By the time the door to Whiskers and Wands finally opens, the young brunette has been standing in line for a couple of hours. She isn't bothered by this, really, because she's packed a huge bag of snacks to munch and keep her occupied—or, rather, she's brought a tiny pocket of holding filled to the brim with all sorts of baked goodies. One she needs to hide once it's time to enter the establishment.

Fondue, her rodent-shaped familiar, has been making the most of it, to the point his usually yellow-tinged cheeks are now the color of his fur. Chocolate covers his entire face. Vera looks down in dismay, before rushing to clean him up with a handkerchief, and then hurrying inside.

After all, this is the first book signing from her absolute favorite author that she gets to go to! Granted, some of Ahlf's more mature books were still too hard for her to understand, but Vera was in absolute love with the novels targeted to younger witches. They were on the shorter side, which meant she could read a good chunk of chapters at a time, and filled with such pretty metaphors, such pretty imagery.

Vera lets out a dreamy sigh, and it is only then that she notices she's up. It's her turn. She's in front of Ahlf herself and oh Merlin she was asking her a question she was too distracted to listen to, oh Merlin. She can feel a lock of brown hair fall from behind her ear, where it was safely tucked before, and she curses her decision to keep her hair down for the first time in her life. It was no coincidence that her father thought she was going on a date just before she left her house.

Calm down, Vee. She just asked for your name, helpfully calls her familiar. She makes a mental note of making him some coffee-flavored chocolate as thanks when they get home.

"Vera!" she exclaims, too nervous and too earnest not to actually scream it rather than state it. Deep breaths. The witch stops to catch her breath, as suggested by Fondue, and immediately she feels a lot better. She's not certain if the heat in her cheeks has receded, but at least she's not freaking out, which was already pretty good. "My name's Vera," she repeats, a lot more calmly and definitely not screaming.

"Sorry, I'm just—I've been your fan for so long, I can't believe you're actually right in front of me! I'm, like, on cloud nine as we speak. This is unbelievable."

Was this real life? Or was it just fantasy? Vera had to mentally ask her agouti familiar to pinch her cheeks, just to ensure that she was not dreaming. The sight would no doubt come as rather strange to anyone present, but the brunette witch cared very little at this point. In her mind, all that could register was: She knows my name. Oh for Merlin's Bear, Ahlf knows my name!

Any attempt at keeping her cool was left forgotten. Abandoned in the face of recognition. She couldn't believe that she'd reaf those fan letters, the ones she wrote ever since she remembered, unsure if they would ever actually reach the author but finding comfort in them. Was it all of them or just a few that Ahlf had read? Oh, even just a single letter made her happy for life. Frankly, some of them could get quite rambly, depending on her mood at the time of writing. And she liked her penmanship, she said? Oh Merlin, she really was on cloud nine. Beyond, probably.

"T-thank you!" she says, face rosy and warm, green eyes wide and twinkling. To Vera, this was the equivalent of meeting her idol for the first time. Even if it wasn't the first time. She didn't know that yet, though—didn't remember. "It would be lovely to meet you again, of course! I'll be sure to come to your next book signing, and every single book signing to come for every new book." Perhaps she was coming off as too earnest right about now, but it was now or never, and Vera wasn't very fond of never afters.

"I'm sure your handwriting is lovely, though!" Vera hadn't gotten around to actually watching her sign her book, distracted as she was by the author actually knowing her name—she was still shellshocked—and being able to pinpoint her from out of all the other fans. "It was really my nanny that taught me to write like that, though. She used to say my writing was the most horrendous thing before, that it looked like a troll had spit the piece of paper out after thinking it a foul, smelly, positively ugly thing."

She laughs fondly at the memory, the signed book hanging close to her heart. This was now the most precious book she owned—even more previous than the animated picture book she'd happened upon the other day while shopping with her new friend, Percy. "She was the best babysitter," she adds, her eyes soft and voice sweet and fond. As little more than an afterthought, comes a whispering, "I wonder what happened to her."

"I'm sure your nanny is proud of you. Thank you for your compliments, it's thanks to the support of my fans that I keep on writing."

Vera beams at her favorite author's words of thanks. "No, no, I should be thanking you, for bringing such beautiful works to us." The novels and poetry she wrote brought so many smiles to Vera's face when she read them, that knowing she was able to bring even a small ray of happiness back to her filled her with pride. It was just as unbelievable as the fact she was meeting her, after all these years of being a fan.

This happiness is short-lived, however.

It isn't long before Ahlf's face contorts into a wince, and Vera watches in deep worry for all three seconds that the wince lasts. Next, Ahlf's cryptic words have Vera tilting her head in sheer confusion. She supposes it's to be expected, really. Ahlf was able to write such complex paragraphs that Vera could not quite wrap her mind around, that she should have expected some of her speech to also be like that. This knowledge, though, it does little to calm the thoughts spinning in her mind.

"What do you mean?" she begins to ask, but is soon interrupted with another question. Ahlf's voice is soft, the question faint when they reach her ears, but their meaning is unmistakable. How long since you've last seen each other? repeats her familiar, as confused as she is. It couldn't be possible for someone as famous as Ahlf to personally know her. It really wasn't possible for her to know Vera; she would remember.

It occurs to Vera, then, that authors used pen names exclusively for publishing purposes, which would explain why she couldn't recognize her name. Well, that's not entirely accurate. The thought actually occurs to Fondue, who is happy to share it with Vera across that convenient mental link of theirs. It also occurs to her (to Fondue, really) that she (he) vaguely recalls that terrible fashion sense.

The brunette hadn't noticed this before, in her fangirling frenzy, but a plain white shirt and old whitewashed jeans weren't a particularly glamorous outfit.

Ahlf is looking down, her black hair falling over her eyes, shielding her from Vera's questioning look. Was she really going to be this way, after the big revelation? Frowning, the younger witch plants both of her palms on the table separating them, and leans over it. She doesn't even try to moderate her voice when she finally declares, rather loudly, "My Prince?!"

Silence.

Not a single soul dares speak up for a good minute, making the scenario all the more awkward. For Alric, surely, because Vera couldn't care less about all the other people surrounding her. It was her. Her prince. She'd grown even taller than she already was when she used to babysit her, but her hair was as messy as ever, and her wardrobe as lazy as ever, and it was her.

"It is you, then?" she asks, in response to Ahlf's—no, Alric's—complaint.

She can't believe this. This was like something taken straight out of a romance novel. The kind Ahlf sometimes wrote about. Oh, she thinks. Is that it? Is this part of a promo for her latest book? Maybe, but no. This woman is Alric, her old babysitter. Her prince. Vera was too small back then to remember Alric's last name, or really much besides the fact that she was her prince, but she's certain this is no prank, no promo. She's real.

She really isn't happy about meeting Vera again, after all these years.

The brunette wants to cry. She's about to cry. She can feel the beginning of tears pooling around her eyes, just as real as Alric's hands on her own, and Oh, Alric doesn't hate her, after all. She wants to meet her again, later. Or now. Now would be good, but... A quick glance towards the queue still waiting to have their own copies of Ahlf's book signed makes her think twice.

"Perhaps later, yes," she mumbles. Vera really wants to stay, to sit next to Alric and talk to her and ask about everything that'd happened in those last years apart, but she's also aware that the author has more responsibilities now. She's not Vera's babysitter anymore, but a proper published author, and Vera doesn't get to monopolize her. Not anymore.

It makes her sad, a little. She's willing to compromise, though. "I can wait for you. Um. I'll just be outside, get some air maybe," she proposes. With the whirlwind of emotions and blood rushing to her face that these last minutes were, Vera kind of needed some fresh air.

"Oh! Anne-Marie!" she exclaims then, noticing the civet at last. "Can I take Anne-Marie?" Vera's smiling at her, and even Fondue's excited at the prospect of spending time with Alric's familiar after so long. "As guarantee, you know, that you won't sneak away without me."

The beginning of a pout tries to form on her lips, but they don't even get any screen time, with how Alric's already ushering her outside. She makes a disagreeable humming noise to express her complaint, though she ends up obediently walking out the door nonetheless. If Alric thought she'd already caused enough trouble, Vera wasn't about to go against her wishes and cause her even more. This didn't, however, mean that she agreed with the author's view that Vera was actually causing trouble in the first place. "I didn't even do anything!" she huffs, once her face has gotten exposure to the chilly winds and warm sun rays of a normal summer in Sundial.

"Don't you agree, Anne-Marie?" she adds, turning to the civet that had happily left the establishment alongside Fondue and herself. The sight of the two familiars playing together after so many years of staying apart brings a smile to her face. She can't stay frowning for long when she has an adorable Anne-Marie just in front of her.

"Oh, Fondue, stop monopolizing Anne-Marie! I want to play with her too," complains the witch.

Make me! answers the agouti.

Vera folds her skirt and crouches down next to them, ignoring her own familiar's last comment. "It's so good to see you again, Anne-Marie," she smiles, reaching a hand out to pet her. "At least you are happy to see me, unlike certain others I will refrain from mentioning." The pout from before can be heard in this sentence, even if it doesn't show all the way in her expression.

"Say, aren't you guys hungry? I could definitely go for a snack just about now. We can go grab something to eat while waiting for Alric, what do you say?" She looks back at the shop over her shoulder. "The queue is still so long, we probably have a lot of time to kill."

Vera's offer comes spontaneously. She hasn't brought any of her own baked goodies this time, not even considering she'd need them for this book signing, which means they'd have to stop at one of the small cafés around the place for something to eat. Vera would have certainly preferred to let Anne-Marie, and maybe Alric if she apologized and looked like she meant it, get a taste of her food, much better now than it used to be when she was eight and tried her hand at baking without much success. She still had Alric and the rest of the mansion's staff try them for her, and it wasn't until years later that she realized what a bad decision that'd been.

Now, she was quite proud of what she could do in the kitchen, but she hadn't even brought proof of it.