AAHH! I’m so sorry about how long this #&-ing chapter has taken—I thought I could get it out in a week or so, but things didn’t quite turn out that way! Most of you who read the El-Jay community or read the author’s notes for my hold-over one-shot a while ago will know that real life, as it so often does, KICKED MY ASS.

What I’m trying to say is that I apologize for the delay and I hope that this chapter makes up for it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters portrayed here. Unless you don’t recognize them, then chances are I made them up.

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“Why are you even in here, DG?” Azkadellia demanded as she meticulously folded and sorted garments into five trunks placed around her bedchambers, preparing for the forthcoming move from Caledonia to the winter residence in the Northern Islands.

“I just like seeing you when you’re frazzled,” the younger Princess replied from the deep windowsill, swinging her feet over the edge. “You’re always so put-together and intimidating and perfect, seeing you stressed sort of puts you back into perspective. Makes you more like a person.”

Az growled and continued to organize and pack her clothes. “What do you mean, it ‘makes me look more like a person’?”

“You’re intimidating,” she repeated.

“So you said, but what does that mean?”

DG sighed and fidgeted slightly on her perch. “Well… you’re the good Princess, Az. You know, good at being royalty, good at handling people, a good sorceress—just generally good.”

“We’re not starting on that again, are we, Deege?” The older Princess asked. She stopped what she was doing to plant her hands on her hips and watch her little sister carefully. “I thought we’d left all of that behind us.”

She looked into her lap and shook her head. “We have—don’t worry,” she said, as much to reassure herself as to reassure Azkadellia. She’d never meant to dredge up old grievances.

It was true, though—the older Princess had always been the “good” one of the pair. She was always the level head to her own impulsivity, keeping her from doing dangerous or stupid things and helping her when her studies proved difficult or too tiresome to concentrate on. In childhood, they were the closest of friends, though as they grew older and grew apart, that changed.

DG never managed to grow up in quite the same way her sister had. While Azkadellia grew, matured, and settled into sedate adulthood, the younger Princess had always resisted her role, gnashing at the bit to test and break the boundaries. She was hopelessly dreamy and adventurous, traits she never seemed to grow out of—a fact that some found endearing, and others lamented. Certainly they were unseemly traits for a member of the Royal Family.

Of course, all of the adolescent envy of her sister had passed, and their friendship had rekindled in the last few years now that they were adults.

But it didn’t stop DG from sometimes absolutely marvelling at how different they were from one another.

“So, baby sister, is there are particular reason you’ve come here? Watching me pack can’t be that exciting a spectator sport.”

Caught. She fidgeted at the question. Azkadellia always knew when something was troubling her; she only wished she knew how she managed it. Sometimes she felt as if she had a sign hanging over her head, broadcasting her thoughts for her big sister to read.

“Have you—have you noticed Ambrose acting a bit… odd, lately?”

She paused for a moment to think. “Ambrose? Acting strangely? I don’t know how you can possibly gauge that.”

“I mean more than usual.”

Az tilted her head briefly in thought. “I don’t think so, but then I don’t spend a great deal of time around him. What’s wrong?”

She sighed. “I dunno—he’s just been sort of… distant lately.”

“Is something the matter with him?”

A shrug was her reply. “I dunno that, either. It’s hard to get him to tell me anything.”

Of late, the Head Advisor had been rather evasive and hard to talk to. It seemed that he mostly just wanted to be left alone, which she did rather than irritate him by being around and unwanted. But if something was troubling him—and certainly something was—then she wanted to know what it was. She’d never push him, of course, and she’d let him tell her in his own time, but in the meantime it was disconcerting being kept in the dark.

Since All Hallows, they had grown… closer. The sweet casualness that she persuaded him to adopt at the masquerade had stayed around, much to DG’s happiness. Most nights were spent in his room, since it was easier for her to get to his rooms in the Academic’s Wing than it was for him to sneak into her rooms in the Royal’s private quarters undetected at night.

And then of course he’d abruptly stopped coming to his own room to sleep at night, even when she reminded him that she’d be there. He made up silly, vague excuses and made his apologies, but never offered any real explanation.

So she stopped coming and gone back to sleeping alone.

“Did anything happen?” She asked in a maternal fashion.

“Again—I have no idea.”

Azkadellia did not look convinced.

“Anything you’d like to share with your big sister?” She prodded. The question was sly.

DG covered her cheeks with her hands. “Oh, no, Az. Love life, mine, prying—please stop. The last thing I need is for you to know the sordid details of my sex life.”

“So you slept with him, then?”

“Stop that!” She squealed, her eyes wide as her sister grinned at her embarrassment.

She smirked at DG’s embarrassment and then went back to asking questions. “He’s evasive? Not talking?”

“Not himself,” she supplied as a sort of an explanation. “I’m just not sure what’s going on. At least after what happened at Finaqua, I was pretty sure that he was scared because he accidentally saw me naked.”

Az snorted despite herself. “So what do you plan on doing?”

She shrugged as a way of responding. “If I was you, I could get him to spill everything without rousing suspicion—”

“Hush that, Deege,” she interrupted sternly.

“Right. Anyway—I have no means of getting him to talk, so the best I can do is wait for him to come to me.”

“I’m sure you could come up with something. You know him best, after all.”

“I could tickle it out of him but he doesn’t like that.”

Az sat on the top of one of the bulging trunks to try and get the lid to close properly.

“If I’m going to give you advice, at least make yourself useful and come sit on this thing.”

“Alternatively, you could just bring less clothing with you,” she said even as she obediently sat down. “So what’s your advice?”

With a defeated sigh, the older sister said, “Unfortunately, I haven’t got any. All you can do is wait, I’m afraid.”

DG rolled her eyes. “That was my plan to begin with.” She got off of her sister’s packed trunk and made her way to the door. “You just wanted me to sit on your trunk, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

“I’ll be off, then, so you can get back to the exciting task of packing.”

“Good luck, little sister,” Azkadellia called after her as she left her rooms.

The younger Princess slowly walked through the halls a while, dragging her feet and letting her mind wander and feeling suddenly heavy and melancholic.

Aside from troubles with Ambrose, her problem was that she was so bored; she felt as if she were in a rut. For days it had been raining and sleeting, turning the outdoors into a cold and slippery quagmire that she was absolutely forbidden from going out into. All of her books and drawing supplies were closed away in a trunk for the move to the Ice Palace tomorrow, and she didn’t want to go through the trouble of digging everything out and then packing it up again. Barred from being outdoors and with her usual diversions closed away in trunks, she was getting antsy.

She had nobody to talk to, either, except for Ambrose—who was unavailable now—or her sister, and sometimes some of the scholars that worked under the Queen would talk with her when they had the time. She’d once had playmates amongst the children of the nobilities in Court, but those girls had long since grown up, like Az had, and these days DG no longer had anything in common with them.

Recently, out of desperation, she’d tried to become re-acquainted with some her peers amongst the young men at Court. But that idea quickly died when she realized they were less interested in actually doing anything with her as an equal, and more interested in proving who had more testicles. They did this mostly by insulting and attempting to one-up each other, and pounding fraternally on one another hard enough to cause skull fractures. Apparently, they were convinced that this would drive the Princess into uncontrollable lust, and DG was reminded why, precisely, she didn’t really like boys her own age. After Ambrose, they all seemed so immature and silly—patently undesirable.

So the most interesting thing she could come up with to occupy her time until the Court moved again was just… wait.

At the very least, the change of scenery would help to break up the boredom, but even that was routine. They always spent winters in the Northern Islands—just once she wanted to go to, say, Finaqua and see what it looked like in the winter time. Or go further west and see the ocean. Or just… walk. Start on one coast and travel to the opposite one, seeing anything she cared to see in between.

The itch in her feet was incredible. There were days that she wanted nothing more than to run away and see the world, live her own life for a while out from under the jurisdiction of her parents and the pressure of her title. Not forever—she was sure she’d come back once her wild side was sated.

But of course, her mother would never hear of such things, and DG had long ago given up on begging her mother to let her pursue her wanderlust. For a while she was less bothered by this, because she spent most of the year in school where she had relative freedom to do as she liked. Since returning, she’d begun to feel the walls closing in on her; she truly did love her family, but she felt at times as if she was living in a cage.

A very nice cage, with tapestries, libraries, good food, and generally had things to keep her occupied, but a cage nonetheless.

She found such thoughts to be depressing. When she was with Ambrose, she was always happy, even if they were just in the same room and happily occupying separate tasks. He hated seeing her upset and would go out of his way to cheer her up when she was saddened—like now. Even when she wasn’t with him, the anticipation of seeing him again always lightened her mood. She missed him sorely and hoped that he’d come talk to her soon, before she went completely batty. But she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t pry, because there was nothing more irritating than somebody prodding into one’s own personal business.

She dragged her feet on her way back to her own rooms, and she was pretty sure she had a little cartoon storm cloud hanging over her head.

The three trunks she had packed for the move were still sitting in the corner, waiting for somebody to come and collect them. The only things left unpacked were her travel clothes and bedclothes, the latter left balled-up and inside-out on her unmade bed. She was sleeping in Ambrose’s old striped shirt again, a practice she took up only when she was feeling lonely. Like she was now.

Another unpacked item was sitting on her desk, wrapped in parchment: a birthday gift for him. His actual birthday was going to pass while they were on the road to the Northern Islands, but she’d planned on bringing him the gift before they left. Now she wasn’t sure if she should, what with his general air of gloomy avoidance.

Still, the pretext of a delivery would give her an excuse to go and see him. And it would be a good idea for her to check up on him, make sure he hadn’t forgotten to pack anything. She didn’t have anywhere to store that heavy volume, anyway, so she might as well bring it to him…

Now she was just making rationalizations to herself. She picked up the wrapped package and carried it on her hip, the way women carried babies, and headed back out into the hall for the walk to the wing where he lived. Her feet carried her automatically, having taken this route quite often since early autumn.

“Good afternoon, your Highness,” came the familiar low growl of her former magic tutor as she rounded a corner into the Academic’s Wing. “What brings you here today?”

“Hello, Toto,” she said back, noting his grimace at the use of the old nickname that he’d always hated. “I’m looking for Ambrose—have you seen him?”

“Master Ambrose? He’s most likely in his study, I’d assume. He’s spent a lot of time there recently. More than is normal for him, in any case.”

“Thanks.”

“Princess,” Tutor said before the girl could head off.

“Yes?”

“Is something amiss?”

“Why?” She asked suspiciously.

He folded his massive hands in front of him before he spoke. “No particular reason. Master Ambrose and yourself were near attached at the hip for a long while, and then suddenly there’s a separation. I was only wondering, Highness, I mean no disrespect,” he apologized with a bow.

“It’s all right, Tutor. It’s a… personal matter is all. I’d better go find him, though, before he sees me coming and runs off.”

“Of course, your Highness.” He gave another bow and continued on his way as DG made for Ambrose’s study.

His study was all the way near the end of the hall, close to the big scholar’s library. This whole wing of the palace was called the Academic’s Wing, where all of the palace tutors, scientists, physicians, inventors, and scholars worked and where they were housed. There were similar wings in every palace, because the Queen valued academics of all flavours and patronized many.

She quietly unlocked his door—he must have forgotten that she had a key and could barge in like this any time she liked—and stepped into the room. Ambrose’s study was composed of two rooms: one with a desk, bookshelves, and file cabinets where he could put all of his ideas down on paper and organize them, and another with all of his scientific implements, where he put inventions together or took things apart. Both rooms were immaculately, almost irritatingly, organized. Implements were arranged by size, bottles lined up on the shelves of glass-fronted cabinets by size and colour; his bookshelf was alphabetized, as were his file cabinets. Even the messes were organized. But, then, he was just like that. It was what made him so good at his job.

Still, sometimes she fairly ached to move things around.

Ambrose was easy to find—he was asleep at his desk, arms folded in front of him, snoring away with his face in his drool. He looked dishevelled, untidy, as if he hadn’t left the room in days. In fact, he probably hadn’t. When he had an idea to work on something, he would lose all sense of proportion and work non-stop until the project was finished or until he dropped off all together. There was even a sleeping pad in his study, for the times when he worked so feverishly that he forgot to go to bed.

DG sighed wistfully and tentatively reached out a hand to stroke those unruly curls. He stirred only slightly at her touch, shifted in his seat, and then quieted again. She couldn’t bear to wake him up, so she placed the wrapped parcel on the desk right at his elbow, where he was sure to find it when he awoke. She bent down and pressed a kiss to his temple, savouring the closest contact she’d had with him in over a week.

Suddenly, he startled, jerking himself upright and flailing his arms, apparently caught somewhere between a dream world and reality. She shot backwards at this sudden motion, nearly falling over.

He immediately began talking rapidly. “You Majesty, I beg your pardon for having been asleep, I didn’t mean to be lax in my duties but I—”

Then he broke off and looked at her for a moment, blinking, as if trying to place her. Finally, he sighed, pressing a hand to his chest.

“You scared me!” Both exclaimed in unison.

“I thought you were going to hit me accidentally,” she said.

“I thought you were your mother.”

She smiled a little. “If I was my mother, I don’t think I’d’ve kissed you.” She stepped closer to him. “Are you all right?”

Nervously, Ambrose straightened himself out, smoothing his hair down with his hands and pulling at his wrinkled and askew clothing. “Fine, thank you, Princess,” he said, using her title. She narrowed her eyes angrily but said nothing, and he continued. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“You gave me a key, remember?”

A sigh. “I mean… why have you… come?” His speech was slow.

She tapped the parchment-wrapped gift with her fingertips. “I wanted to drop this off for you before we leave tomorrow. I didn’t know if I’d get another chance for a while.”

When his brows knit in confusion, she sighed inwardly.

“It’s a birthday gift. You can open it now if you’d like—or later. I just wanted to give it to you before we leave.”

“DG, you didn’t have to do that—”

“I know,” she said, cutting him off. “But I wanted to.” Then she stepped away and turned towards the door, preparing to leave.

“Thank you,” he said in a soft tone. “That was very kind of you, Highness.”

“Well… I’ll just be off then so I don’t bother you,” she said, a bit lamely and hoping that he was about to stop her.

“If you wish, Highness.”

“All right, what’s wrong?” She demanded, stamping her feet as she turned back around, her fists balled at her sides.

“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong’?”

“You only use my title like that when something’s bothering you and it concerns me. I didn’t want to be an irritant by asking a lot of unwelcome questions, but really, Ambrose, what’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing. Nothing to do with you, Deege, I promise,” he reassured her quickly.

“I rather doubt that.” When he opened his mouth to protest her assertion, she cut him off immediately. “You really aren’t all that intensely difficult to figure, you know. You’re using my title and you’ve been doing your best to avoid me. Those are the two unmistakable signs that something’s gotten to you. Honestly, you can’t just ignore all of your problems in hopes that they’ll resolve themselves or just go away. Can we please talk?”

“Can we do this later?” He asked, groping for absolutely any excuse. “I’ve a lot to catch up on before we leave tomorrow and I don’t know if I can find anywhere to fit you in at the moment—”

“I fit here,” she declared crossly, squeezing herself in between him and his desk, one foot on either side of him. She didn’t even particularly care that she was acting like an irritating teenager. As long as it got him talking.

That was certainly a blunt and forward way of going about things, he thought absently to himself. But then, that was a part of her charm. He stared up at her, standing over him with her arms crossed and an impatient look on her face, bracketing him with her legs and effectively trapping him in his seat. He went over his options in his head, debating whether he should tell her or not.

When he didn’t say anything, she lowered her eyes and looked away, placing her hands together in front of her in that way she did when she was nervous. Clearly he wasn’t going to talk and it was silly of her to try and force it. That certainly wouldn’t get either of them anywhere.

“All right, then, I guess I can take the subtle hint,” she said, stepping to the side and away from him. “You’ll talk when you’re ready, I suppose. You’ll know where to find me.”

He didn’t move from his spot as she made her way for the door, and briefly DG wondered if he’d forgotten that she was even there.

“I’m thirty-eight, you know,” he said softly, out of the blue, still staring at the surface of his desk.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, turning back to look at him and leaning on the door.

“I turn thirty-eight,” he repeated, turning his head to look at her.

“Yes…” she said slowly, eyebrows knit. “Thirty-seven plus one birthday generally will equal thirty-eight.” She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him and a little light went off in her head. “Is that what’s worried you?”

He was silent again, looking back at his desk; she waited patiently for him to speak.

“You’re so young, DG,” he said finally, his voice low as if this was some monumental secret. “You’re… vibrant and vivacious and lovely. Clever. Beautiful. You could have any young man in the OZ eating from the palm of your hand—why are you bothering with me?”

This shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. She’d never thought Ambrose had been much bothered by the age gap between them. Certainly it hadn’t come up in a very long time, after assuring him that she loved him for him. There had, of course, been talk about their relationship, from skeptics and cynics who thought that Ambrose was simply debauching the Princess for his own pleasures or using her to seize power behind the throne—or both. But neither of them had ever paid any attention to these rumours before, dismissed them without a second thought.

“Because I love you,” she said quietly, coming to lean on his desk facing him. She threaded one hand through his hair and gently nudged him to look at her. “Hey—up here.”

He obeyed; his face was expressionless but his eyes reflected sadness. She bent and kissed him softly on the lips.

“I do love you. Never doubt that, no matter what you hear from other people.”

Even still, he didn’t look convinced. “I’m far too old for you, Princess.”

“No you aren’t,” she said decisively. “That’s ridiculous—have I ever led you to think that?”

“No, but—”

“Then why think it?” She interrupted him before he could voice any more doubts. “I love you, and I’m happy with you. That you’re older than me doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“It’s all right now, but what about later? What happens ten years from now?”

“You’ll be forty-eight,” she answered flatly.

“You know what I mean. What happens in twenty-some years, when I’m in my sixties? Have you thought of that? I’ll be an old man, and you’ll still be young and vibrant.”

“I’d still love you. You can’t have such a bad opinion of me that you’d think I’d run off because suddenly I think you’re too old.” Her hand traced little circles on his collarbone now; she felt him twitch under her touch. “Ten years is a long ways off. Twenty is even longer—can’t we go on like we have been? Figure this all out when the time comes?”

“I intensely dislike leaving things up to chance or last-minute decisions, Deege,” he said quietly, picking her hand up and holding it gently. “I worry that someday I’ll be nothing but a burden to you.”

“Couldn’t you respect me enough to let me make my own decision?” She countered. “I’m young, yes, but I’d like to think I know my mind well enough to make a choice I can live with. I love you, Ambrose—you can’t let a lot of idle gossip and some silly unfounded fears get in the way.”

“But what if—”

“Enough with the ‘whatifs’ already!” Her outburst surprised even her, as well as him. “I’m tired of ‘whatifs’! I know you like to be prepared for every possible outcome but really, Ambrose, the only way we’re going to know about the future is to wait for it to come!”

“I suppose you’re right…”

“I am right,” she declared, as if he was the last person in the world to have learned this. “You’re being silly, and I think you know it. You know better than to take gossip and idle chatter to heart, don’t you?”

With a sigh, he replied, “I oughtn’t—I should know better. I do know better, but I suppose it just struck a nerve.” He rubbed his temples. “I love you, DG, but I suppose I’ve been doubtful, unsure. I see you and you’re… wonderful. And I’m, well, I’m certainly not…” he trailed off, brows furrowed and a pained look on his face.

“Not what?” She prodded gently.

Silence; he looked into his lap, away from her. She waited for him to say speak.

“Not good enough,” he said finally.

The Princess recoiled in surprise. She certainly hadn’t expected that answer. Through her shock, she managed to stutter, “W—what?”

“Were it not for my position with her Majesty, I would be nobody. I’m not a man of any distinction, DG. I’m not from a good family or nobility. I’m not even titled.”

How could he possibly be thinking this? It was absolutely ridiculous. “I don’t care about any of that! What in the world makes you think I’d be fucked with titles and wealth and nobility?”

Ambrose’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at her profanity.

“I don’t care! Gods—what the hell are you thinking?”

His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

“Well?”

“I… don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear like that before…”

She bit her lower lip and put her arms around his shoulders, laughing gently against his hair. “Oh, Ambrose,” she sighed. “You are being silly.”

He clasped his hands around hers. “I know—and I’m sorry.”

“You think too much. That’s the trouble—you get lost in your own head, sometimes, don’t you?”

“You certainly know me,” he said quietly. “I find this all so… surreal. I don’t doubt you, not at all. I suppose it’s just a lot of pessimism; I’ve never been much the target of fondness from ladies.”

“Well, that’s their loss, then. They just didn’t see you like I do.”

He sighed softly, leaned his head back against her. The feathery tips of her hair tickled his face and neck and rose goose-bumps along his skin.

“You’ve got to promise me something,” she said sternly.

“Mm?”

“No more silliness, all right?”

She felt him nod against her; she kissed the top of his curly head and backed away.

“You’re not allowed to try and keep these things bottled up anymore. Talk to me, or I’ll come find you and force it out of you.”

After a pause, he quietly said, “Part of me quite likes that idea, Doll.”

She giggled. “Oh, Ambrose,” she sighed again. A warm fizz prickled in her cheeks. Even though he had been behaving stupidly, she just couldn’t stay angry with him. In truth, she was just so glad that things were back to normal again. She couldn’t even hold his stupidity against him. That was just the way he was—sometimes he thought things out and analyzed everything until good things became worrisome. She just had to make sure she was always nearby to keep him from going mad.

A little smile graced his lips. “You most definitely know how to talk sense to me. Seems I’m in need of that, sometimes.”

“It happens to the best of us, you know.” She took one of his hands and tugged him up with a wicked little grin. “Come on—tomorrow we’re leaving for the Northern Islands, and I’d like to spend some time with you before the move.”

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I know this is a short little chapter, but I do plan on writing a second winter-based chapter actually at the Ice Palace. Operating on the assumption that it won’t be two months before I get the next chapter out—you’ll see it when it’s posted! Until then, happy reading! Reviews are appreciated, but not demanded.