milliways_bar | (no subject)

She settles onto a couch and looks at him, eyes dancing. "I suppose it could be a fairy gift, but it's not one of mine. So I suppose if't just common run of the mill ordinary intuition. And the fact that you're covered in snow."

Or was, though it's probably melting pretty quickly. "How have you been?"

He brushes a little more snow off his hair and grins. "Well, there is that."

He sips his tea. "I've been well, thanks. You?"

"Well, for the most part," she says. "My best friend got unBound and went home last week, and I miss her, but I'm sure she'll be back soon. We're planning a Christmas party, after all, and Anne wouldn't miss that."

A sudden and very bright smile. "You should come, if you'd like."

He blinks, and smiles back at her. "I'd like that, I think."

Then the Christmas part sinks in, and he looks mildly panicked. "Oh, Lord, Christmas. What'm I going to do for presents for all you lot?"

"Good," she says, "we'd love to have you. Caspian will be there, of course, and I think he's asking Lucy, so you'll know people."

~~Someone will ask Lucy. *Handwaves blithely*~~

"And I wouldn't worry about presents. You'll think of something, and if you don't, your friends will be happy of your company anyway."

"Well, I hope so. At least I've some time."

"Almost a month," she agrees, cheerfully. "And that's only till the first day of Christmas. More than a month till Twelfth Night."

He raises his eyebrows and, loathe to admit any level of ignorance, says, "Never celebrated Twelfth Night, actually."

"We celebrated all twelve days of Christmas in Phantasmorania," Amy says with a shrug, "but there's no reason to suppose that's the way everyone does it."

A smile.

"I like Christmas, but there was always a part of me that was relieved when Twelfth Night came. The holiday meant a lot of extra dinners and balls and the like, and they're tiring."

He laughs. "I'd imagine. I saw little enough of feasting in Narnia, and I certainly can't imagine twelve days of it."

Amy grins. "It's not the food, really, that's the problem; it's all the things that go with it. Like twelve days of very best dresses with scratchy embroidery and the for best occasions crown, which is all together too heavy and a little bit too tight, too. Although now that I know how much extra work that sort of thing makes for the kitchen maids, I'm not sure I shall ever be able to attend one again without feeling just a little bit guilty."

"And how do you know how much extra work is makes for the kitchen maids?" he asks, curious.

"Because when I ran away from home I got wound up working in the kitchen in the palace in Amber, in Ambergeldar, which is the kingdom on the other side of the Forest of Faraway, as the fourteenth assistant kitchen maid. So I know how much work a ball or a feast makes for the maids in the kitchen, which is rather a lot, really."

". . .That would explain that, yes. Why did you run away from home?"

Amy begins to giggle.

"Because of a dragon."

". . .Of the devouring princesses type, then?"

Determinedly ignoring the giggling.

"Of the laying waste to the countryside type," says Amy, and she's not giggling any more. "My parents were going to hire one, and then lock me in a tower and wait for a prince or some such silly nobleman to rescue me."

She looks at him. "Because you can't rescue the princess and then refuse to marry her. Simply not done. So it's one way to find husbands for not so beautiful princesses."

He frowns. "Well, I suppose I see the logic -- but it's not very good. I don't see why they should think it necessary. And," he adds, "I can certainly see why you would run away."

"It was necessary," she says, "because forty-three suitors had already declined to offer for me, and because there's never been a spinster in the history of Royal House of Phanffaria."

A small smile.

"But it hardly seemed fair, to me or the prince or the countryside or the dragon, really."

He gives her a surprised look.

"I should say so. Forty-three?"

Amy nods. "Forty-three. Or so my royal Mama told me, and believe me, she'd know."

A shrug. "Outside Phantasmorania it was just sort of assumed that I was every bit as lovely as my sisters. The youngest is supposed to be the most beautiful, after all."

That may sound a little familiar. Eustace has been reading fairy tales, right?

"So I think I came as a bit of a shock."

And that is a grin.

Well, grinning. Grinning is good.

"Well, maybe so. But the youngest needn't always be the most beautiful. She can be the cleverst, too."

See? He's putting those fairy tales to good use.

Amy laughs. She's truly not bothered by being the Ordinary one. She's quite glad of it.

"Well, thank you. But, alas, my family had to go and develope a reputation for beautiful princesses, not clever ones."

A pause, and she looks thoughtful.

"I don't think I know of any families with reputations for clever princesses, actually."

He snorts. "I am less and less impressed with royalty."

At which point his brain reminds him that he's talking to royalty, and his cousins are royalty, and one of his best friends.

"I mean, not royalty," he says hastily, "just. . . royalty."

Amy throws back her head and laughs. And when she manages to stop, she gives him a look that is utterly Serene and Royal Highness, but her eyes still dance.

"I am most grieved to learn that you find myself and my royal cousins unimpressive," she says. "Particularly since the least impressive royalty is generally the royalty that is trying hardest to impress."