V.

This isn't to say, of course, that King Mar'vel referred to the little Princesses as "Hey You!", or something equally dreadful. Nor to say that he didn't refer to them at all. Rather, he sort of indescriminately called them, seperate or collectively, by the affectionate appellation of "Rose Blossom". But, as everyone knows, such a moniker isn't a name, it is an endearment. And although it was a rare and fine thing for the King Mar'vel to use endearing tearms for /anyone/, this would not do in the long run.

In the meantime, the little princesses were referred to as, "the little Roses", by all who had cause to refer to them at all. The fair-colored one was called by all and sundry "Blue-Eyed Rose", although, given the flat, ghosty, I'm-looking-through-you nature of those, she was far more oft called, "Haunted Rose". Which didn't displease her at all, no, not a bit.

As for the dark-colored one, her eyes were as dark as her hair; such a rich, deep chocolate of brown that the color kissed the borders of black but did not quite make it there. Unlike her sister, however, there was nothing cold or sinister about her deepness, rather, it was a warm and rich dark that smiled and embraced and comforted. So she was called-called, (not named, certainly!) Dark-eyed Rose.

Anyway, the Queen Titania, seeing a way to once again wheedle her way into the affairs of November, sent a boggart into the realm with names /she/ found appropriate, at least. But her emmissary did not make it very far into past the border before the Rooks (who, as Lord Soril no longer trusted the everpresent Naiad and Dryad since the affair of Kassandre, acted as lookouts and spies in November's lands) got word of his presence to King Mar'vel. As expected, the King was entirely reluctant to be roused from his studies -- theories and Histories of Enquine Participation in Republican Government, by A. Thentodorus.

"I'll name them after I finish this chapter." he'd mumble, and the rooks would swirl and chatter and peer anxiously at the little roses where they galloped in the valley on the backs of their brother geldings. One day, the rooks pecked at the king's crowned head and cawed,

"King Mar'vel, O' Great King, oh Lord of Us! The Boggart is not a day from the castle! Name thou thy dearly ones, or their fates do be dire!!!"

"I am not a Lord." Frowned Mar'vel, looking up blinkingly from his latest chapter. "What was that again?"

And the Rooks repeated their Most Urgent Missive, very careful to leave out the 'Lord' bit, this time.

"Oh bother." Huffed the King, closing his book most grudgingly. For, while he DID so hate to be rousted from his study when he was reading, (which was all the blessed time, that he wasn't riding!) he also knew he most certainly didn't want that winged doxy Titania's influance all over his sweet and impressionable little daughters.

So he went down into the gardens, where all manner of roses and asphodels and lupines and tiger lilies and such things grew, and called out, "Rose Blossoms!"

And up, up, galloped the pretty little girls on the backs of their handsome brothers, all of them with wild daisies and dandilions woven into their long manes, laughing and breathless. The King Mar'vel could not help but smile as they dismounted, marvelling that he might have had two such exsquisite and perfect little beauties foaled off of the same mare. And then there were his daughters, every inch as lovely as the pair of geldings, though a source of some slight embarrasment to the king-their-father, as they insisted on embracing and kissing him quite thuroughly, as part of their filial duties.

"My Blossoms," He said quite stiffly, after disentangling the Dark-Eyed Rose from his kneecaps and patting her on the dandilion-crown, "I think the time has come that you ought to be Named."

The little Roses nodded vigorously, for they had wondered for quite some time when exactly it would be their turn to have names, like everything else. Expectantly, they looked up at the King-Their-Father, awaiting the blessing of Names upon their pretty little heads. But unfortunately, when he tried to open his mouth to drop some upon them, King Mar'vel found himself quite at a loss as to what those names ought to be. So he closed his mouth and frowned into the distance, where he imagined the Queen Titania's emissary might at any minute appear; vile sorts of named fates in store for his precious blossoms. So he took them up into his library, thinking that perhaps the towers of tomes therin would provide some suitable inspiration for Things that such flowers ought to be Named. For the Name, he knew, must reflect something of their nature, and something that would be useful and good for them to posess and develop. Something that would suit two little Princesses of November, he thought, nodding resolutely while he searched his stacks.

In the meantime, he kept one eye on his book and the other upon his daughters who had each found books themselves, to make sure that they didn't find any of his precious volumes good to eat, nor to draw upon. But non, the girls had inherited from their father quite the love of literature, and they did read to each other aloud from the works they had chosen.

Feuille and Livre? Thought Mar'vel to himself. Biblia? Logos? hmm...

And the one called Haunted Rose pointed to a passage of poetry, and said,

"That one is talking about fear. But they don't understand it." And she recited aloud,

"And I walked with Fear, and Fear with me,
And I have carried his cutlass on my back,
And I have held his hourglass in my hands.
How soft the roads on which he leadeth me!
Easy, slow-trod roads 'neath bitter black,
Wind through the blackened countries, and the barren lands

And Marvel felt the chill in his bones and the nervous safety of a life lived in fear; a cowardace crept up in his belly and threatened to make him choke. But he recognised this as a magic worked into her words; and he swallowed his fear with his own, mighty magics.

"She has carmina, which is the art of words." He muttered to himself, "So her name shall be Carmina." And Lo! The girl was Named.

So he watched as Dark-Eyed Rose opened a book of prose, wrinking her nose at a trite and uninteristing desctiption of a city-scape.

"Now now," She said, "That is not how I should do it at all." And she opened her mouth, and Mar'vel did not hear her words so much as he saw, all of a sudden, a great towering landscape of a majescic city, the streets carved all of silver and of rose; and concrete and steel, exhaust and oil slick made onyx and diamond and smoky quartz jewlelry about the neck of a grande old duchess; the automobiles roaring draconian over paving stones wet with the wash of heaven's tears.

"And she-" He caught his breath as the vision faded, and it was just two little pnincesses on the rugs with their books once more, "She has the gifl of illusions. So her name shall be Fatima." And lo! that girl was Named also, and the King grinned most broadly, for at that moment, there was a knock at the castle door.

Hmph, that will be the winged wench's nasty little boggart. he thought to himself, with malicious glee and a pain in his head. The little girls, sensing that something had occurred and hearing the knock, blinked both at him. He smiled back.

"Well now Carmina Rose, Fatima Rose, I suppose that it's terribly rude to keep the Emissary of the Faerie Queen waiting like that on the doorstoop, isn't it?" But he didn't move a muscle, just smiled down at the litle girls, who looked from one to the other.

"So we're named now then?" Said Carmina Haunted-Rose, "So which of us is which?"

And her father opened his mouth, but, distracted by yet another loud banging on the downstairs door, he merely ponted at her and said, "Carmina Rose," and at the other and said, "Fatima Rose," And then tromped down the stairs to answer the banging, with the new-named princesses trailing happily in his wake.

The Boggart on the other side of the door was a fop of furry green, and he bowed very low to November's king when that monarch opened the door, murmuring in his most obsiquient Boggart voice, "My Lord, The Most Excellent Queen Titani of Faerie hath..."

"We don't want any." Snapped the King of November blithely, slamming the door in the most affronted face of the Queen's Emmissary!

"And I am NOT a Lord!!!"

Stumbling away from the castle door, the poor Boggart was dreadfully confused and upset. He'd been harried by rooks, hunted by wolves, and similarily put upon the whole way here. And really, he was quite unable to think why-EVer AN-yone wouldn't leap for joy at a gift from the Faerie Queene, particularily such nice gifts as a couple of pretty girls' names as Carmina and Fatima Morgana.