Chapter Text
“Oh. You’ve matured, beautifully…”
Amber smiles, awed breathless; cupping a flower beneath downy petals. Leaning in to clip a leaf.
(Was never able to, quite, kick the habit of murmuring to gathered ingredients while living with her mother in the Frontier Woods….)
Plants were her first friends.
A few more exact snips with her shears and she releases the nasturtium back to its upright position: orange, yellow and red, preening proudly in sunlight. One of the palace cook apprentices had suffered a nasty burn that had healed well, but became irritated from lack of exposure. She resolved to craft an ointment, as well as a soap, that would help with dry skin and stave off further risk of infection. Of course, it only helped that the leaves were well received in cooking applications; the sweet to spicy flavor, the more one chewed, joyfully shocking the tongue.
Her fingers curl along the handle of a basket; shifting knees, shuffling, to the adjoining mass of flowers;
Cradles: Stalks of violet.
A smile — Another. Quick—to her lips.
The first seeds she received had been from Reed, with a blithe comment(and a telltale smirk)that they were “Purple and irresistible to the senses: Like you”. She’d given him a bashful blow to the arm and rolled her eyes; pressing a kiss to his cheek, soon after.
He truly was The Sweetest man she’d ever known.
At Cosmina’s behest—and immediate acquisition of her fondness of horticulture—the King and Queen agreed to mete her out a sizable plot in the royal gardens, specifically for her practice in alchemy.
(And the Princess… had taken, considerably More, than a kiss…)
Amber adds bundles of lavender, wrapped with twine, to the gathered supplies.
Sighs:
“She’s late.”
Her Royal Highness, Cosmina Hohenzoltar-Sigmarissanis, had promised to meet her by the echinaceas following her official duties for the day. Echinaceas she had harvested a full hour ago.
With the compete turn around of her father’s health, there was no longer any threat of Cosmina acquiring the throne earlier than anticipated — even with the Queen, well and whole. But it also meant she now had little reason to sneak off on furtive expeditions. While wholly unapologetic of her former behavior, she did confide a resolute will in resuming her various obligations; many of which Reed had Dutifully performed, in her stead.
It makes Sense—she isn’t angry: The other woman is the future ruler of Icesilia — she can’t(would Never) blame Cosmina for her Birthright.
Sees: Firsthand, why—so Long—they had to converse with letters.
(…just. Didn't expect; to see even less, after moving into the palace….)
A presence kneels beside her, despite their formal attire. Claims a gloved hand and tangles their fingers.
“You’re lovely, in the natural. I never tire of seeing it.” A voice that resonates like still waters. “I’m also sure Mother appreciates finally having a daughter who dabbles in flowers instead of swords.”
Leans; into the older woman. Takes in: the distinguishing scent of rosewater and bergamot. “You don’t mean that.”
“No?” (A moment—when those amber eyes become, Unknowable. Guarded and aloof.
The eyes of a Sovereign.)
Silver brows dip. “I’m sorry.”
Amber shakes her head. “Don’t apologize; there isn’t anything to apologize for.”
“I broke a promise with a person who means the world to me.” With the words, the grip on her hand tightens. “I’d say there’s plenty to be ‘sorry’ for.”
“It isn’t broken.” Smiles. “You’re here.”
Squeezes; the hand Back.
Cosmina stares at her(—and it’s the complete Opposite of the former look—soft; thawed…), before fingers grasp at her chin;
Pull her into a fevered kiss.
A clipped gasp — taken aback(still: Paralyzed), when the other shows her Desire so openly—
The breadth of Her Love.
…Pants. When released.
Cosmina takes her lips; soft… Again; again… Brushes aside hair she let grow over an ear. “As lovely as you were, there was a touch of melancholy.” Those slender brows, pinch, once more(It feels like Empathy). “Do you miss Reed?”
The corner of Amber's mouth, quirks—instinctive—at the mention: Reed would shovel and sift through the soil, with barely restrained Glee, giving little regard toward the risk to his clothing as he asked, only, if he spaced the seeds properly.
“A little. But I cherish our time, as well.” Sighs; and nuzzles a shoulder. “I think I’d go mad if both of you were gone at once.”
The palace grounds, as large as they are, can still be… Stifling. And even as a princess in title, there were still, a few, who claimed she Tricked the royal family…
(Was nothing, more, than a sorceress Forsaken.)
The body next to her—shifts; settles. At her back. Presses. A hand wrapped around her waist: Pulling her near. “Are you lonely?”
A Ripple.
Amber’s mouth quickly opens — but nothing leaves.
(…Is she?)
“Before the sun retires behind the trees,” lips; latch to her neck. “Meet me in our chambers.”
“Cosmina…” finds her voice(tries. To hold back, the Impertinent shudder). “There isn't any need to overexert yourself.” Knows: It will Pass. “This is enough. You’re stretched, far too thin, as it is.”
Lips, Press. Just before the silver chain of the necklace, gifted, so long ago. “Before the sun retires behind the trees.”
(—Isn’t. A Request.)
…Amber exhales. “So you haven’t gotten rid of that habit of not taking ‘no' for an answer…”
Feels: The other’s mouth, crook, with Amusement. “I've told you.” Teeth. (Moans — despite herself). “I don't know the meaning of that word.” Nips; tender flesh again. “I also feel the need to bully you… I'm upset, you see. My wife has worn the dress I bought her, with the revealing cut,” licks; up. An exposed spine. “And I'm unable to ravish her in the gardens.” A thoughtful hum, that rolls right through her. “At least. Not here…” bite. “She knows this, of course. Which makes me think it: A challenge…”
“Well,” catches her breath, “you're always hinting I'm some big prude.” Chews her bottom lip. “And, maybe. I wanted to give something to look forward to….”
A light laugh; dulcet and pleasing. “I'll have to tease you, more often, if this is the result.”
“Bullying—now teasing?” A frown she doesn’t Feel. “Does Her Highness’ cruelty know no end?”
(But she loves it—
Loves
Their Easy way—their banter;
Loves: Just Talking.)
It feels: Like a Rare Treasure….
When she’s given silence, in response—there’s no helping the backward glance; the needy turn, to catch those eyes:
Dark.
Come-hither:
“Do you, truly, want to cause a scandal?”
Amber smirks(Knowing: servants and guards, no doubt, Near); frees herself from Cosmina’s hold, to catch a nasturtium in bloom. “Not yet…” turns; to tuck the vibrant flower beside silver locks. Admires: her handiwork. “Before the sun sets; our chambers.”
Cups either side of regal cheeks and pecks lips sweetly.
“It’s a promise.”