INTREPIDITY

by chocolatejet

.

.

.

Not for the first time in the three months since the eclipse, Ambrose caught himself staring.

She was beautiful. Her hair, bleached a shade or two lighter by the suns, fell in an unrestricted cascade to her mid-back while her face, free of the heavy make-up the witch had favoured, showed traces of the freckles that had been so prominent in her youth.

The dress she wore was a new one, fashioned from a light, almost gauzy material in a pale lavender that suited her naturally pale complexion. It rose in a high, lacy collar to conceal what the witch had all-too-readily flaunted, though the top few pearl buttons were undone due to the heat, revealing a sliver of pale neck as far as the base of her throat.

Her feet were tucked under her where she sat on the shaded bench, skirts arranged to hide the unladylike pose. However, she held the book she was reading aloft, directly before her eyes, so that her posture was impeccable. Regal.

Ambrose shook himself from his daze, cursing inwardly.

He could watch. Watching was easy. But when it came to speaking with her in anything besides a teacher-pupil capacity, he found he hadn't the courage. Oh, he'd tried. Glinda knows he'd tried. Following a mental pep-talk he'd approach with a confident stride that would falter as soon as those violet eyes were on him. The ice-breaker he'd rehearsed would dissolve in his restored brain, and all he could muster after that was a stiff bow, or a prim reminder of their next appointment. He'd turn and walk away, flinching at his own spinelessness.

But today. Today would be different.

Glinda willing.

For one thing, he'd finally turned to DG for advice. The younger princess had been remarkably unsurprised by his bout of soul-baring, like she'd known all along of his feelings for her sister. Was it really so obvious? DG had laughed when he'd voiced the concern, but assured him that it was evident only to those who knew him best. "Although," she'd conceded, "Raw probably would have picked up on it anyway. And I'm not so sure about Mom…"

He'd come away from the exchange with the knowledge that, while Azkadellia hadn't verbally divulged her affection for him as anything but an excellent teacher, the elder princess's expressions had revealed otherwise. "She's crazy about you. Trust me," DG had concluded with such surety that Ambrose found he couldn't begin to doubt her.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a small sound of amusement as Azkadellia presumably read a comical passage. Ambrose steeled himself.

Right. It was now or never.

Heaving a calming breath, he took a step forward. Then another. And another, until he was almost standing over her. He guessed it helped that the princess was so engrossed in whatever she was reading that she failed to detect his presence until he ventured to speak.

"I'm guessing that isn't 'A Concise History of the Outer Zone'." He made sure his tone was light enough to pass for teasing.

Azkadellia jumped a little, looked up at him with wide, startled eyes, and it took him considerable effort not to launch into a rushed apology and flee. Miraculously, he stood his ground.

"Oh!" The princess smiled, turning her book around to examine its cover. "No. Some Danaë Scarisbrick."

Ambrose felt his heart sink at the mention of the OZ's most celebrated romantic novelist. Admitting his feelings was one thing, but living up to Scarisbrick's standard of wooing was quite another. Firstly: he wasn't tall, dark, and handsome, equipped with gleaming armour and white stallion. Secondly: as his palms began to sweat with nervousness, it was looking more and more unlikely that he could voice his feelings so eloquently as the heroes in Scarisbrick's novels.

Yet he'd come this far.

"May I?" He gestured the empty space beside her. She appeared momentarily stunned before nodding her consent, quickly and discretely setting her slippered feet on the ground.

For a long moment, neither said a word. Ambrose frowned down at his locked hands, wondering at his next step. Should he just come right out with it? Or should he start with some trivial conversation and work his way up from there? Thankfully, he was saved the decision when Azkadellia hazarded a few words.

"It's so lovely out here," she said, gazing out at the garden.

"Yes. Yes it is." His eyes traced the surrounding flora and fauna before ultimately resting on the woman beside him. As cheesy and cliché as it may have sounded, the gardens of Finaqua were nothing on the princess's beauty. She must have felt him staring as, in the next instant, she met his eyes. He glanced away with an anxious little cough.

"Azkadellia, I…"

"Yes?"

Looking back at her, Ambrose found that she'd leaned in a fraction closer. His breath caught in his throat.

"I…" He swallowed. "If you'll permit me, I'd like to…" His gaze was drawn to her lips, glistening and slightly parted. Inviting. "Can I kiss you, Azkadellia?" He froze, marvelling at his own forwardness, while she blinked disbelievingly in return. This time, Ambrose couldn't hold back a string of apologetic stutters.

"Princess, I… Forgive me… I shouldn't have…" He stood, bowed, and walked away, resolved to find DG and give her a piece of his mind. But before he'd gone so much as a yard, Ambrose felt a firm tug on the sleeve of his dress jacket, and turned, only to find his lips were suddenly occupied.

Too soon did Azkadellia draw away. Quietly, shyly, she said: "That was a 'yes', if you were wondering…"

And it was all the incentive Ambrose needed. He kissed her fervently back.

-Fin.