Her Majesty The Prince

"...And then we worked everything out. When Lady Katerinannora comes back next month you'll be able to pick up right where you left off. I'll take care of the rest."

The Prince listened silently. He'd been slowly making his way forward, from his bed to his desk, the entire time Lou had been retelling the events of the night before. With the speed at which he'd been dragging his feet forward, the stone floor of his chambers may as well have been made out of mud. But just as Lou's story ended, so too did the Prince's journey; he finally let his full weight come crashing down onto the chair, one arm resting on the paper-strewn surface of the desk, the other hooked around the backrest.

She looked at him expectantly, a faint smile on her lips as he raised his head to make eye contact.

"That was you," he said, dumbfounded.

"That was me," Lou replied.

"...You're saying it's not over?"

"Nothing's lost yet." Lou broke into a self-satisfied grin as she held the red dress up in front of her, looking at her reflection in the standing mirror. "Did you like my performance? You recognized me right at the end there, but I guess you were too drunk to remember."

The Prince shook his head, reaching up to rub his temples. "I don't get drunk."

She laughed. "You absolutely did! I'm impressed. But to be fair, you had a lot of wine."

WHAM!

Lou stopped. She looked over at the spot where the Prince had slammed his hand on the desk, the impact making a few loose sheets of paper take momentary flight. He was staring daggers at her through the meager gaps in his thick mass of dishevelled hair.

"I asked you," he said. "I asked you many times. I saw you drink with the lieutenants, year after year, outlasting every single one. You told me you never got drunk."

She looked at him as emotions swirled within her, each one fighting for dominance; in the end, concern won out. "I told you the truth," she answered, exhaling the breath she'd been holding in without realizing it. "I knew my limits. They were high, but they were there." She gave him a joyless smile. "I always made sure not to push that one, even when I wanted to. I had a job to do."

His demeanor softened; so did hers.

"Hm."

Lou folded the dress in her hands with great care, putting the garment down on the corner of the bed, near the serving tray. "Maybe it's a matter of drinking enough water?" she mused aloud as she picked up the carafe from the tray and brought it over to the desk. "That's one lesson my mother made sure I'd never forget," she added thoughtlessly before stopping in her tracks once again.

She turned her head to look at him, almost dreading the expression she expected to see on his face. But his mask had returned. His eyes—what could be seen of them through the curtains of unkempt hair—had been carefully stripped of emotion as he stared through the papers on his desk.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she said softly, a knot growing deep inside her chest. She gently put the carafe down on one of the last remaining free spots on the desk.

"It's alright, Loulou. It's no longer a sore topic," the Prince replied, picking up one paper seemingly at random from the pile. He covered his mouth with the back of his free hand, attempting to clear his throat but having little success. "I forget if we even discussed it. Did they brief you about it in the guard?"

"No, our village got the news. Back when it happened." Lou walked over to the chamber's entrance as if by instinct, picking up the pile of fresh letters that someone had left on the table while she had been off making breakfast.

"Is that right?" the Prince asked in a raspy monotone, searching around under the papers for his quill. "Word traveled far, even back then. Did the messengers truly bother going that far north? Or was it musicians, merchants, perhaps? What did they say?"

Lou paused in her approach, leafing through the letters in her hand, both out of curiosity and to give the Prince time to decide whether or not he truly wanted to hear her answer. Sometimes his questions were just for the air, and not for the ears. Especially when it came to this topic.

"I'm curious, Loulou," he added, pulling the quill out from under a half-written memo and dipping it in the inkwell.

"They said La Pieuvre did it," Lou answered, choosing her words carefully. "That her crew sank their ship."

The Prince let out a dry chuckle, not even looking up from the letter he was signing. He let the quill's tip rest where it lay at the end of his signature, watching the remaining ink flow and pool around it. "Legends never truly go away, do they? Larger than life, larger even than death."

Lou stood there patiently, letters neatly stacked and held at her waist, heart beating away in her chest.

"They never found the ones responsible," the Prince finally said. "I had plenty of time to look. Plenty of time to think, from this big empty room." He folded up the letter, the still-wet ink blotting into the paper. "I could have let it destroy me, but I didn't. I learned from it. I needed to become stronger, so I did. Strong enough to take the throne..."

He reached into his shirt and pulled out his signet ring, staring into the reflections in the metal as it slowly twirled on its thin golden chain.

"Strong enough to give it up."

His other hand grabbed for the sealing candle, knocking it over. He stared at it, finding it unlit.

"Right." He sighed, and searched for a match. But Lou was prepared: she held one out, having already retrieved it from the shelf. "Thank you," the Prince said with a nod as he struck the tip against his palm.

He looked at the budding flame on the candle, waiting for the wax to melt, impatiently tapping his hand against his thigh. "So what happened after that?"

Lou blinked, a little lost. "After...?"

"After you spoke to the witch-mother. After you stood up from..." His hand stopped tapping. He glanced down at his leg. "I made you sit on my lap."

"You made me sit on your lap," Lou repeated, turning away to look at something else in the room. She settled on a random shelf. "I just figured that was a thing you did, and went with it," she added softly, her voice as steady as she could make it. "You know, stay in character and all that."

There was no immediate reply. The Prince picked up the carafe, water audibly sloshing as he drank directly from it again. Lou's eyes searched for a clean mug, but there were none close by.

"So," he said, putting the carafe down. "After you stood up. You said you worked everything out. What happened then?"

Lou shrugged. "We talked. She told me what I needed to know, and we came to an agreement. Lady Katerinannora's intimidating, but she can also be pretty reasonable." She was glad to return to this topic, feeling the tension slowly leave the air as her self-assurance returned.

"What's the agreement? What did you need to know?" he asked, leaning forward on his chair, making the wood creak.

Lou crossed the remaining distance to the desk and quickly leafed through the letters she was holding, handing one over to the Prince. "Here. Virgule wrote up the terms. All that's left is your signature and your seal."

The Prince grunted as he unfolded the piece of paper, his eyes quickly scanning the meticulous writing. "This doesn't explain anything. What about my witches?"

"I don't think they'd like you calling them that," Lou said with an amused chuff. "Njalbrenna and Maruszabelle are still here, don't worry."

He let out a long breath, weight visibly lifting from his shoulders as he did so. More of the Prince—the real one, the one Lou knew—was emerging from under the neglect of the previous weeks. His finger tapped the paper in front of him, on the final sentence before the signature line. "So what about your negotiations? The thing tapping into the ritual, making my enemies stronger, eating my city?"

"I'll take care of it," Lou said with a dutiful smile as she tidied up the side of the desk. It was easy to settle back into this cozy routine, fleeting as it was.

"That's it? You'll take care of it, just like that?"

She nodded.

"How?"

Lou she deposited the rest of the morning's letters on the open spot she'd created. "I can't tell you."

The Prince frowned. "Come on, Loulou. Did she say what it is? Did she give you a way to deal with it?"

Lou took a deep breath, her smile enduring somehow in spite of how much she wanted to break her silence. How much she wanted to share everything, to prepare together, to tackle this head-on like a team, like before. But he wasn't ready. She knew it now, just like she knew it the night before when she bargained under the full moon. The witch-mother had known it too. "I can't tell you."

He stared at her, a look of dawning comprehension taking over. "Don't tell me you—"

"I swore an oath," Lou said, her tone having suddenly turned firm.

The Prince groaned loudly as he let out a long, frustrated breath. He gritted his teeth. "I really wish you hadn't done that."

Lou steeled herself as she shrugged her shoulders. "My lips are sealed." She reached across the desk to gently lift the burning candle from its base. "Now for your letters."

The Prince slid the first letter over, his fingers pressing down on the paper hard enough to make the desk tremble. Lou gently dipped the candle above the fold, just long enough for the dripping wax to bind the paper together. Wrapping his hand around the long golden chain that hung loosely from his neck, the Prince leaned forward and pressed his signet ring into the wax, cementing the seal. The two of them did the same with the second letter, the process going a little more smoothly as the royal temper subsided.

"I'm surprised you didn't have it resized," Lou said as the Prince tucked the ring back into his shirt.

"I keep forgetting to." He looked at his hand, turning it over; splaying his fingers apart, drumming them in the air. "But this works just as well. Besides, these hands feel nice this way, unburdened. Maybe I'm not one for rings after all."

"You are doing a lot of work to get rid of a single piece of jewelry," Lou joked as she slid over the next letter that required the Prince's seal.

He chuckled. "I won't miss the crown," he said as he tapped his finger over the form in his hands. He dipped his quill, then signed the page. "I won't miss the paperwork, either. The hands do feel nice, but they're completely different. Do you know I had to re-learn how to write? The muscle memory was completely off. Took me days. I barely slept."

Lou nodded, finding herself struggling to breathe for an instant as a powerful twisting sensation took control inside her chest, almost knocking the wind out of her. "I remember," she said quietly. "I read your letter."

He shook his head. "I had to become an expert at forging my own signature, can you imagine? The entire nation would have ground to a halt otherwise. My own fault for putting so many checks and balances into place."

"Mm."

"So tell me, Loulou, why are you still—"

"Your Majesty!" a voice interrupted as the chamber door flew open and one of the Prince's advisors barged in—the pompous one, much to Lou's displeasure. She reflexively retreated into the background with her hands at her waist and her eyes on the floor.

The man stomped his way to the center of the room, his robes fluttering in his wake. "Good, good, you're alone. The temples haven't bothered you yet, have they? I insist you look at my proposal to enjoin the mayor to take action against the rampant crimes committed in the mist! Surely doubling the guards and adding lights will... will, ah..." The advisor trailed off.

Lou felt the man's eyes on her. She glanced up, as if by instinct, and was proven right instantly. He was looking right at her, growing more and more aghast with each passing second.

"You," the advisor said, visibly searching for his next words as he stepped closer, tilting his head to the side, his stare burrowing into her layer by layer. Mentally undressing her in a wholly new, yet equally uncomfortable manner. Lou straightened her back, clenched her fists, and matched his gaze.

The advisor took a step back, struggling briefly before pulling his eyes away. "Your Majesty, are you aware that—"

"I haven't looked at the proposals yet," the Prince said flatly. "I will, in due time. You're dismissed."

"But—"

"And let's keep the details of last night's moonlight banquet to ourselves, shall we?" the Prince added as he returned to his paperwork. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

The advisor sputtered, gathering up the lapels of his outer robes as he puffed up his chest and shot more sidelong glances Lou's way. "Your Majesty! As a member of your trusted entourage, it is my duty to alert you of any claims that might affect the legitimacy... of, ah..."

The advisor's voice trailed off as the Prince looked up from his paperwork, directing the full focus of his displeasure squarely onto him.

"Are you calling my authority into question?" the Prince asked, flicking aside the errant locks that stood in the way of his glare.

"W-well... no, of course not, Your Majesty! I was simply doing my utmost to alert you of—"

"I won't say it again. Dismissed." He returned to the letter at hand, his tone icy and short, his patience spent. "Tell the others to stay put and keep quiet. Sleeves will be along to debrief all of you."

The advisor took one last quick glance at Lou, harrumphed, then bowed stiffly. "Of course, Your Majesty." He turned around, adjusted his robes, and headed for the door.

The previous night's events were still fresh on Lou's mind. She had had just about enough of that man, and the Prince's firm rebuttal of his antics emboldened her even further. She was filled with a righteous kind of heat; it felt good to be on the same side again.

She kept her eyes on the advisor as he left, unwilling to let down her guard until he was well and truly gone. And rightly so, for his path began to meander as he walked across the room, his steps slowing and his eyes wandering. He stopped two steps from the door, twisting his body to the side as he looked back at the two of them once more. He frowned and raised an unsteady finger as he opened his mouth to—

"Are you lost, little lamb?" the Prince and Lou growled in unison.

The advisor's face went pale as he stumbled back, his shoes skidding across the stone floor as if it was ice. In the blink of an eye he was out the door, slamming it behind him.

Lou and the Prince exchanged glances, then broke out into laughter.

She allowed herself to let go, if only for a moment. She'd missed this. She'd missed this feeling so much. The warmth rushing to her cheeks, the beating of her heart rising to a crescendo... It was all she could do not to reach out and clap him on the shoulder, or ruffle his hair, or—

"Go fetch Sleeves," he said as he leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Last night is going to cause trouble. We need to contain this, the sooner the better."

It took Lou a moment to process the Prince's words. She nodded, running her hands down the front of her uniform to smooth out her apron, giving herself a moment to come back down from the height of just seconds before. "Of course. Do you need me to come back?"

The Prince paused, as if the weight of his words had suddenly caught up with him as well. But he simply let his hand slowly fall from his face, letting it rest against his chin as a smile overtook the few days' stubble. "Well that depends, Loulou," he said, overflowing with confidence. Lou had found the brief altercation with the advisor draining, but for the Prince, it had seemingly had the opposite effect. If it wasn't for his physical dishevelment, Lou would've sworn he was back to his old self. "Why are you still here?" he continued. "Be honest with me."

"Well, someone had to get you back to your chambers last night. And I figured..." she breathed in, then breathed out, letting her heart settle down. "Might as well make sure you get through the night okay, you know?"

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm talking about. You talked with the witch-mother, you said you'd take care of the monster in the city. The Loulou I know would have been out the door already. Yet here you are." He quirked an eyebrow. "What are you planning? If you need help, just say so."

Lou felt the tension leave her shoulders, relieved that the Prince's line of questioning had turned away from her emotions. "Oh, well, I figure I'll only get one shot at this, you know? So I thought I'd go out there when defenses are down. 'Half moon, half protection', like Portals said."

The Prince's smile faded. "You're serious."

Lou's smile returned. "When am I not?"

He stood up, keeping a hand on the backrest of his chair. "Loulou, you can't... This thing has torn stones clean off of walls! Did the witch-mother tell you how to protect yourself, at least? Where to find it? How to defeat it?"

"She told me what I needed to know," Lou said once more, gathering up her evening dress, her nice shoes, and the empty serving tray. She stacked them neatly on the abandoned maid cart by the door, glad to be able to return it as the head maid had requested.

"Loulou," the Prince said as he walked to the center of the room, crossing half the distance between them, coming to a stop in the reflected light of the standing mirror. "You're not invincible anymore. You can't do this."

Her smile turned bittersweet as she got the cart ready. "I was never invincible. I always had my limits. They're just different now. I'm weaker in some ways, but I'm stronger in others." For a moment, she let her gaze hold his.

"You're not listening to me. You can't do this."

"Or what? You'll fire me? Cast me out?" She turned to him, her face still serene as she struggled to get the words out. "Hide me away in the undercroft, close by but out of sight?"

The Prince clenched and unclenched his hand as he stood there, conflict visible on his face, his chest rising and falling with each breath; the thin golden chain glinting where it caught the morning light.

Lou put her hand on the door handle. "I don't want to cause trouble. If it's better for me to stay elsewhere, that's okay. I already did what I came here to do. I have friends in the city, I can make it work." She slowly pulled the door open. "It's just 'til the next half moon."

The Prince clenched his hand shut. He turned around, then walked back to his desk. "Fine. Stay, do as you like," he muttered with a dismissing wave over his shoulder. "It's only two weeks."

"Make the most of it," Lou said softly, then closed the door.

She nodded to the guards and began pushing the cart down the hallway. Hopefully none of this would add to the rumors that swirled around her and this particular room of the castle.

Lou had to give herself credit: she'd navigated that encounter as well as could have been expected. She'd given him the news, and may have even helped him regain some of his composure. And through it all, she hadn't lost her own. Her eager heart, traitorous as it sometimes was, hadn't gotten the better of her today.

Once she returned the cart to the servant's quarters and her clothes to her bunk, she'd just need to—

"Glasses!" a voice loudly whispered from up ahead, in the nook of a windowed alcove where the hallway turned a corner.

Lou smiled, the day's luck clearly holding up. She wouldn't have to search for them after all. "Sleeves?" she said as she pulled up to the alcove, leaving the cart by the side of the passage.

WHAP!

Everything was a blur. By the time Lou realized what had happened she had her back to the wall, Sleeves standing in front of her with their good arm outstretched, hand pressed against the stone right by her head. They were once again dressed in their impeccable servant's attire, dark hair slicked back into a ponytail, their left eye covered up with a patch—jet black, to match their suit. Sleeves leaned in close, close enough for their body to block out the hallway, the alcove, everything else; too close.

"Good, you weren't followed," Sleeves said, keeping a wary eye on the hallway. "You didn't tell anyone, right? You promised you'd... wait, why is your face red?"

Lou stood there, frozen in place, desperately fighting to stay calm over the sound of blood pounding in her ears. "Gimme some room, jeez!" she managed to blurt out, haphazardly kicking at the air near Sleeves's leg. "What's wrong with you?!"

"That's my line!" Sleeves said, hurriedly backing off a step or two. They adjusted the rudimentary sling around their left arm with their free hand as they double and triple-checking the hallway for eavesdroppers, growing more flustered by the second. "Why are you making this weird?"

"You're making this weird!" Lou yelled back, stomping the ground with her foot. She took an embarrassed breath or two, waving her arms to the side as she went through a quick backstage exercise to calm herself down.

"Keep it down, will you?" Sleeves said as they stepped back into the alcove, leaning against the far side of the window. "We're still alone, thank the gods. Do you want to call the whole castle up here?"

Lou scrunched up her face and crossed her arms, her breathing finally becoming steady again. "He wants to see you, by the way."

"Yeah, I imagine he does! I've been putting out fires all morning, thanks to your little stunt. You haven't told anyone, right?"

"Of course not!"

"No I mean..." They peeked out of the alcove again, checking down both ends of the bending corridor. "You know. About the witch stuff."

"Oh." Lou blinked. "No, of course not. I wouldn't betray your trust."

Sleeves glanced at her as they settled back into the alcove and sat down on the windowsill, bringing one leg up to adjusted the hem of their pant leg. "Yeah, I know you wouldn't."

"Mm." Lou leaned back against the wall. "This look really does suit you, by the way."

"Thank you," they replied quietly. "I don't hate my witch regalia, you know? It's fun to dress up in every now and then. I just like it better when I pick when to go all-out with the makeup."

"I can understand that! Same for me with the troupe. The first time I tried it on my own, when it wasn't a show day, it was strangely freeing." She snapped her fingers as a stray thought from the night before popped back into her head. "You know, since your hair is so dark, I bet if you went for a bolder shade of eye shadow it'd work really well with those green highlights."

Sleeves scratched their chin. "Oh yeah, huh. I guess I could try that, it hadn't really occurred to me to..." They trailed off, their mouth fighting a smile as they shook their head. "Did I just get a makeup tip from the Wolf of the White Woods?"

Lou couldn't hide her grin. "What are the odds, huh?"

"Hah!" Sleeves leaned back against the window frame. "Gods... The whole witch thing is, you know. It's complicated."

"...You wanna talk about it?"

They looked out the window, letting out a long sigh. "I was just hoping to keep people from finding out, you know? Especially you."

"What? Why me?"

"Because I was your cool mentor!" Sleeves adjusted their tie for emphasis. "I didn't want it to ruin my... are you laughing?"

"I'm not!" Lou said, stifling a chuckle. "Is that really what you thought of... us?"

"Well yeah, obviously. You were the impressionable junior and I was the stylish and knowledgeable senior. Dusty was my rival, Chiffon was the motherly one... our group had a very clear dynamic! It was great." They kissed the tip of their fingers. "The vibes were impeccable, as Portals would say. Sometimes I miss those days."

Lou smirked at her former colleague, unable to conceal her amusement—though now that she thought about it, they were working together again, weren't they? "I always saw you as the cheeky young gambler with great dexterity and a terrible poker face."

"Hey, I resent that! I've gotten a lot better." They eyed Lou up and down. "Makes sense you'd see it that way though, captain. I keep forgetting you're older than you look."

Lou looked out the window, her gaze drifting over the walls of the castle grounds she had gotten to know so well over the years. She remembered the smell of the grass, the slight give of the ground under her boots, the texture of the stone under her fingers... Everything had felt so strange, so different when she had returned here as a maid, wrapped in a temporary costume, working tirelessly to return to those cherished days before.

But now it just felt right. The glasses she wore were no longer there to hide anything; no more costumes, only her truest self. Seeing her old body up close once again only cemented the fact that it wasn't hers anymore. Maybe it had never been at all.

Maybe Le Loup had been just another skin that she'd discarded along the way.

"It's only five years or so," Lou said. "At our age, it doesn't really matter that much. It'll matter less and less with time."

"Still, you got a pretty lucky draw. Youthful looks run in the family, judging by the paintings."

"Mm." Lou reached up with one hand, fiddling with the top of her apron. "Hey, I don't mean to pry, but—"

"But you will."

Lou straightened up instantly. "Not if you tell me not to."

Sleeves eyed her for a second, then made a mock swooning gesture and sighed dramatically. "Fiiiiine. I'll allow it."

"Alright then, thanks," Lou said sheepishly. "About the old days... You were getting hormones and things from your aunt back then. I didn't imagine that, right? How does she not know by now?"

Sleeves stood up, adjusting the collar of their shirt. "I'll have you know my aunt has been treating a number of people working here at the castle, all handled by yours truly. It's been quite the lucrative little side gig. And the great majority of her patients even exist! As far as the surplus goes, well..."

Lou tilted her head as the gears turned inside her mind. "You've been doing it yourself? Isn't that dangerous?"

They shrugged. "I'm a witch too, remember?"

"Oh, that makes sense," Lou replied, somewhat relieved. "Was coming here part of your training, then?"

"Hah! No, that was just, ah..." Sleeves scratched the back of their head, fiddling with the string holding their ponytail in place. "I think this was more punishment than training. She figured this place would calm me down, teach me some manners. Guess I showed her, huh?"

"I mean, you do own the place now. Do you think it'd be a big scandal? If people knew the castle was owned by a witch?"

"Like I said earlier, the fewer the people who know about that, the better." Sleeves shot her a cutting glance. "Sir knows better, I've bribed Portals—besides, she hates people, she's not gonna talk to anyone—and Frederic would never betray his word. So if anyone slips up, I'm going to assume it's you, alright?"

"Frederic knows?"

Sleeves gave Lou a deadpan stare for a moment. Once they were seemingly satisfied she was, indeed, being serious, they relaxed their shoulders and chuckled. "Yes, Frederic knows. He was the one my aunt convinced to get me hired in the first place."

"He... wait." Lou furrowed her brow in recollection. "You were the 'special appointment to build diplomatic favor' he briefed me on?"

They grinned. "I suppose I was! Let me tell you, it was a huge relief when he finally cashed that 'diplomatic favor' in." They flexed their right arm, going through some warmup exercises. "Anyway. All these years and he hasn't slipped up once. So try to follow his example, alright Glasses?"

"Mm," Lou said, trying not to let the implication get to her. Her word was her bond, just as it was for any other knight... even if she no longer looked the part. "Again, Lou is fine," she added quietly.

"Not around here it isn't!" Sleeves said, peeking out of the alcove once again to make sure no one else was present down either end of the corridor. "Especially not after your performance last night! Given your reputation, I think the last thing you want is to have anyone even saying that name in your presence."

"What reputation?" Lou asked, suddenly thinking back to the exchange that morning with the head maid; the whispers between the junior maids, the looks they kept sending her way.

"Oh, you know. Your work ethic. Your thoroughness. The fact that His Majesty very noisily had his way with you for hours and hours the night before he summarily dismissed you."

"HEY!" Lou wavered as she felt the blood rushing to her face. "Is that what people are saying?!"

"Yes?" Sleeves said, shaking their head in disbelief. "It's been kind of a hot topic! Are you saying it's not true?"

"No!" Lou balled her hands up into fists as she teetered in place. "Listen! I was the one who..." she began to say before noticing the look on Sleeves's face.

"That's the part you have a problem with?!" they loudly whispered, their mouth agape in an awkward smile halfway between confusion and awe.

Lou nodded emphatically, her face scrunching up. "Technically," she whispered back, "I was the one..." She trailed off, suddenly finding herself in a discussion she wasn't sure she was able to finish. "I mean, at least at first, it was me... who..."

Sleeves checked to see whether or not she'd finish that sentence, the color beginning to show on their face as well. After confirming the silence was here to stay, they reached up to adjust their tie in a bid to occupy their hand. "I should probably go."

"Yeah." Lou fussed with her apron a bit more, though it would take more than some idle tidying to dispel the awkwardness that had permeated the alcove.

Sleeves began to head out, but stopped in their tracks immediately after the first step. They looked out into the hall, down the end that led to the Prince's chambers, then eyed Lou warily. "You weren't in the undercroft this morning. Tell me you didn't..."

"No!" Lou said, holding out her arms. "Nothing happened this time! I just wanted to make sure he slept through to the morning."

"Uh huh."

"I'm telling you! We had our underclothes on the whole night!"

Sleeves gave Lou such a witheringly dubious look that she suddenly felt embarrassed without knowing why. They reached up and, before she could react, patted her on the head. "Gods keep you in their sight."

"Are you done?" Lou whispered.

Sleeves snuck a peek in the direction of the Prince's chambers once again, gears visibly turning in their head. "Juuust one more thing. There's a question that's been burning in my mind for a while about your whole situation, and I've just gotta know."

Lou tilted her head away, giving them a wary look. "...What do you mean?"

Sleeves put their closed hand up to their mouth, giving her the most pensive and serious look she'd seen on their face in a while. They let out a long exhale, visibly thinking through their next words. "Be honest: which one's better?"

"Which... what?"

They looked left and right briefly, then lowered their voice. "C'mon. You know. Don't make me say it. Compared to before...?"

Lou's face might as well have caught on fire. "I... I don't know??"

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know!" Lou suddenly lost interest in this conversation. There were words she could say, of course, but she didn't want to say them out loud, much less to Sleeves, of all people. "That's... that's none of your business."

"Wait," they said, catching on too quickly. "Are you saying he was your fir—"

"NONE! Of your business!"

Sleeves's face fell like a pierced soufflé. "No, no, that's such a tragedy!" They buried their head in their hand, looking back up after a moment. "But you were the wolf!"

"Yeah, well..." Lou looked aside, trying to hide her face. "It was just a name."

"You should've said something! Anyone in the castle with a pulse and even a passing interest in men would have..." They raised their eyebrows. "I mean, I would have..."

Lou looked at Sleeves, slack jawed. "I'd have died of embarrassment?? Besides, that was years and years ago! We didn't even know each other!"

"Tch, you're right. Gods, what a missed opportunity." They leaned back, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, before walking back out into the hallway. "Okay, well. If you ever go back in time or something, you come to me first, alright? I'll make it happen."

"What? Why?! Are you even into—"

"It doesn't matter! For the wolf, I would've made an exception!"

They stood there facing each other for a long moment, Sleeves refusing to back down, the blood refusing to leave Lou's face.

She was the first to buckle. "Can we please talk about something else."

"Fine, fine! I'm late anyway, I should go see what's on the shadow's docket for today. Frederic says hi, by the way."

Lou gasped, reaching out to grab Sleeves's arm. "Open with that next time! Frederic's back? Here's here?!"

"Yes! It slipped my mind, jeez!"

Within seconds Lou was pushing the cart down the hallway. She had so many—

Sleeves put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "Where are you going?"

"To the barracks! Where else?"

They crooked their thumb, pointing down the other end of the hallway, past the bend. "Captain's quarters are this way."

Lou blinked once, twice. "Oh," she said as she turned the maid cart around. "He finally moved in, huh."

Sleeves chewed on their next words, but ultimately found none that were appropriate. They nodded, simply.

"That... that makes sense," Lou said. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Sleeves said, giving her shoulder a pat—more gently, this time. "Take care, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Lou set off down the corridor, the cart's wheels rumbling gently against the stone floor. She could feel her headache returning, what little measures she'd taken after waking no longer holding up. This wasn't fair, she was already exhausted and the day wasn't even half-over! But she could endure. Last night's excesses and today's excitement could catch up with her later. She had one more pressing matter to attend do, and the dire anticipation of what awaited her could've kept her going for another full day at least.

She hadn't seen Frederic in ages; hadn't seen her old room in even longer. But just as no one could keep mourning forever, neither could the castle's inner workings be delayed indefinitely. Sooner or later everything fell into place, as if the missing pieces had never been there.

She was about to reach the door when she came across two junior maids returning from their shift, their aprons grimy but their spirits high. The two young women gasped as they caught sight of her.

"Miss Glasses! Good morning!" The first maid waved excitedly.

"You got the cart back!" the second maid said, covering her mouth, visibly overwhelmed by emotion.

"Ah, yes I did!" Lou said with a self-conscious smile. "I swear I was on my way to return it, I just wanted to stop by—"

"Oh! Allow us, please!" the first maid said, tentatively putting a hand on the cart handle.

Lou looked between the two junior maids. "Are you sure? I..." She glanced at her neatly-folded dress, right next to her shoes, sitting right there on the top of the cart. "I appreciate the offer, but I also need to drop my clothes off at my bunk and—"

"I can do that!" the second maid said, reaching out to the outfit on the cart but not quite touching it, as if waiting for permission.

Lou hesitated. It would save her some time, to be sure... "It's not too much trouble?"

"Of course not!" the first maid said.

"We'd be happy to!" the second added.

"Well... alright," Lou said, relinquishing the cart and everything on it. "Thank you."

"Absolutely!" The maids bowed quickly, one of them taking the cart and the other picking up Lou's soirée outfit, gently cradling it in her arms. "Leave it to us!"

She watched the two juniors hurry off. New hires these days were much more eager than she was used to. Perhaps the head maid had been right about things being different from how they were just a short couple of years ago.

"Oh my gods!" the second junior maid whispered loudly to the first, right before they walked out of earshot. "Casque was telling the truth!"

A slight sense of impending trouble began to sink in, but Lou quickly dismissed it as she knocked on the door to the captain's quarters. Rumors were rumors, after all, and rare were the ones that survived a retelling. Besides, Sleeves was on top of it, weren't they?

"Come in," came the familiar voice.

Lou took a deep breath, then opened the door.

She wasn't sure what would await her on the other side. It had been a long time since she and Frederic had seen each other. Part of her had expected him to be at the royal theater during that last show, but in hindsight he surely had more pressing business to attend to. She wondered how the months—years, at this point—had changed him, let alone the altercation with number six on the Prince's list. But the witch-mother had said he had been healed, so who was Lou to doubt her?

She walked into her old quarters, one careful foot behind the other. The once-familiar bedroom looked positively cavernous. Had the room always been so big? Just how high did some of those shelves reach? At least the furnishings remained as spartan as she remembered them, with barely a single thought given to decorations or flourishes. The bedding was minimal, the floor was uncovered, the walls were practically bare—save for a mirror by the wash basin, in front of which Frederic stood, his back turned, his shirt collar popped. The knight put down the razor, wiped his face, and slipped on his other glove before turning to face Lou. He was okay.

Gods above and below, he was okay.

Any words Lou might have wanted to say to him fell by the wayside as a torrent of emotions welled up within her. He wasn't hurt. He was still there, living, breathing, standing tall. All the worry and anguish she had been holding back without realizing it came crashing down all at once. She didn't need to be afraid of what could have happened anymore. She could just let it all go.

Before she realized it, Frederic had crossed the distance between them, one knee on the ground and his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder. She no longer minded that this scene kept repeating between the two of them. She was no longer afraid to show how much she cared, especially not to someone she knew was fully prepared to hear it. The rest of the world ceased to exist as tears flowed freely. The person she had always counted on the most was unhurt; in that moment, that was all that mattered.

It took Lou a while to catch her breath.

But catch it she did, and soon enough Frederic helped her take a step back as he looked her over, a faint look of worry piercing through his usual impeccable front of decorum.

"Are you alright, sir?"

Lou let out a hoarse laugh, reaching up to wipe her eyes with the end of her sleeve. Her heart was racing, loud enough to rival the pounding in her head, but none of that felt important. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. It's, ah..." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "It's good to see you again."

Frederic patted her on the shoulder with a firm hand. "It's good to see you again as well."

Lou took a better look at him, their eyes almost level in this position. He hadn't changed at all.

Or had he? His eyes looked tired, even more so than before. His salt-and-pepper hair was now a little more of the former than the latter. A new scar had joined the first on his cheek. But most importantly...

Lou hesitated. "Did you always have a mustache?"

Frederic looked at her with his usual impassive mask as he stood back up. "I won't dignify that with an answer, sir."

Lou looked to the side as she scratched the back of her head. "Sorry, it's been a really long couple of days. I'm just glad you're okay. With all the talk of witches putting you back together, I didn't expect you to be so... uhh..."

"Normal?" Frederic asked as he retrieved his uniform jacket and began to slip it on.

"...Yeah. The fight sounded pretty bad, the way Sleeves wrote about it."

He shrugged. "All in a day's work. Our opponent was defeated and His Majesty made it out unscathed. The rest is merely details."

"You're not a detail," Lou replied immediately, the words coming out before she could even think them.

The knight gave her a rare, brief smile as he buttoned up his jacket, the gloves deftly repeating the same motions like clockwork as they went up his uniform. "I do appreciate the sentiment, sir."

Lou returned the smile. There were so many things she wanted to say, but the words kept fluttering frustratingly out of her reach. It had been so long. Where to begin?

"As much as I welcome the impromptu visit, I do hope this isn't interfering with your work," Frederic said in his usual measured tone.

"Oh, no, it's fine! We're between shows anyway. We were doing a reading of Alphonse's next play when I got Sleeves's letter." She sighed, a bit self-consciously. "Won't be the first time I delayed a production."

"From what I've seen, the delays have been well worth it," Frederic said as he picked up his well-worn notepad, flipping through the latest pages.

"What do you mean?" Lou asked before the realization hit. "Wait. You've... gone out to see the troupe?"

"I've been spending my leave judiciously. I have to say, sir, I'd assumed you had noticed at least once." Frederic gave her a long look, his hands having stopped mid-flip. "How are they?" he asked, allowing himself another brief smile.

Lou's heart soared as she swayed in place, full of giddy energy. "They're doing well," she said with the biggest smile on her face. "Everyone's really happy. I'd missed Chiffon so much, it's been wonderful to have her around again. And with Roy, and Libellule, and..." She gave herself a moment to catch her breath. "I didn't know. I didn't know that's what family could be like. I'd love to introduce you to all of them properly."

"I'd be honored," Frederic replied with a polite nod through which shone the emotion underneath. "It warms my heart to see artists thriving."

Then the knight abruptly flipped his notepad shut, stowing it away as he rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. "Ahem. I daresay Libellule showed a new side of herself as the Witch-Fiend. Casting her as the villain was an inspired choice."

Lou blinked. "You know about her?"

"Of course," Frederic said as he methodically retrieved and checked the weapons on the corner rack. "She redefined the lead role in Gisèle, Gisèle."

"I... wow, Frederic, I never pictured you as a fan of—wait, is that my sword?"

"It is," the knight said, lifting up the familiar hand-and-a-half sword with an unusually wide blade. But while the silhouette of it was unmistakable, it looked like a completely new weapon. It was spotless, for one, the metal having been polished to a mirror-like sheen. The cross-guard had been replaced, or perhaps reforged. Even the grip had been re-wrapped, looking pristine... Yet despite all the restoration efforts, there was no mistaking it: that was her sword. Birthed in snow and reborn from its ashes.

"Why do you have it?" Lou asked, holding out her arms. "Can I see it?"

Frederic nodded, and handed the blade over. "His Majesty has upgraded to more arcane metals. This one is to be retired; he asked me to prepare it for display."

The weapon almost made Lou tip over as she caught its full weight in her hands. She did her best to steady herself, sliding a foot back and shifting her balance to compensate. She briefly held it upright, both hands on the hilt, but found that keeping it steady was difficult. This, too, brought back memories, but of a different kind. Small hands swinging a weapon not meant for them. A blade thrust into the maw of danger; a body tumbling along with it.

The glimpse of her own reflection in the blade drove home the fact that wielding this sword was not a role she would ever be growing into again. And that was okay. They were meant for different paths now. She could let go.

She gave the sword back with a nod.

Frederic carefully put the blade back, exchanging it for his halberd, which he brought over to the seat by the small table along the side along with his maintenance kit. He sat down, unpacking the various cloths and polishing stones. "I haven't heard much about the other leading fellow."

"Oh, Roy? He's great! He's such a hard worker—did you know he comes from Beaver Lake too? We've been talking a lot; he's been teaching me his acting techniques, and I've been briefing him about... you know. About his role." Lou ran her hand over the weapon rack, her fingers briefly resting on the pommel of her sword once again. "Both sides of it."

Frederic nodded with a grunt as he lowered the halberd down, pressing the blade against his leg as he looked it over. "It sounds like you two are close."

"I mean, we've been working together for two years now, but... yeah. I s'pose so."

"Did you sleep with him?"

CLANG!

A metallic clatter rang out through the chambers as Lou's hand jerked to the side, catching the handguard of a dueling sword and almost causing the rest of the weapons to fall down. Thankfully, she was able to maneuver in time to tip everything back, looking only a little foolish in the process.

"I beg your pardon?!"

"My apologies," Frederic said, focused on the weapon in his hand as he ran a gloved finger along the sharp tip. "Artists have reputations, actors doubly so. I was simply looking out for—"

"I'm fine! He's nice! It's just... it's just that..."

Frederic glanced in her direction once again as she trailed off. He cleared his throat. "Did you?"

"Not at first!" Lou yelled back, her face going red for the umpteenth time that day. It only got redder once she registered the words she'd just spoken. "I mean, not just with him!" she quickly added, hoping to clarify, before regretting those words even more.

Frederic simply looked back at her, his expression perfectly neutral save for the slight raising of an eyebrow.

Lou buried her face in her hands. She was going to combust right then and there. She was going to ignite, and burn her old quarters down out of sheer embarrassment.

"Sir, it's alright," Frederic said softly, leaning over to tap the bed with his free hand. "Please sit."

Lou collapsed on the side of the bed, head almost between her knees, heart almost in her throat. This isn't how she'd wanted this reunion to go. Why was that the topic on everyone's mind today? Weren't there more important things to talk about? What was Frederic worried about, anyway?

Lou looked up in a sudden epiphany, finding her words through the blood-rush haze. "Hey, Frederic. What are you worried about?"

The knight paused for a moment before returning to his work, his gloved fingers picking through the whetstones. "People will remember the role long after they forget the person who inspired it. Call it an overabundance of care, sir. The wrong role can ruin an actor, but the wrong actor..."—Frederic carefully ran the whetstone along the edge of the halberd's blade, filling the chambers with the low sound of scraping metal—"...can ruin a legacy."

"My legacy's in good hands, Frederic," Lou said softly. "You don't have to worry. Roy's a good man."

Frederic looked up and, after a moment's consideration, put the whetstone down. He put his hands together over the weapon on his lap, gloved fingers interlacing, as he leaned back ever-so-slightly. "Tell me about him."

---