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Rainbows are a good omen, they say.
'They', whoever they are, have clearly never spied the Fool coming down the hall with a devious glint in her eye.
"Bravest knight in the land, do I see you flinch at my approach?" The Fool asks, tilting her head and bending forward, her hands clasped behind her back. "Surely thou must face greater terrors than I, in your duties."
"Go away, buffoon." The knight hisses at the most terrible being that walks these halls. "The Queen isn't here to laugh at your antics, and I won't stand for them."
"Prithee, tell then where she is! I find myself feeling comical and I'd never dare to irritate Her Majesty's loyal hound." Says the Fool, in mock supplication.
"She bathes, a habit you would do well to pick up." The Knight says, and then upon seeing the gleam in the Fool's eye: "Tread carefully."
"Mercy me!" The Fool gasps, standing straight and pinching at the belled hem of her raiment. "I suppose I'm overdressed."
"Careful." The Knight growls.
There are limits, she thinks, even for her. Jesters may enjoy the freedom to say what they will, as long as the Queen laughs.
The Queen is otherwise occupied, and the Knight is not laughing.
"What?" The Fool asks. "Would you prefer to join her, then?"
"I'll not stand for it, I said."
"I just worry she might feel lonesome, without her constant companion by her side." She says, false concern betrayed by bared teeth. "And she does so enjoy my company."
The Knight is unsure if the Fool even knows the severity of the wounds she picks at. Yes, the Queen does enjoy her company. She enjoys the company of them both, and says- maybe even believes- that she can have them both.
And she can, in a sense. The Knight will never leave her side, come what may. She will remain her knight while the Fool is cleaned up and passed off as some distant noble; will make silent, secret gestures of intimacy while the Fool says as she pleases; Will be taunted for it all the while, and watch her lady laugh.
There is a line, that the Fool dances near in her mockery. To make bawdy jokes of their relationship is an annoyance, but now that the Fool knows of their relationship, every bawdy joke about herself and the Queen feels more and more like a slight. Like flaunting at her something that she cannot have, knowingly or not.
The door behind her opens, and the Queen emerges, hair still faintly damp.
"Oh! Hello, my jester." She says, and the Knight can feel her eyes on her, on her furious glare, on her balled fists. "Is everything quite alright?"
"She besmirches your honor." She hisses, and it's not a lie, even if it's not truly what upsets her.
"Oh, methinks it already besmirched." Says the Fool, as she twirls away and trots jauntily down the hall.