Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Shhh! Shh, shush! We can’t let anyone hear us!”

“I am hardly being loud here, you shush.”

“Do not tell your queen to ‘shush’. I shall have you upon the blockade.”

“Stockade?”

“Shush!”

Ella slammed backwards into her bedroom door, giggling and covering her mouth a little too late. Tadius smirked, reaching around her to turn the doorknob, the two stumbling in. There had been that little moment where they had been just close enough where Ella could smell the wine, thick and heady, still clinging to his lips and pulse. Of course, that would imply that she could not smell it before on herself, which would have been a lie.

The Bog’s Hollow Annual Fete had been an event that Ella had practically begged Tadius to go to, even though he would have had very little say in wherever she went, although he appreciated her foresight in asking him. The day had been full of village games and mild competitions, where bakeries sent in their best pies and farmers showed off their prize cattle for the gentle delight of the public. Ella had seen many families scurrying around, children teasingly tagging and running around her legs, not quite old enough to understand the social importance of a queen as their parents quickly scolded them with many needless apologies.

To Tadius’s lack of surprise, she had been completely open to everything in a way the previous prince would have mocked or used to his selfish advantage. She had dressed in her simplest clothes, forgoing the golden refinery for a plain, cream peasant dress with a green skirt overlaying the top, hiding her legs from view. Of course, the townsfolk had recognised their sovereign immediately, but she had immediately dismissed the more archaic notions, resorting to joining in or joyously watching the proceedings. Many children had come up to shyly offer her candies and baked goods with their parents' prompting, and Ella had been as graceful as ever, accepting them all with a wicked grin and a new layer of sugar coating her hands. Tadius had never felt prouder of a monarch in his life.

But as was tradition, once the sun was gone and the children were put to bed, the wine and drink and merriment arrived.

Large kegs of the taverns’ finest booze had been rolled up the streets and set out for free consumption. Someone had rolled the piano out from the Toad’s Croak, a drunken maestro set loose across the keys to varying degrees of audible success. Drunken games had evolved to drunken competitions, adults letting loose the side they reserved only for the merriest of moments. And their beloved queen had merely been delighted to be a part of it.

Ella had danced with her people, held reverently and celebrated simply for existing with the public as Tadius had dutifully watched from the side, giving rather glib remarks and teasing eyebrow raises as the ninth person had come up to whisk her off her feet. And yet, it was now he who did it, easily winding his arm around her waist to prevent his queen from toppling to the floor. “Careful, Ella. I will not be responsible for the queen’s royal skull being split upon her floors.”

“When will you take responsibility for me, I wonder?” Ella sighed dramatically, rolling her head onto his shoulder. “Whenever shall I be freed of the curse of free will?”

Tadius’s breath stopped as he began to speak, then sighed. “I am rather too drunk to think of a proper response to that.”

“I win!”

Tadius spluttered. Fully spluttered, like some old codger. He had never heard that sound exit his mouth in his life. “Win? There was nothing to win!”

Ella grinned up at him, her arms clumsily winding around his shoulders. “And yet I still won. How about that, Tedious?”

“It’s Tadius. Queen Smella.”

Ella gasped, immediately removing herself from his hold to smack his arm. “Treason! Treason upon your queen!”

“That’s what I get tried for treason over?”

“Yep.” Ella popped her word, careening gracefully sideways until she lay messily on her bed. She had made sure everything was neat for her return, although she swiftly started winding the blankets around her arms, tangling herself up in the fabric. “Utter treason. In my presence. Unbelievable.”

“My lady.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Queen Ashmore.”

“Treason.”

“Ella.”

Ella raised her head. “What?”

He was looking down at her with that soft look again. She had caught him a couple times, like she was the moon and starlight and drink that inebriated them. Like there was nothing behind his loyalty other than blind, complete belief. Like that was everything behind his loyalty because his belief was immense and intentional. Like he might kiss her if she were a lesser maiden and he were a less professional man.

Uh oh, not the time for that thought.

But Tadius was still smiling, that twinkle in his eye possibly hazy from either of their inebriated states. “You are still in your regalia. And while I am not one to disrupt the queen’s royal bedtime, I would suggest taking down your hair, at least.”

Indeed, while she had aimed for simplicity in her gown, her hair had been braided and piled high in complex buns and twists, courtesy of her maid who never failed to impress with her gravity defying hairstyles. Ella groaned, resting an arm across her eyes, using her blankets to cover her gaze. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“You must have a lot of hatred in your heart then.”

As another groan left her, she forced her head back up from the soft, waiting cushions. With all the heaviness of rocks in her limbs, she slumped into her vanity’s chair, twisting open her box filled with hair clips and all the jewelled accessories gifted to her by various nobility. Really, she had hoped some of them would be more original with their gifts over the years. Did one person really need fifteen ruby hair claws?

He was still lingering, still watching, when she started reaching up to take down her hair, braid by braid. “One day, I shall insist that the maids make you up for as long as they do with me. And then you shall know the pains of taking down such beauty each night.”

Tadius chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Or is it so I may experience the pains of a thousand clips against my scalp?”

“Ah, beauty takes effort, you know.”

Tadius chuckled again, a little softer. “Maybe for some. For others, beauty is merely innate.”

A more sober mind would analyse the remark to death. Fortunately, her mind was not sober. “Yeah, yeah.”

He was still clearly quite inebriated himself, his posture more relaxed and his head knocked up on the wallpaper. His eyes were slightly closed, that silly little curl that normally obeyed his routine sticking to his forehead, frizzy and, dare she admit, cute. Tadius always stood so tall, so professional. And here he was, one foot kicked up, looking like any other man she had seen celebrating that evening.

Ella reckoned she still would have noticed him. Picked him out in the crowd from his look and smile, crooked a finger and invited him to dance.

She dropped a few pins into her pot, scrabbling to find the other that was still holding that braid down. Tadius watched her carefully, briefly meeting her eye in the vanity mirror before glancing away, surveying her room. “Why did you not want anyone to hear us in here?”

Had she said that? She really must be quite drunk. “Oh… I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—the Grizzwald girls and I would always sneak out, go out around the town… sneak back in when our mothers and fathers were fast asleep. A latent fear.”

“Of course.”

She grumbled to herself, hands tangling in her half-up hair with no purchase found on the next pin. Without remark, Tadius stepped forward and pushed her hands away, smoothly sliding the pin out from her hair and passing it down to her. “I had never seen you so… overjoyed, my lady. I do hope that there have been moments of joy during your stay in the palace?”

Ella collected the pins from his hands as they moved over, tugging with such gentleness over her scalp. Each cord unwound with the softest of touches, his hands effortlessly and yet intently careful. “Of course I have! Yes, the meetings have been long, the company somewhat limited, but still much more preferable to my previous housing situation.”

“I certainly would have hoped for that much.”

“Indeed. But yes, I have certainly been happy here.” She relaxed, daring to close her eyes, her scalp tingling as Tadius diligently worked on her updo. “Tonight was merely a more, uh… I cannot remember long words right now, help me out. Fun?”

“Comfortable?”

“Mmm.” Ella let out a long sigh through her nose. “I know I’m queen, and I’m royal, and blah, blah, blah, but it was so nice to just be… Ella Ashmore. Enjoying the fete with everyone else. A normal girl, able to dance with strangers and drink and be well. Even if they do still treat me with an unfair priority.”

Tadius dropped a few more pins into the pot, the small clatter prompting Ella’s eyes to reopen. “I have never apologised for that.”

Ella watched him in the mirror. His eyes focussed intently on the crown of her head, searching for any more pins, ties or clips hiding between her roots. “Apologised? Whatever for?”

“For making you queen.”

She remained silent, sensing a lot more beneath the surface. Or maybe it was just drunken nonsense. Either way, a sharp sobriety cut through her happy haze, convincing her to be quiet and let him speak. “I… acted impulsively many times on the day of the prince’s wedding. I married him to Putrice Ashmore, despite knowing, deeply, that she was not that same woman who matched me so easily on the balcony. When nobles were clutching each other, fearing for their lives in the aftermath of your return, I ran away and smothered an old man in his sleep.”

He took in a deep breath. Ella felt the warmth of his exhale prickle on her scalp. “And when the moment immediately made itself clear, I snuck away and crowned you queen based on, let us be honest, personal interest. You had… previously proclaimed your disinterest in becoming queen, and yet I crowned you anyway.”

“Why would you apologise for that?”

Tadius’s expression was normally so guarded, so careful. Neutral at best. But maybe it was the wine relaxing his muscles, or maybe it was the way she had asked so carefully, but a deep guilt rested upon his brow, his hands hanging by his sides. “Because… I gave you no choice. You are queen out of obligation, not of personal want. That I have fulfilled my own wishes and taken yours from you in the process.”

Ella turned in her seat, taking his one of his hands. Her palms were slightly sticky with post-drink sweat, although he had seen her in worse states. “No, I—you misunderstood our initial conversation. I would not have wanted to be queen had the prince been my king. A life working as a puppet under his useless hand? I would have never wanted that. You were right to question my desire at that ball, but do not question your resolve now.”

Tadius met her gaze uncertainly, gaze darting between her reflection and the real version, holding his hand and rubbing his knuckles. “But instead, you are a lone queen, destined to have every decision rest on your shoulders. I… the pressure would drive anyone insane.”

“Well. Thank my sweet dreams that I am not doing it alone then.”

She cocked an eyebrow up at him, and his guilt dissolved into a shy smile. Tadius, shy? Something to remember forever. “I am no king though, Ella. I have none of the birthright, nor any of the desire to be one.”

Ella laughed. “I am perfectly happy to hold the titles, as long as you keep holding those meetings so I don’t forget. I mean really, how many disputes over corn tax must we resolve?”

Tadius squeezed her hand. “Apparently, the list may never end.”

"And besides - if I really, truly did not wish to be queen under any circumstance, do you think that you would have had any say in the matter?"

Tadius smiled, and Ella felt rather accomplished at that. "I suppose not. You are... uniquely stubborn in your ways."

Even with the little jab to her, she successfully caught the reassurance in his voice. Funny how she could manage that so quickly, so blindly, even amid her dishevelled state. She pulled his hand up, kissing that back as she would have with Lucy or Justine or anyone else, lingering on the smell of his hands, the heady scent of alcohol still clinging to his pores. “Then we may as well look to better things. More important things. Like dancing, and celebrating!”

Tadius choked out a laugh, removing his hand from her grip to cover his mouth. “Now, Ella? We have just returned from the festivities; I hardly think it right to go back out. At least not with notifying your guard.”

“I never said we had to leave the palace to do that, Tadius.”

She rose from her chair, pushing it back into the vanity before holding out her hand. “I have danced with a lot of people tonight. And yet, you remained at the sidelines, willingly watching me. Why?”

Tadius raised an eyebrow, but a curious little blush rose to the tops of his cheeks. “I—would not think it appropriate. The gossip alone would have been immense, for a queen to dance with her attendant.”

“And was it only gossip that prevented you? Dance with me.”

Ah, there was that look again, complete with a dopey little smile. “There is no music.”

“Do we need music?” She tilted her head. “Are you afraid to dance with me? Can you not dance and require a tutor?”

Bless him, he actually looked offended. “As the prince’s attendant, I have had multiple dancing lessons, thank you. There is no need to complain of the quality of my moves.”

Ella flicked her hand. “How can I complain if I have never seen them? Dance with me, Tadius.”

He sighed, staring at her hand like she may claw at him. There was the telltale faint purple under his eyes, hinting at his exhaustion, that lazy smile and faint red across his cheeks and temples from the drink. Ella flicked her hand again in both warning and invitation before Tadius finally took it, pulling her into his arms with grace and ease. Rolling his eyes at her victorious grin, he set about performing a rather tilted waltz, the kind of grandeur and bullshit she may have expected from a visiting dignitary, but not him.

He raised an eyebrow when she pouted. “What?”

“You dance like a toff.”

Tadius scoffed, instantly twirling Ella into three spins, so quick she almost tripped on her feet, before catching her securely back into his arms. There was no damn way he was that drunk. “There is not enough room to show off my prowess.”

“Blaming the royal bedroom, are we?”

“Don’t start now.”

The challenge started, the two began trotting around the room, launching each other into spins and dips, each gently outpacing the other until they were near galloping. Ella let out a laugh so loud she thought she may break the windows, Tadius soon joining her in near gasps of hysteria. She vaguely heard him kick over her riding boots, shortly before she felt her hip knock against the vanity, although neither stopped to care. Any bruises were party favours, any nicks or cuts mere happy reminders of a night damn well spent.

He gripped her waist, lifting her up in a rather simple raise but still earning a quick shriek, Ella completely caught off guard. She clutched onto his shoulders as he dropped her back down, her feet meeting the floor with no pain as he held the brunt of her descent. Her grin was the light in the twilight. “Alright, alright! You can dance!”

“Ah, she finally admits it!”

“Never denied it.”

“Implied it.”

Ella clicked her tongue, looking up at him. Her heart was still pounding from the dance, both of them panting slightly. His eyes were rather delicate in this faint light. All dark and beautiful. “You’re rather pretty, you know.”

Tadius’s mouth shuddered as though she had restarted the pulley system working his jaw, before it snapped closed. “I… am?”

“Mmhmm.”

They both stood still, his arms around her waist, her hands resting on his shoulders. And, if she were sober enough (surely by now, she must be) she maybe would have noticed them both leaning in, just a little. And her hands moving from the quite impressively tense muscles of his shoulders to resting just at his collarbone. And his hands moving from her back to her sides, thumbs almost hesitantly pressing at her ribcage. Like she might fly away in a haze of starlight.

Like she might say no.

Sadly, she was not sober enough. Whether either were leaning in, both were certainly leaning back, and they both collapsed in a quick and messy heap onto Ella’s bed. She let out a laugh, a fiery warmth spreading to her cheeks. “Shit! Are you alright, Tadius?”

His arms were pressed either side of her, face momentarily pressing into her stomach before he sheepishly raised himself up, smiling up at her with exhaustion heavy in his gaze. “I am. Thank you for cushioning my fall.”

Ella tutted. “The things I do for you.”

“Indeed.”

He raised himself up, glancing briefly out of the window to his right. The moon was high in the sky, yet unable to break through the harshness of the night. “It is getting late, my lady. Extremely late.”

Ella sighed. “I know. I should sleep; we will have work to do.”

Tadius moved away from the bed, and Ella immediately missed that moment of warmth, with his arms around her and his embarrassed smirk on his face. But he did not leave right away, instead walking over to her vanity to bring over a pot of serum. “I would also recommend removing your makeup, lest it get onto your pillows.”

She accepted the pot. “You are awfully attentive, Tadius. Thank you.”

He headed to the door, pausing for just a moment to look back at her. Her hair was down, the liner around her eyes a little smeared, her dress and bedsheets tangled together. And yet, she acutely found that she did not care, only wishing that his eyes would meet hers again. “Merely performing my duties. Goodnight, Ella.”

And he left his drunken queen be, wiping off her makeup and settling in for the worst hangover of her life.