kitchen_maid | Christmas Party! Millitimed Vaguely to "Sometime Around Christmas"

Christmas Party! Millitimed Vaguely to "Sometime Around Christmas"

Anne and Amy have been very very busy over the last week or so, transforming their usually simple white room into the perfect place for a Christmas party.

There are garlands of holly and balsam strung around the room, leading away from the wreath between the windows (and there's a grumpy looking crow, perched in the middle of the wreath, trying to figure out how to get the red ribbon from around his neck). A Christmas tree, candles ablaze, stands in one corner, with presents tucked under its branches.

Welcome, dear friend, to Anne and Amy's Christmas party.

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"Logan, would you excuse us, please?" says Amy, with a small and very forced smile.

Composed, if a little shaky.

Logan, who's been shocked speechless since Amy's arrival (a very rare event), nods and leaves, a horrified expression on his face.

Perry watches him go, and then leans agains the table, and watches Amy silently.

Amy has the good grace to look rather ashamed of herself.

Amy also has nothing to say.

"A princess?" he asks, gently.

"Yes," she says, quietly but clearly.

A deep breath.

"Princess Amethyst. Of Phantasmorania. I'm sorry."

"I see."

He is silent for a long moment, looking at her closely.

"And being a kitchen maid?"

"Everything I told you was true. I am the fourteenth assistant kitchen maid in the palace in Amber. I'm just also a princes, which is not my fault, but there's really nothing I can do about it. You're not too mad, are you?"

He gives her a thoughtful look.

"Mad? No, not in the least. Surprised, though. And a little embarrassed, to tell the truth."

"Embarassed? Why?"

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Here I've been going on about princesses, and how they're all the same, and you were one all the time."

"It's all right," she says. "After all, we are for the most part, and I'm supposed to be just the same, but you have fairies at your christening and these things will happen, and before you know it they're hiring dragons and then there's nothing for it but to run away because I was not about to marry some silly dragon-slaying prince."

It's the least helpful exposition ever, really.

"I think," he says, after a silent moment spent trying to work this out, "that you should begin at the beginning, and tell me the whole story."

She laughs. "All right," she says.

The window seat is empty, and she leads him over there.

"How much do you know about the Royal House of Phanff, and Phantasmorania?"

He shakes his head, and sits down after her.

"Almost nothing at all, although I've heard of the princesses, of course."

He has the grace to color, a little.

"Everyone has, I imagine."

"My mother and father were always fairly discreet, on the subject of me."

A breath.

"It's the tradition, in Phantasmorania, for fairies to be invited to the christening of a seventh princess. To bestow gifts. You're supposed to get, well, Charm. And Grace. And Cheerfulness, and Health, and Wisdom, and Wit. And Courage. All of which I got. You're also supposed to get Beauty, which I did not. And you're not supposed to get Ordinariness, but that's what Godmama Crustacea gave me, much to the horror of my parents, and the Court.

"It wasn't too bad, for them, when I was little, but after Pearl, the last of my sisters, got married, well, then the problems began. Because forty-three suitors came on friendly visits, and the only one to stay more than one night was the one who fell down the stairs. No one would have me.

"There has never ever been an old maid in the family. And so, the dragon."

He nods, listening carefully.

"The dragon."

"My parents, or rather some councilor, came up with the perfect scheme. Lock me in a tower, hire a dragon to lay waste to the countryside, and wait for some brave gallant ridiculous prince to slay the dragon and rescue me. You cannot rescue a maiden and then not marry her. Very bad form, really.

"Only . . . I found out. And I didn't much care for the idea, and I suspected that the countryside and the dragon would agree with me, and so I ran away to live in the Forest."

"A sensible course to take," he agrees.

"Yes. And after a couple of months my dress was in quite a state, and I needed to replace it, and that's rather hard to do in a forest and with no money, and I ran into Godmama Crustacea, and she sent me to Amber, and I got a job at the palace, and then I came here."

He's silent for a long moment, and then nods.

"I see. Well, that's quite the story, Amy."

He takes a breath.

"I'm--sorry if I said anything that was at all rude, you know."

"Nothing you said offended me," she says.

She looks at him for a long moment.

"So, are you going to tell me?"

He looks at his reflection in the window, and keeps his gaze there while speaking.

"I suppose I should."

A moment, while he ruminates.

"My name isn't really Peregrine. Well, it is. But it's only one of them."

A sigh, and he closes his eyes to his reflection.

"Everyone else knows me as Algernon."

She's quiet for a moment, thinking.

"It doesn't suit you," she says, finally. "How many names have you got?"

A moment, and then she begins to giggle. "You really are the worst liar I've ever known."

He eyes her.

"If you don't mind," he says, haughtily, "I am trying to be properly apologetic. But perhaps I've changed my mind."

A glare. That lasts for approximately three seconds before he starts laughing.

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