Work Text:
Sofia had an odd relationship with the snow.
It freezes her land. A good amount of her people die during the winter months. Shortages of food and not enough wood to heat their homes creep in. No matter how much she tries to lie to herself and tell herself she's a good ruler, she knows her subjects dying all around her is not the act of a benevolent queen.
She could not stop mother nature, Sofia knew it was illogical to wallow in self-pity over something that was so far out of her control. So she settles for this odd hesitance around the gently fallen snow, welcoming it like an old friend but hesitant enough not to let it melt her heart.
The crisp winter's air hits her cheek and Sofia pulls the wool shawl tighter around her arms. She Wanders out mindlessly to the balcony, letting the gentle snowflakes settle on the tip of her nose. The wind sings her a song, passing by quickly, almost enveloping her in its arms.
Her hand dares to venture out from beyond the warmth of her shawl, her fingers grace the soft fur before she introduces the flesh to harsh freezing. She raises her hand, catching a snowflake on her finger. She watches as it melts, imagining her kingdom reduced to nothing but a frozen waste. She tries to banish the thought. Her advisers were doing all they could, her mages casting up every heat rune around every home that accepted magic in its walls. It was out of her hands, ironically so. Queen or not.
Besides, the wind is ticking her cheek again. Her mark stings. She knows they're coming. She can feel the soft tingle of the wind getting warmer around her. Soft flecks of gold travel on snowflakes, solidifying them In a shiny casing. Sofia shrugs her shawl off and opens the palm of her hands, catching several of the golden snowflakes in her palm.
Damn the cold. She'd grown accustomed to the breeze and welcomed it with open arms, knowing that it brought them to her each time.
"You're late." Sofia smiles, eyes shut, almost like she's reminiscing on something.
There's a hesitance in their voice, just for a ghost of a second "Apologies, my Queen."
Sofia doesn't need to turn her face to hear the ever so slight smirk in their voice. As fast as the wind came, it was gone, and the Golden Ratio stood behind her.
She can't stop herself from turning, to drink in their presence. It's a weak thing, how the front she both put on faded into nothing as soon as they were in the same room.
Her Golden Ratio stands, ever so properly in the presents of their Queen. Golden locks were woven into a neatly tied back ponytail, white blouse always pressed, the golden flakes adorning their body glowing ever so slightly in the fading embers of the winter's sun. An image of perfection, all for her.
Sofia reaches her hand out, the softest smile adorning her lips as the Golden Ratio laches on immediately. They let the queen pull them closer, taking a spot next to her on the balcony. Sofia wordlessly laces their hands together, the demi-gods palms fitting ever so nicely into hers. The Golden Ratio squeezes just a little bit tighter than they usually do, Sofia knows there's something array.
"You were gone for a month."
Sofia traces the lines of their hand, stopping to run a gentle finger over the golden vines that snake their way over the demi-god's hand (but only the right one, Sofia doesn't miss how they hide the left inside their sleeve.)
A small grumble escapes the Golden Ratio's lips. "I was preoccupied."
A creature of few words, her marvel was. They'd always been, all the way back to the cold night they had appeared in her courtyard, not a clue as to who or what they were. Her earliest memories of the demi-god consist of silent stares and longing glances.
"That was your excuse last time, and the time after that," Sofia states. The Golden Ratio's hands shutter, the smallest tremble running through them, they try to break from her grasp, but Sofia doesn't let it happen.
"Let me see."
Sofia was weak to no one but her miracle. But that weakness never stilled her flaming heart, the golden Ratio knew that, if their queen wanted something she would get it.
Golden Ratio slowly removes their left hand from where it is tucked beneath their blouse. No eye contact is made as Sofia grips the hard, solid gold piece of her lover, skin she used to pepper kisses on and stroked gently with her thumb when their hand was in hers.
The curse was growing. A curse the Golden Ratio had all the power to stop.
"I thought we made an agreement." The Golden Ratio still looks to the side, like a child being scolded by their mother. Their lips pursed, jaw clenched.
"An agreement I chose to break, and for good reason." The Golden Ratio starts, but Sofia has none of it, audibly sighing as she drops their hand.
"We can stand here all we want gawking at my deformities, or we can discuss why that veil on your face keeps getting less and less transparent." The Golden Ratio's eyes finally meet hers. The softest blues Sofia had ever seen. She had compared it to the first snowfall, the idea that they could be glazed over with solid gold in a matter of months made her sick.
Now it's Sofia's turn to avert her eyes. The woman turns, walking back to the door of her room, leaving it open for the Golden Ratio to follow. She dumps the small golden snowflakes into a jar with many similar ones. All different in shape and size, yet all touched by the same hand. The glow in the room gets brighter and she can tell Golden Ratio has followed, she ignores them, rearranging a stack of papers on her large desk.
"Don't ignore me. Don't you dare ignore me. He's not dead yet. Is he?" the Golden Ratio scoffs, letting out a dry laugh, they stomp their way over and scoff, the woman's back still turned to the demi-god. "I spent a month looking for the perfect poison and another striking deal after deal with foreign kingdoms who would want nothing more than to strap me to a table and dissect me. And all you needed to do was slip some damn pill into a fucking bowl of soup!."
Sofia turns quickly, her lips twisted into a snarl. "Is that any way to talk to your Queen?!" The woman bellowed, loud enough for the servants to hear outside. The Golden Ratio's jaw clenches as Sofia's chest heaves. She can see the waiver in their eyes, see the angry, golden shine around them grown dimmer. The Golden Ratio's shoulders slump, their eyebrows furrowed.
Sofia sighs, heaving herself down on a chair. She hates this, hates her temper, hates all the anger that's built up in her. But what she hates most is the defeated, sorrowful face plastered on her lover. She places a thumb and pointer finger on her nose, massaging some of the stress away as the Golden Ratio speaks once more, an audible waver in their voice.
"I can't." Their voice shakes. "I can't watch you let yourself be destroyed for a man who doesn't give a damn about you." The Golden Ratio stumbles forward. Throwing themselves on their knees, golden fingertips gripping the blue fabric knee of the Queen. They rest their cheek on her knee, squeezing their eyes shut as Sofia's gloves hand gently strokes the top of their golden hair.
Sofia sighs, playing with a certain stand that had come loose. Her wonder doesn't understand, doesn't realize how badly she wants to kill the man with her bare hands, how she longs to strangle him as he enters their bed of sacraments that night, how his skin does not feel like her darling's. It would be so easy, so simple. Her husband is a weak man when he isn't relying on fear and manipulation. But Sofia can't. Not of loyalty to him, but loyalty to her kingdom.
These people do not love her as much as their king, as do the other kingdoms, they would suspect her immediately. A Queendom ruled by a cursed outcast and her demi-god lover would get Her Kingdom reduced to dust in their eyes, in the wake of no King, no matter how capable she was. She needed to plan this carefully, in a way so intelligent, so full proof that she'd be no danger to her people, or the beautiful creature currently gripping onto her dress like a child.
On the day the Golden Ratio arrived in her courtyard. Naked, scared, alone. Sofia had been approached by a woman. Tall, skin full of space and hair full of time. Sofia didn't know what she was, who sent her or what her goal was. All she said was that Sofia had 3 years to kill the king. The two had never been in love, a marriage of convenience, so she had no virtue seeing him go. She guesses it was a way to secure her hit, to make sure the job was done, she could feel the cold growing in her cheek.
the small indent of a snowflake appeared on her cheek that night. She felt it the moment she saw the Golden Ratio arrive for the first time. These two events are connected, Sofia knows this for sure. Knows her lover has something to do with the curse that threatens to freeze her over. But she can't tell them. Her miracle was too self-sacrificial for their own good. If they knew they could do something to break the curse they would have thrown themselves into hell for her. She couldn't let that happen.
Sofia brushes the Golden Ratio's hand, the one turned soiled by gold months ago. Her lover was cursed similarly. The more they used their abilities the more a slow creeping of gold would consume them. Sofia had forbidden them from doing anything with their power, but of course, they did not listen to her, they never would, not until her curse was broken.
Sofia chuckles. The most getal of sounds as she strokes the old, lifeless gold of their hand. "You are quite the hypocrite, my love." The Golden Ratio huffs into Sofia's dress, creaking one eye open to gaze at her. Sofia lets her hand wander up the demi-god's arm, light finger tracks grazing their neck until her gloved palm cups their face. The Golden Ratio lets their queen guide their face up, gently cradling their soft skin In her hands, as if she held the word.
"We are playing the long con dear. We will think of something. I will think of something, I promise you that." Sofia says sternly, tipping the golden ratio's chin up so their eyes meet. Their lips twist, mouths open to rebuke her statement, to devolve into more Anger at their situation. Sofia won't have this, Before the Golden Ratio could speak she pressed a finger to their lips, unfortunately hushing that beautiful voice of theirs.
" Edgar… " Sofia mutters the name she gave them. That night as they lay in her bed, she caressed their skin and demanded a name to call them, something more personal, a name for her lips and her lips alone. They said they wanted it to come from her, what an honour it would be to have their Queen bestow a new identity. So, Edgar, it was. It meant prosperous, joyous , everything her god was.
her Edgar, her beautiful, perfect Edgar. She watches the reaction they have to that name on her lips, watches the pink rise to their cheeks, Melly knows the power that little words had. the demi-god gives up, and follows suit, not questioning more. With a look of defeat they deflate, and Sofia removes her finger. She runs a thumb over their lips, marvelling at how hungrily she wanted to kiss them.
Edgar sighs, tired, logging eyes gazing at their queen. "I trust you… You have bewitched me. My queen… Melly ."
Sofia chuckles. She could not recall the name she was born with. The royal line demands the King's wives adopt a new identity once they are married. Melly lost her family, her passions and her namesake.
A spell wiped every last drop of her old self. She hates the name, hated how it was chosen by her husband, she felt sick at the way he had every claim over her. Edgar wouldn't stand for it, saying that Melly needed to pick a name for herself. She thought and thought, then remembered, so vaguely, as if it was a dream, the bees her mother kept in on their old farm. To Edgar she was Melly, they could be two lost souls without a real identity between them, staggering along this plane, holding the names they gave each other
So on the drowsy morning, when the sun kissed her bedsheets and the reflection of the rays glazed over their blonde hair perfectly, she became Melly.
Edgar reaches out, fingertips grasping for the Queen's face from their knelt position. Melly leans forward, letting Edgar guide her face closer until their foreheads touch. "I love you…" whispered Melly, the urge to scream it from the tallest tower in the castle threatens to rip its way out of her. Edgar sighs heavily, lips pursed, quivering only slightly. Melly knew how hard it was, to be vulnerable with her, to let her into that head of theirs. So Melly cuts them off with a kiss.
Edgar squeaks, then sighs, then kisses her back with equal feverishness. Melly tangles her fingers in Edgar's hair, the golden locks falling over her hand. Edgar reaches up to lift the tip of her Vail. When their lips are done dancing, Edgar gazes into Melly's eyes.
"I love you. Body and soul." They say, half-lidded eyes and a ghost of a smile on their lips.
Melly leaves one last kiss on their forehead, she knows she's left lipstick marks. She smiles, then repeats the phrase.
" Body and soul. "