Mistletoe

Gah! It's already the 18th! I'll never get this done in time!

"Isn't Christmas great!" Princess Cassandra beamed around Castle Araluens main hall, all prepared for the Christmas fief. "I wonder if Redmont had decorated their Castle yet?"

"I doubt it," Sir Horace of the oakleaf was standing beside her. "It's only the sixth."

Cassandra shrugged. "Well, maybe," she said. "But everyone has really been getting in the spirit of it this year!"

Horace smiled. "Yeah, I want to get into it this year too."

"Mmhm, same here," Cassandra stopped and leaned against the table. "But in my own way, y'know?"

"So no formal dresses and speeches?" Horace guessed and the princess nodded to him.

"You know it," she said. "I'd like to run in the woods in a tunic and tights and sing informal christmas carols around a fire with close friends."

"With Will playing his mandola?" Horace guessed and despite himself, he was slightly disappointed with the enthusiasm she showed at the idea.

"That's right!" Cassandra said. "I want people to be calling me Evanlyn and dropping off gifts that they know I'll like. I want to dance in the snow, make snowmen and not worry about the speech my father wants me to give."

"Go horse riding?"

"Yes!" Cassandra seized that idea. "I want to be out in the wilderness. I think that would be a great way to spend Christmas. And you know what else I want?"

"What's that?" Horace asked.

"I want to do all this with you."

"Oh," Horace's face flushed red. He was suddenly accutely aware that they were standing close together. Just to relieve the tension, he broke eye contact. And saw the mistletoe hanging above them.

"Ah," he said dumbly. The red hue of his face deepened.

"What is it?"

"Mistletoe," Horace mumbled, completely embarrassed.

Cassandra just smiled. "Well," she said, leaning towards him. "You know the rules, don't you?"

And just like that, his embarrassment was gone. What was he worried about? This was his friend, his lover, a wonderful girl who he was completely comfortable with.

His lips brushed hers. She wrapped her arms around his head, deepening the kiss. He held her slim waist in response. They stood together like that, in a vulnerable, intimate position. He and her became us. Me and you became we. An eternity flashed by for them, a promise that they would never be alone.

Later that night, Horace lay in bed and wondered if Cassandra had planned the mistletoe.