kitchen_maid | Thursday, Early Afternoon, Forest of Faraway, Near Amber

Thursday, Early Afternoon, Forest of Faraway, Near Amber

It is one of those beautiful days September bestows when she is in an especially good mood. There is bright sun, and a breeze, and just the barest hint of approaching autumn in the air. The very edges of the trees have begun to flame crimson and russet and gold, but for the most part, things are very very green. In short, it is a perfect day for a picnic.

They had managed to get Peter through the kitchen without too much trouble (although he had gotten a scolding from the second senior cook about being neater with the flour in the future) and Peter Aurelious and the squirrels joined them at the palace gates. And now here they are, in the clearing near edge of the Forest of Faraway, where the Ordinary Princess always comes on her every-second-Thursday-afternoons-off.

She spins all the way around, arms out, smile dazzling, in a sweeping, dizzying, giddy gesture that takes in the trees and the sky and the stream and world in general. "This," she says to Peter, "is home."

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Peter turns to look at her, and suddenly he's blushing, too, because they're only inches apart.

"Well," he says quietly, "I suppose sometimes you do, at that."

"Sometimes," she agrees. Peter will have to forgive her for not talking more. She's honestly having a little trouble remembering to breathe.

Peter leans forward, almost involuntarily, just a little, one hand moving up to touch her hair gently.

"Amy..."

And she looks up and into his eyes, and yes, she has now forgotten to breathe.

Peter closes the last few inches between them and kisses her softly, really just his lips brushing against hers.

And after he does, her eyes close and her hand goes almost involuntarily to her lips. Then her eyes open quite wide, and look into his, and she's probably never looked lovelier.

"Peter . . . I . . ."

She is, for one of the few times in her life, speechless.

Peter holds her gaze for a moment, then looks away.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have... that was presumptuous of me."

"A little," she says. And there's a pause, before she adds, "But I didn't mind."

Completely guileless, our Amy.

Peter looks back up at her, a grin spreading across his face.

"Really? You didn't?"

The Ordinary Princess gives him a small, slow, very sweet smile, and shakes her head.

Peter's smile is just a little shy.

"Well. I can do it again sometime, if you like."

But before she has a chance to answer, he's wung off of the branch onto a lower one. "Ready for lunch?"

The Ordinary Princess sits perfectly still, grateful for the rather solid tree trunk at her back, and waits for world to stop spinning.

"Yes, I think lunch is an excellent idea."

And, cheeks still just faintly red, she climbs down and out of the tree.

Peter has the picnic blanket spread out by the time she gets down, and has begun pulling out food.

"I brought fresh lemonade from the bar," he says, holding up a large thermos. "And some sandwiches and things."

"Oh," she says, a little surprised. For one thing, she's never seen a thermos before. And for another, she's passionately unfond of lemons. But she's not about to say anything.

"It looks wonderful," she says.

The squirrels seem to agree, as they've come back down from their treetops to have lunch, too. Peter Aurelious, on the other hand, ignores the food, hops over to fix Peter with a stare from one glossy black eye and says, "Qwa."

"Qwa," Peter replies, then tosses out a handful of seeds for the squirrels and the crow.

"Well," he says to The Ordinary Princess, "this is everything I brought. Do you have some leftovers, as well?"

The squirrels pounce on the seeds happily, but Peter Aurelious continues to watch Peter. "Qwa!" he says again. It's kind of hard to tell just what it means.

"Ignore him," the Ordinary Princess advises. And to Peter Aurelious, "Behave. He's a guest."

The Ordinary Princess has some slightly stale cake and apples, which she sets on the blanket. "And, of course, the blackberry thicket is over there," she adds, waving her hand behind her.

Peter picks up an apple and tosses it from hand to hand before taking a large bite.

"Lovely day for a picnic," he says after chewing and swallowing.

It's a nice neutral conversation topic.

"It is," she agrees. "Food always seems to taste better when you eat it outside."

She can do neutral. She breaks an edge off one of the cakes and absently feeds it to Simon Perryvall.

"It's a lovely day in general," she adds. She's probably not talking about the weather.

Peter gives her a sidelong glance, then smiles at his apple.

"Rather," he says. "Yes, rather a wonderful day, all things considered."

She gives him an amused grin. "All things considered?" she asks.

"Well," he says, looking over at her, "you, for one thing."

And she had just managed to stop blushing.

"Oh."

Speechless. It's a new thing for her.

Peter looks at her, suddenly solemn.

"Amy, I... I didn't... I mean... oh, damn it."

He runs a hand through his hair.

She's a little startled.

"Peter, what's wrong?"

"I just... I don't know what I'm doing. This isn't fair to you. I really shouldn't-"

He's staring fixedly at the grass.

"I'm sorry."

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