Big thanks to my reviewers (again)! MysteriouslyUnique and Kat, I'm sorry this wasn't a swift update (the stuff I'm writing right now...several chapters ahead of this stuff...isn't going very fast, so I didn't want to post stuff too quickly for me to keep up with), but please keep up the encouragement! I can't tell you how much it helps. :) And, pixievix and VaSinFlor, I'm delighted you're enjoying the fantasy! I hope this chapter is up to snuff. :D

Chapter 7: Seven Brothers...and a Princess

It was hours later by the time she'd finished repeating all of Thursday's lessons, and the sun was barely a half-circle on the horizon.  She and Gordo had resumed their places on the log, silent as they sat watching the plain before them for signs of the returning brothers.

"Do you think they're all right?" Lizzie asked softly, twisting to look at Gordo.  He glowed in the falling sunlight, skin gilded, amber filaments sparking in his hair, the forest behind him a honey-limned tapestry of sage and umber.

"Yes," Gordo said, saffron light gliding along his eyes, shining through stained glass irises as he turned to her.  "They're probably on their way back by now, I'd imagine, the princess with them."

"You think so?"

Gordo stretched, sighed.  "I know so.  Remember, I've read the fairy tale."

Actually, she hadn't remembered.  But if he knew the fairy tale....  "Can you tell me what's happened?"

A teasing smirk curved his mouth.  "And ruin Thursday's recitation?  Not for the world."

She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder.  "Gor-do," she whined.  "Come on.  Like we have anything else to do while we wait."

He laughed.  "Good point."  Looking back to the field, he frowned.  "Now, let me see.  Where are we in the story?  Seven brothers, already gone into the world, found their special gifts, gone looking for the princess....Ah, yes."  He cleared his throat.  "So the seven brothers walked and walked until at last they reached the sorcerer's fortress.  The door was locked and barred, but undaunted—and not having much other choice—they knocked anyway.  The door opened and they told the servant who answered that they were seven princes come to see the sorcerer.  But, alas, the sorcerer was too busy celebrating his marriage to the princess to see visitors.

"'We are just in time,' cried one of the brothers, 'as we are to play at his wedding feast!'  The servant, delighted, showed them into the great hall where the sorcerer, the princess, and all the wedding guests stood.  Monday immediately tucked his fiddle to his chin and played, sending everyone except the brothers into sleep—it was a magic, sleep-inducing fiddle, you see.  Tuesday, who had a gift for picking anyone's pocket, crept over to the sorcerer and plucked the sleeping princess right from his hand.  Into Wednesday's magic pocket she went, still sleeping, and the brothers slipped past the guards with no trouble, looking just the same as they went in.

"As the brothers traveled back to their campsite—and the guests awaiting them, though that's not in the story—the sorcerer awoke, realized his betrayal, and sent soldiers to capture the princess.  But Thursday heard them coming and pulled a tiny twig from his belt.  With a swish to and fro, the twig sent thousands of oak cudgels flying through the air to beat the soldiers.  At last, the soldiers turned back, but the sorcerer, enraged at their cowardice, turned himself into a vulture.

"By now, the princess, pulled from Wednesday's pocket, awoke, startled but very pleased to find herself away from the sorcerer.  But the sorcerer didn't stay away, flying after them to snatch the princess in his beak.  Friday, whose gift was deadly aim with his weapons, notched an arrow to his bow and shot the sorcerer dead.  The princess, loosened from the sorcerer's grip, tumbled down through the air only for Saturday to catch her in his left hand.  Their quest accomplished, they continued back to their campsite—"

"—And us," Lizzie finished, smiling.

"...Though that's not in the story."

She laughed.  "How did you remember all that?"

"It's a pretty easy story to remember," he shrugged, "especially when you find yourself living it."

"Well, you told it very well, Mr. Gordon.  Perhaps you have more of a talent for acting than you thought."

"Eh."  He gave a dismissive gesture.  "I like reciting things, but I think I'll leave the acting to the people who don't get stage fright."

"Oh, please," Lizzie scolded, wrinkling her nose.  "Like I didn't used to have stage fright."

"Ah, but we cured yours in a pretty spectacular fashion, Liz.  I think the likelihood of anyone mistaking me for an Italian pop star is rather slim.  So, alas and alack, I must remain behind the camera, directing.  A poor fate for the likes of me."

Lizzie narrowed her eyes.  "You just like to boss the rest of us around."

"Oh, yeah!" Gordo agreed, punching a fist in the air.

Snickering, Lizzie rolled her eyes and looked out on the field again.  The sun had disappeared behind the horizon now, leaving only a fiery glow to fight the deepening lapis of the sky.

"Do you think we should start a fire?" she asked after a quiet minute.

"No," he answered.  "It might call unwanted attention...and I don't know how to make one without matches.  Do you?"

Lizzie frowned; she hadn't thought of that.  "No."

"Too bad Matt's not here."  Startled, Lizzie glanced over to see Gordo smiling.  "He knows how to make a fire, I believe."

"Really?"  She hadn't known that.  "Did he show you?"

"I wish," he huffed.  "If he'd shown me, I might be able to do it.  No, I just happened upon him about a year ago—he and, uh, Melina, were experimenting with different kinds of combustibles, trying to figure out which ones caught fire faster.  Unfortunately, they were doing more arguing than experimenting."

"Yeah, Melina's—" A high-pitched screech cut her off, echoing across the fields in front of them.  Lizzie turned and saw a giant black silhouette of a bird rising from the outline of the fortress.  It flew toward them, growing larger and larger, then dipped into shadow.  Mouth open, she scanned the dim plain for it, then jumped when it surfaced into light again, something hanging from its beak.  "Bloody hell," she muttered.

"No kidding," Gordo agreed.  They both watched as suddenly the bird reeled in air, wings drooping, beak opening to release a very human-shaped shadow.  Both bird and princess pinwheeled down, once more disappearing into darkness.

"Bloody hell," Lizzie repeated through clenched teeth.  "Do you think Saturday caught her?"  She twisted to see Gordo nodding.

"I'm sure he did," he rasped.  "I mean, the rest of the story went as planned."

True.  Still, she'd rather like to see for herself.  "Do you think they'll be here soon?"

Gordo was still staring, wide-eyed, at the field.  "Yeah.  Yeah.  I'm sure it'll be soon."  Not exactly reassured, Lizzie merely sighed and settled in to wait.

A little after night had well and truly fallen, she heard voices, faint and indecipherable, but definite voices.  Sitting up straighter, she strained her ears toward the sound.

"Well...spectacles...first...."  She could only catch a few words, but that was Sunday, without doubt.  Hopping off the log, she started picking her way toward him, glancing back to see Gordo following.

Slowly, the voices grew distinct.

"And I still say that if I hadn't put them all to sleep, we could never have wrested the princess from the evil sorcerer's hands!"  That was Monday.

"I am delighted that you mention hands, dear brother," came Tuesday's voice, "for had I not plucked the princess so carefully from the sorcerer's hands, your fiddle would not have mattered."

"And had I not hid her in my pocket, we should not have escaped the fortress!"  Wednesday, of course.

Lizzie turned to Gordo.  "They're fighting?" she asked.

He nodded, whispering, "That's part of the story too.  Only one of them can marry the princess, but none of them could have saved her alone."

She snorted.  "Typical fairy tale logic."  Gordo only shrugged.

Saturday was speaking.  "—we are fools, brothers!  All this way we have argued, when we promised our father we should always be friends.  There is no solution here!  Let us not argue when we have succeeded so well in our quest."

The brothers fell silent and Lizzie stumbled on blindly toward where they seemed to be, relieved as, at last, they came into view in the moonlit dark.  Sunday walked in the front, Tuesday and Thursday flanking him.  Over their shoulders, she could make out the rest of the brothers—all scowling—and a woman, dressed in what looked like a beaded white gown, dark hair piled in curls on her head.  Lizzie squinted to get a better look, realizing who it was just as Gordo started laughing.

The brothers looked up at the sound of his laughter, and she heard Thursday shout a greeting, the others cheerfully echoing it.  But Lizzie didn't move, mouth open as she stared at the...princess.

It was Am.  Amaryllis Smith.

"No.  Way," she muttered, just before the brothers surrounded them, all trying to explain the day's events at once.  Lizzie didn't pay them any mind, focused completely on Am.

"Who are you?" she asked bluntly into a moment's pause in the conversation.

Am smiled, face luminous in the moonlight.  "I am Princess Lily.  Your friends have kindly saved me from a fate very much worse than death."  Her voice was Am's but somehow...sweeter.  Gordo was snickering again.

"Uh, nice to meet you, Princess Lily," Lizzie stammered.  "I'm, uh, Lady Lizzie."

"Sir Gordo," Gordo introduced himself, grinning madly as he waved at the princess.

Am—er, Lily gave a deep curtsy.  "I am ever so glad to make your acquaintance.  Prince Saturday was telling me all about you."  She batted unbelievably long lashes at Saturday, and Gordo, who had regained some control over himself, coughed and snorted, obviously trying to hold his laughter back again.

"Would you stop laughing!" Lizzie hissed at him, confused and growing more annoyed every moment.  Why did the princess look like Am?  And why on earth was Gordo laughing?  Shouldn't he be just as confused as she was?

"S-sorry," Gordo hiccupped.  "It's just, it's just s-so perfect!"

Before Lizzie could ask what precisely he meant by that, Saturday spoke up.  "As you see, Lady Lizzie, Sir Gordo, we have been successful in our quest.  Now all that remains is to pick who shall marry Princess Lily."

Gordo coughed, cleared his throat, and managed to stop laughing long enough to choke out, "Why don't you let the princess decide?  Perhaps she doesn't want to marry any of you."

Lizzie scowled at him and muttered, "What, you think she'd rather marry you?"  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized the truth in them.  The scowl fell from her face, panic cold in her stomach.  If Lily was anything like Am.... Well, Am sure seemed to prefer Gordo over any other guys she knew: no reason why that should change now.  Bloody hell.  What if Lily did want to marry Gordo?  How would they get home?  Bloody hell.

Lily was smiling at Gordo—it was Am's smile, even down to the sly, conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes.  "Thank you, Sir Gordo," she said, voice chiming like music.  Was that a princess thing, Lizzie wondered.  Were they all born with delicate, shimmering, melodious voices?  The scowl was back, this time aimed at Lily.  "I should like to choose my husband."  Her pale eyes lit on every brother.  "It took every one of you to save me, every one of your marvelous gifts, but if it had not been for Saturday, I should have died even as I was freed.  So, with your blessing, I would marry Saturday."

With that, Lily wrapped her arms around Saturday's elbow and blinked up at him, mouth curved sweetly.  Saturday looked just as astonished as Lizzie felt, then a moment later broke into a huge grin.  He stared at the princess a minute, then glanced up.  "Brothers?" he asked expectantly.   Lizzie followed his gaze to find all of the brothers nodding, Tuesday dabbing at his eyes with a sleeve and Gordo smiling the widest of them all.

Lizzie's eyes narrowed.  He'd known this was going to happen.

"You have our blessing, Saturday!" Sunday announced for them all.  "We shall love Princess Lily as a sister!"

"Ooh!" sniffled Tuesday.  "A mum and a sister!"

"Now that has been decided, let us adjourn to our campsite, brothers," Sunday proposed.  "There we shall cook a merry feast and welcome the princess to our circle."  There were several cheers and halloos from the brothers as together they turned to walk toward the forest.  Lizzie just stood where she was, letting all the others pass her, smiling faintly at a very pleased-looking princess.  After a moment, she too turned, not really surprised to find Gordo waiting for her.

"You knew what was going to happen, didn't you?" she said as they walked.  It wasn't really a question.

"Of course."  Gordo nodded, intoning, "And they all lived happily ever after."

"Why were you laughing, then?"  Gordo was silent and when Lizzie looked over, he was frowning.  "What?"

He rubbed the back of his neck.  "Uh.  It's just...I'm not sure I should tell you."

Lizzie blinked.  "You're not sure you should tell me," she repeated, voice flat.

Gordo bit his lip, shrugged.  "Yeah.  It's—I want to tell you, Liz, it's just—I mean, it's a really good joke...."

She rolled her eyes.  "And you never tell me really good jokes; I understand."  She'd tried to rein the sarcasm in, really she had.

Gordo stared at her then heaved a deep sigh.  "All right," he whispered, "but you have to promise me it goes no further than this."

Lizzie huffed.  "Like I'd ever—"  His eyes caught hers.  "Okay, so I've told secrets before, but I've never told yours.  Promise.  Your secrets'll go with me to my grave."  She grabbed his arm.  "Now, tell me."

"After all the build-up, you're not gonna think this is funny at all.  Okay.  It's just...poetic...that the princess is Am."

He stopped.  Lizzie tightened her hand on his arm.  "And?"

"Well...oh, she's gonna kill me for telling you...."

"She won't find out, whoever she is," Lizzie pressed.  "Now, come on."

Gordo scrubbed a hand over his face.  "Oh," he groaned, then in a quick breath, "Am's liked Larry for years."

He was right.  After the build-up, it wasn't funny.  In fact, she didn't get it.  So what that Am had liked—  "Tudgeman!" she shrieked.  Unbelievable!  "Am likes Tudgeman?!  Like likes?"

Gordo nodded.  "For years," he affirmed ruefully.

"And she didn't tell me?"

Gordo huffed a laugh.  "Liz, she wouldn't even have told me, except we were dating at the time."

Oh.  "That's why you two broke up?"  Geez, and she'd been worried that maybe Gordo and Am had been secretly dating.  I'm an idiot.

"Among other reasons, yeah."  He stopped walking and grasped her hand where it lay on his arm.  "Liz, you have to really, really promise not to tell anyone.  She will flay me alive if she finds out anyone else knows."

She turned her hand over to squeeze his.  "I've already promised, Gordo, but if it makes you feel better, I'll promise again."  She raised her free hand.  "I, Lizzie McGuire, do solemnly swear never to let anyone know that Amaryllis Smith has the hots for Larry Tudgeman.  Furthermore, I swear that no one shall ever know that it was David Gordon that spilled the beans."

"Thanks," Gordo drawled, walking again.

"Sure," Lizzie shrugged, mind already spinning back to his revelation.  "Wow," she breathed.  "I would never have guessed.  She hides it really well."  Although now that she knew, it wasn't hard to pick out moments where it showed through.  Like that tone of voice Am used when—

"And you're one to pick up on that sort of thing, anyway, McGuire?" Gordo laughed.

She snapped out of her thoughts.  "Hey," she protested.  "That's not fair.  I notice when people like other people.  I'm just...better when they're obvious about it.  What's the deal with that, anyway?  You're not supposed to hide it when you're crushing on someone."

Gordo actually snorted.  "Just because you didn't when you had that thing for Ethan in middle school doesn't mean that everyone goes by that rule.  Am and Larry are really good friends and, as far as she can tell, he's always been fonder of, well, you—at least in that way.  Of course she wouldn't want to risk ruining their friendship just to get her feelings off her chest."

"That's understandable," Lizzie conceded.  After all, she certainly hadn't told Gordo that she'd liked him back in middle school.  Of course, she hadn't really realized she'd liked him, then.  It was more in hindsight that she understood what she'd been feeling.  Still, even now she didn't feel precisely comfortable with the idea of telling him about her long ago crush.  He might wonder about that kiss she'd given him during the eighth grade picture, but then came Rome and high school and nothing ever came of it.  That was that.  Another thought occurred to her.  "Oh, Gordo, she must hate me!"

"What?"

"If she likes Larry and Larry likes me, she must hate me."

Gordo shook his head.  "She doesn't hate you, Liz."

"Maybe she's just really good at hiding that, too."  Not at all like Lizzie, who got grumpy with everyone at the mere thought of Gordo dating Am.  Not that she was jealous.  And not that it was the only reason—or even the main one—for her anger this past week.  It just...contributed.  Yeah.

"She doesn't hate you," Gordo reiterated.  "Come on, Liz, if anyone knows, I do—I'm the only one she can talk to about it.  She doesn't hate you.  You've shown absolutely no interest in Larry beyond the barest friendship, and besides, she was friends with you first.  It's not as though you're some brainless ditz that she can't like, let alone respect.  If nothing else, at least she can understand what Larry sees in you.  It just may take a little doing to shift his focus."

Lizzie sighed.  "I still feel guilty.  I wish there was something I could do to help her."

Gordo chuckled.  "Well, as a matter of fact, you've done quite a bit these past few days.  Your...behavior...has put Larry in a very different frame of mind.  I wouldn't be at all surprised to find they're going to prom together."

Despite his delicate phrasing, she knew exactly what he meant.  If she were Larry, she'd be pretty turned off by her treatment of Am lately, too.  "So I need to act weird and obnoxious more often?"

He gave a mock shudder.  "Oh, please, don't go to any trouble."  They smiled at one another, and Lizzie was surprised at how easy it was to mention the fight.  Granted, it was an oblique reference, but somewhere in there was a kind of oblique apology.  Not an explanation—she definitely wasn't ready for that—but an apology was something, at least.

They walked in silence for a few steps, then, "So I was laughing because I knew the princess would pick the youngest brother.  Saturday looks like Tudgeman, so it was perfect—and something like a cosmic, or intercosmic, joke—that the princess looked like Am."

Lizzie grinned.  "I can see why that'd be funny."

"But the build-up killed it, right?" Gordo guessed.

Lizzie hummed.  "Well.  Sort of.  But, mostly, I think the, uh, shocking Am-Tudgeman secret killed it."

He shrugged.  "Fair enough."

****
end of chapter 7

chapter notes:
The version of "The Seven Brothers" that I used here came from Magical Tales From Many Lands, retold by Margaret Mayo, illustrated by Jane Ray. Fun to poke about in, if—like me—you enjoy this fairy tale silliness.