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Tomoko storms into the main hall at a little past lunch, dragging a kitchen maid by the hair.
“I found her!” She holds the maid up for all the court to see.
The maid is screaming and sobbing which makes it rather hard to hear what Tomoko is saying, but Yuka understands nonetheless.
“Tomo, put the girl down.”
Tomoko has a particularly manic gleam in her eyes, but no response to Yuka’s use of her nickname. Yuka knows it to be the same gleam she radiates at the thought of going to war, or killing any man who attacks unsuspecting women down dark alleyways.
“But I wanna kill her– ”
It seems to her that Tomoko believes that shaking the maid harder will make her speak. The court stands petrified.
“Tomoko,” Yuka speaks again, louder and firmer. She uses Tomoko’s actual name this time. “Put the girl down.”
Tomoko glares at the ground, sighs, and tosses the girl away in disgust. “Isn’t it easier to just let me kill her?”
“No,” Yuka sighs as well. “What has she done?”
“She tried to poison you.” Tomoko holds up a little vial of something strange and evil smelling, “I found her putting this into your wine-” She turns to the girl. “Speak for yourself!”
The girl begins to speak, shaking, trembling, eyes huge, hands clasped – the noises that come out of her mouth make no sense. Yuka looks down in pity, orders her guards to have the girl taken down to the dungeons, and then walks to her chambers, with Tomoko following after her.
Tomoko prowls along in her wake like a sulky child. But she’s only Yuka’s most talented reformed barbarian.
In her chambers, Yuka sits herself down at her desk while Tomoko stomps around the room. The queen ignores her until she settles down. It’s like having a child who has thrown a tantrum.
Tomoko eventually loses steam and flops into the nearest chair, scowling but calmer.
“You never let me have any fun.”
“That’s what i’m supposed to do,” Yuka sighs, refusing to look up from her papers. She has her own queenly duties to attend to and is clearly not in the mood to soothe Tomoko. “I stop people from having fun. It’s my job. I also stop reformed barbarians from turning traitors into kebabs.”
“Even the ones who try to poison you?”
“Even the ones who try to poison me,” Yuka looks up at that, with a calm and stoic gaze. “We have laws for this, Tomo.”
Tomoko is probably pouting. Yuka finds that rather attractive but isn’t about to admit to any such thing. She’s far too sensible.
“You know you scare people,” she sits back, giving Tomoko a glare. “When you run and charge about, dragging traitorous maids by their hair. My court is all frightened enough of you, Tomo.”
“Good,” Tomoko is proud. Even prouder that she got Yuka calm enough to use her nickname. “I scare them. That’s good. I hope they all remain very, very frightened of what I might do to people who try to hurt you.”
That, Yuka thinks, is rather heartwarming. In that strange way that Tomoko has of being both lovely and homicidal at precisely the same time. She allows herself a smile and fights the urge to reach across and give Tomoko a kiss.
“Nonetheless,” she says, more gently, “you need to calm down sometimes. At the moment you’re just not very good for morale.”
Tomoko is most definitely pouting. But she’s never actually refused a direct order from her queen, especially not when it’s made with that lovely gentle tone which Yuka reserves only for her and she nods, with a smirk.
“Fine.”
“Good. Now would you be so kind as to tell my maid to fetch me some wine? Preferably without any hair pulling or threats to her life or her family?”
“Why do you want wine at two in the afternoon?”
“Why do you think?”
Tomoko laughs, bows, and does as she’s told.