Thanksgiving with the Suitors
Happy Thanksgiving to all of my fellow American MidCin bloggers! I hope your day has been/was filled with warm memories and delicious food. Hereâs a fun, humorous fanfic about all the suitors and the Princess having a dinner at Wysteriaâs palace for Thanksgiving. I hope you enjoy! No warnings.
âKing Byron, could you pass me the casserole?â
âPass the dressing to Giles, please.â
âLeo, you took my silverware!â
âNico! Stop stepping on my foot!â
It is a lively day for Wysteriaâs royal court. Autumnal festivities have infiltrated the interior of the palace in the form of plastic leaves, burnt orange dinner plates, and gold garland. Faux animal fur is scattered throughout the halls, and the candles on the chandeliers had been changed from eggshell white to a soft brown. The faint aroma of pumpkin spice and cinnamon mysteriously follows guests from room to room. A live orchestra strums softly in the corner of the palaceâs dining hall; however, the sultry sound was drowned out entirely by the buzz of bubbly conversation.
âBy God, Albert! You're being rather stingy with the cranberry sauce,â Byron muses, grinning affectionately at his trusty knight.
Albert grumbles something under his breath before begrudgingly passing the bowl of red liquid to Nico. A light shade of pink dusts his cheeks.Â
âI never wouldâve pegged you as a sugar addict Al, but I guess thatâs why youâve been losing steam on the sparring field lately,â Nico jests, elbowing Albert in the ribcage.
"You think youâre so funny, donât you?â
âI donât know Albert,â a voice calls from the kitchen. âI think I can beat you any day, whether youâve had sweets or not.â
âAlyn!â the Princess Elect admonishes, hissing sharply.
As the young lady spoke, the intoxicating aroma of seasoned meat wafts into the dining hall and into the nostrils of the eight men gathered around her. While the banquet table was lengthy and spacious, there was not enough adequate room to seat ten diners. Each person rubs elbows with the next, clanging drinking glasses together involuntarily like wind chimes. The Princess Elect perches at the head of the table, massaging her temples delicately. The only member of the eccentric party that is missing was Alyn, who is preoccupied with crafting the turkey in the next room.
âWhatâs taking so long?â Leo gripes, raising his voice above the ruckus.
âI told you a few minutes ago that Iâm still checking the temperature,â the younger Crawford brother growls, thrusting a thermometer into the thigh of the bird as if the instrument were his sword.
âPerhaps,â Robert begins hesitantly, clamping a firm hand on Leoâs shoulder, âyou should consider leaving your brother alone today. The less we trouble him, the faster heâll work.â
Leo waves his hand dismissively.
âAlâs used to it by now. Iâve been the catalyst of the Crawford family since we were in diapers; heâd never survive without me.â
âSays the one who couldnât wield a sword if his life depended on it,â Giles adds, smirking devilishly. The party laughs heartily.
âGentlemen, please,â the Princess begs, grinning wryly. Bags had gathered beneath her eyes, wrenching her flesh downward.
A brief silence falls over the party. Each guest begins picking apart their meals, making approving grunts and moans between bites. Dressing, pecan pie, casseroles, salad, beans, and other fattening treats pile up on each plate like mountains. Alyn joins the group, positioning a steaming, roasted turkey in the center of the banquet table before collapsing in a chair between the Princess and his brother.
âYouâre throwing in the towel already? We donât have enough food yet,â Sid remarks, cheesing toothily.
âShut up and eat your dinner, Sid,â the knight grumbles, beginning to scoop his own meal onto his plate.
âIâm just saying that I wish we had more. Youâre cooking is actually pretty good,â the information dealer admits, casting his eyes downward in a bashful manner.
âThank you,â Alyn says gratefully. âThat means a lot.â
âSidâs right. This might be your best work yet, Mr. Crawford,â Byron toasts, raising a celebratory glass toward the young man.
âIâll second that," Duke Howard smiles. "I havenât had a Thanksgiving meal as splendid as this since I attended the Autumnal Festival in Laurelia five years ago." Â
"It is really good, but Iâm used to it. Alynâs been our familyâs designated chef for Thanksgiving since we were teenagers. Iâve been privileged enough to eat his turkey for years,â Leo praises, patting his younger brother on the back.
âLucky bastard,â Sid murmurs.
âSid, watch your tongue in the presence of a noble lady,â Giles chastises, cutting his eyes warily at the Princess. She waves her hand as if the pardon the insulting word.Â
âSometimes I think you shouldâve been a culinary chef instead of a knight, Alyn. You would probably enjoy that job more. Youâd be away from Giles and your brother, at least,â Robert laughs.
âYou act as if Iâm a plague on this earth, Robert,â the chamberlain chortles.
âYour words, not mine.â
âBoys, please have some self control for one day!â the Princess gripes, slamming the palms of her hand on the edge of the table.
Drinking glasses rattle, and the turkey carcass quivers ominously in the center. The din captures the attention of each suitor seated at the table. Their eyes flicker toward hers like moths to a flame.
âThe Princess is right,â Albert says. âWeâre all grown men who are expected to serve our respective countries with dignity and pride, but here we are bickering like insolate children.â
âWell said, Mr. Burkhardt,â Duke Howard replies.
âLeave it to Albert to be the one to have a stick lodged so far up his-â
âNico, thatâs enough,â Byron interjects. âMy apologies, Your Highness.â
âI hope you will forgive me and Mr. Meier for our rudeness as well, Princess,â Albert says.
âI can apologize for myself, Al. Iâm a âgrown man representing my country with dignity and prideâ, remember?â Nico exclaims, mocking the Stein knight.
âYouâre such a child, Nico.â
âIâm sorry, Princess. I didnât mean to be so rude,â the ex-butler says sweetly, melting the Princessâs heart with his cheerful smile.Â
âOf course the royal court of Stein is the first to apologize,â Louis snaps offhandedly.
âOh yeah? Whatâs that supposed to mean, twinkle toes?â Sid inquires, ruffling Louisâs hair with a gloved hand.
The party laughs, and the uncontrollable noise revs up again. At the head of the table, the Princess cradles her head in her hands and groans. It was is if she was herding cats. Abruptly, a hand settles gently on her shoulder.
âJust let loose a little,â Giles comments soothingly. âWhat else did you expect from inviting us all to a dinner in one room?â
âA humble family dinner with pleasant conversation about political climates and international relations.â
âThen youâre friends with the wrong crowd, Princess,â Alyn pipes up, winking at her jovially.
A sigh emits from her lungs, but a light grin tugs at the corners of her lips.
âNo, I think Iâm friends with the perfect crowd, and Iâm very thankful for that.â