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When Violet went to her husband’s court, Pearl had the option of retiring to her own estate. Even if it wasn’t being let out to her sister at the time, she still chose to remain in her rooms at the palace rather than quitting it for her little retreat.
“I gave you the house so you wouldn’t have to be here all on your own,” Violet said, when she returned to her. “Not just so that your sister could use it as a love nest.”
“I know,” Pearl replied. “But you also gave me these very fine rooms, where I keep all my things. I can wait here just as well.”
It wasn’t horrible, staying at the palace. She knew where she could go if she wanted to see portraits of Violet, some from her childhood and a few more recent ones. There was some remodelling being done in the gardens, and Pearl enjoyed going out to see how that was coming along. Mostly, she kept to her sitting room and occupied herself with needlework. She bothered no one, and as she had proven herself to be no mastermind for intrigue, to have no interest in politics, and even less of a concern for furthering the ambitions of others, nobody disturbed her. If she had been a queen consort, she would have been lauded for her virtuous conduct. As it was, she was said to be the most boring royal mistress in recent history.
Pearl had been placed in the same rooms as Violet’s great grandfather’s beloved mistress. He had built the palace as it stood in the present, and had created a tunnel that connected the king’s quarters to his love. Violet’s father had given these rooms to his queen, and now Pearl had the privilege of using them. No matter the time of day, when the queen returned from a journey Pearl knew that she could expect her to arrive in her quarters within the hour, ready for bed. Her hair would be plaited for sleep, but Pearl always wanted it undone. Violet would sit perfectly still while she got it loose.
Violet would be so soft when she first came home. She complained that there was no conceivable way for a person to rest while travelling, so she was always dreadfully tired when she arrived at her destination. Pearl stroked her hair, her back, her sides, wherever her hands chose to go as she listened to this familiar refrain. She could feel her drifting off to sleep, and laid kisses on her temple to show how happy she was to have her in her bed grumbling about roads, about the inefficiency of travel in their world.
“I must commission someone to invent something better,” she said, her words heavily distorted by a yawning pause in the middle.
Pearl understood, though. She kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll remind you tomorrow.”
Pearl was a kind mistress. When the queen came to her within an inch of dreaming, it was best to coax her all the way to sleep. When she had her rest, and regained her strength, then they could play. But on those first nights, she would hang on until Violet went still, until her breathing evened out. Violet had told her that she never laid with the king like this, that she would retire to her own rooms when they were done conducting business, as she called it.
Having the most powerful woman in the kingdom clutching at her like a child’s comfort toy sent a giddy burst of butterflies right to the pit of her stomach. Having that woman be Violet only cemented how loved Pearl had been by sweet providence, how blessed her existence was.
***
Early in her reign, Violet liked to play a little trick on her ministers.
Many of the men charged with the nitty gritty business of running the kingdom had been employed thus since her father’s reign. Violet had seen no reason to give her cabinet a complete overhaul when she became queen. These men may be stuffy, and grumbled plenty about having to answer to a queen rather than a king for the first time in the history of their kingdom, but they were capable men.
Still, Violet heard how they moaned and groaned in anticipation of her accession to the throne for years. In the first year they spent together, Violet told Pearl about this, and confided in her that it had always made her angry. So, she used her capacity for speed against them.
If she moved with purpose, Violet could outpace just about anyone with her long legs. She would appear to float as she walked, even when she did so at a remarkably brisk pace. The queen could often be seen striding at top speed, not breaking the smallest sweat, with a minister huffing and puffing behind her. She was good at settling her scores that way; majestic even at the height of her pettiness.
In her public role, Violet would never cede authority. Why should she? She was queen by right. So long as she was in her own country, she was entitled to the final say in any major decision. If she had a taste for blood, Pearl shuddered to think of how the kingdom would be governed. Thankfully, Violet had a disdain for war ingrained in her at a young age, and was more interested in presiding over a cultural golden age than terrorizing the populace.
Violet’s forcefulness would be scary if she hadn’t been so gentle with Pearl from the start. Pearl had expected the crown princess to be haughty and remote before meeting her for the first time. That’s how she’d been described to her by her mother, who knew everything there was to know about the royal family from Lady Eleanor, an idle cousin of hers, who dedicated her life to observing them.
“She will hardly ever look at a person,” Lady Eleanor would say. “Always keeping to herself, and to her faerie. She walks around with her nose stuck in the air. Very pretty face and figure, but she acts like an ancient goddess.”
“I thought we let the royals stay in charge because the gods sent them down to rule over us,” Pearl’s mother drawled. “She might as well be that way—she’s the crown princess.”
Lady Eleanor then muttered, “Well, it isn’t very amiable of her.”
To Pearl’s surprise, Violet had looked right at her when they first spoke. She later claimed that she had stood right next to her for quite some time before she finally laid a hand on her shoulder, so that Pearl could face her. Pearl almost bumped her head against her when she bowed in respect of her presence, so mortified from not having noticed the crown princess that she did not remember to curtsy like a lady.
Violet had covered her mouth, to help stifle a laugh.
If Trixie hadn’t reappeared with two glasses of champagne, Violet would have taken her away from the grand hall so they could talk more easily. She wasn’t keen on making small talk with her sister. While she had Pearl to herself, though, Violet asked her questions and regarded her warmly as she spoke. She came across as interested and patient. Pearl would grow more and more certain that she must have talked nothing but nonsense looking back on it. Her mind had emptied itself of its contents the longer she had Violet’s eyes on her.
Perhaps Violet liked nonsense.
***
Pearl had always been gentle. She was not a fussy baby; it was said that Trixie cried twice as much on her behalf. They must have agreed on that while they were still in the womb. Trixie went quiet too as she grew up, but her presence was always very loud. Her moods were rolling thunder. Pearl never liked to be singled out, but for some reason she was the one who was noticed, while Trixie was ignored.
She almost thought it best to refuse Violet when she asked her to become her companion. It was easier to accept when she could smooth things over so that Trixie could come along too. Her conscience was more at ease that way.
They had been spending innocent nights together for weeks when Violet asked if she could kiss her.
“Of course, Your Highness,” Pearl said. Her heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of her chest.
It was dark, and Pearl could not quite see how red Violet’s cheeks got.
“I only want to do it,” said the princess, haltingly. “If it would please you. And I’ve told you to call me Violet.”
Violet never stumbled over her words before in the time Pearl had known her. Pearl worried for her comfort, all the while thinking it precious to hear her like that.
“I wish you’d say my name.”
She said it so sweetly, Pearl couldn’t possibly deny her.
“Well, Violet,” she said. “You mustn’t hesitate, then. Kiss me.”
They were both girls back then, really.
Pearl believed Violet to be more learned about the world, having been groomed to rule while Pearl focused on accruing feminine accomplishments.
Violet understood how their country was governed, had the freedom to associate with whomever she pleased, as her father believed she ought to grow accustomed to having the freedom to conduct her life as she pleased from a young age, and felt comfortable telling rather than asking for the most part. Pearl knew how to run a household in theory, and was discouraged from making friends outside of her mother’s circle of acquaintances. Violet’s father took her to survey their domains every other time he found reason to leave the capital. Pearl always considered it an event when she was permitted to go somewhere that wasn’t the village near her house, and even then she was taught that she had no need to show her face around those parts, because she was a lady .
Still, Violet didn’t kiss her without asking. After getting her consent, Violet shut her eyes and slowly let them drift onto Pearl’s, light as a feather.
Pearl pulled her in closer.
***
Pearl wasn’t sure she had much of a personality until she actively sought to develop a sense of it. When she finally had the space to get to know herself, she began to take inventory of her own thoughts. She kept mental lists of the things she truly liked, of what she really thought of the world around her. She’d grown up thinking her head was perfectly hollow, and sought to correct that.
The crown princess loved her by then, and would get sad if Pearl said anything disparaging about herself in her presence.
Trixie came into her own when she fell in love, suffered heartbreak, and had to build herself back up from that experience. She regained that love in due time, but she once told Pearl that she was certain of having gained her individuality because of that journey. Pearl would argue that Trixie had always been the more individual of the two of them, but she did grow into a less sullen, bitter woman than she might have otherwise. Pearl thanked the gods for that.
Pearl liked working with her hands. This was usually in the form of needlework. She embroidered handkerchiefs, and used her skill when she needed to alter clothing. She was never a dressmaker, but she took pride in what she could do. When she was young, she only had Trixie to gift her work to, and she had always wanted to have more friends she could think of when she worked. Violet received a lot of her work over the years, and the more people she grew to like, the more gifts she could give. When she was settled as the queen’s mistress, she thought she might enjoy the challenge of weaving tapestries.
She had a good ear for music, and enjoyed listening to others play. She had decent skill on the pianoforte, but had left mastery of musical instruments for Trixie to find her niche in. Trixie was always quicker with them anyway. Violet liked to bring her to concerts, and to have her be present when musicians petitioned her for patronage. Violet valued her opinion when it came to these things.
Quiet moments were more to Pearl’s taste. Violet would moderate her pace in consideration to her preference if they went on walks together. Pearl liked to enjoy life at a slow pace, and as she grew older, she only became firmer in her mission to trod along like a tortoise as much as she could. She did not need excitement.
She gladly received gifts from Trixie, who travelled the world with her beloved Katya and their dragon, from the comfort of her apartments in the royal palace. Pearl liked reading her letters, but she saw no point in making any long trips without someone to share them with. At most, she accepted invitations from friends to their country homes. Once, Violet took her to a house she was given by her husband, on his ancestral lands by the sea. It was the farthest she’d travelled since Violet’s days at the Royal Academy.
Pearl had more freedom to mingle with other people than ever, but while she did occasionally enjoy making a new acquaintance, she found that she liked to keep her inner circle small. She only cared about minding her business, and enjoying her queen’s company. Anyone who thought her pitiful for it could shove it.
She loved Violet when she snuck winks at her after making a public speech. She liked it when she was able to sway Violet’s opinion about a concert or play they saw together, but she loved it when Violet would be so impressed that she would stand up and loudly applaud the performance unprompted. She loved Violet in her full regalia, and the comfort she felt in her own authority.
She loved how Violet came apart in her bed. She was like a doll; Pearl undid her hair so that it tumbled down her back, just the way she liked it. She’d lift her arms so Pearl could get her nightshift off. She was soft, pliant. At first, in the rooms Violet had been provided with at the Academy, neither of them knew what to do with a lover’s body. It was always slow, hesitant, patient but tender. It mostly stayed that way, in that it was still slow, but more deliberate. Pearl never knew she liked being in charge before they met, but she came to learn that she did, if only when it meant having Violet trembling under her. She liked making her ball her hands up into fists and hold them above her head while she had her way with her. They knew Pearl could just tie her wrists together, but she enjoyed making her hold them still herself.
Pearl loved that Violet trusted her enough to let her have all the control. She loved kissing her gently, telling her how good she was for her.
She loved hearing Violet’s small, sleepy voice saying that she loved her.
***
Queens did not die in childbirth, not when they had faeries by their side. They may fall to sudden illness, but the birthing bed would never have them.
Even so, Pearl could feel her teeth clenching when Violet delivered her first daughter. Fame knelt at Violet’s side, holding her hand as she screamed, and Pearl wished she could be there in her place. She knew Fame had to be there, that it would help Violet survive, but it was all she could do not to rush to her side. She focused on not fainting until it was over, and the little princess was taken away so she could be made presentable to her royal mother.
“Well done,” she said, when she was finally allowed near the queen.
“Don’t cry,” Violet said, her voice hoarse. “I’ll be just fine.”
Pearl hadn’t realized she’d been crying.
Violet chose Alice for her first daughter’s name. The second, born a mere three years after her sister, was called Mary. There would be no more children after the two princesses; Violet was adamant that she had only promised her husband two children .
“There is no law forbidding girls from inheriting his throne,” she reasoned. “And I would not be where I am if mine was limited thus.”
Violet was the quintessential royal mother. Her lifestyle was not altered much to accommodate children. Their upkeep was mostly left to their faeries and the various attendants every royal child was entitled to. Violet attended to her queenly duties, found solace in Pearl, and when she had a moment, liked to visit her girls if only to make sure they remembered that they had a mother.
Violet once told Pearl that she couldn’t hold her daughters without being afraid of dropping them.
“It’s different with you,” she said. “You’re the one keeping me from falling.”
Princess Alice would sometimes ask her faerie to visit Pearl. The faerie, a prim-looking, dark haired woman, would grandly inform her that Alice wished to have her over for tea.
“The princess,” she’d say. “Would like to know if you are getting on well with your work, and if you should be ready to show it to her, wishes for you to bring it so that she might see it. She wants you to know that she should one day like to use the needle as well as you do.”
Alice would sometimes forget that Pearl needed to curtsy first when they crossed paths. She called her “Lady Duchess”, and Pearl had to stifle a laugh every time she said it. She was fair haired, but her eyes were Violet’s, and it was strange to see them on her chubby little face.
Because she would likely be Violet’s heir, Alice was encouraged to occasionally address the public. Small speeches would be written for her in advance, and she would ask Pearl to listen to her practice. She’d tell her that she only wanted her Mama to hear her when she got it right. On the day she’d have to deliver them, Violet would stand off to the side, and hold her arms open so that Alice could run into them when she was finished.
“When she’s older, that won’t do at all,” Violet would say, later in the evening, her head nestled on Pearl’s chest. Pearl rubbed tiny circles at the base of her neck.
“I hope she will be good,” Violet sighed. “She’s not like me. I’m not sure if I’m teaching her how I should.”
Pearl assured her that Alice would be just fine.
“She will be loved.”
Mary would fix her big, green eyes on Pearl when they crossed path, and silently wait until she curtsied before slowly extending her hand so Pearl could take it. She never made a single move until Pearl paid her the respects due to her as the queen’s daughter. She acted like this with everyone, save for her parents and her faerie.
While Alice was open and affectionate, Mary was quiet and reserved. There was something unknowable about her. Violet made an effort to give Alice the hugs she requested, but Mary would squirm until she was released if anyone tried to hold her after a certain age. When she learned to walk on her own, she would shriek if she was not permitted to waddle along on her own two feet.
Mary found her life’s great love in horseback riding. She had a habit of speeding past her attendants on horseback, sparking an intense chase. The young princess would blithely revel in feeling the wind blowing through her hair with her terrified entourage at her heel. Mary had no concept of how horrifying it would be for the queen’s youngest daughter to perish in a riding accident on her servants’ watch.
When Violet was asked to step in, she obliged. But she couldn’t help finding her daughter’s daredevil antics strangely amusing.
“She’s exactly like you,” Pearl breathed, when she spoke of it with Violet.
Violet laughed. “Not at all. I was never so daring.”
The king grew to feel affection towards his little daughters, but they were still reared on Violet’s lands for the most part. As children, they had no way of truly understanding how Pearl fit into their mother’s life. Pearl took care to learn how each princess preferred to be doted upon, and thus gained their esteem.
Pearl never regretted pursuing a life that would deny her the opportunity to have children of her own. Still, she had been there when Violet’s came into the world both times. She thought that was why they were so interesting to her, why she delighted in watching them grow.
One day, Mary motioned for Pearl to lower herself so she could whisper into her ear.
“I love you,” she said. “Because Mama loves you.”
Pearl had to remember that Princess Mary did not like to be scooped into big hugs. Instead, she gave her hand a little squeeze.
***
When Pearl was first established in the palace, Fame took her on a tour of the armoury. There, among all the instruments of war available to the kingdom, she cheerfully informed her that none of those things could truly injure any of her people.
“I can assure you, though,” Fame said, smiling benignly all the while. “That I need no arms to be dangerous.”
Pearl felt a creeping fear seeping from her core. She returned Fame’s smile with a tight-lipped one of her own.
“I can only be grateful that Her Majesty has you to protect her.”
Pearl wondered, later on, if Fame had said something similar to the king.
Violet once told Pearl that she’d initially thought her lack of connections made her an ideal companion.
“You do not come with any complications,” she explained. “Nobody truly knows you, so you don’t bring a tangled web of intrigue with you. Only an impertinent mother and a troublesome sister. Nothing I cannot handle.”
When Pearl held her in her arms, naked and flushed from their lovemaking, Violet told her that she was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. That she hadn’t known what to do with herself when she’d first spotted her.
“I thought you were an angel.”
Pearl laughed, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.
“I’ll try to be an angel if you want me to be,” she said.
Violet raised herself so that their noses touched. Hers was the most perfect face Pearl knew, and no matter how many years went by them, she never stopped thinking that.
“You needn’t try to be anything. I already love you.”