“I try m’best.” Sandy nodded sagely, negotiating the foam from his upper lip via tenacious licking.
He hadn’t expected his resolve to be put to the test so quickly.
Goodness. Gifts from the Princess. Gifts. Plural. The brave Sergeant Fussybritches delicately set aside his mug, gulping. Were they wrapped in gold? Could she do that? Of course she could. She could have them wrapped in stardust if she had half a mind to. And she was looking right at him. Expectantly. (Were her eyes always so big?) She’d given an order. He’d given a promise. There was only one thing for it.
Sandy’s horn glowed with the faintest of lights. One strip of tape peeled off from the wrapping paper. First one end, then up, up, up, up until the last bit released its hold. Then the second piece of tape. Then the third. Carefully, carefully now, he unfolded the paper, wincing as it scraped against itself and threatened to tear. Only when the end was fully unwrapped did he allow himself to breath again.
Then came the second package.
Then, finally, after securing a safe escape route for both presents, he pulled them free from the precious paper, and opened the boxes.
Princesses did not tap their hooves together, and so Cerise settled for very carefully examining said hooves, not very subtly watching Sandy through her lashes. His careful unwrapping was both endearing and slightly maddening- by the time he’d finally opened them her hooves had been thoroughly inspected and she reluctantly lowered them, busying herself with folding her used kerchief, very carefully smoothing down the corners.
The first gift, the smaller of the two, was opened to reveal a box of assorted chocolates, delicately decorated circles and squares sitting in paper wrappers of vibrant orange.
As the box was opened, Cerise’s hooves shuffled very quietly on the floor.
“I’ve…” She cleared her throat. “Heard that chocolates are traditional for this holiday, and I thought that… perhaps making them myself would have more meaning then simply buying them.” There was a soft click as her hooves shifted again. “I had assistance in the kitchens, but, I can assure you I did most of it. I even decorated them all myself.” She allowed herself a very small smile as she continued to smooth the same corner on her kerchief.
He didn’t need to know about the countless batches, deemed imperfect, that she threw out. Or maybe ate as she wallowed in self pity over failing a simple task like chocolate.
The larger box was opened and Cerise turned her head slightly away, lips pressing tightly together. Princesses were not nervous, princesses did not look away to avoid seeing unfavorable reactions.
The box revealed at first what simply looked like a large, plush, neatly folded pile of sea foam green fabric. Lifting it, the fabric unfolded to show itself to be a thick cloak, warmly lined, trimmed neatly in shimmering gold thread. The gold Cerise always wore, the color of her eyes.
Cerise cleared her throat again, looking at her previously examined hooves.
“My previous statement still stands,” She said primly. “Making it myself seemed to have more meaning, and my sewing needed more practice anyway.” She looked carefully at her hooves, vividly remembering sticking them with a needle a hundred times over. “If you look on the inside…” She set her hooves down, busying herself with looking into the fire, wondering if it was too late to throw herself into it.
On the inside of the left side of the cloak, easily missed at first glance, dark pink had been delicately threaded, spelling out a name in careful embroidery.
No titles, no formality, her own writing.
Cerise stared intently into the flames, wondering if the lighting would hide the blush that was darkening her face. She could blame it on the heat, right?
It really wasn’t too late to throw herself into the fire. Right?
