kitchen_maid | (no subject)

(no subject)

The Queen's Rooms in the palace in Amber are very grand, very golden, and very un-Amy. But they've only been hers for a month and a half, and she hasn't been here most of that time. She'll get around to getting them changed to suit her. What matters to her is that she's found the door to Milliways at the back of her wardrobe.

Which means she can have guests.

And who better to bring as a first guest in Ambergeldar than her princess protege?

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"Why's it a folly?"

That's a word Ingress doesn't know.

"It's almost like a very tiny ancient temple, only it's not meant to be a temple, but it has columns and a roof, and this one has a table and chairs in the middle of it, so it's a lovely place to have a snack or play games."

Amy grins.

"It will probably make more sense when you see it."

"Oh, okay! Can we play games? What games do queens play?"

She holds Amy's hand as they make there way through a few more hallways, her head swiveling back and forth to take in the large portraits and tapestries as they go. Finally they walk outside into the fresh air.

"It's a pretty day! I'm having fun, Amy."

"Mostly I play chess," says Amy. "But we can always make up our own game."

A very warm smile.

"I'm so glad, Ingress. You're my first guest in Ambergeldar, so it's very important that you have a marvelous time."

"I am."

She points to a conveniently placed croquet set. "What's that stuff?"

"Croquet," says Amy. "I'm not terribly good at it, and I don't know the proper rules at all, but we can whack the balls around, if you like."

"That sounds like fun! I want the blue ball." She takes out a croquet mallet and a blue ball and begins whacking. She whacks it pretty far. She runs to it and then whacks it even farther.

"You're supposed to try to whack it through the little arches," says Amy, laughing.

They might be called wickets. She can't remember.

She knocks the red ball neatly though a . . . whatever it is.

"Oh, that's cool!" She whacks the red ball through the wicket and it knocks against Amy's. "Oops!"

"No, that might actually be what you're suppose to do," says Amy. "Knock other people's balls out of the way. I do wish I knew how to play properly, Ingress."

"I think this is proper just like it is. Let's use all the balls now!"

She takes out the green ball and knocks her blue one out of the way.

"All right," agrees Amy, and sends the yellow one skittering into the mix.

It's only vaguely like a game of croquet, but they enjoy themselves a great deal, and are still laughing about it when the footmen arrive with their cakes and cider.

"Oh yummy! Thank you very much, kind sirs," she says to the footmen.

Then she sits down and happily eats cake (which crumbles all over her borrowed finery) and slurps cider (which leaves a little mustache, but she remembers to use her napkin).

The footmen bow and take their leave. (Later there'll be gossip about the new queen and her guests and their odd behaviour, but Amy expects that. It's what servants in palaces do -- talk about the nobility.)

Amy settles into her chair comfortably, and nibbles her own cake, with slightly fewer crumbs.

But it's a crumbly sort of cake, really.

Ingress also settles in happily. "We're lucky we get to live in castles and houses like mine. I like having fairy stories come true."

Amy nods. "Quite," she says, though she's not necessarily thinking of the castle. More of its owner.

"Did you get to meet my godmama at the wedding, Ingress? The fairy Crustacea?"

"I'm not sure. I met lots of people. Is she a real fairygodmother?"

She thinks maybe she met someone who fit that description, but she's not sure.

"As real as they come," says Amy. "My parents invited a lot of fairies to my christening, and seventeen of them are my godmothers. But Crustacea is my favorite," she confides.

"She wears glasses and robes made of seaweed."

"Oh, I remember her! She didn't look like the fairy godmothers in books."

"What do they look like in books?" asks Amy, refilling Ingress' cider glass.

"They have fairy wings, sparkly dresses, and a sparkly wand with a star on it," she nods firm in her knowledge of how things are.

"Hmmmm," says Amy. "Well, none of my fairy godmothers look like that."

She smiles.

"But I suppose they could, if they wanted to."

"I don't have any fairy godmothers, but Tom does magic, at least. That's nice. He's very handy."

Again with the wisdom of a seven-year-old who knows Stuff.

"He is. He kept the squirrels from spilling tea."

That's as handy as it gets, really.

"He fixes stuff too. And kills scary bugs."