DISCLAIMER: Do I own it? ... Now what exactly do you mean when you say own?

Ack! No, I have not written for a while, and, no, I don't expect you to forgive me. I've been so busy lately that I've been getting a lot worse than B's in some subjects. Me, an all-A-hopefully-Oxford-bound student. I've been so busy that I'm actually failing Science and have a D in History. And still have that B in Math. Great. Now I only have four and a half weeks to bring it up. Just wait till my parents find out about this. Thank goodness I didn't decide to take Anna for the King and I; they rehearse every day. I would be committing academic suicide at this point.

But you didn't read this chapter so you could hear about all my personal issues. You came to read about the budding romance of Lucy and Tumnus! (Wheeee!) I still need to find out (I hate being semi-new on Fanfiction) if 'fluff' counts as any love scene (not bedroom, just love) or just the extremely lovey-dovey kind. Like, is this or was the last chapter fluff? I hate not knowing things!

Anyhow, lets stay ON topic, shall we? This next paragraph will be completely devoted to this chapter (or at least Narnia): This is just a cute (fluffy?) chappie that I wanted to write about Lucy and Tumnus before I wrench them away again. Ooops, did I write that out loud? Muaahahahaha! Now you'll HAVE TO read my last four chapters to see what I do to them. (Don't worry, I won't be too cruel; these last chappies have a lot of ups and downs. You'll just have to bear with me and trust me up to the very last chapter.) Yes, only four chapters left. And I'm going to try, despite my failing grades, to finish my entire book by the 9th of December if I can. If not then, then definitely by the 11th. I may not have them posted by that time, but hopefully written. Why by the 9th and 11th of December, may you ask?

I had to start a new paragraph so the last one would be strictly about my Narnia book. I would like to finish by the 9th because I want to have written an entire book exactly one year away from the point it was first seen by human eyes. Well, at least American eyes, cause I saw it in the States, and it came out there on the 9th. (Yes, it's already been a year since I wrote 'No Cakes!' Oh, how the time flies... and how the writing improves. I shudder to look back on that first chapter.) By the 11th because I actually saw it on the 11th of December, year 2005 with my youth group. I don't remember what day I began the actual book, so I figure it's better to be careful. Sometime after I had that dream about Lucy and Tumnus, as explained in the last chapter.

Wow. I think that was the longest Author's Note I've ever written. Sorry. My mind is kind of confusing. Ah, well, here's the next chapter:

P.S. I know that the last sentence may sound like the end of the story, but it isn't. I still have four chapters to go. And please review; I'm only two away from my goal and, although I probably don't deserve your forgiveness for making you wait for so long, I'd appreciate if you dropped a review anyway. Yikes! That A/N took up over a page! I'm sorry! Well, here's your chapter:

Chapter Forty-One

Such a Thing as Perfect

'The Wishing Stag?'

'The Wishing Stag.'

'In the Lantern Waste?'

'Yes,' Lucy nodded.

Peter grinned broadly. 'Well, we'll have to catch it, then; there's no time to lose!'

'I'll shall tell the beavers to schedule our hunt tomorrow,' said Susan, 'after the Autumn Golding Ball.'

'Our hunt?' Edmund scoffed in such a haughtiness that Lucy couldn't tell whether or not he was joking. 'Susan, you needn't worry about that. You girls can stay here at the castle; I'll get the Stag myself.'

Susan placed her hands indignantly on her hips, but Lucy frowned in mock concern, playing his game. 'Oh, Edmund, you needn't fret your little head. You don't need to catch the Stag to prove you're as good as we are... We already know we're better.' That sent her and Susan into a mad fit of giggles.

In amazement, Peter gazed watchfully at his youngest sister, pensive. Not two weeks ago he'd witnessed Lucy in such a condition of emptiness it almost hurt him to look at her. She didn't seem entirely one with herself, as though her body had taken over what her mind should have done. Lucy had withdrawn herself from the company of her family and mostly kept to herself, locked away in her chambers. And now... now it was as though her inner winds had changed directions in an instant. A glow seeped out from behind her face and radiated all around her, always met with a lighthearted smile. Autumn suited her well, and with good reason. They both had a gold, rosy tint to them and an nimbus of felicity. Not merely that, but each Narnian monarch had been titled with a season, and Lucy's was Autumn. Peter himself was Summer, while Susan was Spring and Edmund Winter. Tonight was Lucy's night, the Autumn Golding, and she would be decked out in all her glory for the whole of Narnia to behold.

'Susan, Lucy,' Peter said, interrupting their glad laughter, 'don't you think you girls should go prepare for the ball now? I mean, it usually takes you a long time...'

'Oh, my. He's right, Lucy, look at the hour!' Susan pointed at a pewter sundial outside the gaping window where the time was clear: two o'clock. The ball would begin at sunset and dwindle into the night. 'We should begin getting ready. Off you go, shoo!'

Still chuckling, Lucy scampered up the marble stairs to her chambers, and Susan followed in a more stately fashion with her hand sweeping up the railing beside her.

'Ed?' Peter asked as Edmund bent down to lace his boot.

Edmund stood. 'Yes?'

'Have you noticed something... different... about Lucy?'

Edmund's brow knit together not unpleasantly, but ponderously. Nonetheless, there was a smile on his face. 'Yes. She's always so... I dunno. Cheery. And thank Aslan; we all know there hasn't been enough cheeriness in Narnia for a while, especially around Lucy.'

'It almost seems as though something's wrong with her,' Peter contemplated.

Edmund frowned. 'No.' Then he smiled, intrigued. 'It's as though everything is right.'

❦

In the dark safety behind the door, Lucy hid with baited breath. She'd never had much of a problem before with the Autumn Golding, but now... now there was an anxiety in her chest that played an electric buzzing between her ears. All of her muscles were tense, her feet pacing back and forth. It never caused such a bother before...

You've done it a dozen times, for years now! She tried to rationalise, but to no avail. Just let Peter and the rest present you, and stand there at the top of the stairs looking pretty. No one will care; everyone in Narnia has known you since you were a little girl.

But that was exactly what she was afraid of. Suppose she stood there for all the world to see, a symbol of Autumn and all that is gold and fleeting, and he looked back, thinking her a child. He'd said nothing yet about the astounding difference in their age, but what if he looked now and saw a child, not a woman? Then he'd realise the mistake he'd made: choosing a little girl, over a century younger than he. Though he hardly began to show the marks of age, just two dashing silver streaks by his ears.

'Lucy?'

Lucy jumped.

'Are you ready?' Susan asked, not really caring what the answer was. For Susan, it was another court affair, another ball, another duty to fulfill. Susan wouldn't understand. Why, Lucy even doubted that Susan had ever even loved. Lucy could fall to her feet at that very moment, sobbing that she couldn't do it. What if he took a second look and thought her ugly, a scourge on his life? She couldn't do it, never, never, never...

Shaking, Lucy tucked a wavy lock behind her ear. She straightened to a stately, graceful height, smoothed a wrinkle in her skirts and breathed, 'I'm ready.'

Susan nodded and stepped briskly out the door. A snitch of sunlight peeked through the frame, and Lucy sharply inhaled. Outside, Peter, Susan, and Edmund were presenting her. She knew the speech by heart; she said it herself, with some substitutions, for all the rest of them. But now, the words were blurred. Any second now, she'd fall over from the fright. Any second now...'

'Lucy the Valiant, Monarch of Narnia, Ruler of the Northen Sky, Queen of Autumn!'

'Here goes,' she whispered to herself.

Out into the bright light of the Great Hall, light streaming in through broad windows, paper lamps, torches, phenomenally bright candles. All shining on her, the band honouring her with brilliantly played music. The faces of all Narnia, each subject, each courtier, each noble. Every beast, every dwarf, every naiad, dryad, every faun...

There he was.

She averted her gaze, too afraid of what he'd think now. All those other years it was perfectly fine, but now... The progress of three hours by her maids and ladies-in-waiting now stood clothed in the finest material, and she still felt naked.

But Tumnus was there. He stood his ground, didn't seem bothered or afraid... but entranced.

Lucy was almost like a painting... No, even more beautiful than that. A painting would bear her garments of fine silk shimmering in colours of vehement flame like the foliage outside, gold ribbons gliding on the wind. A painting could master the curve of her nervous yet brilliant smile, the shine of her chestnut locks piled elegantly atop her scalp, the iridescent luster of her silver crown. Any artist could conjure from a brush the full curves of her perfect body which, try as he might, Tumnus could not take his eyes off of. But there was that aura she always had, that refined wildness in her movement and the glow of her soul peering out from behind the smallest action. How the music seemed to be written for every step she took, and yet it did her no justice. She could not be bridled.

It seemed as though everything else melted beneath him, only their two eyes sharing thoughts. Why did you choose me? It reverberated through Tumnus's mind, echoing inside him. How did I become worthy of this angel?

He wasn't really aware of anything, merely watched her for so long that he'd forgotten all else. Was she dancing with her brother, or another man? Should he stay a respectable distance away? How long had it been? It was all a blur of time and movement until the point when a familiar tune was played out on a flute and soon followed by strings and horns.

The Silver Mist.

Before he knew what he was doing, he held out his hand expectantly, asking her to dance. Obligingly, she took it and the two manouvred as one to the middle of the dance floor.

'Tumnus,' she whispered, but smiled. 'People will notice us. I thought we said it's best if we stayed a secret.'

'I don't care.' He spun her around in a circle. 'Let them all know. Besides, we've been friends for years. I do think it would be a trifle odd to them if we didn't dance at all.'

'You may be right.'

The music played enigmatically, the steps lively and spirited, so it left little time for words, but they didn't need any. Lucy knew every time he squeezed her hand, touched her waist, his fingers whispered I love you, and she whispered back. Soon enough, she closed her eyes, letting Tumnus and the music carry her. Footfalls thumped and twirled, her own heartbeat adapted to the rhythm.

'Lucy,' he said after a while. 'You may have to stop before the band gets too upset.'

Lucy frowned and opened her eyes, then laughed out loud. A blanket of fog had streamed into room and had submerged everyone to their elbows. Those who weren't attempting to navigate through it were looking about themselves in utter confusion, the band ridiculously indignant that someone had actually called the mists.

'You'll have to forgive us, Lucy,' Tumnus chuckled. 'We're all not as marvellous dancers as you are.'

As soon as everyone on the dancefloor understood what had happened, the merriment spread. Before too long, everyone was laughing gaily, and the band was in high spirits again, for in a few moments the cloud subsided to a pleasant mist lapping at everyone's ankles. Lucy was blushing, her face hidden in Tumnus's shoulder. But then she laughed out loud with everyone else and was pulled into a wide, swinging embrace by Tumnus.

The whole event was so jolly that everyone had sparks in their eyes from such mirth, even from those who sat out of the dance. Edmund and Peter were settled comfortably into their thrones on the dais, watching their sisters dance.

'Peter?' asked Edmund.

'Hm?' Peter was still chuckling to himself. Lucy had such aknack for the Silver Mists.

'You know what?' Edmund said, smiling. 'I think she loves him.'

Peter turned his head quickly to Edmund, but Edmund was already watching her. She wasn't a child anymore, that was to be sure. The two jubilantly hugging each other together: her hand clasping his shoulder, their fingers singing together in mute music, their beaming faces and glinting eyes identical.

With a sort of warm sigh, Peter smiled. 'I think you're right.'

With a happy smile, the band struck up a tinkling melody that soon billowed into pure magnificence woven from music. Tumnus smiled and pulled Lucy close into him, kissing the top of her head.

'Dance, Lucy,' he whispered. 'Till the stars are too weak to play your music, dance.'

They did.