called_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

She's bored.

She's groomed Corella, and she's practiced her archery, and she's had hot chocolate, and now she's sitting in a tree and dangling her legs and considering dropping things--tiny things, mind you, like twigs, non-inclined-to-injure things--on people should they pass by.

So. Bored.

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"I am sensible," Mary informs Lucy, solemn eyes round in her pointed face.

. . . well, she's not going to turn down more chocolate. Though eventually she'll get full.

"Even if I am contrary."

"You are indeed," she says, and grins, and means both. "And it's adorable."

Mary gives her a look.

A look that says: 'I am fond of you, but you are crazy.'

"Contrary," she says, patiently, "is not adorable. Adorable is pretty and sweet and good."

"Adorable," she declares firmly and reaches over to muss Mary's hair. "Queen, you know. I get to decide it."

That gets a rather startled glance.

"- you never said," Mary says, rather accusingly, "that you were a Queen."

She blinks, a bit.

"No? I'm sorry, Mary. I thought I had."

"Queen of what?"

It's an important question.

"Oh..." She sighs, and it's a little bit like a song or a poem as she says, "Lucy the Valiant, Queen of Narnia, Empress of the Lone Islands, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Lady of Galma...it goes on, but it's rather horribly long."

"Being an Empress," Mary says, rather severely, "is more important than being a Queen."

If you're going to be regal, you ought to at least know the order.

"Yes, but it requires much more paperwork, too," she informs Mary matter-of-factly.

LETTERS. ENDLESS. LETTERS.

"Besides, I told you about it just now."

"I have known you ages and ages," Mary complains, kicking the trunk of the tree with a swinging foot.

"It is an important thing to know! And you did not say."

"Well, you didn't ask!"

...Obviously, this is a valid argument, and Lucy kicks the tree herself.

"It's not that important!"

. . . patient, again: "How was I meant to know to ask? I do not ask everyone if they are royal. Not many people are. That is silly."

"--Well, it still doesn't matter that much," she grumps. "Why would it matter?"

"I did not say it mattered."

Mary is regal herself, chin tilted up.

"It is not as if you are the only royal person I have ever met. Even Colin is almost like a Rajah. It is only that I should have liked to know, is all."

"Well, I'm sorry," she mutters and frowns at the branch. "I didn't think of it."

"I'll give you a title if it'll make it up to you?"

"That does not -"

Long, long pause.

"What sort of title?"

"You could have a crown, even," Lucy tempts as well, because SCORE, Mary forgiving her. "I would get you one. Or a signet ring, appropriate for your station as Nobility. And...and I think Lady Mary, Royal Gardener, should do nicely, if you like it."

"I have taken care of your tree," Mary admits.

Magnanimously!

(It is not like she wants a title she doesn't deserve.

"You have," Lucy agrees earnestly. "I think you deserve the title. I think you would carry it very well. And we'd make the signet ring exactly as you like."

"It does not matter about rings or anything."

Mary can be gracious, now. And is! Look at her be gracious.

"It is only to know it is real - that is all."

"I shall get you one anyone. What flower do you like best? And it shall be real," Lucy promises, and straightens her hair.

It's formal, after all.

"If you like."

"Lilies o' the valley," Mary says, after some thought, with a decisive nod.

Silver bells. And cockleshells. It's appropriate.

"Then that is what your ring shall bear," Lucy says decisively. "I shall have it made immediately."

"And all right." She thinks, and then begins to climb down. "Let's do it properly, then."

Mary follows, straining to touch her toes down to the next-lowest branch before letting go.

She's rather curious as to what 'doing it properly' entails.