Work Text:
“I can’t help but feel a bit envious.”
Circe glanced up, eyeing the Queen of Sheba through the dancing campfire flames.
“If this is a sob story about a missing husband, I’m out.”
“No. I’m simply jealous of your reputation.”
“Eh? Your face graces as many paintings as mine.”
“But your True Name is remembered with awe and authority. Mine has faded.”
“Then! Speaking with my authority as the Queen Witch, isn’t it fitting that the old True Name of the King of Riddles is lost to time?”
“King of Riddles.” Sheba’s ears twitched. “I like the sound of that.”