, had been tossed onto the ground.

"I'm fine," she said and tried to shrug off his hold on her. "Just tired, that's all. Help me to bed and I'll just sleep it off like Morgan's sleeping off his bug."

In response, Howl merely said, "Calcifer."

The fire demon, who had just arrived, floated over to them and eyed Sophie. "This is too much," she insisted. "I just get tired easily now."

"She does seem all right, Howl," Calcifer admitted. "Just a little thirsty."

And Sophie realized that she was. When Howl handed her a glass out of nowhere, she gulped it down quickly. After three glasses and being moved to actually sit on the seat of the armchair, Sophie felt considerably better.

"Trust you two to argue so much that you ignore symptoms that could lead to the baby emerging early," Calcifer grumbled.

"How do you know much about pregnancy?" Sophie asked after Howl had gone back to watch Jeremy finish up.

Calcifer dipped and appeared closer to her without, thankfully, emitting too much heat. "There isn't much else to do," he admitted, "than watch and listen when you're hovering above the planet for so many years."

Sophie nodded and carefully reached down to pick up the fallen baby-naming book. "Calcifer," she asked. "What do you think of Arial for a boy? It means strength or courage."

"That name is not allowed," Howl called from the workbench.

Sophie leaned around the chair to look at him. "Why not? It might keep the baby from being a coward like some people."

"Rugby game ten years ago. You wouldn't understand, Mrs. Nose."

"I was asking Calcifer anyway."

Twenty minutes and several admissions later, Sophie was looking calmly up at the ceiling. "Catrin?" she suggested.

Howl made a noise, while Calcifer laughed at his expression. "Probably not for the best," the former muttered.

Sophie recognized the tone of his voice. "Former flame?" she asked resignedly.

"First one, actually," he admitted.

"Have you destroyed every Welsh name with your past years?"

"Keep asking me and I'm sure we'll find one that I haven't."

Two weeks later, Sophie ended up taking the book with her to the hospital in Wales because they had not found a name to fit the bill yet.

Chapter Text

Morgan had taken to calling his baby sister Rhian 'Dinkle.' The first time he did this, a mere two hours after the baby had been brought home for the first time, Sophie had to close her eyes to keep from doing something rash, like smacking her husband upside the head. He was sleeping in the armchair by the fire looking as angelic as can be and that made it obvious that he was not in fact sleeping. Howl refused to believe her, but he looked quite different when asleep. No beauty spells meant that he had little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and one between his eyebrows. She had insisted that it did not in any way look bad, but he had just waved it off as having something to do with her love affair with things being 'natural.'

She could almost swear that Howl was smiling in his 'sleep' right then, and she was not even sure why he bothered. It was not like he had given birth or anything. In fact, he had just managed to act like a complete mother hen – even worse than people like Fanny – until she had asked him if he wanted to give birth next time.

Morgan was sitting on the stool by the hearth and the baby crib grinning at Rhian napping with her little brown wisps of hair sticking out in all directions. Sophie took a deep breath to further calm herself and, even though it hurt a little, knelt slightly down beside him. "Morgan, Rhian isn't Twinkle," she said gently, like she was informing him that the tooth fairy did not exist. There was no tooth fairy business in Ingary and Howl had admitted that he had not grown up with a tooth fairy either. Still, Morgan had been particularly excited to hear this story, even though he was a few years away from losing any teeth. He had told his cousins about this too, including Lettie and Ben's daughter and Martha and Michael's little ones, who did not even have all of their baby teeth yet. After that, there had been a lot of dress up parties with the four little girls (one of which was Lettie's and the other three were Martha's) tying toy wings to their backs and sailing around with daisies in their hair. The three boys (Morgan and the two little ones of Martha's) had pretended to go to sleep in the middle of the field of flowers beyond the purple-down door of the castle. Not having any teeth to give, the boys had placed gumdrops on plates next to their heads and the girls had swooped over and taken them. And then, as they were ranging from the age of a year and a half to three years old, there was no money to leave, so the girls used flower petals instead.

"But," said Morgan, as if what Sophie had said was obvious, "Dinkle din't come back to play, so Rhian can be my Dinkle. 'Kay, Mum?"

Sophie was not quite sure what to say to that at first. She was getting the feeling that Howl was smiling even more though.

She stood up, wincing at the slight pain this caused, and said, "Okay, but not all the time. Don't you like Rhian's name?"

"Dinkle's better."

Sighing, she rolled her eyes and told Morgan to head up to bed and dragged herself up the stairs. She could not help but mutter to her swollen ankles to give it a rest already, before making sure Morgan was tucked in. Until the baby downstairs started fussing, she did not even realize that she was just standing in Morgan's doorway, watching him fall asleep and dozing a little herself.

Then, by the time she had managed to hobble down the stairs, Howl had quieted Rhian by picking her up and gently rocking her around the room, muttering little things in Welsh that Sophie only vaguely understood even after the last few years. It reminded her of the way he had looked holding the baby for the first time with this big grin that said 'I made it here this time and look at this!' that had made her laugh, even though, through all of the time she had spent in labor in that horrible white delivery room in Wales, they had basically been arguing about the baby's name:

"How about Meinwen?"

"No, that was the name of Megan's best friend for a summer."

"Why did they stop – OOMPH – being friends?"

"I may have had something to do with it."

Sophie had made a low annoyed noise but refrained from commenting. "Meredith?"

"I had an aunt Meredith."

"Yes, and?"

"No, that's it. I do not even really remember her."

"Don't lie. This is important!"

"Don't get all huffy on me, Mrs. Nose. The only thing is that Aunt Meredith thought I was a girl for some reason."

In the middle of a contraction that felt like it was crushing her from the inside out, Sophie still managed to snort. "What about Padrig then?"

"You just mutilated that fine Welsh name, my dear."

Glaring at him over the top of the book, she was about to yell at him when she had to give another push and could only concentrate on what was going on behind the sheet. Howl had pulled the baby naming book out of the death grip she had been giving it and held both of her hands through the rest. They had ended up choosing Rhian after the birth because no one Howl had ever courted or been related to had ever had that name as far as he could recall and Sophie could pronounce it. Of course, Howl had known a few Rhians, but only vaguely and that was good enough for Sophie.

The only good thing she had to say about giving birth in Wales, like Howl had wanted her to do with Morgan, had been that they had given her something for the pain, although she had protested quite vocally at getting poked or prodded or stabbed with anything.

The other good thing had been the fact that she did not have to listen to Megan bickering with Lettie and Martha, like they had been when she left them in the waiting room. The husbands had stayed home with the children with Michael and Ben watching the seven little ones in the castle and Garrett staying with Mari and Neil, although Sophie could say with certainty that Neil had probably been in his room the entire time and Mari had likely been drawing up the cards she had promised to make for the baby.

Howl set the baby back in her downstairs crib (the other one was in their bedroom until Howl created a new baby room), while Sophie slumped down in the armchair he had vacated and glared at him when he finally turned around.

"Now, Mrs. Nose," he said and failed miserably at stifling a chuckle. "Don't look at me like that over Morgan's obsession with Twinkle. I just fulfilled a little boy's dreams of having a companion a year ago. It's not my fault it took you so long to give him a real companion."

"You are very lucky that there are worse names he could be calling her," Sophie whispered back. "And did you just say that it took me so long?"

"Nine months is a fairly long wait."

"It is definitely going to be a lot longer next time if you keep up with that talk."

"So-phie," Howl said laughingly. "The baby is lovely. Just as lovely as I would expect from someone who looked as enchanting as I did as a child the second time."

"Uh huh."

"Why must you be so unmoved by my imploring words of love and kindness?"

She snorted. "Oh yes, I do apologize. Did I mention my sisters and stepmother are coming over tomorrow to see the baby?"

"Can't I have peace without busybody Hatter women tearing up my home?"

"Fanny hasn't seen Rhian yet," she muttered, as she hid a yawn behind her hand. "And a neighbor is watching Michael and Martha's children."

"Poor neighbor."

"Oh, and Mrs. Fairfax is coming with Fanny."

Howl grimaced and ran his fingers though his hair. She realized he had not changed into his Ingary clothes when his sleeves did not dangle near her face. He was still wearing a short-sleeved shirt and the weird denim trousers that she saw so many people in Wales wearing. The most surprising thing of all, however, was the hint of darkness at his roots, like the blond had leaked away there.

"I look forward to so many women of Ingary under one roof," he said with a sigh and then, without a word, tugged her to her feet by grabbing both of her hands and kissed her nose.

"Of course, you are my favorite busybody Hatter woman."

This only earned him a roll of her eyes, as Sophie sighed, "The people in that delivery room probably thought we were mad."

He pulled away to tenderly lift Rhian from her crib. "I'm sure they have seen worse things, although I think we should decide a little earlier next time." He led the way up the stairs and to their bedroom. Sophie trudged up after him, feeling the strain in her legs, and glanced at the fire through the railing. Calcifer was gone and probably avoiding things like wailing newborns and visiting family. She did not really blame him.

At the top of the staircase, she grumbled, "Then no names from Wales or maybe even Ingary, I suppose."

"I'm afraid That may be for the best."

"You didn't court anyone in other countries here, did you?"

Rhian was nestled in the crib under a light green blanket when Howl smiled back at her and, where normally she would have expected a long answer about how she had 'wronged him with' her 'slanderous talk,' he gave her a short, tired reply instead. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

"Perhaps not. I did just get a lot of your history with that baby book."

"It is not my fault that I have such an illustrious past."

"Illustrious? That is what you are calling it now?"

"Illustrious," Howl insisted and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned into the warmth of him and felt her eyes grow heavy. "It sounds much better than saying I had a career of wickedness and heartlessness until my favorite busybody Hatter woman came around with her broom and cleaned me up," he whispered into her hair.

"It would be the truth," she sighed and then fell blissfully asleep.