Disclaimer: "Howl's Moving Castle" belongs to Diana Wynne Jones, the original writer. This is based on her original novel, not the movie by Studio Ghibli.

In Which They Discuss Last Names

Y. Kajitaka

Sophie was honestly rather confused about it. The matter of last names was something that they would have to discuss sooner or later, simply because one cannot even sign a marriage certificate without filling it out. Howl was full-aware that she refused to simply live in his home like a mistress on call, and had, in his roundabout sort of way, agreed to marry her. However, as she stared blankly at the sheet of paper that had to be filed with the justice of the peace, she had no earthly idea what to write down for her bridegroom's name.

It could be any one of his innumerable aliases, really. Arthur Pendragon, Howell Jenkins-should she choose her favorite? Was there a personality for each name to take into consideration? Would she simply have to file a certificate for all of Howl's names, and keep up with all his aliases as her own?

She despaired the thought. Rather, she would take a witchy name for herself and become attached to the other end of "Horrible Howl" before she would do so.

From where she sat before the hearth, she cast a glance back over her shoulder at Howl as he tinkered with a spell at the table, his platinum-blonde tinted locks pulled messily up into a ruffled bun (she supposed he must be very devoted to that project if he allowed his appearance to suffer thus). Really, such a troublesome man; why she loved him only God knew. He was a slitherer-outer by nature, and as sure as she was born a Hatter he would never, never be pinned down to anything, not even his own name. It was a wonder he'd ever admitted to loving her. She could've sworn that he would've denied it even out of pride if he had to.

If he had though, she wouldn't be in this predicament, blasted man. Mrs. Pentstemmon really had been too soft on him, hadn't she? Sophie could see herself becoming the same way, since despite all her bluster she was in love with him and was marrying him and almost hoped to imitate Martha and her dream for ten children (almost, but not quite). Was this the result of being the eldest of three also? This business of marrying a man she knew was unfit for matrimony and… oh well, now that she thought about it the only way to get him to do something was to let him think he wasn't doing it.

She had certainly made him think he wasn't wooing her, hadn't she? Would that count as enough explanation?

If there had been a table in front of her, Sophie would have most certainly let her head smack down on it. Her thoughts were entirely too muddled, and she wasn't sure what to do anymore.

"Sophie, you are acting much too dreary for this lovely day. What troubles you?" Howl suddenly leaned over her, spring-green eyes peering at her with the same bright curiosity as a child. He left his hair in the bun, which convinced her that he really had meant his little proclamation of living their own manner of happily ever after. Heavens, she had to be the only woman alive to feel so proud of herself when her man was unkempt.

"As usual, Howl, you are the most troublesome thing alive. Much like you used to say to me, you great nuisance."

"Ah, but turnabout is fair play, Sophie dear! Whatever have I done this time?"

He asked for it, so the young woman thrust the paper up in his face. "It's your job to fill this out in the first place. Please do so and lessen the headache. While you're at it, tell me what name I'm to be married under so I can at least introduce myself properly."

Howl blinked at the parchment in his bride's nimble little fingers, nearly going cross-eyed as he attempted to focus on the gold seal in front of his nose.

"My name? Is that what you've been worrying over?"

"Rather wondering if I should even bother to ask you about yourself, since you'll likely just slither your way out of answering again," she huffed, pulling her mass of strawberry-blonde hair over a shoulder and setting to plait it out of frustration. He still called her Mrs. Nose on occasion. Maybe she should put that on their marriage certificate.

Mr. and Mrs. Nose. Why not? She could hold it over him for the rest of their days with a great deal of satisfaction.

Howl chuckled behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and putting a stop to her irritated weaving. "My darling, darling woman, I will answer anything you ask. You shall be properly married to me under my real name, as I'm sure you desire. However much I prefer my fancy names, I'll be no less proud to call you by the one I was born with. What do you think of that, Mrs. Howell Jenkins?"

He leaned over and whispered that title in her ear, and Sophie would swear up and down if she were ever asked that no, that did not sent a thrill of pleasure rocketing down her spine. She would never admit it. Not ever.

Probably not even to Howl, though she was sure he already knew and would exploit it at a later time frame (preferably while Michael was sure to be out and busy romancing Martha for a very long time).

AN: So this is based on the novel, not the movie. That's why it's "Michael" instead of "Markyl" or however they translated his name, and Lettie and Martha are Sophie's younger sisters, etc. Don't complain that it's wrong if you're going by the movie. Anyway, this was just an experimental fun thing to toss out there since I haven't written much lately. I'm cleaning up the chapter fics on my other account, 20FacesChizu, so if you've been wondering about me, that's where I am. Hope ya'll liked it~