blondecanary

"It is honorable work, but back-breaking, and of less influence than politics or those occupations a gentleman may take up," Elizabeth responded. She paused and said, almost sounding conciliatory, "My lot is better than that of other women. I want for nothing. I have the luxury of rejecting suitors. The power to make changes. The education to do so wisely. To aspire to more would be..." Unimaginable. She shook her head and looked at the preparations he'd made. "You are a very contentious person, Sir Priestly. Toast?"

The elevator sounded in the hallway, and she turned toward it with a frown. "What is that?"

"Possibly Dinah's family," Priestly said. "Which means you might get to be appalled by female fashion of the 21st century as well as my contentious politics."

He was kind of hoping Liz and Alfred would very politely throw down. He'd sell tickets to that.

Barbara, Helena and Alfred came out of the elevator, Alfred toting a very large sheet cake with frosting designs of cooking utensils and the words, 'Kiss the Cook, he's 24!' written on it. They stopped in the doorway to survey the scene.

"Ah." Barbara sighed, surveying the Queen with bemusement. "I see we're a little late for the party."

Helena was there in skin-tight leggings and a shirt that was falling off her shoulders.

Queen E did, in fact, look stunned and rather appalled.

"Hi guys," Priestly greeted with a rueful wave. "Fandom did a thing. Anyone want cocoa?"

"Hey, 'Let them eat cake' is after your time. By, like, two hundred years," Priestly said. "It's a wheelchair. Powered by electricity. Fancy science-magic. Like the fridge."

"You're babbling again."

Are we sure Arthur isn't her ancestor?

"I want one." That was even better than the food things!

Not even remotely.

"I am not, I'm explaining. It's not my fault you have four hundred years of catching up to do. And your legs work fine. No wheelchair for you."

"If I might." Trust Alfred to recognize who this had to be. Although the fact that she had Dinah's face was rather unexpected. "I am Alfred Pennyworth, Your Majesty. My employers, Miss Helena Kyle and Miss Barbara Gordon. Miss Gordon has been paralyzed from the waist down; her chair is to assist in her mobility." He placed the cake on the counter, and gave Priestly a speaking look. Sorry about your birthday, Priestly. "Many happy returns of the day, Master Priestly."

"This blows," Helena muttered, studying the Queen. "Although that dress looks great on Dinah."

"Welcome to the Clocktower, Your Majesty," Barbara said with a sigh. "Sorry we weren't here when you arrived, Priestly."

Priestly shrugged. "It's not like this particular Fandom thing is all that predictable," he said. "And besides, you brought cake!" He finished up the batch of cocoa he was making and poured some into a mug for Elizabeth. "Here you are, your highness. Hot cocoa. It's probably going to be a lot sweeter than you're used to."

Queen E. gave him a pissy look for that, and nodded regally to the interlopers. "Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Gordon, Miss... Kyle." She was watching you, Miss I Can't Wear Real Clothes. "Pennyworth. Our arrival is very unexpected, as I hope you can understand." She took a sip of her cocoa, and then mmmmmm'd. And starting nearly chugging it. "I like this. I like this *very* much." Cocoa was a lot easier to contemplate than magical time travel.

"Figures you'd be a sugar fiend," Priestly said. "Toast should be right up, too."