You know, Black Knight 03, I thought I did have the rest of the story all figured out—at least the bubble universe parts—but I was wrong. :) So I tweaked a little...it's not The Frog Prince, but I think it works. Should be in the next chapter, if you want to watch for it. Elise Foster, yay! Another hopeless romantic! Think we should start a support group? Last fairy tale, MP! Hope you like it! You'll buy my books, Caz? You know I'm gonna hold you to that, don't you? :D Another update, pixievix, and I promise we're getting closer to Lizzie spilling the beans. swim6516, you can say the same thing as many times as you want; I certainly never tire of hearing it. (so glad college is awesome, by the way) ;)

Chapter 20: The Kingdom Under the Sea

When Lizzie and Gordo entered the private chamber, Zev and Judith were thankfully still inside it and, even more thankfully, not kissing again. There were just some things Lizzie didn't want to see her friends doing more than she had to, even if they were the alternate universe versions of those friends.

Instead, highlighted in the orange glow bleeding through the curtain, the couple merely stood very close together, arms around one another, forehead to forehead, whispering.

"That statue is barely a decent likeness, you know," Lizzie heard Zev tease over the dimmed cacophony in the great hall.

Judith smiled, "I believe the artist felt the need to assuage my vanity—and his sensibilities—by giving my features more masculine lines."

"Ah," Zev chuffed a laugh, "that explains it, then. Bloody fool." And he tilted his head in what Lizzie just knew would be another kiss. Before she could do more than grimace, though, Gordo cleared his throat. Loudly.

How, Lizzie wondered, beaming at him, could I have gone seventeen years not knowing this man is the love of my life? He'd all but read her mind, and now across from them, Zev and Judith were slowly unfolding. Not much, granted, but more than enough for Lizzie's comfort.

"All's well," Zev announced. His grin was for both of them, but the question in his eyes was meant only for Lizzie. Reading it, she was hard-pressed not to blush bright red.

"S-so I see," she stammered, gesturing aimlessly, "you've found your...person...um, and I've f-found m-mine." Her smile felt decidedly wobbly, and she knew by the twist of the captain's mouth that he'd found her answer in it. No, all was not well for her; no, she had not told Gordo what she needed to tell him. Discomfort prickled hot and itchy beneath her skin, and Lizzie was never so grateful for the flood of introductions and explanations that followed, drawing both her mind and Zev's mild, chiding gaze away.

"But you're in dire need of dry clothes," Judith interrupted several minutes later. "And you are certainly tired and hungry. Shall we talk further tomorrow? I'll order a room readied for you, Miss Lizzie—that is, if the servants still take their orders from me."

"Don't worry about it, Judith," Gordo shook his head, "she can share my rooms." Turning to Lizzie, "They're huge, Liz, more than enough room to fit just two of us."

Lizzie nodded. "Sounds good." Particularly since preparing a room of her own might take a while, and Lizzie really wasn't in the mood to stay in her sopping clothes any longer than she had to. Her slippers squelched sullen agreement as she shifted her feet.

"All right. If you're certain?" Lizzie nodded again to Judith's concerned glance. "Then I shall send someone for you in the morning, and we can finish our discussion when you're comfortable again."

"Thank you, Judith," Gordo grinned, stepping forward to take the former King of Jagur's hands in his.

"Nonsense," Judith grinned back. "'Tis the least I can do for the woman who at last managed to deliver my love into my dungeons."

Zev's mouth twisted in wry agreement as he engulfed Lizzie in a hug. "And the least I can do," he whispered in her ear, "is urge you again, my friend, to share your heart."

"I'd prefer dry clothes," Lizzie drawled back, vainly attempting to ignore the lance of anxiety shivering up her spine.

A reluctant chuckle puffed against her temple as he pulled back. Kissing her forehead, Zev drew away to meet her eyes. "Yes, I am sure you would," he murmured, too soft for anyone's ears but her own. "And so I shall defer my tiresome speech until tomorrow, when your desire for dry clothes has been amply satisfied. Good night, Miss Lizzie." This last he said in a normal voice, turning to greet both Judith and Gordo's puzzled looks with easy nonchalance.

Taking her cue—the last thing she wanted was either Judith or Gordo asking her what Zev had just said—Lizzie echoed an equally casual good night, thanked the princess, and neatly dragged Gordo out of the room with an honestly urgent plea for some towels.

"My rooms aren't far," he assured her as they walked swiftly down the corridor. "And as soon as we get there, you can dry off and change into some of the clothes Judith loaned me. They're all pretty baggy—seems to be the style here—so they should fit you." Hurrying her up a narrow flight of stairs, "Or you can take a bath, if you wish. There's a dressing room off the bedroom with an actual bathtub and hot, running water. Not quite as good as a flushing toilet, but it's a far sight better than a quick, freezing scrub in a stream." Turning into another hallway, he muttered, "Not that we've even had that, really, on this trip."

Adrift in blissful thoughts of a hot bath, Lizzie didn't realize Gordo had stopped in front of a door until he was ushering her through it. Briefly, she caught shadowy glimpses of the same vivid colors of the great hall, this time against white-washed walls, and then Gordo's hand at her back was propelling her through another door, this one opening onto a far smaller chamber where a copper tub dominated, gleaming in the mellow light of a candle-sconce.

"Bath, right?" he asked, stopping at last. Lizzie blinked a few times, then nodded. His flashed grin hit in her stomach with fluttering joy. "I thought so. Here," he reached over and started the taps. "Go ahead—there's clothes and towels in that," he pointed at a narrow wardrobe on the far wall, "and while you're getting warm and dry, I'll order up some food."

Her tongue had gained enough animation at last for her to ask, "What about you? You're wet too."

"I'll change out in the bedroom. Just need to grab some towels and some clothes..." His palm releasing the tips of her fingers, he did just that. Then, tucking the pile under one arm, he looped the other around her neck and pulled her close in a warm, if lamentably soggy hug. "I'm glad you're here, McGuire," he said, the words rumbling into her suddenly tight chest.

Blinking back tears, she nodded, whispered, "Me too," and allowed him to step back.

"Get warm and dry, Lizzie, but, please, for the sake of my stomach, don't take forever, okay?" This time, his grin coaxed one of hers in return.

"If I have to," she mock-grumbled, shooing him out of the room. The moment the door closed behind him, though, Lizzie sagged against it, all the playfulness in her expression slipping away.

How could she risk this? How could she risk this camaraderie, this easy comfort and sweet concern and blithe silliness, just to tell him the truth?

A stupid question. Really, McGuire, Lizzie growled to herself as she stood and began stripping out of her soaking dress. A moot question. She'd begun risking This-with-a-capital-T long before she'd ever considered telling Gordo the Truth-with-a-capital-T. She'd started risking it all when she'd started falling in love with him. Which, considering how she felt now, was probably when she was born.

Ridiculous! she shouted at herself, puddling her dress on the stone floor and peeling off her shift and then her slippers. Zev was right. She did need to tell Gordo the truth. And she would. But right now, Lizzie twisted the water off, right now she would take a bath, get warm and then dry, and she would not think about all the horrible things that could happen.

She winced, not entirely from the near-scalding temperature of the water. Right. I am not going to think about all the Horrible Things That Might Happen.

Plainly, that tack was working already.

Frowning, Lizzie took a breath and immersed herself under the bath water. Eyes closed, the world slipped away, only the water remaining, dim and echoing in her ears, hot and soothing on her chill skin. And when at last lack of air forced her to surface, she left her worries floating in the tub, forgotten and drowning for the next little while at least.

Some unknowable time later, a knock beat through the door, Gordo's voice calling that their dinner had arrived and would she please remember his poor stomach? Laughing in reply, Lizzie dragged herself out of the still-hot bath, dried off quickly, and swathed herself in a rather appalling combination of pomegranate and chartreuse before pulling her hair back in a long braid. Without a fastener to hold it in place, it wasn't likely to stay there for long, but she was damn sure going to enjoy having her hair out of her face while it lasted.

Finally, wet clothes held awkwardly in front of her, she emerged into the bedroom. As Gordo had said, it was large. Not nearly so large and tall as the great hall, certainly, but large enough that the two islands of light on each side of the room faded to grey shadow before they met, neither one more than brushing the dark plane of the ceiling above. For all its dim size, though, the room didn't feel gloomy or oppressive. In the brief pools of light, hot, cozy color flared from layers of carpets, from a low, absurdly large bed, from piles and piles of plump, vivid pillows. For such a large room, the effect was almost intimate.

"Hey, Liz, come on over," Gordo spoke from where he knelt, silhouetted against the fire behind him as he arranged several dishes on a low table. "If you want, you can put your stuff next to mine to dry," he gestured at the area in front of the fire, uncarpeted, she could see, by anything save his rumpled clothing. "We can shift them to the table once we've eaten, but as you probably noticed, there's not really much in the way of actual furniture here." And indeed, no blocky shapes lurked anywhere in the vague contours of the room. What furniture there was stood in the light. Bemused, Lizzie shrugged and started toward the fire, the piled rugs soft and springy beneath her bare feet.

"Hungry?" he asked as she spread her clothes on the stone floor beside his.

"Oh, yeah," she said, inhaling deep of piquant aromas mingled with sweet wood smoke.

Gordo beckoned her to a seat amid several pillows. "It's a little spicy," he warned, "but I think you'll like it." Which, dipping into the heaped plate before her, she decided was definitely an understatement. Everything was delicious—no bread, no cheese, but more fish delicately flavored, a warm, savory soup, several types of tart fruit, and even a wedge of dark, sweetly bitter chocolate to end the meal.

After the last of the chocolate had melted on her tongue, Lizzie flopped back on her stack of pillows and sighed. "As much as I miss home," she mused, eyes closed, "I think I could actually enjoy staying here a while as long as I got to eat like this all the time."

Gordo laughed. "Unfortunately, after breakfast tomorrow, we'll probably be back to our usual fare."

"No-oo," Lizzie grumped, kicking her feet lightly against the carpet.

"Ye-es," Gordo countered, a smile plain in his mimicked tone. "But with any luck, after breakfast tomorrow we'll be only a few steps away from getting home. Which means we only have a few more days to suffer through bread and cheese."

Lifting her head, Lizzie met his eyes. "Assuming we've learned all we're supposed to. Remember? The Black Snake said we have to learn stuff before we can go home. I just hope by the time we find the Dragon King and he can get us home, that we're actually allowed to leave." Lizzie wasn't even sure she'd learned all the stuff she needed to—the mother of the Sun had given her part of the puzzle, but she'd told Lizzie the rest was hers to uncover. As for Gordo, who knew? Pursing her lips, she sat up further and said, "Have you learned anything?"

Gordo blinked, plainly surprised by the question. Then his face folded into his usual pensive, thinking-through-problems expression. After several silent moments, he shook his head. "Nothing big. I mean, I learned about plants from you and Thursday and how to fly the carpet and that I have a rather disturbing ability to remember fairy tales, but I sorta doubt any of that stuff is what I'm supposed to be learning." A pause, then, "What about you?"

Crap. Should've known that was coming. And a more perfect opportunity to tell him precisely what she'd learned wasn't likely to come again. Oh, yeah, totally, Gordo, she thought to herself, Y'know when I was hanging with the mother of the Sun? Yeah, totally found out I'm tip over tail in love with you, man. And, then, like, Zev, he totally said I had to tell you. So, hey, babe, I'm in love with you! Kiss? She shuddered, opened her mouth, stammered, "O-oh, me too. Just that stuff. Plants from Thursday, the history of the Nai Islands from Aloway, just stuff."

Gordo nodded, satisfied, but throughout the evening as they chatted about the history of the Nai Islands, as they pondered the bubble universe's relation to their universe, as they shared funny, shocking, solemn moments from their days apart, one word rang again and again in her mind.

Coward.

The next morning, Lizzie awoke to bright sunlight. Squinting, grumbling, she pulled the covers up over her head, serving only to tint the still-brilliant light an interesting shade of peach. With a resigned sigh, she slitted her eyes open and emerged from the makeshift, and wholly ineffective, tent of pumpkin-orange sheets. Funny the things you fail to notice in a dim room at night. Like the exact, virulent shade of the bedclothes. Or the existence of three narrow windows on the wall facing east.

The whole bloody room was designed to wake a person up. With a vengeance.

Which meant, of course, that Gordo was still sleeping.

He lay comfortably sprawled on the other side of the bed—pretty much the exact spot he'd fallen asleep in last night. Lizzie, on the other hand, had somehow relocated to the center of the mattress in the course of the night. It was only due to the gigantic sprawl of the thing that she wasn't piled on top of him—again. But then, that was probably the only reason Gordo had agreed to share the bed, anyway. What had he said at Evarado and Nadie's place? Something about the next sleepover involving separate beds?

If only he didn't mind cuddling with her, Lizzie thought, the problem would be solved.

But she wasn't going to think about that. Especially when you blew your chance to find out about the cuddling stuff last night, coward.

Not gonna think about that either.

Shaking her head, Lizzie pushed the sheets away completely and half-crawled, half-rolled to her side of the bed. She hadn't the vaguest notion what time it was, nor when Judith might summon them, but she might as well see if she could change back into her own clothes. They ought to be dry by now.

For the most part, she found, fingering the fabric, they were—a little damp, perhaps, but not uncomfortably so. Bundling them up, she headed to the dressing room. By the time she'd changed, finger-combed the last plaits out of her braid, and stepped back into the bedroom, Gordo was also changed, just pulling his tunic over his head.

"Hey, Lizzie," he said. "I just got word from Judith. We're to go to her rooms for breakfast. You all ready?"

She blinked. "Good morning."

He paused in the middle of smoothing the shirt beneath his tunic. "What? Oh, yeah, good morning."

Clearly, the glaring bed sheets and sadistic sunshine had worked much more effectively on Gordo than her. "How is it," she groused, "that you're such a morning person here, when at home it takes a cattle prod to get you up and moving?"

He tipped his head to one side, considering, as his hands resumed straightening shirt and tunic. "I dunno," he said at last. "Maybe our mission works some kind of voodoo?"

Lizzie flopped next to him on the bed, huffed a repressive, "Apparently, I'm immune to voodoo."

But Gordo, irrepressible, simply dropped to his knees, spread his arms wide, and in his best Frank Sinatra impression, half-sang, "'Let me live 'neath your spell—do do that voodoo that you do so well.'"

Despite herself, Lizzie laughed. "Not half-bad, baby," she countered in her own Rat Pack accent.

Gordo rose, buffing his nails on his chest, "Eh, well I am a crooner, sweetheart." Grinning, he pulled her to her feet. "Now, c'mon, if my singing won't wake you up, breakfast will. Did I tell you how awesome breakfast is here? Maybe that's why I'm a morning person." And remembering last night's dinner as they headed toward Judith's rooms, Lizzie had to admit the explanation had merit.

"At last!" Zev's exclamation as he flung open Judith's door drew Lizzie's attention away from food. But only momentarily. From the room behind him wafted several mouth-watering aromas. "Had you been even a few steps later, I should have dishonored myself entirely by eating before you arrived—dreadfully ill-mannered, that. But come in!" And he ushered them into a room slightly larger but not far different from Gordo's. Although, Lizzie noted as Zev closed the door behind them, the King of Jagur seemed to rate a little more furniture. To the left of the door stood an elegant desk and chair, and near the narrow windows on the far wall clustered a few wide, backless, pillow-bedecked sofas. But Judith sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, the large, low table before her laden with several dishes.

Furniture or no, that was where Lizzie wanted to be.

Apparently, everyone else agreed and for several minutes there was nothing but the click and ching of china and cutlery as the four of them helped themselves to a very generous breakfast. Then, cups filled with rich, cinnamon-spiked hot chocolate, plates piled with spicy sausage and vegetable omelets, crepes with whipped cream and sweet-bland bananas, and more of the tart fruit from the night before, Judith spoke.

"Zev told me you've been sent here by the mother of the Sun, to ask the King of Jagur something?" Lizzie, chewing, nodded. "And since I'm the closest to the king you'll find, what do you have to ask?"

Swallowing, Lizzie said, "I need to find a crane who used to be a man. The mother of the Sun said the King of Jagur—you, I guess—would know where to find him."

"Ah," Judith nodded. "Yes. I believe I know what crane you mean. There's a story told here on Jagur about a man who became a crane, although I confess I thought it simply a story." Laying down her fork, "The crane used to be a fisherman on the south coast of the island, they say, until one day he helped a turtle trapped helpless on its back on the beach, slowly dying in the sun. The next morning as he fished, he heard a voice calling his name—the turtle, who explained she was the daughter of the Dragon King, come to take him to her father, who wished to thank the fisherman for saving her. So the fisherman climbed on the turtle's back and journeyed to the Dragon King's palace under the sea. There, the turtle became a beautiful princess, and seeing her, the fisherman immediately fell in love.

"As thanks for saving his daughter's life, the Dragon King permitted the fisherman to marry the princess, and they lived under the water in the Dragon King's kingdom for a few joyous years. Eventually, though, the fisherman became curious about his family and his village. So he begged to be allowed to visit them. The princess didn't want him to go, but at last she gave in, gifting him with a beautiful three-tiered wooden box. Before he left, she told him to keep the box with him always but never, never to open it."

Lizzie shared a dubious glance with Gordo. That never worked. "The fisherman promised," Judith continued, "but when he arrived at his village, nothing was familiar. The trees were larger, the houses he knew changed, and when he looked for his family the old man living in his former home said the fisherman's parents had died three hundred years before. But the fisherman had been certain he'd only been living with the Dragon King for three years. Confused, he unthinkingly opened the top drawer of the wooden box. Smoke swirled around him and changed him into an old man. He opened the second drawer, which contained a mirror that showed him his changed self. Finally, he opened the third drawer. A crane's feather floated out, and once it settled atop his head, he changed into a crane.

"And so, the story goes, he has ever been, trapped by his curiosity in the form of a crane, never permitted to return to the Dragon King's kingdom, separate always from the love he so foolishly discarded. Those I've heard tell the story say the crane still lives near his old village, flying ceaselessly over the water, looking and looking for his lost love."

Lizzie, finished eating at last, nodded. "That sounds about right. The mother of the Sun said the crane would tell us how to find the Dragon King. And if this fisherman-crane doesn't know exactly where the Dragon King lives, he can probably at least find someone who does."

Zev leaned across the table. "Then we will tell you how to find the crane, and you can be swiftly on your way. Much as I—we—would enjoy your company a few more days, Aderet will certainly wish Judith to leave soon, and where she and I will sail is in the opposite direction of where you must go." Meeting Lizzie's eyes with a wink, "Shame, really, since I had truly hoped to get to know your...friend...better."

Suddenly quite willing to leave Aderet as quick as may be, Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest and drawled, "Yeah, back at ya, cap'n." For a long moment, Zev merely smirked at her. Then, as Judith asked Gordo the whereabouts of the flying carpet, the captain surged to his feet, captured Lizzie's hand, and dragged her to the other side of the room.

"That tiresome lecture I promised," he explained, releasing his grip.

Lizzie shook her head. "You don't need to lecture me, Zev—"

One eyebrow rose. "You told him then?" he interrupted.

"No," she admitted reluctantly. "But I know I need to. You don't have to convince me."

"Of course I don't," he scoffed lightly, "I already did that. But I do think I need to...well, perhaps encourage you." One hand came up to cup her shoulder as he leaned closer. "My dear, don't think about it. Don't think of the words you'll use and in which order they'll go or what you'll say when he responds. Just tell him." Smiling, though his eyes were still earnest, "Or kiss him. An you do, I truly believe you shall gain your heart's desire."

Lizzie bit her lip. "Well, of course you belie—"

"Yes, I do," he insisted. "Please, Miss Lizzie, remember I have two eyes of my own. And, from what they've seen, I think your story will end well—as mine has, at last."

Lizzie still wasn't precisely reassured—or encouraged—but before she could say so, Judith was calling them back. "I've given Gordo directions to the crane," she said. "All that remains now is to bid you farewell and good fortune." Turning to Lizzie, Judith swept her into a light, very un-Miranda-like hug. "Thank you," the princess whispered, "for bringing him back to me." And then she was pulling away, leaving Lizzie only a glimpse of teary eyes before Zev swept in to take his beloved's place.

"Yes," he said, "thank you very much for that. And remember, my friend," he brushed a kiss to her forehead, breathed, "courage."

Lizzie wanted to roll her eyes, growl frustration, frown, but instead she met his concerned, intent gaze, held it a long moment, nodded. "Courage," she murmured back to him. "Right." Nodding again, decisively, she withdrew from his embrace, said and accepted more farewells and good-fortunes, and at last, Gordo beside her, left the prince and princess behind.

One step closer to home, she thought. Then, much softer, a reminder, Courage.

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end of chapter 20

Chapter Notes:
"You Do Something to Me" is by Cole Porter. There are several covers of the song floating around, including one by Frank Sinatra. The version of "The Kingdom Under the Sea" that I used here came from Magical Tales From Many Lands, retold by Margaret Mayo, illustrated by Jane Ray.