kitchen_maid | Caspian's Visit to Ambergeldar

Caspian's Visit to Ambergeldar

In light of the fact that she seems to be bringing more and more visitors from Milliways, Amy has cleaned out the wardrobe that holds her Door to there. Her warmest and heaviest cloak still hangs off to one side, and a number of crowns rest on the shelf above, but Caspian will not have to pick his way across his sister's shoes or avoid getting caught in the trains of her dresses.

Amy keeps hold of his hand as they step through -- she's still being very careful about that after Mal wound up miles and miles away, and no doubt will be for some time to come. Even if the Door has gone back to behaving itself, it's a simple measure, and much better to be safe than sorry.

Her dressing room is a bit cramped now that there's an extra wardrobe (all those shoes had to go somewhere, after all), and not at all the best first view of Ambergeldar.

But then, it's not Caspian's first view of Ambergeldar, is it?

(Which was, of course, a pantry in the kitchens, back when his sister was a kitchen maid. Years ago. But he's seen many non-storage views of the kingdom since then.)

"Welcome back," Amy says.

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"Thanks," he says, ducking his head to avoid whacking it on the shelf, before following Amy out into the room and looking around with a smile.

"I must say, it's good to be back."

Oddly enough, Ambergeldar is a little less strange to be in than the bar itself; then again, he's used to time passing differently here.

"And it's wonderful to have you back," Amy says.

And, that having been established, she continues, "If I've timed this right, the twins should have just finished lunch and not yet be ready for their naps.

"Well," she adds, after a second, and with a bright smile, "and if either of them is even close to being on the intended schedule today. They don't always cooperate."

"I've rarely heard of that being the case," he says, laughing, "but we can always hope. Perhaps your nurse is better able to keep them on a schedule than ours was."

"I was perfectly on schedule, when I was a baby," Amy says, grandly, leading the way out to the corridor. "I almost never cried, either."

And then she grins. "Well, at least not till after my christening."

"They must not have known what to do with you at all," he laughs.

"After the christening, that is. Unless you still minded the schedule."

Unlikely.

Amy laughs. "Not at all," she says.

She was very much the problem princess.

"I don't think they ever really figured it out, either," Amy says, continuing down the hall toward the Royal Nurseries.

"Though that's all right.

"I think I've done just fine with me."

"I think you rather have," he agrees, walking easily by her side.

"Certainly better than any of your sisters, depending on how one measures these things."

If success is measured in happiness and love and laughter, then Amy has certainly come out on top.

If success is measured in rank and stature, Amy has also come out on top. It's a side effect of finding happiness and love and laughter with a King.

"Quite," Amy agrees, with the smile that wrinkles up her nose, and then pushes a door open to reveal a large, sunny nursery all currently done in pairs of things.

"Hello, Henrietta," Amy says, to the nursemaid sitting in the floor with the two youngest members of the Royal Family. "Hello, darlings," she says, in a different tone, to her sons.

One of them goes right on solemnly stacking blocks with Henrietta, but the other promptly starts crawling toward the new arrivals, and Amy stoops to scoop him up out of the floor.

"Caspian, this is Caspian," she says. "And goodness, but that's going to get confusing."

It's hard to explain the feeling he gets, seeing the two little boys: it's rather like something's expanded, deep in his chest, and he feels all full and light with it, like a balloon lifting into the sky.

Amy picks one of the boys up, and Caspian goes over to the two of them, ducking his head to look more closely at his nephew, eyes crinkling with a smile.

"Hullo, Caspian. Dear me, yes, I suppose so. I don't know how all the other Caspians managed it." Reaching forward, he puts a gentle hand on his namesake's head to stroke the fine hair there.

"And already curious and crawling about, good, good. Excellent."

"Well, we'll think of some way to tell the two of you apart," Amy says, smiling.

"And yes, he's endlessly curious. You can't turn your back on him for a second. He crawls faster than any of his siblings, and he wants to see and touch everything. And to taste about half of it."

Caspian the younger is busy getting one hand thoroughly tangled in his Royal Mama's hair through all of this.

"Do you want to hold him?"

Between the two of them, then can probably extricate him from Amy's hair.

"Yes, yes," he laughs, stepping close and gently lifting his nephew away from his mother, pausing to carefully help untangle curious little fingers from Amy's hair.

It takes a little doing; young Caspian really is fairly industrious.

That done, he lifts the boy up a little to settle him comfortably, looking down at him with a fond smile. "Hello there, my lad. Thee's a mischief, I see."

Which is, he rather thinks, as it ought to be. His namesake ought to be looking for adventure, clearly.

"Trig as his mother," Amy says, looking over her shoulder with a grin, while she goes to get Laurence.

"Come on," she says, gathering him up out of the floor as well, "time to meet your uncle." She smiles at the nursemaid. "Thank you, Henrietta. If you'd like to take a break, you may."

Henrietta nods and curtseys and gives Caspian (the elder) one last curious glance before letting herself out of the room.

"This is Laurence."

"And father, at times, if I remember correctly," he says, meeting her grin with one of his own.

Not that Perry seemed so much mischievous as slightly excitable, at times.

He walks over, namesake in his arms, to smile at his other nephew.

"Handsome little lads, aren't they?"

"Very," Amy says. "I suppose we'll have princesses on Friendly Visits lined up around the courtyard one of these days.

"We shall have to give all the kitchen maids another raise, no doubt."

Laurence regards his uncle with wide blue eyes, and then very solemnly blinks.

"Flfffffth," he says.

"Not for some time, surely," he protests, leaning forward to touch Laurence's nose lightly with the tip of one finger.

"Unless you and Perry have started considering arranged marriages, which I seriously doubt."

"I think there's very little chance of that," Amy says, so decidedly that Laurence turns his attention from his uncle to his mother, and Amy smiles at him. "Don't worry, darling. You may marry whomever you like."

She looks back over at the Caspians.

"That said," she continues, in a slightly dry tone, "I wouldn't put it past the more determined mothers to start arriving with small princesses soon. Get a head start on the competition. Establish a warm and long-standing rapport with the princes.

"Especially their older brother."

Who will, after all, one day be king.

He holds Caspian up a little, meeting solemn blue eyes with smiling gray ones, though he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, my lad. My advice to you is to listen to your parents. They have some experience with this sort of thing."

Tucking the little boy back against his shoulder and bouncing him gently, he looks over at Amy. "Good lord, yes, the poor boy. Where is he, anyway? In a different nursery?"

Amy nods. "It's a whole series of rooms for the nurseries. Bedrooms and a play room and the not-yet-used-all-that-much school room.

"I thought once these two were ready for their naps, we'd look in on the older ones.

"Susan is decidedly opposed to naps of late."

"Susan is nearly a grown lady," he says, though it's hard to say whether he's talking to Amy or simply talking silliness at his namesake, who reaches out to place a chubby hand against his cheek, making his uncle grin, though he affects sternness.

"I say, steady on, sir."

"Do not let her father hear you say anything of the sort.

"I think sometimes that if Perry had his way, Susan would stay four until she's thirty.

"As mathematically impossible as that may be."

Laurence settles his head against his mother's shoulder and yawns.

Edited 2012-03-11 00:26 (UTC)

"Best of luck to him," Caspian laughs. "Rilian would keep getting older, no matter what we wished.

In his arms, Caspian is blinking large, sleepy eyes at his uncle, looking a little dopey.

"I think they might be about ready for that nap."

"Yes, I think you're right."

Amy nods toward the cots in the middle of the room.

"Caspian has the boats and Laurence the horses," she says, of the brightly painted mobiles that hang above them.

"Come on, darling," she says to Laurence, carrying him over toward the cot under the horse mobile. He yawns at her, and Amy yawns back, exaggeratedly so, in response.

He follows her across the room, smiling at the mobile of boats that dangles over Caspian's cot. "As it should be," he says, pleased at the idea even though he has no right to expect that his namesake will love the sea as he does.

He yawns against his uncle's shoulder, and thrusts a balled-up fist to rub at one tired eye, and Caspian sets him down carefully on the soft blanket in the crib. "There, my lad," he says, softly, as his nephew blinks at him and at the mobile as he gives it a gentle spin.

With the twins safely and comfortably settled into their cots, and Henrietta summoned back from her break, Amy touches her fingers to her lips and then her sons' foreheads, and then leads her brother back out into the hallway.

"What do you think of your namesake and his twin?" Amy asks, once the door has closed behind them.

"Well, I think they're perfect, naturally," he says, firmly.

"And I'm looking forward to spoiling both of them as much as possible."

"Because you're an excellent uncle," Amy says.

"Ready to meet and remeet my two other two handfuls?"

"My opinion is entirely unbiased," he says, loyally and entirely untruthfully.

"And yes, of course."

He'd love it if Susan remembered him, but that seems rather too optimistic.

"Have they been having many visitors from Milliways? Marian told me that she met them not long ago."

Susan doesn't; she was barely a year old the last time she saw him.

But she has heard a great deal about him since then.

"Parker visits them some," Amy says. "And Susan was impressed with Laura, when she was here.

"This way," she says, pushing open the door to another room.

A second later, there are cries of "Mama!" and Amy, crouched in the floor, has half-disappeared under hugs from her older children.

"Hello, darlings," Amy says. "There's someone very important here to see you. This is your Uncle Caspian."

Merry peeks over his mother's shoulder at the new arrivel, but Susan promptly makes her way over to look up at him.

"Hello."

(She's mastered L's since last she saw him, too.)

He crouches down: Caspian is not a tall man, but he must loom like a tree to his little niece. Hunkering there, he smiles at her, something wistful twisting in his chest.

"Hello, dear heart. The last time I saw you, you were hardly older than the twins, did you know that?"

"They're little," Susan says. "I'm not."

She looks back at her brother.

"Merry is little, too."

"No, I'm not," he replies.

"Yes, you are," Susan replies.

"Am not!"

"Children," Amy says, in a tone that Caspian may not have heard before. It's far more Mother than Queen.

"Sorry, Mama," Susan says.

"Sorry, Mama," Merry echoes. His face takes on a very determined expression and he makes his way over to his sister and uncle.

Amy hangs back and very carefully does not make eye contact with Caspian.

"This is Susan. I'm Merry. It's very nice to meet you."

To his credit, Caspian does not laugh, though there's a definite twinkle in his eyes as he crouches there, looking back and forth between his niece and nephew, hands hanging loose between his knees.

Merry looks very determined, indeed, and Caspian schools his expression, smiling as he would when introduced to any other gentleman, and offering his hand to shake.

"Hullo, Merry. It's a pleasure. I've heard a great deal about you and your brothers and sister."

Merry very solemnly (for an almost three-year-old) shakes his uncle's hand.

"We hear about you, too," Susan says.

"You're Mama's brother, and you have a boat," Merry says.

"And you were a King, like Papa."

"But from very far away."

"You and Mama 'dopted each other."

"Adopted, Susan," Amy corrects.

"Adopted," Susan repeats dutifully.

"All true," he says, hunkering back on his heels. "And I have a horse. Do you know I once had a friend who was a Mouse as tall as you are?

"Perhaps next time you come to Milliways, I can take you for a sail."

"A mouse?" Merry asks, eyes very wide.

His eyes are rather like his mother's -- somewhere between brown and grey.

"We've never been sailing," Susan says. "But Papa has taken us rowing on the pond."

It's sort of like sailing, right?

Maybe?

"Aye, a Mouse."

His tone is as solemn as Merry's. "His name was Reepicheep, and he loved to play chess.

"As for the pond, that's not even remotely the same," he declares, "so we'll have to go as soon as you're back in Milliways."

"We could go now," Susan says, promptly.

"Or," Amy says, "we could take your uncle for a picnic in the Forest and stay out all afternoon."

"All afternoon?" Merry asks.

"All afternoon," Amy says.

"Let's do that," Susan says. She turns huge blue eyes to her uncle. "Do you want to come for a picnic and stay out all afternoon?"

He takes her by both hands and pulls her close, then gives her a twirl.

"You read my mind. How did you know I wanted to come for a picnic and stay all afternoon?"

Amy gets a wink.

"It's a picnic," Susan says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Really, now, Uncle Caspian. Who wouldn't want to come for a picnic and stay all afternoon.

"Merry, Susan, would you two look after your uncle for a moment for me?" Amy asks, returning her brother's wink. "I'm going to go make arrangements with Nurse Marta."

There's a chorus of "Yes, Mama," and then Merry turns back to his uncle. "We always have to ask Nurse Marta. She's in charge. Even Papa has to listen to Nurse Marta."

Or, at least, so it seems to Merry.

"I should imagine he does," Caspian agrees, giving Susan another twirl until she giggles and he steadies her somewhat unsteady steps.

"But I suppose she could let us go today. Seeing as how it's my first visit in so long. Susan, I hear you're friends with a dragon. Is he about?"

"Norman," Susan says. "He is the Royal Dragon of Ambergeldar."

"He's really big," Merry puts in.

"He left this morning for the mountains. He says he misses them sometimes. But he will be back soon."

"He flies very fast," Merry adds.

"I suppose he would," Caspian agrees. "Dragons have terribly large wings, after all. Well, it's a shame, but I hope I'll get to meet him another time."

It ought to be interesting, meeting a dragon who hadn't ever been a person.

"The two of you are going to have to show me around, you know. I haven't been here in a very long time, and I suppose things may have changed outside a bit."

"We have to wait for Mama," Merry says tells him, solemnly.

She would be very sorry if she missed the picnic.

And they're not allowed in the Forest without a grown-up.

"Oh, naturally, naturally," he agrees. "I wouldn't dare leave without her."

He would, perhaps, point out that he is clearly a grown-up, but as it is, he doesn't hear the rule.

"Leave without whom?" Amy asks, rejoining her brother and children.

"You," Susan says, promptly.

Amy grins at Caspian. "Certainly can't have that. Are we ready, then? Everyone find a hand."

Caspian, who completely counts as a grown up, will promptly find both of his hands claimed by his niece and nephew.

He winks back at his sister before feeling both hands dutifully taken by much smaller ones.

"We're ready," he declares, making an exaggerated headcount that Susan giggles at. "And I think we're hungry, too. It's a very good thing we'll be out all afternoon."

"I'd say we're ready to go, then," Amy says.

"We'll collect the picnic basket, and then we shan't stop again till we reach the Forest."

It's not that far.

And they hardly have to rush.

In reality, of course, there are at least a few stops, but as they are fairly short and generally filled with Susan or Merry pointing out something of note to their uncle, they are not of any consequence.

They certainly do not rush -- one might call their pace more of a meander, really -- but even with multiple pauses it doesn't take long to get to the Forest, or to spread a blanket, or to set out food and drinks.

As promised, they stay out all day. Caspian shows Merry and Susan how to construct little twig boats with a leaf for a sail, and they send them on a merry voyage along the bubbling waters of a friendly brook. The food is excellent, the company delightful, and the afternoon fine.

There really isn't a nicer way to spend the day.

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Caspian's Visit to Ambergeldar

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