Disclaimer: I still don't own Tinman.

"Aren't you finished yet?" Ambrose asked, knocking on the bedroom door, the one that now led into the child's small room.

Lynette opened the door and slowly stepped out, a seamstress standing behind her. Ambrose looked down at her and was pleased with what he saw. After a couple of hours of coaxing, feeding, washing, and sewing, a new child stood before him. She was clean, though her marks of abuse were even now more apparent than before, and her hair was braided, showing off a smiling face. She wore the attire of a maid: a burgundy dress with gold embroidery, white stockings, and small black shoes.

"My, don't you look pretty." Lynette's pale cheeks flushed and she averted her eyes toward the ground. He thought her reaction to be amusing, and had to keep back a small chuckle. "Now, it's time for you to learn your place here."

She looked up at him. "My place?"

"You understand that you shall be working here, correct?" She nodded. "Well, I have been instructed to teach you what your job is and how you shall go about doing it." Of course, it's not as if someone who actually does this could teach her. That just wouldn't make any sense at all. The odd thing was that except for him and the queen, the girl shied away from everyone who approached her and would not speak to them at all.

When she had lived with her mother, she was allowed to speak to no one when in public. Breaking this rule would result in a beating, and so she simply evaded conversation with anyone she saw, soon becoming afraid of all who looked her way. But she liked Ambrose and the queen was a very nice woman, so she felt okay talking to then. Others though, she didn't trust them. They didn't seem so nice; they might tell her mother if she spoke to them. She still didn't completely believe that her mother was gone for good.

She nodded again. "Well then, follow me." Again, that small incline of her head occurred. She really didn't talk that much.

A somewhat lengthy walk led them to a rather large closet. Ambrose opened the door and said, "Anything that you will need can be found in here. Walking into the closet, Lynette looked at the many shelves with wonder. She'd never seen any of these things before. No, that was a lie. Something in the corner looked familiar, what was that called? Oh yes, a broom.

Every object was showed to her, and each of their functions explained. Her mind set to memorize several cleaners, polishes, cloths, mops, and scrubbers, and their jobs. And she was doing very well until one word confused her.

"This is used to clean upholstery," he said, showing her a bottle of clear liquid.

She cocked her head to the side. "Upholstery?"

"Yes, upholstery is the materials used to cushion and cover furniture."

"So why isn't it just called furniture cleaner?"

"Call it whatever you want, but the proper term for it is still upholstery cleaner."

"How can I call something one thing when it's not that thing at all?"

"Child, you-" He stopped, for she cringed. He had raised his voice slightly without meaning to and the girl feared that he was angry with her. He sighed. "You need to stay focused."

She nodded, and before he could explain what the next item was, she indicated a bottle and asked, "What's that?"

He did not know what to say at this. She was pointing at a bottle of wood polish, one of the first things that he had shown her.

"What are all of these?" She gestured to everything in the closet and he had to fight the urge to pull his hair out. He was not a very patient man, one of the few flaws that he admitted to have, and this child had just completely forgotten everything that he'd spent the last hour trying to teach her.

"You mean you have no idea what they are?" She shook her head in the negative. "But I just told you what they all are."

She looked utterly confused at this statement. "You did?" A crestfallen expression slid onto her face. "I'm sorry, Ambrose. I was too busy thinking about upholstery. I guess I forgot." Well, at least now he knew that she was easily distracted.

He'd have to remember that in the future.

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Princess DG was being put to bed and Ambrose hurried to her room so that he might bid her goodnight. He stopped suddenly when he saw a figure standing just outside the princess's bedroom, peering through the slightly open doorway. It was Lynette. He could hear the queen speaking to DG.

He strode over to the door, standing just behind the young maid. He watched as the queen tucked DG into bed and made sure that her daughter was wrapped snugly in the blankets. He knew that Lynette was watching them as well. He heard her sniffle, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

She jumped slightly at his touch but did not shout or turn to see who had come upon her. She knew that it was Ambrose, for she knew his touch, she knew his scent. She silently watched the picture of mother and daughter together, the way that they were supposed to be, and it depressed her somewhat. It confused her as to why her life had not been like that. But then again, if her mother had loved her, then she would not have abandoned her at the palace. And then Lynette would never have met Ambrose, which she knew was the greatest thing that would ever happen to her.

Tearing her eyes away from the two females, she turned and walked away without a word. It took a moment for Ambrose's mind to register the fact the his hand was now resting upon empty air, and when he turned to look at her, he only saw the end of her skirt rounding a corner. Momentarily forgetting the princess, he hurried to catch up with Lynette.

She walked slowly down the hallway, and he couldn't help but just watch her receding figure for a few moments. "Wait!" he hissed, causing her to look at him. She curtsied as he strode over to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said a bit too quickly. He looked at her knowingly and she sighed. "It's just…I wish I'd had a mother like that…one that cared for me, one that protected me, one that loved me. But I guess it's too late for that now."

He considered her words. She just wanted a maternal figure, and that wasn't asking for much. Maybe he could give her something along those lines.

"You know I'm always here for you." He put an arm around her shoulders, and she did something completely unexpected. She wrapped her arms around him, keeping them beneath his jacket, and pressed her body up against his. Normally, he would've pulled away, but a voice within him told him to stay. Over the past two years, he'd grown fond of the girl. Perhaps they both needed this.

He returned her embrace, resting his chin atop her head. Her thin frame was trembling. He wasn't surprised, for it was quite cold in the Northern Palace. "I'll protect you," he whispered. "I'll take care of you."

She looked up at him. "Will you love me?" It was an innocent question, but it greatly startled Ambrose. Love her? He loved DG. It was a friendly/paternal love, but a love all the same, one of the very rare ones he'd experienced. He did not love often, and was not sure if he could love the girl currently hugging him. He could extend a hand of friendship towards her, but that was it.

When he said nothing for several minutes, Lynette understood his unspoken answer. She nodded her head sadly before resting her head against his chest. "It's all right. I didn't think so." She gently squeezed him before stepping back. "Goodnight, Ambrose." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and started off for her room.

"Goodnight, Ch…Lynette." Since he met her, he'd always called her "Child". He thought that perhaps now was the time for him to start calling her by her actual name. He liked her name, it sounded like one that belonged to a very fragile girl.

Hearing the two words that escaped his lips, Lynette smiled all the way back to her room.

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Lynette skipped down a hallway, humming, a bucket swinging to and fro in one hand, a scrubbing brush in the other. As she entered the drawing room, she tripped on the carpet and crashed to the floor, sending the bucket rolling away from her.

Ambrose entered the room to see what had caused the racket, only to find Lynette sprawled on the carpet and a bucket rolling towards him. He picked it up and strode over to her.

"I take it that this is yours?" He didn't have to ask if she was all right. She always was. She was constantly stumbling, slipping, and falling, but she always got right back up and just laughed away her mishaps.

She looked up at him and hurried to her feet, acquiring a serious air as she smoothed out her dress. "Yes." She performed a quick curtsy before gently taking the bucket from him. "Do you require anything, Sir?"

"No, I'm fine." He looked her up and down. She had really matured in the last three years, well…physically that is. She was a child at heart, quite puerile. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm-" She suddenly looked very confused. "I don't really remember. I know I'm supposed to be cleaning something, as usual," she laughed, "but I'm not sure what." Tapping a finger against her chin, she pondered thoughtfully. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I was on my way to tidy up the kitchen. I do believe that breakfast just ended."

She smiled, her face practically glowing. Her hazel eyes all but sparkled as she gazed up at Ambrose. And she began to giggle softly; it was a nervous sort of laugh. He looked at her inquiringly and her laughter immediately stopped. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what that was." She backed up several paces. "I guess I'll see you later." She stumbled again as she continued to back out of the room. The tips of her ears turned pink and she gave him one last smile before leaving. Once she was out of sight, he could hear her rapid footfalls retreating down the hallway.

He couldn't help but smile at her antics. She was still that charming girl that he'd met three years ago, still laughing and never failing to make him smile. But now, things were slightly different. She was no longer the troubled child that might sometimes wander down to his quarters in the middle of the night and wake him up because she had a nightmare. That might seem like something only small children did, but she had the maturity of a small child at the time. Now…now she was a friend, one of his only in fact. After the queen and DG, she took up the most of his time. Azkadellia, he didn't even associate with her anymore. She had distanced herself from everyone, would shut herself up in her room for hours at a time, and she never smiled anymore. The eldest princess had changed, and not for the better.

Perhaps he shouldn't have favored Lynette so much, but for some reason he did…and it just felt right.