Chapter Text
The cherry blossoms floated down from the tree above, leaving the garden looking as if it were dusted by soft pink snow. As the light spring breeze shook free more petals, they settled on the regal shoulders of Miranda, Queen of Myrsai, and in her snow white hair. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Andy had to force herself not to stare, taken in by the foreign nearly ethereal beauty.
It wasn’t polite, she told herself, and it was important to her father that this meeting go well. She had been honored that he’d asked her to serve the queen tea since she had only turned sixteen the month before, and was still learning all that being an active member of the royal court entailed.
She focused on the tea service in front of her, hoping that her hands didn’t shake too much as she poured first one cup for the queen, then a cup for herself. The tea set was just as delicate as the flower petals surrounding them, and her late mother’s favorite according to the house keeper. The china was white with little flowers, deep blue, set on spindling branches that wove around each piece. The set should have had eight tea cups, but only bore seven how. Andy had been told that this was her fault; as a child at her mother’s lap, she’d picked one up and flung it to the floor where it shattered. She was told that her mother had not been angry, she’d merely whisked baby Andy far away from the broken shards. Andy wished she remembered her mother more than the portraits that hung in the halls and stories told to her by other people.
But she pushed all thoughts of the past aside and instead looked back at the queen. If her father was correct, she would soon have a step mother. She put on her bravest smile and said, trying to keep her voice quiet and princess-y, “Would you like cream and sugar your majesty?”
Queen Miranda had barely looked at her since seating herself beside Andy in the garden. Instead, her gaze followed the sharp lines of the castle in which Andy had grown up. She looked about the garden, lingering on the ivy-covered inner walls and the towers that bore banners of the Kingdom of Anden.
“Cream,” said the queen.
Andy poured her cream, then added both cream and sugar to her own tea, delicately sipping it as she watched the older woman.
Rumors surrounded the queen of the north, whispered by scullery maids and lords of the king’s royal council alike. Andy knew she wasn’t supposed to have heard any of the rumors yet she’d collected each and every one, turning them over in her mind when she lay in bed at night.
Queen Miranda killed her husband
The queen of the north is made of ice
Queen Miranda devours the men of the court
Miranda devours the women of the court
It’s unnatural for a woman to be an Alpha, much less a queen
Andy’s gaze greedily took in Queen Miranda’s pale skin- untouched by the sun unlike Andy’s freckled face- the slope of her nose, and the way the midmorning light caught her long silver hair pulled back into a beaded snood, making it look soft. Her gown was a deep plum color with gold embroidery, matching the gold tear drop earrings that held twin pearls. The square neckline showed off her collarbone and the swell of breast- not that Andy was looking, no not at all.
“Has your governess not taught you that it’s impolite to stare?” Queen Miranda’s voice was quiet, yet cool, still not looking at her.
“I’m sorry!” Andy said, hurriedly setting her tea cup down with a clink so loud it felt like it shattered the quiet morning. She flushed, twisting her hands in her lap.
“Will your father be joining us soon?” The queen asked, silently sipping her tea. That was good, wasn’t it? Queen Miranda wanted to see her father, maybe she would accept his offer to unite their kingdoms. Then, perhaps, she’d teach Andy how to quietly drink her tea and remain elegant and calm in every situation.
“I believe he thought we could take tea alone, to get to know each other better,” said Andy, worrying her bottom lip.
“Are you an expert on the Anden international trade agreements?” Miranda said, pursing her lips.
Andy swallowed. This was going badly and she had no idea how to save the morning. She rubbed her palms along her dress.
“Stop fidgeting,” said Miranda, “Is that… dirt under your fingernails?”
But as Andy bawled her hands into fists, trying to hide her dirty nails, Miranda’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling it closer to examine. Andy held her breath. The sleeve of her gown slid down, revealing the flower shaped on the inside of her elbow.
“Dirty nails and you chew them,” she said, releasing Andy’s wrist after what felt like an eternity. “Did your mother let you run wild?”
“I don’t have a mother!” Andy snapped, “I mean, she died when I was a baby.”
“Ah,” Miranda took another sip of tea and glanced at Andy’s dirty hem, “That would explain… things.”
Andy chose not to take that as an insult, and instead, against all her better judgment, said, “But perhaps, if I had a step mother, she could teach me how to be a proper lady, like you.”
“A step mother,” Miranda repeated and looked at Andy, really looked, for the first time. Reaching out, Miranda gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind Andy’s ear, then cupped her cheek in her soft, cool palm.
Unable to stop herself, Andy leaned into her touch, sighing softly. No one touched her anymore. Yes, there were the accidental brushes of hands when she was being dressed, but Andy couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her hand or held her.
“You are an Omega,” said Miranda, a statement, not a question. She ran a thumb along Andy’s lower lip. “Yes, you could use guidance; a firm hand I think.”
“I- yes-“ Andy whispered. She didn’t know how to respond. Miranda’s full attention was dizzying, her eyes so blue and bright that Andy felt as if she were burning in her gaze. It was somehow both too much and not enough.
“Thank you Princess Andrea,” Miranda said, pulling away. Andy missed the loss of contact. Then, Miranda added. “This has been very illuminating.”
She stood, and with the quiet swish of her gown, she departed, leaving Andy alone in the garden, soft flower petals trailing in her wake.
…
Miranda was gone by morning and three months later, the Kingdom of Myrsai declared war on Anden.
…
Andy crept through the forest, trying to ignore the sounds of battle beyond. She had been separated from her guard trying to get back to the capital from the summer palace- the ladder of which had been recently taken by the Myrsai army. Now the queen’s men were hunting her, following her guard through the battle field, and Andy was only armed with a bow, arrows, and small dagger. If they caught up to her it would be over, she’d be killed or taken captive by the woman who she’d once wished to be her step mother.
The sound of the twig snapping behind her, followed by a deep groan- a human groan.
She spun around, in one swift movement notching her arrow and drawing her bow string taught. Then, in her sights, only a short distance away from her was a woman in Myrsai colors.
No, not just any woman. Queen Miranda.
Andy froze. All it would take to end the war would be for her to include her fingers. If she let her arrow loose, it would piece the heart of the woman in front of her, killing her within only a few short moments. Miranda lifted her chin, every inch the queen, but one arm was wrapped around her middle, hand pressed to her side where her tunic had begun to darken with blood.
They stared at each other. A heartbeat passed. And then, Andy lowered her bow.
Andy wasn’t sure how long they stood, staring at one another, but she didn’t want to move, or even blink, and break the magic of the moment. This woman was her enemy, yet even after three years of war, she still felt oddly drawn to her. Andy dreamt about Miranda sometimes, about the tea in the garden, about the way the petals landed softly in her hair and how Miranda had left bruises on her wrist when she’d grabbed her. She’d felt a strange sense of loss the day they faded away.
And then Miranda ducked her head, nearly doubling over in clear pain. Andy stepped forward, hand outstretched. She wanted to help. She felt compelled to help anyone in pain, even if it was her enemy and the woman waging war and trying to conquer her kingdom.
When Miranda lifted her head, her eyes bore only ice, and she gritted out a single word, “Run.”