a/n: Does anyone remember that tv special with the depressed princess and the king with the crossword puzzle? Just me? Well, have a fluffy lieutenant duckling version anyways.
Killian stands straight, hands clutching the precious missive behind his back as he waits for his prince to stop ranting. They've been in Misthaven for a week now, and Prince Humperdinck's courtship of Princess Emma is not going at all to plan.
"She's yet to even grace me with a smile," his lord complains. "She's the most desirable princess in all the realms, but how am I supposed to win the heart of a lady who insists on being miserable all the time?"
"I may be able to help with that, Your Highness," he says, clearing his throat.
Humperdinck turns and gapes at him as though he hadn't realized Killian was even in the room. "You?" he demands incredulously. "How?"
Killian holds out the folded parchment for the prince's perusal. "The princess's godmother gave this to me just now when I was on my way here. She insisted that it be shown only to you."
"This is ridiculous," Lord Humperdinck declares, eyes scanning the paper. "How are french hens and calling birds going to help me?"
Killian raises a brow at the apparent contents but tells him what Lady Red had shared regardless. "It's Princess Emma's Christmas list."
"What are these numbers then?" he asks, bringing the page over for him to see. "Quantities? I've never seen a list as bizarre as this."
Killian's eyes quickly run down the list, noting how for once his prince is absolutely right — it truly is something strange.
"I believe they're dates, sir. First day of Christmas, second of Christmas, and so on."
Humperdinck shakes his head. "I can't take the chance. If this list is legitimate — and that's a big if — it could be the key to winning the princess's hand in marriage. I will gift her with the same number of items as the day that each corresponds to. And you, Lieutenant Jones, will fetch them for me."
"How in the blazes did you get roped into this, little brother?" Liam grouses, trudging alongside him through the snow. Killian had recruited his brother to help with the first item on Princess Emma's list but he's worried that the fruit tree nursery he'd found would be closed. December was not exactly the time for such plantings.
"It's a long story," he says. "We're here to serve our prince, aren't we? I'm only doing my duty."
"Are you certain it's not because you're sweet on the princess?"
Killian huffs and turns to face his brother as they come to the door of the shop. "Of course I'm sweet on her," he argues, exasperated. "Have you seen her? She's the most beautiful woman in all the realms. A man would have to be blind not to be. But since I haven't got a chance in hell at winning her heart — and would likely get kicked out of the navy for even attempting it — I will get this pear tree and the bloody partridge and perhaps be of assistance to someone who can."
Liam only rolls his eyes in response, his opinion on their buffoon of a prince already well known. "Well, let's get on with it then," he says, reaching out to knock on the weathered wooden door. "My arse is freezing out here."
From Killian's place at the back of the hall, it's clear that the princess is not pleased with her gift.
"A pear tree?" she remarks dryly. "What am I supposed to do with a pear tree in the middle of winter?"
"But milady," Prince Humperdinck hastens to add. "It has a partridge."
"I can see that," she drawls. "I'm just not sure why."
Behind her, the king and queen exchange a look and the princess's godmother, Lady Red, hides a snicker behind a cough. All in all, it gives Killian a very bad feeling about the supposed Christmas list but as they leave the royal audience Prince Humperdinck is undeterred.
"Make sure that you get the two loveliest turtle doves in the kingdom," he instructs. "Soon Princess Emma will see that I am the only one who can get her everything she desires."
The turtle doves the princess begrudgingly admires, although she's not pleased to find that their wings had been pinioned to keep the birds from flying south with the rest of their flock.
The french hens confuse her, but she politely accepts them before gifting them to the kitchens.
The four calling birds are easy enough to acquire and, like the doves, get passed on to the royal aviary. (Killian had had great hope for the songbirds, since he'd heard of the queen's own peculiar connection to them, but that connection, apparently, was not passed down to her daughter.)
The five golden rings are probably the most typical item on the list, and when they're presented to her Killian gets the sense that she's at least relieved to not be receiving more animals.
The reprieve doesn't last long, however, since the next item is six geese-a-laying. He thought he'd been smart when he'd managed to find a half-dozen domesticated snow geese with clean white plumage, but he soon realizes his error when the princess mistakes them for malformed swans.
"You are winning no favours through birds, my lord," he pleads as they leave that morning's gift presentation. "I beg of you, let me try something different for the seventh day.
"Very well," Prince Humperdinck scowls. "But if she casts us out from the castle it will be your head on a pike."
"Yes, Your Highness."
The list has taken on a life of its own at this point and Killian is bound and determined to find some way to give the princess something she might actually like.
Which is how he finds himself in the greenhouse, carefully threading white flowers onto the wooden frame of a swan.
"What are you doing?"
He nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice, turning around to find the princess trying to peek around him and get a look at his work.
"I, uh... Bloody hell. You weren't supposed to see yet, Your Highness."
Princess Emma quirks an eyebrow at him and steps a little closer. "You're here with Prince Humperdinck, aren't you?"
"Aye, milady. Lieutenant Killian Jones, at your service."
"Is this tomorrow's gift, then?"
"It is," he confirms, stepping back to allow her inspection. "Though I would beg you to feign surprise in the morning."
He would beg her to feign pleasure with it as well, but doesn't want to push his luck.
Emma hums and trails a finger gently along the edge of the blooms. "More birds. It's like he thinks I'm my mother. At least this time they're not real."
"I managed to convince him to try something different. Thankfully, the rest of the list is more entertainment than anything else. Well, except for the cows," he adds.
"Cows? Where on earth did he get this list and what made him think that cows were a good idea?"
"Technically, the gift is the maids-a-milking," he explains. "The cows are only there out of necessity. And the list was passed along by your lady godmother, though I see now that you clearly had no part in its writing."
"Aunt Red, huh? Makes sense. She's about as tired of all this suitor nonsense as I am. I don't blame her for having some fun at Prince Humperdinck's expense. I am sorry, however, that he seems to have handed the task off to you."
"It's no trouble, Your Highness," he tries to reassure. Emma's eyes slide over to the half decorated swan and he coughs to cover his embarrassment. "It's not much trouble," he amends. "And I am happy to be a part of the joke."
"What are the rest of the items?" she asks, then quickly puts a hand on his arm when he goes to answer. "No, wait. I think I'd rather be surprised."
"Then you should let me get back to work, Your Highness."
Emma smiles and steps back, dipping into an elegant curtsy. "Until tomorrow, Lieutenant."
Killian offers a practiced bow in response. "'Til tomorrow, milady."
"Seven swans-a-swimming," she murmurs, circling the fountain that he'd placed the flower swans in. "They're beautiful, thank you."
Prince Humperdinck puffs out his chest with pride but when the princess looks up it's Killian's eyes that she meets.
The cows leave a mess on the castle floor, the nine ladies trip over each other while performing the traditional dance he'd tried to teach them, the lords leap around like fools, and the pipers are hideously out of synch.
Through it all Emma attempts to keep a straight face, though her eyes dance with barely contained mirth each time they meet his across the room.
"We got all out tomorrow," Lord Humperdinck growls as they follow the eleven pipers out. "I want all twelve gifts either performing or on display."
"As you say, my lord," Killian answers, hiding his smirk with the back of his hand.
It's chaos. Pure, unadulterated chaos.
The geese honk along with the pipers, two of the leaping lords collide and fall into the fountain, a hen tries to eat the golden rings, and the partridge nearly gets stomped on by one of the cows being milked.
"Would you like to dance, my lady?" Prince Humperdinck shouts over the noise of the dozen drummers.
"This is quite the display, Lord Humperdinck," Emma demurs, "But I think I will save my dance for the one who actually did all the work."
She turns and holds a hand out to Killian and he nearly chokes on his tongue as Liam laughs and claps him on the back. They dance and weave their way through the madness and Emma smiles at him the whole time.