Alex Zandra

(continued from Part XXII | Act I | Act II | Part XXIV)

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.

— end of preview

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She gently closed the door behind her, the satisfying click of the mechanism easing her worries. She leaned against the door with a sigh. She was home. She was safe.

Her fingers traced the line where the door met the frame, wondering if the brisk evening air would follow her in. She pulled her hand back, finding the seam practically gone. It was a single piece of wood; healed, like a wound. Part of her knew it wouldn’t open again.

What a comforting thought.

She took a deep breath and took her first few steps down the unfamiliar hall, wondering when she’d ever get used to the place. Lamps were few and far between, islands of light in a sea of shadow. Her pace quickened.

A long mirror hung opposite the window, moonlight and flames dancing across it brightly enough to give her a glimpse of her reflection. Her breath held in her throat.

Then she smiled. Her second sigh in as many minutes was a happier one. The trip hadn’t sullied her uniform at all! She smoothed out the frills on her apron and flicked back an errant lock of hair that had ventured over her shoulder. There.

She carried the satchel further into the mansion, her steps surer in the darkened hallways. She really ought to add some more lights here and there. Bring in some warmth, liven up the place. Once she had some free time, she’d have to ask…

“Well?”

The maid stopped in her tracks. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. Her eyes darted to and fro, still unable to see much of anything in the surrounding darkness.

The mistress stepped into the light, her silhouette almost blotting out the entire window behind her. “How was your trip into town?”

The maid’s eyes blinked and widened as surprise surged within her, then was overcome with reassuring familiarity. “Oh! Oh, thank goodness,” she said, unsure whether to scold or chuckle. “It was lovely, ma’am. Thank you!”

The mistress shifted to the side slightly. The light draped across her face, revealing a knowing smile.

The maid remained still. Was that… not enough? Was the mistress expecting more? She racked her brains. And after a moment, she heard it. No doubt the mistress had heard it too.

Her heart was beating fast. Very fast.

But she was home! She was safe! Nowhere was safer than at the mistress’s side. And yet, she couldn’t shake this overwhelming wave of stress threatening to swallow her whole. Her eyes darted around the edges of the light. The right words dangled frustratingly out of reach.

“Were people talking about me?”

There was a calm, as terrifying as it was liberating. She nodded. The mistress knew. The mistress always knew. “Y-yes ma’am,” she said, going over the events of that fateful meeting once more in her mind. The last hurried meal, the sweltering common room, the smell of alcohol, the loud voices… Bad memories. Painful memories. Ones she didn’t want to remember.

“Describe them to me,” the mistress said as she walked over to one of her favorite upholstered chairs, snapping her fingers as she sat down. The fireplace came alight, illuminating the rest of the room.

The maid took a few steps forward, just enough to rest her soles on the comforting cushion of the rug. She tried to calm herself down, willing her mind to go back to those moments it had so easily blocked out. “There were three men. Two? …Three. I think. The third one, I can’t… I couldn’t see his face.” She went on, recounting as many identifying details as she could. Enough to satisfy the mistress; hopefully enough to help.

“Thank you, dear,” the mistress said, finally breaking eye contact. Then her gaze returned, softened. “Now what on earth could they have said to make you worry so?”

Words had become difficult again. “They… they said terrible things about this place. About you,” the maid said as she clutched her satchel. “They… they hired a hunter. Someone who said he could… Said he could…”

There came an audible rattling. Her hands were trembling so much that the leather bag in her hands was shaking along with them.

“Hush, dear, it’s okay,” the mistress said. “Come here.” She patted the front of her chair.

The maid wasted no time. In a moment she was kneeling on the plush rug, holding back tears.

“There, there,” the mistress whispered with a gentle touch on the shoulder. “You’re safe now, there’s no need to worry.”

“He’s on his way here,” the maid said, her voice shaking. “He might already be here. He’s… he’s dangerous. The stories they told about him! What if he finds you? What if he—”

“There’s no need to worry,” the mistress repeated, more firmly this time.

The maid looked up. “Ma’am?”

“I can defend myself, you know.” The mistress looked down into her eyes, only this time there was something… more to her gaze. Something that paired well with the dancing flames of the fireplace. “Now, you’re still new, but I’ve lived here a considerable amount of time. I know this place; I keep it safe, and it keeps me safe.”

“And… and me?”

The mistress laughed. “And you as well,” she replied, gently tapping the tip of the maid’s nose with her finger in an uncharacteristic fit of playfulness.

The maid couldn’t help but laugh along, awash with relief. “I’m so glad,” she said after a moment, quietly. “I was so scared.”

“This manor is a place of safety. And isn’t that what everyone wants, in the end?” The mistress gently traced her hand down the maid’s cheek, to her chin. Lifting it up, so they could see eye to eye. “The need to be safe burns deep within the heart of every living thing. These halls have a way of reaching in, and bringing it to the forefront.” She smiled. “In whatever form that takes.”

By that point, words had lost their meaning to the maid.

All that mattered was the two of them, looking into each other.

Nothing existed beyond those eyes.

Had it been for a second, a year?

Eternity?

She couldn’t tell.

She didn’t care.

If this was all that life would ever hold, it would be more than enough.

“Tea?”

The maid gasped as if she’d been holding her breath. She trembled, off-balance for a moment, coming to a lean against the leg of the upholstered chair until she could get a semblance of her bearings back. She inhaled. Exhaled. Waited for her heart to beat at a recognizable rhythm again.

Even her deepest daydream had never even reached these depths.

Then it hit her. The mistress had made a request. She looked back up, feeling her cheeks burning. “Ah, ma’am, yes, of course,” she said, practically tripping over the words. The maid stood up right away, doing her best to keep her balance as the room threatened to go topsy-turvy. She gave a quick curtsy before heading off down the hall, her feet already knowing the way. “I’ll go put the kettle on, ma’am!”

“Thank you dear,” the mistress said as she watched the maid hurry off. She leaned back into her chair, smirking despite herself.

“Ah, ma’am?” the maid asked after a moment, stopping at the edge of the light.

“What is it, dear?”

“Do you think… Do you think he’ll come?”

The mistress’s laugh was as warm as the fire. She knew. “You’re a part of this place now, dear. There’s nothing he can do to hurt you.”

The maid beamed. “Thank you, ma’am. That means a lot.” She adjusted her outfit once more, tightened her apron, and stepped out of sight.

The mistress watched her become one with the darkness. She picked up the maid’s discarded leather satchel, reached inside, and threw the contents into the fireplace. Sharpened or not, all wood burned just the same.

She leaned back and drank in the sounds of the manor, its every creak and howl a familiar blanket to wrap herself in—now made even better by melodic hums, and the bubbling of a kettle.

— I wrote this in a sudden burst of inspiration a couple years ago on my patreon and it's stuck in my mind ever since. given the posts on lady dracula, I figured I'd bring this one back on here ^^

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anyway please read my knight + princess body swap story I've been working really hard on it

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_{(what am I gonna do, not make it queer as hell?)}

(continued from Part XXI | Act I | Act II | Part XXIII)

The sound of voices outside drew Lou out of a pleasant dream she instantly forgot. She opened her eyes, gently adjusting to the morning light draped over the fabric of her temporary home; slowly easing her sluggish limbs into a stretch. She yawned. Outside, footsteps approached, bringing with them a shadow in the shape of a person. Françoise, celebrated set technician of the Shepherd's Troupe, spoke through the fastened flap of the tent.

"Hey Lou! The Prince's murder-butler is here to see you."

"Tch, I have a name!" said Sleeves, from further away.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"...Well I'm not telling you."

"Thanks Françoise, I'll be right out." Lou carefully slipped out of the arms of the two people sharing her cot and rose to her feet, tucking the covers in behind her. Even inside the tent, the cold autumn air cut right through to the bone, sending shivers up her spine. She hurried over to the pair of portmanteaus at the back end of the tent and put a long coat on over her nightclothes, then stepped into her boots. She had almost undone the tent flap when she remembered to quickly look herself over in the mirror.

A few minutes later, Lou made her way out of the tent, closing it up behind her. Only at this point did her mind finally catch up with the series of events that had led her to go outside this early. Sleeves was here? Why? She looked around the camp that was, for the most part, as sleepy as she was.

Sleeves waved at her from quite a few paces out, giving Brie a wide berth. While they were wearing the same sleek servant's attire they had on in the royal theater, today they'd added an overcoat to complete the outfit. They were also carrying a thin square portmanteau, Lou noticed; a black case to match their outfit. Sleeves twirled the index finger of their free hand around their greasy ponytail, keeping a nervous eye on the wary beast before them.

Lou walked toward her former colleague, her heartbeat growing faster and faster with every step. Were they here on behalf of the Prince? Had they come with a message? Had he, somehow, taken what she'd said to heart, and made the first move? Lou wasn't ready for it, not yet. She'd need more than a couple of weeks to fully process a confrontation that had been two years in the making.

But eventually her feet brought her in front of Sleeves, ready or not. She put her hand on Brie's head for comfort, letting the sheepdog's steadfastness be her guide. She stood as straight as she could and gave Sleeves a look forged in steel. If nothing else, she knew how to deal with them. She'd had plenty of experience at the card table, before they'd started resorting to dirty tricks. Whichever way they were bluffing, all she had to do was punch through it. "What do you want?" she asked.

And Sleeves instantly folded. They hunched over slightly, eyes wide, bringing up both hands; one holding the leather case, the other palm forward in appeasement. "Good morning?? Jeez, it's like I'm talking to Dusty here!"

Lou crossed her arms. "Crown business again? Did he send you?"

"Did he...who? What?" Sleeves's brow furrowed as they tilted their head slightly. Then their eyes went wide again. "No no no, I'm not letting him drag me into this, I'm just here to chat!" They puffed up their chest, making a show of looking around. "I can't talk to my old buddy?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You're in uniform."

"I look good in this uniform!" Sleeves adjusted their black tie, which stood out nicely against the white shirt peeking out from under the vest and coat. "I picked it out myself! I can wear it when I want—who are you, my aunt?"

Lou sighed, both from relief and from no small amount of exasperation. She gave the sheepdog some pets and head scritches. "Thanks Brie, I'll handle it from here." The dog, previously on high alert, relaxed at her touch and words, and after some more cajoling decided to trot back to the camp to continue his morning rounds.

"Good morning to you too," she said, finally returning Sleeves's earlier greeting as she stifled an ill-timed yawn. "Coffee?"

They frowned, looking mildly insulted, but relaxed fairly quickly to match Lou's demeanor. "Coffee would be nice."

Lou wordlessly led the way to the camp, making a beeline for the kitchen wagon. With the side wall flipped down into a ramp and the canvas roof extension unfurled, there now was plenty of covered space for hungry troupe members to relax with their meal. At this early hour, however, the only people present were Jehan and his young apprentice.

"That's right, you got it! Now just keep the fire going, you're a natural." The diminutive cook patted the child on the back. He stood back up, catching a glimpse of Lou—and immediately put a kettle on, getting some coffee cups out. "Morning Lou, you're up early. The usual?"

Lou nodded, held up two fingers, then turned around and led Sleeves to one of the tables along the outside of the troupe's makeshift eating area. Somewhere just out of reach of the tent-like awning, where the warmth of the sun would reach once it rose higher in the sky.

Sleeves sat opposite her, laying the flat leather case on the table and sliding it aside.

Lou failed to hold back another yawn, trying to dismiss it through brute force before having to ride it out regardless. "Coffee should be ready soon."

"No hurry, no hurry," Sleeves said, leaning back in their chair as they looked around. "Nice place you've got here. Definitely the biggest traveling theater I've ever seen."

Lou nodded. "Same here. We don't even have those up north."

"Heh, I guess not." Sleeves drummed their fingers on the wooden table, taking in the sights and sounds. Or perhaps the visitor was just trying to work up the courage to say what was on their mind. "It... really is you, isn't it. Glasses? Captain? What should I call you?"

Lou gave an awkward smile. "Lou is fine. It's my name."

"Wait, your name is Lou?" Sleeves leaned back. "I thought the whole 'wolf' thing was just a nickname."

"No, I mean, Lou is my name. Le Loup was just a title, I guess because of my cloak. People started calling me that and I went with it. A matter of convenience." Lou looked to Jehan across the dining area, trying to see if their drinks were ready. "A character I played," she added, a bit more quietly.

"Oh. I'm gonna be honest, I'm still processing this whole thing. I have so many questions."

"Like what?"

"Like why did you come work with the maids in the undercroft? I tried pressing Sir Frederic for answers—I was right by the way, he did pull some strings to get you hired—but he was his usual tight-lipped self about it."

"Is he doing alright?" She asked as casually as possible.

"What, Sir Frederic? Yeah, same old same old. He did mention that you were given a pretty generous retirement package, so why the career change? Were you trying to spy on your old body or something?"

"No! Well, not exactly, it's like..." Lou sighed. "I was telling Dusty about it after the play, how did she put it..."

"Wait, even Dusty knows?"

"Not the whole thing! She..." Lou looked around. Leaned forward. "Can you keep this to yourself?"

A small smile crossed Sleeves's face as they leaned forward as well. "Well yeah, of course."

"She thinks I was a royal decoy. That's what I've been telling everyone. It's just... an explanation that makes a bit of sense, and won't cause any trouble if someone does come looking for... for his old body. I don't want to mess with his plans, you know? Despite everything."

"Oh I get it, believe me I get it. I'm wrapped up in those plans too." The smile on their face shifted into their usual smirk as they inspected their manicure. "Would you look at that. I know something Dusty doesn't."

"And she knows something you don't," Lou said as she stood up, giving Sleeves a pat on the shoulder. "Coffee's ready, I'll be right back."

"Wh... HEY! Don't leave me in suspense! What does she know?"

Jehan's apprentice hopped down the ramp, giving Lou a quick "Hi Mommy Lou! Bye Mommy Lou!" as they crossed paths in front of the open kitchen wagon. She couldn't help but stop and smile, looking back at the child running off to spend his excess energy. Of all the kids she'd been taking care of in her short two years here—sharing the task with a large number of other troupe members—this one had been among the quickest to blossom.

She was also glad to see the day cook getting some help after all this time. She'd been able to see just how much work it took to keep this many people fed every day. Perhaps sometime she ought to get acquainted with the little night owl who was helping Lin with her side of the cooking duties.

"Here you go, for you and the guest," Jehan said as he slid over two cups of black coffee. "Need anything special on the side?"

"Cream and sugar's fine, thank you." Lou leaned her back against the counter, watching the child walk up to Sleeves as they were digging something out of their leather case. "How's he working out?"

"Little guy? Great!" Jehan poured some cream into a tiny decanter and put everything—coffees, sugar, and cream—onto a plate he retrieved from the drying rack. "He's a natural, loves to help... Kid's got more energy than he knows what to do with, but that's fine. Better too much than too little, eh? Here you go."

"Thanks Jehan," Lou said with the least tired smile she could muster this early in the morning. She carefully made her way back to the table as the cook's apprentice pelted Sleeves with questions.

"What are those?" the child asked.

"They're hormones," Sleeves said as they took one of the small twisted paper bundles and put away the rest.

"Which hormones?"

"Correct," Sleeves answered, unraveling the paper and folding it into a makeshift funnel.

"Yeah, but which hormones?" the child repeated, his face scrunching up.

"That's right, my aunt makes them," Sleeves replied, leaning back to pour the powder under their tongue.

The child asked again and again, but as he was met with Sleeves making unintelligible sounds with their mouth full, he eventually stomped off with a "hmph!" in search of better entertainment.

Lou was all smiles as she put the plate down and began to prepare both of their coffees. "You're pretty good with children," she said as she carefully metered out the cream and sugar into each cup.

"Eh, it's just the same tricks I use on Portals." Sleeves folded up the empty piece of paper and put it back into the small parcel they'd dug out of their leather case. They looked appreciatively at Lou's handiwork. "You remembered how I take my coffee."

"I took a guess that your tastes hadn't changed." She slid their cup over.

"Good guess," they said, taking a sip. They pondered their cup for a moment, then scratched their chin and gave Lou a pensive look. "Did yours?"

— end of preview

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