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Princess Julia always kept her word (to Ishtar) for better or worse.
Mother was too eager to throw her the party she asked for, whipping the castle into a frenzy to throw it by the end of the week. Princess Julia bought her the promised tiara, set with rubies against intricate silverwork. Ishtar’s maidservant placed it atop her head, pulling her ponytail out to fall over it and down her body.
Uncannily, eyes glittering, Julia knew her dress measurements. She delivered the dress herself, hidden in a box wrapped in ribbons, a smaller box atop it. Part of her hoped she and Princess Julia could have had a normal day in a boutique, playing dress up like they used to, unable to let go of her foolish hopes.
Princess Julia kept the smaller box for herself, sitting back on the chaise in her dressing room. Arriving dressed (never letting a servant touch her) in her own fine gray skirts and tights, forever wrapped in her black cloak, she lounged self-satisfied while Ishtar dressed under the hands of a maid.
“Oh!” Princess Julia said, clapping her hands. “I knew you’d be beautiful!”
The new dress was its promised silk, pooling on the ground over her dancing heels. Black and purple, tied around her waist with a flat bow, hints of the red lining flashing as she pulled the dress up a hint. The puffy shoulders reminded her of her pauldrons, the billowy, open mouths of the sleeves showing off her arms. Finely sewn and beautiful as ever, she ignored how quickly it was made, lest Princess Julia planned this for months and months. Anything was possible with her, good and bad.
Princess Julia stood to her full, unimpressive height, shorter than the late empress. (Ishtar tried to not think about why the empress was the late empress. Julia, the whole Julia, mourned her mother.) Clutched in her hands was the small box, opening it with a flip of her thumb to reveal another carnation band, dark reds and purples flower twined together. “My fool of a father nearly forgot to have the gardens replanted, but I remembered. The purples you asked for have bloomed!” Her soft hand slipped across her bare wrist, wrapping the ribbon for her. She was the princess’ betrothed, marked by gifts.
Satisfied, offering her elbow, “Come, Ishtar, come! Let us be on our way! It has been too long since we were seen together. I’d hate for anyone to get the wrong idea.”
Promised since childhood. Ishtar reminded herself there was no other to want, no other she did want — Julia light-footed through the gardens, chasing after her, giggling, the handwritten letters decorated with drawn flowered terraces, promises of lazy Agustrian summers laying in another’s arms. It was as much a part of her love as holding her hand too tightly or scathing looks back at lingering eyes, teeth bared for her honor.
Julia’s true and loving heart.
The familiar guests of Mother’s parties stopped when they entered. Julia led their dance, reared as a princess but acting as heir for years now. The empire’s firstborn son was - was much like his mother, leaving no one but Princess Julia to assume the throne.
“They’re looking at you, Ishtar,” Princess Julia whispered against her ear. Dancing came easy — her hand on Princess Julia’s shoulder, Julia’s hand on her waist, their joined hands held up. “They are looking at you, and you are mine.”
“They are looking at us,” she corrected. Julia grinned toothily, sharp teeth jagged behind her soft lips, red eyes glittering like spilled blood. She could not ask about the look as they kept with the timing of the music, spinning under Julia’s hand on her toes. “What?” she asked.
Another spin took her head with it. “We are an us! You have never said it before.” Her voice shook with excitement — the beast was not here tonight.
Ishtar nodded, squeezing the princess’ shoulder, steady as they swung by other couples. “The two of us, my princess. For now. There is no-”
“Forever,” she interrupted. “You will be my empress,” Julia dropped as she pulled her in too close. Engagement led to that. “We will be emperor and empress, ushering in the glorious, forgotten age, unlike our failures of parents! It will be wonderful, Ishtar! Ishtar, my love…will you do that with me?”
Ishtar thought of Reinhardt, dismissed from her side by the rotten parts of her princess’ heart — yet Julia’s lips curled into a wonderful smile, eyes alight with mirth, matching flowers on their wrists…it was possible to free Julia’s aching heart. Some days she was her joyous, beautiful self again.
Some days, she snarled, sending children past the point of no return.
Some days, Julia gave her handmade gifts. When she was the general of her own mind, they sat in the sunny gardens of this castle or that. Laying her head on Ishtar’s lap, quiet as she carded her long hair through her fingers, telling her all the things this world had to offer, how it’d all be hers. Sitting up suddenly, shining with the light of the sun behind her, she would kiss her, dragging a smile onto Ishtar’s face. “I will, but-” cut off as she spun out again to the timing of the music.
As Princess Julia pulled her back in, the irreproachable heir to the empire, she swung her arm around her, pulled back against her chest, her wretched, dainty hand splayed on her hip and part of her stomach. She put their faces side by side. “Of course you will…I love you, Ishtar. Like the moon takes to the sky.”
Love. The two of them together. “I love you wholeheartedly, Julia.” Be rid of that dark, crushing splotch on her heart, bring home the girl she loved so very much. They could set the course of the Empire straight, banishing the god and the bishop and the church-
Julia kissed her cheek in a room full of people. Empress Ishtar, powerful enough to halt the church's black rains. Julia loved her. Julia saw straight, light shining at the end of her pain. “I am glad, Ishtar. I cannot imagine the person I’d be without you. We will be it all! And we will be it together.”