blondecanary

"You're going to owe me so hard on Monday." Priestly shook his head. "First, your highness, the natives were plenty civilized. Second, we're in New Jersey, not Virginia. I -- don't know if there's a New Jersey yet when you're from. Third, you have no power in America so I'm telling you all this as a favor, not because you told me to. And most importantly: just let everything be explained by 'magic' and you'll be home by Monday morning. Probably. Maybe. I've never been super clear on how that works -- but anyway."

"Noooo, I'm American. We haven't answered to a monarch in more than 200 years. I'm Priestly. It's Saturday. And you've taken the place of my best friend on my birthday, so you should be nice to me. Or I won't tell you the secrets of how the 21st century works and you'll be stuck in here all weekend instead of having an adventure."

"You're a native?" Sorry, Priestly, that statement about being an American Does Not Compute. "Did the monarchy die out? Or did another Protector like Cromwell arise?" She gave him a strange look. "You are dressed like no priest I know; and what best friend have I 'replaced'?" She bit her lip, and showed a little (but only a little, carefully calculated!) vulnerability. "You must understand how strange this all is to me. Magic. America. I have so many questions. And no one here to advise me."

"Yeah, that's because it's my name." Priestly rolled his eyes. Edward had been way more entertaining. Elizabeth didn't even sing! "I'm a cook and a student, not a priest. Your . . . great grandson?" No, wait, Elizabeth I never married, did she. "One of the later kings taxed the shit out of the colonies and we got fed up and said no thanks, we can rule ourselves. And with a bit of help from France, we even managed to enforce it. Now we have a democracy. So do you guys, kind of, actually. I mean, there's Elizabeth II, but she's basically a figurehead for the tourists."

She was a Real Queen, thank you, not a Disney Princess!

All of that information was rather overwhelming, so Elizabeth flopped down on the nearest sofa (as much as you can flop with some serious skirt and petticoats and a steel spine going on) and stared Priestly, trying to fit it all together. "I did not have a child. Did I? I don't wish to be married!"

Now she sounded Dinah and Priestly's age, for once. "Well. Except to Robert. But his wife is rather in the way of that at the moment... and I still may not marry him!" Because she adored him but she really didn't want to make him King. Or have a baby people would fight over and wind up assassinating her in order to put it on the throne. "Cook?"

Her stomach growled. Look, she hadn't had breakfast yet! This was a lot to take in on an empty stomach!

Priestly raised his eyebrow at that. "There's a whole kitchen right over there, you know. You didn't even try to make yourself a bowl of cereal?" She probably didn't know what modern cereal was. "You totally shouldn't get married if you don't want to. I'm all for doing what you want."

"That is the kitchen?" She hadn't been able to recognize anything, and had been considering searching out bread to toast in the fireplace. "And thank you." She gave this Priestly a pleased look. "I wish my advisors could be as sensible as you, Sir Priestly. They are all thinking of the short-term." She rose from the couch as her stomach grumbled again, and she grimaced. "Queens do not apologize," she informed him. "However. I would consider it a great favor if you could direct me to some toast with preserves."

"Oh no, heaven forefend that her highness should lower herself so far as to apologize." Sorry, the sarcasm was uncontrollable. "Owe me. So big." He went for a loaf of bread -- pre-sliced, nine grain, and checked the fridge. "What kind of -- preserves you want? Alfred keeps this place fully stocked."

Elizabeth was now indulging Priestly, because he was raised by wolves. Possibly Scottish ones.

"Royalty may not apologize, because it is a sign of weakness," she sighed, following him into the kitchen. "We may still have regrets and... Apple? Or peach, if you have it, I-- what is that box?"

Ooooo. Shiny technology. "It's cold! An icebox of some sort? Only truly ice!"

This is way better than your republican principles, Priestly. "Are you a king yourself?" she demanded, because. Mean! Not telling her!

"No, I told you: I'm a cook and a student." This birthday sucked. "It's called a refrigerator. A marvelous invention brought about by freedom from oppressive governmental systems."

Okay, so probably refrigeration could still have been invented under a monarchy. But it hadn't, so NYEAH.

(In fact, it technically had, in the 18th century by a Scotsman. But Priestly hadn't looked at wikipedia yet.)

"What do you study?" Elizabeth was opening the other doors now. SO MUCH FOOD, goodness. What she could do with one of these at home. Maybe she could take it with her when she left. "And I have never oppressed anyone!"

Congratulations, Priestly, you got her to drop the royal We.

"Yuh-huh," Priestly said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Your country have poor people, Majesty?"

Sorry, Liz, Priestly had done this to the legendary Arthur. He wasn't going to let you off the hook.

"I'm studying nutrition. So, you know, what sorts of foods are actually good for you, instead of just tasty."

"Of course! The poor are always with us." At least he was using her correct title... almost. Now she was snooping through cupboards. Because otherwise, how would she find out more about this place. "This is why we have the Poor Laws, how do you not know that? ... You wouldn't have any chocolate, would you? The Spanish ambassador shared some drinking chocolate and I was rather fond of it."

"Probably not the sort you're familiar with." Not if she was getting it from Latin America in the 17th century. "Don't suppose those poor laws offer your broke citizens routes out of poverty, do they?"

He was 99.9% sure they didn't.