Butterfly s gift
This is Dedicated to Glitch.
Life gave me my older brother,
Love gave me my younger brother,
Irony made them both Libras.
Ambrose watched from the shadows as the lords and ladies of the realms lavished beautiful and expensive gifts upon the princess. Exquisite purple jewelry and lavish trinkets. All much too sophisticated for a five annual old girl. Rings that wouldn t fit her just yet. But perhaps when she was old enough to choose a husband she would remember Sir Snobalot and the pretty purple ring he gave her for her 5th birthday. The ring she had wanted to wear for oh so long finally fit. And just maybe Sir Snob wants to court her... .
Though he could see the boredom and disappointment in her lavender eyes, the princess smiled graciously and thanked all her gift givers with a dignified curtsy. She was, in Ambrose s opinion the most graceful person ever seen. Ever since those first faltering steps she had taken alone in her nursery. Or seemingly alone, though only 3 himself at the time, Ambrose stayed close to the youngest princess, wishing to take her hand and keep her from falling.
Oh how he would love to just to step out from the shadows with a handsome bow and introduce himself. To see the full attention of those lavender eyes trained on him would be heaven. He would give anything to bask in the warmth of her smile.
Ambrose was smart though. He knew as the maids son, all that he could look forward to was to become a kitchen boy. Not a Lord or Duke. And especially not friends with the princess.
His princess.
His butterfly.
But he could watch her, make certain she was happy. Even if it was only from the shadows.
A small coughing noise from nearby made Ambrose jump. In his eagerness to see the princess he had wandered out of his corner. He scurried back and hid behind the tapestry before anyone saw him. But for a moment he thought he saw the her youngest majesty look over to his corner.
The lavender eyed princess stood and curtsied prettily. "I thank you all, most esteemed guests for coming to my birthday. Your presence here is honor enough."
There were a few simpering "Oh you shouldn t have"s and a few feigned titters of embarrassment. But all the company soaked up the compliment.
"Come on Lav." Olive took her little sister by the hand. At 8 annuals, the presents hadn t interested her much either. "Cake!"
The princesses lead the way, whispering and giggling as the adults followed solemnly behind.
Ambrose stayed in his corner unsure what to do. What would happen if he put his present in with the rest? Would it be noticed? Mistaken for something else and possibly thrown away? His heart tore in two at the thought of his princess rejecting his gift. On the other hand for her to never get it at all...
Ambrose took a breath and started over to the pile. He was in the middle of the room when he heard voices just outside. Someone was coming back!
He dove for cover just inside the hidden door behind the tapestry as the main entrance to the ballroom opened and the royal sisters walked in.
"Who did you say the cake was for?" Olive laughed as her sister marched proudly through the room.
"Its for the elf. I saw him over there behind the wall rug." The youngest princess answered stoutly.
Ambrose froze. Had he been spotted?
"The elf Lav?"
"Uh hunh. He lives in the wall. But he comes out to see me. I like him but we never get to talk."
"So you ve seen this elf? What does he look like?"
The lavender eyes scrunched up in thought. "Not as tall as dad. But taller than me. He wears green clothes I think. And has black curly hair. I only ever catch a glimpse of him."
Ambrose blushed and looked down at his green work apron. He held his breath as the sisters stopped just outside his hiding place.
"Oh little elf?" the birthday girl called brightly. "Come and have some cake little elf!"
"What makes you think he s here Lav?" Olive giggled.
"I saw him. When Lord Grabbyhands gave me that ring that didn t fit. I was hoping maybe I would get some neat toys. And something besides purple."
Ambrose shank further into the shadows. So he had been spotted.
"So let me get this straight. You re being stalked by an elf?"
"Not Stalked Ol. Watched over." The little princess corrected. "He looks in on me to make sure I m safe and happy. I like him very much. But he never stays long enough to say anything."
Maybe that s just as well. Elves only ever talk in rhyme. It would drive you crazy. Olive giggled.
Her little sister only shrugged and stroked the tapestry.
Ambrose edged a little closer, longing to take the little porcelain hand. But maybe it would scare the little princess if her 'elf' grabbed her suddenly.
"Come little elf. Come and have cake! It's absolutely delicious!" the princess called once more, motioning her sister to leave.
"Do elves even like Cake?" Olive asked at the door.
Ambrose heard the muffled answer and footsteps walking away again. He stepped out and tenderly picked up the cake. It was a huge slice and covered in frosting. Ambrose had helped in the kitchens that morning, making a giant chocolate cake for the littlest princess. It was supposed to be covered in purple lilacs but he snuck some red sugar roses into the design. The smell of it baking had made his mouth water. He craved just a tiny nibble and now here he sat with a piece all his own, hand delivered by his princess herself.
"Thank you Butterfly." He whispered. Ambrose didn t know how well she would take to being called Butterfly, since everyone just called her lavender. It was a special nickname only he used that made him feel close to her. Ambrose swallowed down his cake and hurried through the servants hall until he came to the dish pile. He discreetly put his plate in with the rest of the party dishes.
"And where have you been Nam?"
Ambrose winced as the surly head cook bore down on him. "Not off messing with them contraptions again were you?"
"Uh yes ma'am" He gulped, deciding against telling anyone about the princess and her 'elf'. "I had a project for the Lady - Gar-Gagrantia." Ambrose elaborated, thinking quickly. "But I ve finished now. So I gathered up some overlooked plates... but I could only find one." He ended feebly, lifting up his own dish.
The cook continued to scowl for a moment before handing him a mop and bucket. "Your smart Ambrose, especially for 6. Any one can see that. But you ve yet to learn your station." She growled. "Currying favors for the lords and gawking at little Lavender ain t going to change that. Bear that in mind."
"Oh um yes ma'am" Ambrose gulped again, tying the princess' gift under his apron where it wouldn t get dirty mop water all over it. He sat to work amusing himself by reciting the ozian periodic table of elements, or reminiscing the words of the princess about her elf. The idea that she had a special title just for him, however misconcieved, was very touching. Ambrose began sinking into his favorite daydream...
"And when you re done with the moppin I got a soup kettle you can scour." the head cook cut in rudely.
"Yes ma'am" Ambrose replied, though he was no longer with her.
Ambrose was older. All grown up. Maybe 20. As a thank you gift for something he built, a grateful lord (Culter perhaps, he was always so polite) had invited Ambrose to the princess' courting ball. There all the people would be dull and awkward. The nobles usually were. The room would be lit, but to Ambrose it looked dim. And then...
There! At the top of the stairs, glowing like a radiant star resting on silver lined clouds was the youngest princess. Her beauty would outshine the brightest diamond. A hush would fall across the crowd as she stepped, ever the picture of grace lightly down the steps with her blue silk gown moving with her, pooling about her frame so that she looked like an angel descending to earth. One hand barely grazing the banister, a serene smile playing across her lips.
Of course every man would rush up and offer their hands, all at once. It would startle her so. Perhaps she would see them for what they were. (She was always good at seeing past outward appearances) Power hungry wolves, ready to snap her up like a lost little girl in a fairytale.
All of the lords would surge on her at once and the poor princess would be so overwhelmed, she would go to the other side of the banister. Still they would surge and as the princess floundered with polite refusals, the poor princess, his butterfly would lose her balance. But Ambrose would see, and he'd be there in time to catch her and set her back on her graceful feet with a charming smile and a handsome bow.
"I ve got you, Butterfly."
And of course she would invite him to dance. It was only polite to ask the man who just saved her to dance. ( If she asked for anything besides he would refuse, saying all he wanted he already had; her safety.) And he would accept the dance demurely, as though he was unworthy to stand in the same room as her. Which he is on most days, as just a lowly kitchen boy. But not tonight. Not this night when at last his princess is looking at him, smiling at him.
For him For only him.
And it would be a radiant smile. A genuine smile that lit up her eyes and brightened her face so she was a thousand times more beautiful than she had been before, which was already a thousand times prettier than anyone could ever imagine possible.
And they would dance, Ambrose and his princess, his graceful butterfly. The music would start up. Her favorite Lullaby. With a strong harp leading, the harp was perfect for her. It was soft and delicate but so strong at the same time. And beautiful. If her movements were transformed into music, it would be the harp. The instruments would play the tune and the melody. Ambrose himself would sing. Just for her, to see the lavender eyes sparkle, He would sing.
"So close was waiting, waiting here with you And now forever I know All that I wanted to hold you So close
So close to reaching that famous happy end Almost believing this was not pretend And now you're beside me and look how far we've come So far we are so close"
And she would be captivated of course. With his flawless singing and wonderful dancing. Everyone would be impressed. Though in his borrowed suit he looked remarkably similar to all the lords who came before him. Black velvet with silver braiding wasn't all that special after all. But she would acknowledge his friendly smile and cheerful demeanor for what it was: Sincere.
The murmurs would begin almost before the fist dance was over. Who was the rapturous lord? Surely he was a foreign prince? The young king of Ev perhaps? Or maybe a son of one of the gods?
After the dance Ambrose would smile, bow and melt back into the crowd as the ladies of the court swooped in on the now breathless princess with inquiries as to her wonderful suitor. But her eyes would seek him out, until she found him again. Her Ambrose coming back with something for her to drink
Was he a duke?
A Lord?
A prince?
A king?
"He isn't any of those things." The princess would smile. " He's my Friend."
"Ambrose you lunk!" The head cook scolded. "You did that part three times now. Get to that kettle!"
Ambrose ducked his head sheepishly and scurried over to the large greasy pot. It was so big he could practically climb in. It had been last used a day ago to make Princess Olive favorite delicacy; fish stew. Ambrose sighed and tried to hold his breath. Although the kettle had already been cleaned the smell of fish still lingered on the scorched bottom. With a little elbow grease the pot would be as good as ever. Perhaps this very kettle would be used to make the filling for the little pastries he imagined having at the princesses ball.
"Come dear Elf. Sit with me." The princess would insist. (Always before she had called him friend in his fancies but after the conversation he overheard, elf just seemed to fit. ) "And try these scrumptious pastries. We have the very best cook in all the realms. You cant even find better on the other side." The princesses soft little hands would lift the pastry to his lips and let him take a bite.
"Yes delicious. The best I ever tasted Majesty." He would reply, in all sincerity. "Have one yourself, your grace."
And she would blush a little and perhaps even pretend to refuse but in the end she would consent to let him feed her. The large lavender eyes would close in rapture as she savored the little pastry. "Mmmm. Thank you most gracious elf."
"Youre very welcome Butterfly." He would respond.
"Come and try this chocolate cake, dear Elf." the princess would continue, cutting him a big piece (And to think cook had said he was unfit to so much as lick the bowl and here the princess was giving him a whole slice!) "Dosnt it just smell so good?"
Ambrose would smile and close his eyes and take a big whiff...
Ambrose climbed gagging out of the kettle. The dream was so realistic he expected to actually smell the cake. Instead he got a nosefull of day old fish.
"Are you dying over there Ambrose? " The head cook asked, storming over.
"I um I dont think so." He coughed out. When his eyes stopped watering and his throat stopped closing up Ambrose stood to find himself nose to nose with the bad temptered mistress of the kitchen. She bent down and looked into the kettle.
"Well it'll do." She grunted, which was the best Ambrose could hope for. "You may go. Oh and Ambrose."
He turned expectantly. Was she actually going to praise him on a job well done?
"You smell like Fish."
Fish? Oh no! Ambrose bolted as fast as he could to his little workbench. He scrubbed his hand hurridly and dried them on an oilstained towel. If he smelled like fish and he tied the princesses present under his apron...
"Oh no."
Ambrose laid the present out in front of him and gave it a good whiff. All he could smell was fish.
"No no no no." He wailed, sinking to his knees. The present. HER present. The thing he had worked hardest on night and day and every spare moment he could find for 11 months. The item he had used his most precious research on, taken great pains to put together!
Ruined by fish stew and an old cooking pot.
Ambrose took a deep breath trying to quell the rising panic and despair. Then he noticed his floor smelled of fish. Ambrose stood quickly and began smelling his workshop. Tools table chair all of it smelled like fish.
Ambrose remembered something similiar happening to his father once when he was sprayed by a skunk and could smell nothing else for three weeks after the scent was gone. Ambrose had read up on the phenomenon. It was caused by a sensory overload in the Olfactory. But would be easily corrected with tea leaves.
With new hope, he stealthily slipped back into the kitchen and took three tea leaves from the servants cupboard ( he would make up for it by skipping his hotchocolate for a week. small price if it meant the princess would smile...) He hurried back to his little corner, crushing up the tealeaves in his cup, Ambrose took a long sniff. After a minute he could smell the tea again and he went back to his chair. It smelled once more like wood and varnish.
Tenderly, Ambrose lifted his masterpiece and sniffed it. Much better. He had found a way to make it smell like climbing roses, the kind that grew along the wall near the smallest princesses window, her favorite. It still smelled like climbing roses.
Ambrose smiled and went to his little sink. It would never do to bring the princess her gift when he smelled like fish. And Ambrose had thought of the perfect way to present it to her.
He snuck out just after bed time and stole up to the littlest princesses room. A pale sliver showed her lying asleep in the bed. She had kicked her blankets off and now she lay slightly shivering. He unfolded the blanket he made her and placed it tenderly across her little frame.
"Shhh Princess I ve got you." He murmured, smoothing down the wrinkles.
With a light sigh the little princess snuggled into her new quilt. Ambrose smiled "Its made of Tendelite crystals. they can sense your body heat and make the blanket warmer or cooler, depending on what you need." He explained, though he doubted she was awake for it. "You always kick your blanket off at night. This one will stay on though, a little kicking wont knock it off. I hope you like it Butterfly. I know we never talked before but, I'm your friend and I want you to be happy."
On impulse, Ambrose bent down and kissed her cheek.
the princess murmured something undecipherable, but she sounded pleased.
"Sleep well." Ambrose smiled and left.
Sleepily the princess opened one lavender eye and through her lashes saw a mysterious figure melt into the shadows. A boy in a green apron with curly brown hair and slightly pointed ears.
She smiled and traced the large silk butterfly on her new quilt.
"I knew it was an elf." She thought sleepily. "Thank the gods he dosnt speak in rhyme!"
The End
