Well, I planned to have this up earlier, but it was the holiday, and it's chaotic with my family! So, Merry Christmas! (My mommy and daddy bought me a Snow White doll, despite the fact that I am 22 years old! Hooray for fairy tales!)

---

Christmas morning dawned as bright as could any winter morning caught in a blizzard. The sun rose and did its best to shine through clouds and violent snow, though Christine liked the image. A blizzard was normal -- for winter. A blizzard was wild. A blizzard was an incompetent portion of the morning that would reveal her husband, and for that she was grateful. She had failed to make it past two o’clock and had fallen asleep against her father’s shoulder, but now she was wide awake and ready to see just what this particular Christmas had in store for her. She rather hoped it was not the nobleman.

The dresses would be revealed in a hall, prepared with a dressing area and enough room to please any onlookers that would find entertainment from this contest. She waited there, next to her beaming father, her heart whirling faster than the snow outside.

She trusted her father. She could not deny that, and once the trust was in place all that remained was the anticipation. Somehow this test would make sense. Somehow this would reveal something more about these men than their abilities to wield thread and needles.

Hopefully she would not be expected to keep the dresses. She had not spied the results.

Members of the court filed in, gossiping and wishing each other the traditional Christmas greetings. As princess, it was her duty to give all grace to that matter, but she could barely stand.

And there was that bluebird who had been bothering Colter for so long. In spite of herself, she smiled to see the little thing, fluttering in as if he were no bigger than a moth instead of the ball of blue he was and landing discreetly on the edge of a frame. He did his best to avoid her gaze. The little scamp was denying she noticed him at all.

She had finally recalled the bluebird memory, just as she had awoken. She had been eight years old. She had run away from her nurse and had played in the park until she had nearly trampled a frozen little creature. Just as blue. And she had forced some local boy to hand over bread crumbs.

Odd the memories that returned. Odd that another bluebird would appear in the dead of winter ten years later.

Her father lay a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready? “

She was going to be sick, but she nodded.

Then the doors opened once more, and in stepped Lord Thomas and Colter the carpenter. And one of them would be her husband. She smiled at both, praying she would not faint. Well, to be fair, they both looked absolutely ill, Lord Thomas especially. His dress, wrapped in plain white cloth, was just about spilling from his arms.

“Would you care to announce this portion, darling?” her father whispered.

Christine would barely do to speak.

He took the sign and continued. “Being this a holiday that has already been ruined by my little contest, we shall make this as short as possible.”

Christine almost laughed. Leave it to her father to decide when oration needed glamour. She looked at the two suitors, seated in the front row. Lord Thomas was pale, but at least had the decency to watch her politely. Colter’s head was down, and he seemed to be humming nervously to himself.

What a wonderful choice for romance. She pulled her robe closer around her. At least it was modest, not all that plainer than her other dresses. It made for quick changing.

“Lord Thomas,” her father said. “You will be first to present your dress. Let’s see what one holy night can accomplish.”

Yes. That was the question indeed.

Trembling, Lord Thomas made his way to the hall’s front. Servants assisted him in unwrapping the dress, and it fell before her.

She nearly gasped. For the work of a single night, the dress was beautiful. Colors upon colors and jewels upon jewels, but, oddly enough, not gaudy.

The audience seemed to love it.

She carefully took the dress, afraid it would be too lovely to survive against her. She had not had nearly enough sleep. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the dressing area and slid the dress over her head.

The first thing she did was scream, and the dress had scarcely gone over her arms. She pushed it away and clutched her bare arms. Already the blood was apparent-- just scratches, nothing severe. But she hadn’t exactly expected to be stabbed in the simple act of putting on a dress! She pulled the dress from the floor-- the jewels were heavier than she had thought. And so were the…

Pins. She narrowed her eyes and followed the dress down its seems. What seems? The idiot hadn’t managed to finish sewing the dress of death. Nearly half of it was connected by pins, of all things.

“Princess!” Her maids were already there.

Christine nearly laughed. They probably all thought she was dead. “Pins,” she said simply.

One of the maids really did laugh.

Christine gave a smile and put back on her robe.

Lord Thomas stood before her father, face hard in a strange fix of shame and pride. Her father, on the other hand, was furious.

Well, then. This really was getting to be a great Christmas. She made sure to smile her largest as Lord Thomas returned, red-faced to his seat.

Now all remained was… Colter’s dress.

This would be interesting. A carpenter who left around sawdust to cling to dresses would now have to show off one. Oh, she was going to tease him about this.

Because if this dress failed to kill her… her heart gave another lurch.

With a deep sigh, Colter trudged to the front and unwrapped his dress.

It was gold. Gold and nothing but gold, a simple roll of gold cloth in a pattern requiring absolutely no creativity and probably very little skill. Or intelligence. Though if one had never even picked up a needle…

“Here, Princess,” he murmured, not even glancing at her as he handed her the dress.

She frowned. This was unexpected. Where was the audacity of a boy who would play her at chess and approach her to only embarrass her?

As long as this dress wasn’t full of pins. At least she could carry it.

In the dressing area, she pulled off her robe and studied the dress once more. Simple. Very simple. But at least it was sewn together. That counted for something. She put it on. No stabbing pain, and the cloth was soft. Silk. It fit rather well, though the skirt was a bit long. No doubt it would drag behind her as she walked, and she would probably trip… But she did feel rather pretty. Who would have thought a man named Harold Weaver could provide this? She took a deep breath and stepped out.

The entire crowd was silent.

Christine felt a little awkward standing there, every eye upon her along with the gagged wrath of Lord Thomas. And that was when she realized every candle in the room was casting light on the gold. Glitter was everywhere. And than that bluebird, springing across the room and landing on her shoulder… she stared at him, surprise. Pesky little creature.

But she did feel pretty.

And then her father laughed. “Well, Colter Wood, I believe you have won.”

The room burst into applause.

Before she knew it, Colter was before her, and that smile was back on his face. A look of triumph and…

She smiled back. Well, he would never, ever beat her at chess.

The bluebird warbled something from her shoulder, than flapped his wings and flew to the windowsill. He was bright blue against the white.

“So you approve of this?” her father asked.

Christine nodded. Why not?

“Though I do believe this young man had a little help. But I think you earned it. Otherwise, how else would you manage this in a single night?”

Colter blushed and bowed his head.

And that was when Christine remembered where she had seen him before. Not the market.

But before she could say anything, he kissed her.

Yes, this carpenter would do. Even with the audacity.

The End and late Merry Christmas!