A Chance of Showers

A/N: This story was one of two originally written for AO3's Yuletide 2015. Now that the event is over I've crossposted both stories here.

One: In Which Morwen Receives a Guest or Two

Morwen's day began as many days did in the Enchanted Forest: with an enchanted prince.

When she had heard the knock on the door, she had hoped it was Telemain, but immediately realized it was not, for the cats would have announced his arrival with acerbic glee. Quiz had taken to calling him "the bumbling magician", while Sleet announced him as "the invader", and Orlando Ariosto's name for Telemain was almost too rude to bear repeating. Needless to say, the cats, with the possible exception of Cass, were not much pleased with Morwen's wedding plans.

As raindrops began to patter on the roof of her small, neat house, Morwen chided herself for that twinge of disappointment. She had talked to Telemain every day since the battle with the wizards, and she would see him every day for the foreseeable future, so there was no sense in mooning about like a schoolgirl.

She paused a moment to straighten the small square glasses perched on her nose and then opened the door. Standing on her porch was a sodden young man in a scarlet brocade doublet that had once been very fine but was now spattered with mud, torn in three places, and sporting an alarming cluster of purple burrs on one side.

"My name is Prince Alfred of the kingdom of Alesteria," he said, his words oozing out with about as much energy as a mud puddle. "I'm on a quest and... well... a squirrel told me to come here."

Morwen gave Alfred a thorough once over. Everything about him was droopy, from the limp feather in his cap to his stooped shoulders and the mustache wilting on his upper lip.

"Why don't you come in out of the rain?"

"Thank you, I shall," he said, a sigh trailing after his words.

He followed her into her comfortable living space and stood there for a moment, dripping. Sleet, a long white cat, slunk closer, inspected the pool of water forming around his boots, and sniffed intently. "He smells like fish," she announced finally. "Muddy fish."

Morwen gave the cat a look to remind her that she would brook no nonsense with her guests and Sleet's tail swayed a few times before she sauntered off as if it had been her intention all along.

She waited until she'd gotten Alfred settled at the table and put a cup of tea and some spice cookies in front of him before asking what brought him here.

When he sipped his tea, one corner of his mustache came up damp. "On my seventeenth birthday an evil sorceress placed an enchantment on me that brought misfortune to the entire kingdom. I was sent out on a quest to break the enchantment." He heaved a sigh and peered gloomily into his cup.

"None of that," Morwen said with a sniff. "A quest is a normal part of a prince's coming of age."

"I know, but I didn't expect it to be so... wet." Alfred munched on his cookie. Several large crumbs escaped him, and before she could do so much as blink, a furry blur leaped upon them and licked them up. Jack Sprat, an orange and white tom, licked his chops with a smug air.

"And how did you end up in the forest?"

Alfred set down his teacup to reach into an inner pocket of his doublet. He extracted an oiled letter pouch. "My father, King Eldenbrand, sent me with a letter of recommendation to King Mendanbar."

Morwen's lips twitched at what Mendanbar, who had always hated formalities, would make of that letter. Or, for that matter, what Cimorene would make of it. But then hapless royal guests were an almost weekly occurrence so they were most likely quite accustomed to it by now.

Most of the cats had fled the room, crossing through the magic door into other parts of the house, apparently offended by the Prince of Alesteria and his muddy scent. Only Cassandra, a small grey cat, remained, padding across the room to rub herself against Morwen's ankle. "Your magician is here," Cass said softly. And if that made Morwen's heart patter a little faster, well at least no one was the wiser.

A moment later the door swung open and Telemain burst into her house. He wore his usual grey pants and shirt with the long black vest in which he kept his magical ingredients and tools. In spite of the rain he was completely dry. "I checked the parameters again but the atmospheric matrix continues to be completely unstable. It doesn't make sense! The diametric ratios should be–" He broke off as his eyes settled on her guest. "Oh." He looked from Alfred to Morwen and back again. "I'm having trouble with a spell," he said finally, a muscle in his cheek twitching a little as he did. Morwen suppressed a smile; she knew how much effort it must have taken him to be so... imprecise.

"Telemain, this is Prince Alfred of the kingdom of Almeria."

Telemain bowed and while the two exchanged polite greetings, Morwen let her eyes linger on his lean frame. His beard and mustache were as neatly trimmed as ever and his dark hair was unruffled by the elements. Tools and pouches hung from his wide black belt, attesting to the fact that he'd been busy with magical work this morning–as he always was. Even as he ran through the social niceties, his brow was furrowed in consternation, his eyebrows bunched up over his bright blue eyes. He caught her looking, and his expression softened as, for a few beats, he held her gaze.

"Tea?" Morwen offered, lest she turn into a moon-eyed ninny.

Telemain sat down with them and she got out some tea biscuits and the elderberry jam she knew was his favourite. She was immeasurably proud of his restraint as he managed to avoid using any technical jargon for the duration of the meal. Afterward, he excused himself saying he needed to check on an experiment and then disappeared through the magic door into the room that would be his study once he finished transporting the rest of his belongings from his tower. There had been no question that he would move in to her house. Her home was the more comfortable of the two dwellings, and while it had taken significant preparation, adding the extra rooms to the magic door had been straightforward enough. He would have his own study and a workroom for his research–both necessities for a magical theoretician like Telemain.

The rain was still coming down in a steady stream when Alfred heaved another sigh and announced that he should be on his way.

"Follow the river and then once you see the path stay on it no matter what," she reminded him. She had already given him the directions to the King of the Enchanted Forest's castle, but felt it was worth repeating; young men on quests rarely managed to follow directions. "You should reach the castle before dark."

"Thank you, Madam Morwen," he said, with a bow of his head that caused his cap to slide down over his eyes. He pushed it back, but the feather tucked into the cap now drooped at an even more precarious angle.

"Before you go, I do have one thing that might help." Crossing the room, she opened up the wooden trunk in the corner and concentrated on the item she was looking for. An enchantment on it allowed the trunk to store many more items than its appearance would suggest, but in order to retrieve them, it was essential to keep track of what was being stored in the first place. After a few seconds her hand emerged with a hooded cloak. It was a rather unfortunate shade of mustard yellow, the result of the hippocampus scales that gave the garment its waterproof qualities. "This should keep you dry." She offered it to him and, after peering at it for a moment, he took it and put it on.

Alfred thanked her again, sighed another weary sigh, and then, shoulders sagging, headed back out into the rain. When he was out of sight, Morwen turned to her magical door, which currently opened onto the library. She focussed on the image of Telemain's study until a closed door appeared in the doorframe. Knocking once, she waited for his muffled "Come in," before entering. She knew better than to waltz into a magician's study unannounced; the consequences of such a mistake could be disastrous for all parties involved.

The air of consternation had returned to Telemain's features as he paced back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. "Even taking into account the residual effects of the battle on the forest's energetic frequency, there should not be this much resistence to the gradual atmospheric adjustments I've been making."

"And this is the same technique you used when you made it sunny for Mendanbar and Cimorene's wedding?"

"Yes. The approach remains unaltered. It's as if there's some type of... interference."

"You can sort that out later. We need to finish placing the safety spells on your new workroom."

"But, Morwen–"

Morwen set her hands on her hips. "I'm not about to let you set fire to my house the first time one of your magical experimentations goes awry, just because you were too distracted to take proper precautions. Sloppiness doesn't suit you, Telemain."

He looked put out for a moment but then only nodded. "Yes, of course. You're right. Before I can do any significant work, the space needs to properly secured." He gestured toward the magic door. "Shall we?"