Title: The Engagement and Subsequent Marriage of Christopher Chant

Author: tsubaki-hana

Series: Chrestomanci

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Chrestomanci belongs to Diana Wynne Jones.

Summary: Given fate's sense of humor, Christopher knew that he should not expect perfection out of something as important as a marriage ceremony. It was a pity that he was so intent on it regardless. (Chrestomanci. Twelve ficlets on Murphy's Law. Christopher/Millie.)

Warnings: Spoilers for "The Lives of Christopher Chant" and "Conrad's Fate".

Murphy's First Law: Nothing is as easy as it looks.

He could do this.

If he took one more perfectly reasonable walk around the castle, he was quite certain that he could do this. After all, there was absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to mull over what he was going to say just one more time, just to make sure everything came out right the first time. With luck, he would get around to doing his preordained task before the moon set for the night. Perfection of appearance was something that Christopher Chant valued, and he was not going to push that aside in a rush of passion.

Not that Millie would particularly care, but it was important to him, or at least he thought it might be important. It was beginning to sound more and more like an excuse, and excuses were not acceptable at all. Logic dictated that he was in the right by waiting until he was ready to say anything.

Right, two walks around the castle and then he should be fine.

The only problem was, Christopher was relatively certain that he would not be okay, no matter how many times that he walked around the castle, because no matter how many times he thought through what he wanted to say, it always came out all twisted and not at all what he had intended to say to begin with. Practicing in front of a mirror had not helped in the slightest bit, and had in fact made him feel rather silly, proposing marriage to his own reflection. (Not that he wasn't beautiful enough to marry, mind you, but beyond the fact that there was only one of him because of being a nine-lived enchanter, it was just silly to imagine himself wearing a white dress.)

That, and it had been highly embarrassing when Gabriel had walked in to find him on one knee, looking determinedly ardent. Christopher chose to not think about that too frequently. It made him feel like he had eaten a bad egg sandwich.

Another method he had attempted was subtlety. Millie, he knew was still quite infatuated with the Millie book series, so he had felt very witty when he had bought her one of the books that she did not yet own and slipped his own personal message into the front cover to be discovered when Millie tore the front cover. (This was supposed to be an inevitability. Millie always read with an intensity that left her books looking a little worse for wear.)

As fate would have it, the cover had not only not torn, but had been embossed so nicely that there had not even been damage from the day that Millie had set it down on the kitchen table and had come back to find marmalade all over it. Christopher certainly wasn't going to tell her it was there. That would be direct and not at all subtle, which would bring him back to his current problem.

Christopher was adamant that he was not nervous at all. He had thought this through for a while now, and by the time he had figured out what he was going to say, he was feeling rather debonair and dashing. After all, he had procured a lovely ring. ("This is where I keep my second life, which I am going to give to you!" he had written down somewhere on a wrapper, not thinking it sounded dubious or silly at all.) His clothes were always immaculate. He usually left people in awe of his sense of wit, and this he knew by their stunned silences, clenching their teeth in what could only be admiration of his style! There was nothing to suggest this could go wrong in any capacity.

Only it was.

As a matter of fact, it was beginning to go horribly, if Millie coming up the lane with her handkerchief brandished like a shield had anything to say about it. Although Millie had never been a particularly pretty girl, average really, she had always managed to look halfway decent when crying, or at least when she had gotten a bit older. She did a fair amount of dripping on people since she was easily moved to emotion, so he supposed it was only normal for her face to be blotchy with anger, happiness, embarrassment, or sadness.

At the risk of sounding like a love-struck idiot, he decided that the look was quite fetching on her. Of course, then his mind caught up with his heart, and he immediately began to jump to conclusions. Maybe Millie had finally ripped the coverlet of her book and he wasn't going to have to say anything at all other than "wonderful" or "a right shame that is." (He really didn't want to have to say the latter, but he would take it as it came.)

"Oh, Christopher!" said Millie, still coming toward him at a full tilt, "I knew that something was wrong, and now I finally know what it is!" she shouted, as though this covered an entire conversation. The only problem was that the first half was still missing. "And yes, yes, it was my fault!"

Christopher was at a loss. He wasn't sure of what she was saying at all, though it did have the feel of a conversation that might be had after a person discovered they had indirectly been proposed to. Still cautious, Christopher decided to move forward into the conversation, practicing the powers of ambiguity that Gabriel seemed so fond of.

Excitement was getting the better of him.

"It's nothing Millie. I'm just happy it's out in the air now. What do you think?" he asked, trying to sound as dignified as he thought he ought to sound. He hid his hands behind his back, slightly concerned that there might have been a tremor in them. (This of course had to be the fault of the chill that was going around the castle grounds. Christopher Chant did not get nervous around his sweetheart.)

"Oh, I think it's perfectly beastly."

"What?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. How could she think his proposing was perfectly beastly? They had been properly courting for a year now, not including the years spent together at Chrestomanci Castle. For a few horrifying minutes, Christopher thought he might vomit a long string of incoherent phrases that would all inevitably begin or end in 'why' and 'but I'. Silver in Series Seven was almost sounding promising in comparison to how he felt now.

Finally, he had to say it. "But why?"

Millie blew her nose into her handkerchief, looking perfectly lovely with her nose puffy and red. Christopher was dismayed at the sudden realization that he may not get to see much more of this in the future (though why the snot part would bother him was beyond him). "You're such a wonderful person, Christopher, and I am a clumsy girl that can't even bother to complete finishing school. I'm sorry I've been so awful to you," said Millie.

"But you haven't! You've been wonderful!" he started desperately, beginning to feel all those practiced 'in case of rejection' speech words flying out of his head at a rate that would make any person's head spin. Bewilderment couldn't have been written any more obviously across his face if someone took a black marker and spelled it out on his forehead. "Can't we work this out somehow?"

His voice cracked. Bad sign.

He ran a hand through his immaculate hair, suddenly overcome with the paranoia of his hair being out of place. "I want to spend the rest of my earthly lives with you," he said, beginning to wish he weren't so pitiful sounding. Christopher was embarrassed enough without his voice betraying him as well. "I thought we were going to be stuck with one another for the remainder of our years."

Millie gave him an annoyed (but slightly touched) look. "Christopher, I'm not going to leave because of this. I just felt so horribly over it that I had to tell you."

Christopher was desperate. "But I love you. Does this mean you say no?"

"No to what?"

"To marrying me!" he said, frustration growing by the moment. He was almost afraid he might cry at any given moment. (Of course he wouldn't, not while he was still in his right might, no matter how little of that he was in.)

There was a moment where there were no more hysterics from Millie and he breathed heavily, trying very hard to not attempt escape to Series Eleven. It sounded more friendly at the moment. However, before he could pull out his chalk and set to work, Millie suddenly squealed, girlishly and shrill. Christopher thought he might have lost an eardrum to Millie's sudden excitement.

She ran up to him and kissed him full on the lips, smiling like a fool. Between the squealing and kissing, Christopher was too stunned to do much of anything.

"And here I thought we were talking about my burning holes into your blue velvet suit!" she said, backing up and almost dancing with joy. "Christopher Chant, of course I'll marry you!"

Christopher almost swept her up as well, so pleased that he had misunderstood the whole situation and not ever had to actually propose, until the 'holes in suit' part suddenly registered in his mind. "You burnt holes into my blue velvet suit?"

"Yes, with an iron, but does that matter? We're going to get married!"

"...You burnt holes in my suit."

Millie seemed to block out the conversation at that point, and simply grabbed one suede sleeve and pulled him back toward the castle, listing off all the people she was going to have to tell immediately, and that she insisted on getting married in the spring so that she could have flowers all around her, and that the roses were going to have to be just so.

Christopher, still stuck in a realm between the slightly more prevalent Extreme Delight and the lesser but still existent Aggravation For Goods Lost, was at a complete loss at how differently the scenario had played out from his expectations. As a matter of fact, the only thing that was anything like what he had imagined was Millie dragging him off to parts unknown to tell everyone what had just happened.

For the sake of what dignity he had left, Christopher hoped she left out the part about his nearly crying over a confession about burnt laundry.

He had just had a rather difficult night.

To be continued...

A/N: There's 12 left to go, so hold tight and hope that Christopher's luck prevails over Murphy's law! Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.