Her Majesty The Prince XXI (Patreon)

Hearty shouts alongside the rhythmic sounds of battle drills filtered down from above through the windows, heralding the start of the day better than any rooster could in these parts.

Lou slowly opened her eyes in the muted morning light, nestled in her cocoon of warmth, rocked by the steady heartbeat pressed against her ear. She took one long breath, holding it there before exhaling shakily. While her body was well-rested, her head throbbed with a kind of exhaustion she wasn't quite sure how to relieve. But it was time to get up.

As difficult as that was right now, firmly wrapped in Chiffon's arms, her head tucked under the taller maid's chin.

"You fell asleep in my bed again," Chiffon whispered with an audible smile, giving Lou a gentle squeeze. "You were having a really hard time last night. Are you doing better now?"

Lou nodded, not lifting her head quite yet, more out of embarrassment than anything else. A quick glance told her Sleeves and Dusty were still thankfully in their bunks above. With any luck, they didn't know she hadn't gone back to her bed.

She had been doing so well for so long. She'd found a routine that worked, she had tasks to complete every day, she wasn't alone... but ever since that shift a week ago—the first time she'd seen the Prince's chambers from her new perspective—she'd gone to pieces. This was what, the fourth or fifth night in a row she'd been so utterly inconsolable that Chiffon had had to comfort her? And once again she hadn't been able to muster up enough strength to leave her colleague's bunk without immediately breaking down.

"Are you sure?" Chiffon quietly asked. She'd learned over the months to tell the difference when Lou was answering out of politeness rather than with what was truly on her mind.

"Mm." Lou took another deep breath, tentatively flexing her muscles, willing her body to get up and get dressed and get to work. She had a job to do, after all. This was her life now.

She exhaled in short, stuttered bursts. No, this wasn't the time for more emotions; work came first. Soon the maids would get their assignments for the day, and she'd find out whether she was needed in the kitchen, or the halls, or outside. Or maybe, perhaps, in his room.

No, she repeated to herself. She'd already been there once. She'd already seen him, with her own eyes. He was safe. She'd gotten what she wanted. He was safe, and he was doing fine, and he didn't...

She closed her small hands into fists, holding them close to her chest, curling up a little bit more in Chiffon's arms. Squinting her eyes as shut as they could go.

He didn't need her anymore.

And that was okay. What more could she have asked for? What else was there to aspire to? The person she'd sworn to protect was more protected than ever before. He was in the best body she had been able to grant him. There were no more weaknesses to worry about, no more problems caused by the gap between the needs of the protected and the body of the protector. Now they were one and the same. She'd given him everything: her strength, her agility, her resilience. Her muscles, unstoppable and untiring. Her senses, honed to perfection. Her skin, tough as steel; her stomach, strong as iron. Her voice. Her lungs. Her heart.

It took Chiffon rubbing her back and humming that gentle tune of hers to make Lou realize she was crying. She hadn't even felt the tears begin to flow and she was now long past the point of stopping them.

That's fine, she thought to herself. Let the tears come, and go, and never come back. She had a job to do. She had mouths to feed and floors to clean and, if she was lucky and worked hard, maybe she'd get to see him again. But not to learn anything this time, just to see him. Just to once again be the closest she could be now, a pebble in the orbit of his star. And that was okay. That's all she needed. That's all she'd asked for.

"You know you can ask for help, right Glasses?" Chiffon gave her one last squeeze as Lou dried her eyes, her breathing finally calmer. "I'm here. If you ever want to let me know what's bothering you, I'll listen."

Part of Lou wanted to. But she couldn't. She had taken the secrets that weighed on her and made them into the walls holding up much of her life. She couldn't risk all of it crashing down around her. A small piece of what she held dear was left, and she would cling to it above all else.

She nodded to Chiffon. Then she retreated from the comfort of the covers and got to her feet. After all, she had a job to do.

Today, roll call placed her in the kitchen.

But no sooner had she made it to the cavernous den of pots and pans and roaring fires than she found the head chef sending people back out.

"If this place was halfway decent, you'd have enough carts! The plates are ready, they're going out. By hand if necessary." Cleaver's roars dominated the air, drowning out the noises of the kitchen. "Glasses! You'll do," the elder roared as he pointed with the flat knife in his hand. "Go with Ribbon. Breakfast service." And that was that. Someone handed her the second of a pair of platters covered in metal cloches, and before she could even open her mouth, let alone ask a question, she was following her colleague down one of the side corridors.

"What, uh," she asked as she tried to keep up with Ribbon, "where are we going?"

"Breakfast service," the senior maid answered tersely before turning a corner and stopping in her tracks.

Lou barely had the wherewithal to slow down in time to avoid bumping into her and ruining whoever's meal she was delivering. She peeked around the stone wall, trying to see what the holdup was, but only got a glimpse of workers and tarps and wood before Ribbon stepped around her to go back the way they'd both came.

"C'mon, we'll go outside," she grumbled as she led the way down a different passage. "They need to tell us these things if they expect us to do our damned work on time!"

Lou followed silently, going through the routes in her head. There would be a quicker way to get to the other end of this corridor, but they'd need to go through a shortcut she wasn't sure the maids were allowed to know. Better to keep it to herself. Better to not make waves. Besides, she still didn't know where they were going, exactly. Maybe her input would be of no help at all.

Before she knew it, she'd already lost track of Ribbon. Cursing her daydreaming, Lou rushed down the hall and stepped outside onto the castle grounds, where royal guard trainees were still going through combat drills. She spotted her colleague heading back inside, her namesake hair accessory a colorful beacon across the open grass and well-worn dirt paths. Lou redoubled her grip on the meal platter and made a beeline for the door, going behind the line of rugs being hung up for dusting. If Ribbon was headed in that direction, then the possible list of people getting breakfast personally delivered narrowed down to—

"Aaand hup!"

Lou had gone three steps before realizing the platter in her hands was missing its cloche. She stopped abruptly, turning around to see where it had gone... and finding it in the hand of a member of the royal guard. One of a pair, the shortest of the two; both of them sweat-soaked and grinning, taking a breather between drills.

"Perfect timing," the taller guard said, leaning over to look at the contents of the plate. "Breakfast for the hungry defenders of the crown?"

"Ooh, croque madame, golden bread and macarons?" the shorter guard said with an appreciating nod, waving the cloche around like an oversized wine glass. "How decadent!"

Lou froze in place. She could've yelled at them, protested, called their superior over, or even kept on going without the cloche, but her capacity to make that decision went out the window as soon as she realized whose meal she was carrying. She and Ribbon were headed for the royal chambers. This was his breakfast. And it was going to get cold.

She shot hurried glances around her. Ribbon was long gone. The rest of the guards were in the middle of sparring exercises. It was just her, these two, and the rugs. She stepped back, turning her body away to shield the platter in her hands as the shorter of the two guardsmen approached, his teeth practically sparkling in the morning sun.

"Aw, no sympathy for the starving stalwart few? You wound us, milady."

Lou froze in place. She didn't know what to do. So many potential solutions rushed into her mind and they were all bad. There was no clear way out. Her hands were tied and her feet were leaden; all she had left were words. Her weakest weapon, the one she'd spent nearly no time training. A fitting way for this to end, then. Not even in a way that was deadly or tragic, but simply... pathetic.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything.

"Whadda ya think you're DOING?!" WHAP!

Both guards jumped in surprise as the carpet beater slapped against the nearby rug. Dusty stepped in between Lou and the men, still carrying a rolled-up slab of fabric on her shoulder.

"You oughta be ashamed of yourselves! Is that what they're training you for nowadays? Picking on people just trying to do their job?"

"Hey, we're doing our job too!" the taller guard replied.

"That's right!" the shorter guard said, turning his attention to Dusty. "They train wolves here, madam, to keep you little lambs safe and sound. Best leave us to our downtime, lest you draw out our feral side." He grinned.

Dusty laughed.

And she kept laughing as she leaned to the side and flexed her arm and threw the rolled-up rug with as much force as she could muster right into the taller guard, sending him stumbling back with an "OOF!" as he attempted to regain his balance. She stuck her carpet beater into the ground like a flagpole, freeing up both hands so she could crack her knuckles.

The shorter guard's grin faltered slightly as Dusty's uncannily pointed teeth gave his a run for their money.

"Careful," the taller guard croaked out as he caught his breath, "she bites."

"Oh I do more than bite," Dusty said as she took a decisive step forward, meeting the guard face to face with a wild-eyed look. "There's a whole wide world of pain out there. Think you can last long enough to see it, wolf boy?"

Whatever fight was left in the two guards fell to the ground like a rolled-up rug. The shorter guard handed back the cloche with an uncomfortable look on his face. "We were just messing around, jeez." They walked off to rejoin the others, their metaphorical tails between their legs.

"Hah. More like a couple of puppies." Dusty dug her nice handkerchief out of her apron pocket and made sure to give the metal cloche a quick wipe before putting it back on Lou's platter. "Here you go. Everything okay there, Glasses?"

It took a second for Lou to snap out of it, but it would take longer for her heartrate to go back down. She nodded, slowly easing herself out of whatever mindset she had been stuck in since the altercation began. She wasn't fighting for her life. She wasn't in danger. She just had a job to do, nothing more.

"Mm," she said, eyes downcast.

"Good!" She gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Sorry you got hassled like that. The big guy may be gone but his name still brings in a bunch of folks a little too big for their britches. They'll fall in line soon enough."

Dusty walked over to retrieve the rug and her carpet beater, shaking her head. "At least he dropped it on the grass." She turned around. "Oh hey, don't let me keep you, alright? See you at dinner!"

Lou gave her fellow maid a quick nod, then hurried along. With any luck, she'd be able to catch up to Ribbon somewhere along the way. But while her feet carried her forward, her mind was still back on the castle grounds.

She knew her current body was smaller, shorter, weaker; of course it was. She hadn't trained it for her purposes. She had merely become its steward, maintaining it as best she could in the state it had been granted to her. And there was much it was capable of, to be certain.

But none of it would have won her the fight.

She could have taken the two men down, without question. In the heat of the moment, her mind had been filled with countless ways to dispatch one, then the other; all the improvised weapons at her disposal, from the exposed cutlery on her platter to the dagger sheathed in the shorter man's boot that he had somehow snuck past inspection, a status symbol among the more reckless. She could have wounded them, if she wanted to. She could have killed them, if she had to.

If it had come to blows, she would have gotten hurt. But she would have hurt them more.

And she would still have lost all the same, in the end.

There was no victory in death. She understood that now, just like she had so many nights ago in that dimly-lit passage. But much to her chagrin, death was all that she could think about. It was easy to take a life, but it was so much harder to preserve one, or to convince a life to preserve itself. In this moment, as she scrambled up a side stairwell, it was what she missed about her old body more than anything: the peace that came with the terrifying knowledge it instilled in others. The unavoidable warning—even if some had chosen not to heed it—that a challenge would be met with defeat.

Dusty understood that. She could stand up for herself, for others, make them feel safe. She was strong in all the right ways, all the ways Lou couldn't be right now. She wondered if she ever would again.

She was shaking, out of breath, when she finally caught up to Ribbon a step away from the Prince's chamber doors. The senior maid gave Lou a glance and a nod, then signaled to the guards posted at the entrance to let them in.

"...course, I'll make sure the Guild understands the ramifications," said Frederic as he opened the door a crack, letting a bit of sunlight out into the hallway. He looked through the gap; all Lou could see of him was an eye, a scar, and his salt-and-pepper hair. "Ah. Your meal has arrived, Your..."

He glanced at Lou.

"...Majesty. Shall I?"

"Of course, of course," came the familiar voice from the back of the room. "Come on in, we'll carry on over breakfast."

The words sent shivers down her spine. Lou looked down at the platter in her hands, her eyes falling on the distorted reflection in the metal cloche. She was here again. She'd get to see him once more. Her disguise was still in place; all she had to do was maintain it, and carry out the task before her. She could focus on that for now.

Frederic opened the door the rest of the way, ushering the maids inside with their platters. "Hold on, two? This is unusual. Let me see that," he said, reaching for Lou's cloche with a gloved hand.

"No, no, that's correct," said the Prince before Frederic could lift it. "I told Cleaver to try two variants this time. We're very close. I think today's the day." He sat up further, rubbing his hands together.

He was sitting up in bed, covers up to his waist, with a loose shirt buttoned up just barely enough to count as being worn. His hair tousled but his eyes sharp—already working despite the early hour, judging from the opened letters scattered around him. He rolled one sleeve up to just below the elbow, then the other, his thin smile spreading into the barest hint of a grin as he spotted the two maids approaching with their meal platters. With the canopy fully drawn open on all sides, the sunlight embraced him, making him a shining beacon.

“Here, here, put them down on this side, next to each other.” He picked up a discarded letter from the bed to clear the way, letting the unfolded piece of paper dangle from his fingers as he leaned against the ornate headboard, looking on with playful anticipation as the maids approached.

Ribbon put her platter down with hurried precision that could only come from experience. In a fluid series of motions she unwrapped the utensils and folded the napkin back into a pleasing shape and by that point Lou realized she needed to do this as well. She scrambled to put her platter down and mimic Ribbon's motions. She'd done food service a few times, but only for castle residents who needed much less decorum and about five fewer utensils. Still, she managed to get everything done by the time she saw, out of the corner of her eye, her senior lift the metal cloche from her plate.

Lou quickly did the same, the platter in front of her occupying the entirety of her attention. She ran through the rest of the list in her mind as fast as she could. Glass of juice, check. Decanter of syrup, check. Plate... ah! Lou turned it around so the golden bread was front and center. Plate facing the right way, check. She backed up and bowed, a bundle of nerves.

The Prince looked at the meals in front of him, his attention focusing on Ribbon's platter. He reached out with his free hand to grab a fork, catching the edge of the plate with his pinky finger on the way back; rotating it so it faced the same way Lou's plate did. "My favorite breakfast," he said, turning his gaze back toward the maids.

By that point, Lou's eyes were firmly on the ground in front of her. She wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"You know me so well," the Prince added, digging in to one plate, then the other.

Frederic cleared his throat. "Will you be needing anything else from the—"

"That's it!" the Prince said with so much enthusiasm that Lou dared a peek. He quickly scarfed down the rest of the egg-soaked, pan-fried slice of bread, tapping the fork against the plate as he chewed, his eyes searching past the ceiling for some distant memory.

He nodded triumphantly, stabbing the fork through the croque madame sandwich with almost enough force to crack the plate underneath. "That's it!" he repeated, pointing to the remaining slices of golden bread for emphasis. "This is the taste I remember! Tell Cleaver he's done it."

Frederic quietly reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a small notepad—at least, small for his hand—and scratched a few words into one of its pages with a graphite needle wrapped in string.

Before, the Prince's smile had looked coy, almost devious; but now, the expression on his face was nothing other than genuine joy. He picked up a knife and sliced off a corner of the thick toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich, making sure to get a good portion of the egg on top. It was gone in a single bite. Once again his eyes scoured the ceiling as he chewed. When the food in his mouth was gone, only a smile remained. "He's done it. The man's a genius, he's done it."

The Prince flicked one of the macarons into the air, catching it in his mouth. He rubbed his hands together in barely-contained glee. "I've missed this!" His eyes drifted to the maids once more; Lou's gaze, which had gravitated to his show of revelry, fled to a spot in front of her feet again as if by reflex. "How I've missed this," he repeated.

Lou didn't know how to feel. Should she be holding back a smile? Tears? Something was bubbling up inside and she couldn't tell what. Her heart, however, had no such dilemma, beating rapidly within her chest regardless. The Prince was happy. He was happy in a way she hadn't seen in a long while. She could be happy too, she reasoned. She could bask in his glow, in his warmth, and tuck this feeling away for later. Keep it safely preserved, for when she would be alone again.

By the time she dared to look back up, the Prince was done eating. The plate she'd brought had been picked clean, whereas Ribbon's was still for the most part pristine.

"This calls for a celebration," he said, all smiles. He slid the empty plate and platter aside and motioned to the other. "Here, here! You can have this one. It's not perfect, but oh, it came close."

The twisting feeling inside her chest came back so fast and fiercely that Lou was just barely able to maintain her composure. She balled up her hands into fists, her eyes staring at the plate that had been offered. She knew it wasn't proper. She knew her role was to politely decline. And yet...

Frederic cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, I do believe the castle staff have a busy day ahead of them."

"It's fine!" the Prince replied, "what's a few minutes? You can make room on the table there." There was a pause. "It'll be like old times."

She could reminisce tonight, Lou told herself, attempting to bargain with the unbearable feeling wreaking havoc within her ribcage. She could think back on those years of mundane meals shared in passing and cry as much as she wanted, as long as it was in her bed. She could see her knuckles turning white, pressed against her legs, from her slightly bowed position. It was taking all of her to remain standing, to stay in the moment, so painful was the act of looking back.

She couldn't clearly remember the last meal they'd had together.

It was hurried, the morning of the coronation, a corner-of-the-kitchen affair. Put together on the go and quickly forgotten. Right now, she would have given up so much of herself just to go back there one more time. Even if only in spirit.

She never imagined it would be the little moments she missed the most. But she should be thankful, shouldn't she? There weren't completely lost. They were simply here in another form, and she could still have them; as often as he wanted.

It was Ribbon who broke the silence. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, we have already eaten." She bowed low; this time, Lou had the presence of mind to imitate the gesture.

The Prince looked at them both. Then he clicked his tongue. "Ah, well. I suppose that's fair enough. You can have this then, Frederic. Enjoy one of the finest breakfasts the city has to offer. Your colleagues won't mind, I imagine?"

"The lieutenants will survive another meal without me," Frederic said as he picked up the plate from Ribbon's platter, as well as one of the sets of utensils, then walked over to the Prince's desk to find an open spot to place it down. "Who knows what might happen if I left Your Majesty undefended?"

The Prince laughed. "I told you again and again, I'm quite capable of handling mysel—" He paused abruptly, a frown appearing on his face. "That's not what you meant."

"Wasn't it?" Frederic asked innocently, adjusting his gloves.

"You don't trust me."

"I do not trust you with guests, Your Majesty." Frederic returned his hands to just behind his back, standing at attention. "You have a history."

The Prince scoffed. "I've been nothing but a gentleman."

There was a pause.

"I stand by my words, Your Majesty."

"And I stand by mine," he replied. "I'll prove it to you! You have my word—I will be on my best behavior around guests."

His captain of the guard gave him a long look. "I will hold you to that, Your Majesty."

"You are welcome to, Frederic." The Prince snapped his fingers and reached for the side of the bed facing away from the other three present in the room. "In fact, I'll start right now. Let me just get dressed and—"

"Ahem."

The covers atop the bed billowed upward for one second before the Prince brought them back down. He turned his head slightly; his eyes and Frederic's met. "...But where are my manners." He glanced at the maids, making a twirling motion with his finger. "Turn around for a moment, won't you?"

The two of them did as requested, turning to face the wall. Lou had seen the Prince's desk countless times; today, like every other day, it was nearly buried in half-completed paperwork and letters both open and not. The wall above it had always been full of assorted baubles and tapestries, but there had been a series of additions to it following the coronation. Among the shelves and podiums were objects she had never seen before last week's cleaning session, when she and Ribbon had become fairly familiar with them. Though they knew less about their history than the type of tool that was most effective at removing dust from their nooks and crannies.

Ribbon coughed. Lou could tell she was beginning to feel antsy. The two of them hadn't worked together all that much, but she knew just how much of a stickler the senior maid was. It seemed like her mind was elsewhere; probably visualizing the next tasks on her list, Lou figured. Frederic, meanwhile, was idly flipping through the pages of his notepad, crossing out the occasional line or two.

Lou returned her attention to the trophies in front of her. While most were certainly meant to be unforgettable—the sculpture of a swarm of hands forming the number 6, the golden cup shaped like a heart, the fish scale as big as a shield that glimmered blue and yellow whenever light hit it directly—there was one that stood out even among the rest: a woven web of crystals and blue thread forming intricate shapes. And at its center, hanging freely, a vial of murky-grey liquid.

She remembered every inch of it from up close, having given it a thorough cleaning the week before. Each individual crystal had been so caked with dust that Ribbon had gotten done with most of the other trophies in the time it had taken Lou to finish this one alone. But now that she had the time to look at it from this angle, she was able to take in all the intricate patterns the threads formed.

"Quite something, isn't it?" the Prince asked as he walked up to it, having found pants with which to complete his outfit. For once, Lou didn't have to evade his eyes, as hers were still on the art piece, or trophy, or whatever the proper name for such a fascinating object was.

"His Majesty is very proud of his coronation gifts," Frederic said, in the same way a parent would say it—though whether the tone fell on the doting or embarrassed side was up for debate.

The Prince smirked triumphantly. "Ah, but this has been in the family for generations. We dug it out after the coronation, yes, but it wasn't a gift like the others. You ought to remember, you insisted on cataloguing every single one before they were moved up here." He walked over to the sculpture of intertwined hands. "Even lugged this one in yourself."

Frederic let out a long sigh, as if reminded of a painful memory. "Ah yes, a lovely addition to your daily scenery, courtesy of the Hundred-Handed."

"Hungry-Handed," the Prince corrected. "It's a..." he said, snapping his fingers repeatedly in search of the right term, "a blood magic thing. Family tradition over there in the Reaches. That 'Hundred-Handed' title is his own propaganda. He's trying to rehabilitate his image. Besides, he's kidding himself if he thinks he can manage more than four at a time. Six, at most." He turned to the maids. "You remember the regional lords, yes?"

Lou looked down again, clenching her jaw shut. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to answer him so badly, just like she used to. They'd had so many little exchanges just like this one; it was part of their routine. He would go on and on in rapid-fire sentences about countless people and places and things and she would let it all wash over her like a soothing waterfall of words. Offer her input now and then, ask the question the Prince wanted to hear, say a little comment to prod his train of thought along. It was less about the words, and more about the joy that saying them brought him.

Something was bubbling up inside again. She swallowed, trying to keep the feelings down, whatever they were. That was then, and this was now. She had a job to do, and a promise to keep. She had to remain quiet, and let these moments be memories.

But once again, the past was hard to leave behind.

Thankfully, it was Ribbon who answered. "We did welcome the dozen or so of them here in the castle before the coronation, Your Majesty. I believe his lordship was one of those I saw to personally."

Lou had always left politics to the Prince. The longer she tried to weather the interminable conversations with visiting dignitaries, the more she wanted to put her hand through a table. Too many dishonest smiles for her tastes. Too many lies. Too many people doing their best to hide the real danger they posed. That part, Lou could understand. It's why she was his bodyguard, and not any kind of political advisor.

It's why she had been his bodyguard, she corrected herself.

"Must have been quite the experience," the Prince said with a nod. "Monster of a man. Well, less so now, I suppose. People aren't quite as intimidating when you're tall enough to look them in the eyes."

Or when you cut them down to size, Lou almost said, the words coming to the forefront of her mind unprompted. It had become second nature, just like so many other habits they once shared. The way they cracked jokes to break up the monotony. The detours they took around the castle for fun, under the pretext of testing their maintenance. The way her eyes had learned to scout out the Prince's favorites on the menus of restaurants their diplomatic trips took them to.

The way Lou would step in to make up for any shortcoming the situation imposed upon the Prince. Not many of those left, now.

But that was okay. He could have this too; her height, her stature. His job was only made easier by being able to see his opponents face to face. He no longer needed her shoulders to perch upon. She tensed the muscles in her upper arms, as if trying to flex a muscle she no longer had.

The Prince walked over to the web of crystals; ran his hand along the threads, gently cupped the vial at the center. "I dug this one out of the vault myself almost a year ago, right after the coronation, along with a pile of other witch paraphernalia. I remembered seeing it as a child, and wondered where it had gone to. The crown jewel—well, so to speak—of the truce following that big feud my ancestors had with the northern witches." He let go of the vial and tapped his finger on it. "It's even supposed to—"

TINGGGGgggg

The vial rang out with a tone, a note that rippled outward, harmonizing with the crystals vibrating along the rest of the web of threads. A tiny symphony that lasted only a moment, and then faded to silence.

The Prince stared at it for a long moment. "The Secantation," he finally said. "A sculpture of a magic circle that can break magic circles. A gift on the part of the witches, to show their good faith. What better way to honor a truce than to give the other party a way to stop you?" He looked at it again. "Then again, maybe it's just some muck in a bottle on a string. Hard to tell either way. But it does make a fascinating sound."

The Prince stepped back, pensively. "Ever heard anything like it?"

It took Lou every last bit of willpower to remain silent. She wanted to say yes, but she couldn't. She wanted to tell him about that morning out on the shores of the lake after days of rain suddenly froze over, covering the snow in a layer of ice, draping the trees in coats of crystal that sang in the wind, but she couldn't. Part of her wanted to nod, at the very least; but she knew she couldn't risk even that.

It was Frederic that broke the silence this time. "Your Majesty."

The Prince tuned to look at his captain of the guard, eyes alight with interest. "Yes, Frederic? I'm all ears."

"With all due respect... where is this going?"

The Prince blinked. He quirked a brow. "Where...?" he said, trailing off as he looked back at the sculpture of crystal and thread, then turned to Frederic again. His posture stiffened; his smile faded.

The twisting feeling deep inside Lou's chest returned, but lessened; dampened by a realization that made it easier to distance herself from the pain. She had forgotten herself again. Or rather, forgotten the other people in the room. She looked up at Frederic, standing at attention, shoulders straight. The man she'd chosen, long ago, to take care of the details she couldn't. The man who had stepped in to fill her role. How easy it had been to forget all of this in the heat of the moment, and only think of best moments handpicked from her past, discarding the rest.

They ran things differently now, she reminded herself. They had their own, more efficient methods. There was no room for little bits of meaningless fun in the margins. More accurately, there was no need for them. There was no need for her. And rightly so. She was the one who had selected him, trained him, for this specific eventuality.

This had been her idea.

"Of course," the Prince said, buttoning up the rest of his shirt. Gone was the playfulness from his voice. "I should get to the point."

Part of her couldn't help feeling that maybe this was for the best. She had gotten a second chance at seeing the Prince up close, in his room, the most intimate setting she could think of. Twice now she had experienced the proximity she had so adamantly craved for the past few months. She should be grateful she'd seen him at all, let alone gotten so close, considering what she'd bargained for. She should be grateful she'd been given this opportunity to discover just how much the small moments mattered to her.

Maybe next time, if there ever was one, she wouldn't let them slip through her fingers so easily.

"I'm simply staying true to my word," the Prince said as he walked over to the two maids.

"Are you now. Your Majesty."

"I told you I would be on my best behavior with guests. Now, Ribbon and..."

Lou felt his gaze on her; all heat and no warmth.

"...Glasses. You did the cleaning last week, didn't you? The coronation statues, art pieces and eyesores were in your care, and they're shining. The Secantation, holding a tone? Never thought I'd hear it. So, credit where credit is due." He put a hand on Ribbon's shoulder, and another on Lou's.

The touch sent a bolt of lightning down her spine, igniting a wildfire of emotions so intense she barely had the wherewithal to keep herself from buckling then and there.

"Admirable work, both of you. You have my thanks." He gave their shoulders a squeeze, and then stepped back.

Ribbon bowed and gave her thanks; Lou did her best to follow suit, in spite of how unsteady her legs had just gotten. She stood back up, eyes glued to the floor, mind spinning, heart racing like a—

"Very well," Frederic said with a hint of appreciation, taking out his notepad and flipping forward a few pages. "Will that be all, Your Majesty? We do have business to attend to."

The Prince shot the maids a sidelong glance, holding his attention there for a moment as if awaiting something more, but soon returned his attention to Frederic. "You're right. Back to work it is." He waved his hand, returning to his desk. "Dismissed. With my thanks."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Frederic turned to Ribbon and Lou. "Right this way," he said, leading them to the door he then opened with a gloved hand.

"Back to the Merchant's Guild," the Prince said over his shoulder, picking up a letter from his desk. "How do you reckon we should deal with them?"

Frederic looked back with his usual mask of unflinching, impassive decorum. "Normally. Your Majesty."

The sharp sigh of exasperation was audible even as the doors closed. "I'm so glad I keep you around, Frederic."

Lou had never seen Ribbon so glad to leave a room. Part of her was glad their shifts rarely intersected; no doubt whoever was paired with her next would have to work faster than they ever had to make up for the delays her schedule had just incurred. But, that's how it went sometimes. Lou had other things on her mind.

Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe this, too, had been 'making waves' and she should have devoted more effort to being unremarkable. But like it or not, she was here now.

She hoped sleep would come easier tonight. She hoped she wouldn't once again need the comfort of a kind soul just to make it to the next morning in one piece... Even if the idea somehow left Lou with a strange ache she couldn't quite place. But she could figure that part out later. She could figure everything out later.

Right now, what she needed to do was find a way to calm herself down, to ease her heart back down from the peak it had reached. Focus on work. Focus on her next shift. Focus on anything other than coming to the Prince's room again. Why would she even want to, anyway? All that was waiting for her here were aches and regrets. She'd felt them firsthand. Still, that didn't stop her eager heartbeat from egging her on. Maybe she would angle for another shift here. For a chance to see him again. Serve him his favorite food again.

Touch him again.

Just to get it out of her system. And then... and then...

Lou shook her head, trying to dismiss the heat rising to her face. She didn't have to think further ahead than that. These thoughts weren't serious, after all; she just needed something she could reach for when the intrusive thoughts came knocking. There was no need to read so much into it.