Author's Note: My very first 10th kingdom piece, and it turned out much different than I thought it would. My true love would be Wolf/Virginia, but I couldn't find it in me to write something for them. Not yet, anyways. So this came to me and it is not edited well so forgive me for all the mistakes. Just had to get it out there.


"Bright bright bright," she chants. This is under her breath for she does not wish him to hear these words.

"Tall, though. I can whisper and knock you over, can't I?"

She raises her voice for those last string of words. He is aware that she is aware that he has been listening to all of her words, not just the last, loud few. The room is very quiet and very still. The only two occupants are holding their breath in anticipation.

She awaits his reply.

He waits for the right words to be pushed past his lips, but all the things he wants to say are muddled and messy in his heavy heart.

This drawn out stillness does not last, for she is prone to spells of fidgeting. It always begins with a darting of those china blues. They shift down, shift up, look right and left and anywhere but where they ought to rest, which is upon him. Then comes the small and anxious pulls at her hands. She tends to tug at her wrists and pop her long, long finger bones one by one. Soon she is completely unable to stand stagnant and she begins to inspect things. The wall hangings, the windows, the paintings above the fireplace mantle, the gilded silver candlestick holders, made by dwarves no doubt.

It is enough to drive a normal person mad when she can't keep still or focused, but he realizes he is far from normal. He has been far from it ever since birth, and he has the stories of many adventures to prove this to be true. So when others condemn her for her incurable curios nature, he finds that beyond the fidgeting and supposed ill-manners, she is quite perceptive. Not at all as brainless as people have made her ought to be.

Even if her eyes are not on him for the moment, he knows her thoughts are on him. He knows this because this is what she has told him. She never made a point to prove herself aware of the world outside herself to anyone else. Just him.

"There are three hundred and sixty-five paintings in this castle, that's the amount of days there are in a year. Five of my days have been stolen by you, whether you meant to or not. I'm not stupid."

The sixth day was stolen like the five before, but this time he did mean to. This is the morning of the sixth day and the sun is pouring into the window he stands near.

"Bright, bright..." she whispers, her aimless walking about having taken her nearer to him. Sure enough, that whisper knocks him over. He feels faint and his knees are like jelly when her soft voice is overcoming the thick silence.

"Marry me, Alice."

Her curls are golden in the sunlight. When his eyes are half-lidded, the mane splayed across his chest seems to glow and take on a vibrancy that would make the sun jealous. Her ear is to his heart, she her fingers curl and uncurl around his hand over and over to match the beat she hears. The spell of incessant movement ends with a very small reply.

"All right, Wendell."