Chapter Text
When you lived growing up as royalty, it made you learn how to be lonely in quiet. As a young girl, she spent days in her room reading on poems, literature, or anything interesting she got her hands on. But she was told her sole purpose was to find an upper class, male suitor to produce a new male heir. Nothing more. So, when the males in her family had been assassinated or passed, and she found herself the heir to the throne, a massive spotlight had been switched on - one she had never faced before.
All she knew how to do was sit and shut up. Maybe get her way sometimes with a wink. She’d learned how to get what she wants with words, so it’s not like she didn’t expect it, but more so she was given it so she would be quiet. So being a public figure wasn’t easy for her. She would be able to play it up when she was out, act all proper and confident, but it made her tired. MePad was the only person she really spoke to most days. Even then, she got exhausted after a conversation with him. All this acting, all this ‘keeping up appearances’, it was the one thing she hated most. She wanted nothing more than to rip her corset off and laze around in something that didn’t look and feel so formal, with no pressure to be so perfect.
But growing up with only boys getting the attention made her wish to be as boy-ish as possible - maybe she would finally get some attention. She didn’t even need a servant, she could do everything by herself. Like a boy could. But it did feel nice to be spoiled a little, so she wasn’t really that opposed to the new addition in the castle.
It had been a couple days since Mic had started working at the castle. At first, she seemed a little jittery and nervous around the Queen, and she couldn’t blame her, but she had figured her way around the place and how to respect Taco’s commands without getting on her bad side. It was impressive, really, as Taco was a very fussy girl herself, but she seemed to do everything… right. She left her alone when she wished, she brung her whatever she asked for within in a couple minutes, and she always smiled.
Taco tied up her nightgown she currently wore so instead of going down to her ankles, it only reached her thighs, giving her flexibility. She reached into her wardrobe and pulled out a bow and an arrow quiver. She climbed out of her window, out onto a tree and scurried down that, into the castle gardens, which no one really went through.
Taco reached for a ribbon, tied on the front of her gown, and tore the ribbon off. She instead, used it to tie her hair up. She placed the quiver over her shoulder and picked up her bow from the ground, running out into the grass.
She knelt herself amongst the long grass and pulled an arrow out of the quiver. Her eyes locked onto a deer. She silently glided it into the bow and drew the string back with three fingers, until it couldn’t be pulled back any further. As she stalked her prey, and she watched it come to a still, she suddenly released the building up tension in the string. The arrow streamlined through the air, before it struck the deer in the neck. She grinned to herself before standing up to collect her arrow as she watched the deer flop dead.
“Your- Highness?” a confused, female voice questioned confusedly.
Taco flinched harder than ever before, as she turned around with muscles so tense they could’ve snapped like bone.
She made eye contact with Microphone, as she murmured out awkwardly, “Err, MePad is asking for you. Do you want me to tell him… you’re busy…?”
“You never speak of this to anyone,” Taco hissed as she pulled out an arrow from her quiver and held it against the maid’s neck.
Mic stared at it shakily. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“Swear on it. Swear on your life you didn’t see anything.”
“I swear…” she said hesitantly, “on my life… I didn’t see anything?”
“Good.” She let out a loud sigh. She dropped the arrow back in the quiver, looking up at the girl who still wore a perplexed expression on her face. “What?”
Mic spoke softly, “I didn’t know you hunt, Your Majesty.”
“I don’t. Because you didn’t see anything.” It went quiet. “I… hunt sometimes. But it will ruin my image, as ‘women aren’t supposed to do sports’,” she said mockingly.
Mic let out a small exhale with a smile. “Back in my village, no one really cared. You sorta took any food you could get, no matter where it came from. But I guess you have to keep up appearances.”
“Yeah,” she let a hint of a smile play at her lips. Before it went as quickly as it came. “I am not- I don’t care.” Taco suddenly grumbled. as she took down her hair. “Forget we ever had this conversation,” she snapped coldly. “Tell MePad I am just dressing.”
Microphone went quiet, staring blankly for a second, before replying quietly, “He checked your chambers, Your Highness.”
“I was changing in the lavatories then! I don’t care! Get lost!”
She squinted at her, trying to figure out her rollercoaster of emotions, before leaving with a reluctant nod.
Taco, when she saw her servant was out of earshot, let out a loud, frustrated groan. She picked up her bow and slung it around herself like a backpack (like her quiver, too). She scrambled up the tree and through her window. She untied her nightgown and threw it off, throwing her corset dress on herself and tugging at the strings loosely, not really caring how she looked. She didn’t bother to put any makeup on. As she exited, she walked towards the bathrooms and saw MePad and Microphone in conversation.
MePad looked a little confused as he saw her come from that direction, rather than the door behind him.
“Your Majesty—,” he began.
“I went to the downstairs lavatories. None of your concern,” she scoffed.
He nodded. “Alright. I just wanted to inform you that the nobles from a couple hundred acres East have requested a meal with us this afternoon.”
“Can’t you tell them I am occupied?”
“Your Majesty. That will be the…” he looked at his hands to count. “…Third time in a row you have been ‘occupied’. You cannot keep avoiding these things.”
“MePad, do you know how close I am to firing you? Make yourself useful and tell them I am occupied.”
He held firm. “Your Majesty. Word will start to spread of your antisocial behaviours. Word already has. You do not want to lose your reputation.”
She stayed quiet, tapping her foot anxiously. “Fine. Who is it with?”
“Sir Pickle and his acquaintances.”
“What!?” she screamed. “No, MePad, you have to get me out of that one.”
MePad sighed. “He just wants to meet to talk regarding the harvest, and tax prices. He is a noble, after all. He does have some say. His advisor promised me it has nothing to do with your... Erm…” he looked at Mic next to them, picking his words carefully. “…Rivalry? Scandal?”
“Enough,” she said firmly.
“I don’t know what to call it,” MePad continued.
“I said enough!”
MePad went quiet. Microphone looked confused but didn’t want to pry. She raised her eyebrows at the Queen, as if asking to have some kind of context.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
Mic quickly snapped her head back to her feet, chewing on her lip. It went awkwardly quiet between the three.
Queen Taco cleared her throat. “Now, what time do they arrive?”
“Two o’clock, Your Majesty.”
“Two?! That’s in- …two hours!”
“I believe that is correct,” MePad confirmed.
“Oh, shut up,” she barked. “Come on, Microphone. Get me ready.” Her skinny fingers curled around the servants wrist and tugged her along with a pace that screamed anger. Her grip was tight, but Mic was not about to complain. She stumbled on her footing on occasion, as she was being dragged at a much faster pace than she could walk. For a short woman, Queen Taco sure could take big strides.
As they reached her room, she shut the door behind the pair of them.
“Don’t you dare speak of anything you heard this morning,” she warned. Mic shook her head. “I want you to start off by doing my corset.”
“Okay.” She walked over behind Taco, and grabbed the lace. “Take a deep breath?”
As Mic heard her take a deep breath in, she tugged at the strings tightly. She heard a small wince from Taco. She tied the strings together. “Are you okay?”
She exhaled the breath she was holding. “Yeah. Do my makeup. Something simple so I don’t look like I just woke up. Do you know how?” Mic nodded. Taco sat down on the edge of her bed. “My makeup is in the bottom drawer of the dresser. The one closest to the door.”
She knelt down and opened the drawer, pulling out a knitted bag. She pulled up a chair and sat herself in front of Taco. As she opened the bag, she saw various glass vials and clay pots. Thank god she had learned how to do makeup on a rich woman she had once worked for before, otherwise she would have been clueless.
She poured some of the liquid from a tube onto her face and patted the fountain across her face. She did the same with the concealer, and a very light contour. As she leaned closer and pulled out a small brush, which she dipped in a ceramic pot filled with black liquid. She applied it to her eyelashes. Then, she grabbed a different ceramic pot and dipped her finger in it, applying a gentle red to her thin lips. She pulled away and smiled.
“There.”
The Queen pulled out a pocket mirror, and looked at herself. She was rather impressed. It was better than when she did it herself. She let out a small thank you as she admired herself.
Microphone felt a small sense of pride swell in her chest as she saw her looking at herself with awe. “Do you want me to do your hair too?”
Taco looked up at her and smiled, speaking in a softer voice, “Yes please.”
Mic grabbed the ribbon on the side of her bed from earlier and leaned behind her, picking her curls up and placing the string underneath them. She wove them gently between the ribbon, then tied the ribbon up to form a bun on her head. She moved to the front of her head and pulled two strands out.
She looked in her pocket mirror once again and beamed. “It looks amazing.”
“I’m glad,” Mic grinned as she set the crown upon Taco’s head.
Taco looked around at her walls, before looking at the girl in front of her. “Hey, sit next to me for the banquet. Just- just so you can get me drinks when I need them. And… maybe get me out of the dinner if I need to.”
“If you want me to, Your Highness.”
“I do,” she said whilst looking at her nails. “I’ll get a seat organised for you. Hm?”
“I appreciate that. Thank you, Your Highness.”
It went silent between them. Taco’s face fell and she quickly stumbled, “This does not mean anything. Okay? I just cannot be seen alone at the dinner.”
“I didn’t think anything of it.”
“Good! I didn’t either.”
…
They both shuffled awkwardly.
“Go prepare the banquet hall,” she ordered, but her voice was not as aggressive as it would’ve usually been.
———
They both sat next to each other at the table. There was quite a few people, having their own conversations. A taller man with dark green robes sat next to Taco. Mic noticed the air felt heavy with something she was unsure of, as Taco and this man made uncomfortable eye contact with him. He seemed a lot more confident than she did, and Mic noticed her leg was bouncing under the table.
“As you may have heard, Queen Taco,” he began, “there have been countless failing harvests. The people are going hungry. My peasants are planning to rebel.”
She just nodded.
“What do you plan on doing?”
She stared at her glass of wine as she spoke. “Um, well, possibly tools to hunt could be provided to each town. The people could learn to eat meat.”
“And what if they can’t hunt? Then what?”
“Then, well, people can set up markets with food.”
“But it appears the people cannot afford to visit markets with how high the taxes are.” He appeared very antagonistic towards her.
She stared at her plate, as she put some food on it. “Then I’ll lower the taxes.”
“Why didn’t you lower them sooner?”
“I did not know how it was affecting the people. No one has told me.”
“Maybe you should get out the castle more, your Majesty.”
Microphone watched her grip on her cutlery strengthen as she shoved some food into her mouth to give her some time to think, before talking. “I leave the castle when I like. It’s none of your concern.”
“How’ve you been holding up, Your Majesty?”
She looked a little confused at the sudden change in subject. “...Fine? Why?”
He tilted his head. “Just wondering how you sleep at night knowing you have my sister’s blood on your hands,” he whispered in a sneer. This caught Mic’s ears, however. Her eyes widened but she kept to herself, taking a sip of the wine provided for her and cutting up her own food.
Taco dropped her cutlery quietly and tensed. “That was not the topic. We were talking about taxes. You said you would not mention anything.”
“Yeah? Well, we’re talking about it now. Go on. How do you sleep at night?”
They both spoke in hushed whispers. “Come on, Pickle. I was a stupid teenager who just wanted the throne to myself. I know that does not excuse what I did, and I really, deeply, apologise. I really do.”
“An apology does not bring her back, does it?”
“No, and I know that. Pickle. I am really sorry. But please, please stop making this more awkward than it needs to be.”
He sat back in his chair, picking up some meat with his fork and then chewing. “Fine.”
They both sat in silence.
“I’m going to use the lavatories,” she spoke up as she stood, walking out of the room. Her and Mic made some eye contact, with uncomfortable eyes.
However, as one of the chef’s walked out with an extra dish, Mic and the chef made eye contact. The chef had blonde hair and was quite pale. She ran up to Mic. “Oh my god, so you are the new maid!”
She beamed up at Soap from her seat. “I know! I can’t believe we haven’t ran into each other yet!”
“How’s it going? You’re the Queen’s personal servant? That’s crazy!”
“Yep. It’s actually not that bad. She’s… kind of nice…?”
Soap squinted confusedly at her. “Nice?”
“Um- yeah…?”
“Really? She screams at the kitchen every chance she gets. Anyway, I ought to be off,” she smiled, “but catch up with me later. I’ll be outside the kitchen after this.”
As Soap ran off, Mic looked around and saw Sir Pickle dropping what looked like a tablet in the wine glass next to him. She quickly looked away. Was that poison? She looked back with the corner of her eyes, but not her head, and watched it fizz ever so slightly before it died down quickly. If Pickle saw her looking, he would’ve threatened her.
A few minutes passed. Taco did not come back.
“Do you want to check on Her Majesty?” the man asked, fidgeting with the green fabric in his hands. “She has been gone a while. You are her servant, yes?”
Mic nodded, and excused herself, walking out the doors and to the bathrooms. She opened the door and saw Taco with watery eyes, staring in the mirror. They made eye contact for a couple seconds before Taco stood up straight and sniffled. “May I help you?”
“People are asking where you are.”
She groaned. “It hasn’t been that long. Tell them I’m ill, for gods sakes. Then maybe I can get out of here.” Her voice was extremely shaky.
“Listen.”
“Excuse me? You do not tell me what—!”
“No,” she interrupted, starting to speak quickly, “we don’t have much time before people start asking for me.” The Queen, despite about to argue, stopped to listen. “Pickle has spiked your drink. I’m pretty sure it’s poison. What you’re going to do, is you’re going to hold it to your lips so the liquid touches your mouth. You’re going to pretend to take a sip and then spit it back out into the glass. Say it tastes nice. And as you go for a second sip, spill it on your dress.”
Taco listened with wide eyes.
“This will get you an excuse to leave, and prevent you from being poisoned.”
The Queen nodded profusely, and shooed Mic away with her hands so she could get back to the dining room immediately. Microphone entered through the doors. “She is just touching up her makeup,” she told the table with a smile.
She finished her meal, and watched Taco come back through the double doors. She sat down elegantly, putting the wine glass to her mouth and pretending to take a sip.
“Does anyone know what wine this is?” she asked the table. “It’s really nice,” she plastered a smile on her face. However, a loud gasp escaped her as she dropped the wine glass and it landed upon herself.
She let out a loud curse, and Mic rushed to wipe as much red wine as she could off of her Majesty with a napkin on her plate.
“Do I need to get changed again?” she asked Microphone loudly, so everyone could hear.
“We only have dessert left, is it really worth using an entirely new dress for one hour, Your Highness?”
She sighed. “I can’t stay in this dress. You need to soak it as soon as possible to get the stains out.”
“Does that mean we have to call it off early?” Mic asked in a whisper which she knew, by now, everyone was eavesdropping on.
“...I suppose.” Taco stood up and spoke to the castle, “I sincerely apologise, everybody, but it appears we need to depart.”
Microphone and Taco both stood up, Mic walking her as if she had injured herself out of the doors. As the dining hall doors shut behind them both, they both walked to her chambers in silence, both conscious of whether they could be heard or not. However, when they both walked inside of her room and shut the door, Taco wrapped her arms around Mic tightly for a few seconds.
The servant stood there, a little bewildered, but strangely not opposed to it. As the Queen pulled away, she looked up with grateful eyes. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You saved my life, and got me out of there.”
Mic offered a friendly smile. “I’m just doing my job, Your Highness.”
Taco took her crown off and loosened her own corset, taking in a loud gasp for air and laying back on the bed. She did look awfully tired. She opened one eye to look at Mic.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” she started, “what happened between you and Sir Pickle?”
Taco sighed and sat up. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. But,” she clicked her tongue, “I think I owe it to you after today.”
Mic sat down on a chair across from her bed.
“When I was younger, I had a lot of brothers. Well, three, not a lot. Who were obviously heirs to the throne. But they all got assassinated or died of mysterious causes.” Taco spoke as she began to change herself out of her stained dress, putting on a nightgown (the same one from this morning) instead. “So, my younger brother had been married to this girl, whose brother was Pickle.” She sat back down on the bed, as she gestured for Mic to come and undo her hair. “This obviously gave him a path to the throne. And as all my brothers got killed, and he was the only male technically in our family tree, this made him the heir.”
Mic set the ribbon down onto the nightstand and messed with Taco’s hair a bit so it sat better. “Yeah?” she asked, as she sat back down. She noticed the Queen spoke a lot with her hands.
“Yeah. So, being the little brat I was, I poisoned his sister, so he wouldn’t be connected to our family anymore, and therefore leave the position to me. I feel really guilty. Believe it or not, him and I used to be really close. And I shouldn’t have done it.”
Mic nodded.
Taco suddenly grabbed her hand, holding it in one and resting the other on top of it. “Thank you so much for today.”
They both stared at their hands in quiet. Until, after a minute or so, Mic spoke up, “I already told you, I was just doing my job... No need to thank me, Your Highness.”
Taco looked up at her for a couple seconds. Her eyes seemed to trace each feature on her face. However, she quickly cleared her throat and let go of her hands. “You should get to your chambers. Change clothes, and um, whatever. …Get out.”
Microphone nodded, standing up after a couple seconds. “Okay.”
They both looked awkwardly at each other for a moment, before she made her way out of the room.