Ambergeldar, Mid July
Sometimes, there are things a king just has to do, even though he'd rather not, for whatever reason. In this case, the king in question is HM King Algernon of Ambergeldar (better known in certain circles as "Perry"). The thing in question is attending a guilds' meeting in Litchlea, a half day's ride to the north of Amber. And the reason is that he does not want to leave his very pregnant wife home alone.
"I'm hardly alone, Perry," she laughs. "I'm in a palace full of people."
"You know perfectly well what I meant, Amy," he says. It's slightly sulky and slightly annoyed, and not at all kingly.
It's also very cute.
Amy leans up and kisses his nose. "I know, darling, but it can't be helped. It's only two days. And Marta won't let anything happen to me."
"She'd better not," says Perry, grumpily, then eases into a smile. It's always been hard to remain grumpy around his wife. "And you," he continues, mock-sternly now, placing his hands on the curve of her stomach. "No giving your mother any trouble while I'm gone."
In response, there's a kick hard enough to make Amy wince. It could be agreement. Or refusal. Or anything else. Or nothing at all.
On the rare occasions they've been apart since their wedding, Perry has always found Amy waiting in the front hall when he gets back. So he knows something is up when he finds Marta instead, sitting in Amy's usual chair. Perry quite likes Marta, who was Amy's nurse, then Susan's, and is now the Head of the Royal Nurseries. But she's not Amy, and this is not normal.
"Marta," he says. "What's happened? Is Amy all right? Has something happened to Susan?"
"Her Majesty and Her Highness are both just fine," Marta says, soothingly. "Her Highness is out in the garden, with Lady Rosalind and her nurse. And Her Majesty is up in her room resting, with the baby. She wanted me--"
But whatever Marta was going to add is lost, because Perry has gone charging up the steps, two and three at a time, and tearing down hallways. It's quite unregal behavior, and it startles more than a few maids, footmen, ladies, and councilors.
Amy is already looking up when he comes into the room, smile very bright. "I thought I heard you coming, Perry," she says. "Come and meet our son, and your heir."
Perry crosses the room in a few long strides, and looks down at the baby asleep in his wife's arms. "I told you to wait," he says. "And you, Amethyst," he continues, "should have sent for me."
Amy's eyebrows go up at the use of her full name, but her smile is amused. "Your pacing the corridor, Algernon," she says, "is not actually a critical part of the process. And anyway, a messanger couldn't have gotten to you in time to get you here any faster, and would only have made you worry along the way. Now, stop fussing," she concludes, and holds her arms out so he can take the baby. Which rather effectively stems any further protest.
The heir to the throne of Ambergeldar is a tiny thing, wrapped in a soft white blanket, with an untidy mess of light brown hair. The movement disturbs him enough that he briefly opens his eyes -- that sort of baby blue that has already begun to darken to another color. And then he promptly goes back to sleep.
Perry is quiet for a long time, sitting on the side of the bed, with Amy's chin over his shoulder, watching his son breathe. Finally he turns a little to look at his wife. "You realize," he says, "that this means we have to finally settle on a name."
"It would probably be helpful, yes," says Amy. "I imagine the populace would object otherwise. To say nothing of the Council."
"Amy, darling, are you--are you quite sure you don't want to call him after your brother?" This is ground they've been over, several times, but he wants to give her one last chance to change her mind, now that the baby is really here.
"Quite," says Amy, firmly. "Thank you, Perry, for asking, but it's just too soon. I'm not ready to say his name all day every day. We'll put it in the middle, and maybe use it again for one of the younger boys."
Perry nods. He hadn't really expected a different answer.
"I suppose," says Amy, slowly and without enthusiasm, "that we're expected to name him after your father."
"I am not naming anyone Humphrey," says Perry, so decidedly that he wakes up the baby who will not be called Humphrey, who looks up at Perry with very big eyes. Perry loved his father, but there are limits.
"I had thought," says Amy, and then pauses so long that Perry prompts her.
"Yes?"
"Well, I had thought perhaps Merriman."
"Merriman," says Perry, weighing it. "His Royal Highness the Crown Prince Merriman of Ambergeldar."
"It's a lot of name for a small boy, isn't it?" say Amy.
"He'll grow into it," says Perry, looking down at his son. "And until he does, we'll call him 'Merry.'"