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It's inappropriate.
Lydia knows it beyond a shadow of a doubt, and yet she sent the summons anyway and ordered her servants to bed. For the past hour, she has been sitting at her desk with only two flickering candles for light, dealing with the correspondence she's been putting off for far too long. Reading reams of paper by candlelight is giving her a headache, and her eyepatch itches, but Lydia does her best to shove both sensations aside and focus on the letters before her.
It's no use. Her mind is only partially engaged here. The other part is listening for footsteps in the corridor, no matter how she tries to bring her attention back to the letters.
With a huff of frustration, she sets her quill aside and heads for the decanter of brandy. The alcohol is spicy and warm, burning all the way down her throat. Lydia doesn't normally partake, especially if she wants her wits about her, but this seems the best moment for a bit of liquid courage.
Besides, the burning of the brandy distracts her, just long enough that the gentle tap on the door makes her jump.
Lydia clears her throat and imbues her voice with every ounce of queenly confidence she possesses. "Come in."
The door opens, and Lady Allison, her most trusted knight, steps through the door.
She's not wearing the armor Lydia is so accustomed to seeing her in--the ornate ceremonial armor she wears to events at the palace, or the more functional mail she wears while on guard. Tonight she's clad only in a tunic and breeches and a pair of soft boots, and the sight makes Lydia's heart skip a beat.
She sets down her brandy so as not to show the trembling in her hands.
Allison bows. "You summoned me, my queen?"
Her dark hair is unbound and spills over her shoulders. Lydia wants nothing more than to bury her hands in it. "I did." She gestures to the chairs by the desk. "Please, sit."
Allison moves to them, but stands beside them, her hands clasped behind her back.
Lydia makes a rude noise and strides back to the chairs. "Please, it's nearing midnight. You needn't stand on ceremony this late."
Allison does nothing but smile in response, and she still doesn't sit until Lydia has taken her own seat. "How may I serve my queen?"
Lydia can think of a thousand ways, but she ruthlessly shoves them all aside. She will not, will never, use her power like that. "It has been...a trying day," she says instead, and the admission undoes something in her. She has so many walls, so many defenses. She has to limit who she trusts.
Allison is one of the very, very few she trusts implicitly, and that both thrills and terrifies her.
"I cannot even begin to imagine how much you must do from each dawn and past each dusk," Allison says, her soft voice like music to Lydia's ears. "It's no wonder it is trying."
Lydia smiles but knows it doesn't reach her eyes, because today goes beyond the normal royal responsibilities, beyond...everything. "Do you know what today is? Well, was, I suppose."
Allison shakes her head, dark hair rippling like waves in the candlelight. "There were no holidays today, nothing in the register, and your--I mean, my queen's birthday is not for another two months hence."
The slip to the more familiar you makes Lydia's heart clench with hope. "No. It's not a holiday. Or at least, not for anyone but me. I suppose you could say it's an anniversary of sorts."
"Oh?"
She hasn't told anyone about this in years. She's never had to talk about it, because the only people who know are the ones who were there, and nothing ever needed to be said. But Allison...Allison wasn't here, and on tonight of all nights, Lydia needs someone she can trust. She needs to not be alone.
"Have any of the other knights told you how I lost my eye?" Lydia asks.
"No, my queen." Allison hesitates, and then continues, "There are rumors in the barracks, sometimes, but Sir Derek puts a stop to them quickly. I pay them no heed."
Lydia snorts indelicately. "I'd be surprised if there weren't rumors in the barracks." She takes a deep breath to steady herself and continues, "Six years ago today, my most trusted knight betrayed me."
Allison's eyes widen, but that is the only indication she gives of her surprise.
Lydia takes it for what it's worth. "He tried to kill me with a poisoned blade. He did not succeed." She reaches behind her head, and before she can lose her nerve, she unties her eyepatch and lets it fall to her lap. "He did, however, leave me with this."
She looks straight at Allison, unblinking, silently daring her to cringe away from the scarred mess of her left eye.
Allison claps her hands over her mouth. "My gods."
Lydia twists her mouth ruefully and looks off to the right, to the dark window and quiet hearth. For all her bravado moments ago, she can't bear to look at Allison for this confession. "I hate it. I hate that people look at me and think I'm broken, make a judgment on my mind merely because I lack one eye." She exhales sharply. "It makes me feel...weak. And today of all days, I cannot shake the feeling."
"You are not weak," Allison bursts out.
Lydia snaps her head around; Allison is on her feet, fists at her side, dark eyes snapping with righteous anger.
"You are not weak," Allison repeats, her voice shaking. "You're the strongest, most beautiful person I know, and I cannot fathom why anyone would even consider betraying you, how they can look at you and feel anything but lo--"
Allison cuts herself off and drops like a stone back into her chair, lowering her gaze. "Forgive me, my queen," she says, much more quietly. "I've spoken out of turn."
Lydia's heart pounds so loudly she's certain Allison can hear it. For all the times she's imagined this conversation, she has never considered this outcome. She's never allowed herself the luxury of it.
"You think I'm beautiful?" she asks, and she hates the vulnerability in her voice.
Allison looks up again, her pale cheeks flushed. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, my queen," she says sincerely.
Lydia fights the urge to duck her head and cover her eye. This is the longest she's had her eyepatch off in years; she typically only leaves it off as long as it takes to change out one for another. "You flatter me."
"Has my queen ever known me to be a flatterer?" Allison asks.
"No," Lydia admits. "You are the furthest thing from it, and I trust you implicitly. And, as you may have surmised, that is not...easy for me."
Allison pushes out of her chair and kneels before her, dark head bowed. "I will do everything in my power to be worthy of my queen's trust. I would cast my life aside in a heartbeat if it meant you would live for just one more day."
Lydia's breath catches in her throat. "I...I would much rather you live for me, Allison."
Allison looks up, her expression indiscernible.
Caution tells Lydia to stop here, to send Allison back to her own room. The servants will talk, if they haven't already.
And if they're already talking, then what does it matter?
Lydia casts caution to the wind and folds her hands on her lap, linking her fingers to give her strength. "In my position, it is difficult to...to know if someone is with me because they wish to be, or if they're with me because their queen has ordered them to be. And I do not ever want to use my power for that."
She forces herself to meet Allison's eyes once again, and for the first time in a long time, she feels like a woman, not a queen.
Allison's lips pull up into a small, secret smile. "May I speak frankly, my queen?"
Lydia nods. "Always, please."
"Were you not my queen, and I not your knight, I would have asked to court you the first day we met."
"Oh thank the gods," Lydia says, and reaches out to pull Allison to her.
Allison comes easily, with the faintest laugh, and her lips are just as soft as Lydia knew they would be.
***
The eyepatch Lydia wears on their wedding day is embroidered with a delicate AA. Allison's eyes glisten when she sees it, and the smile doesn't leave her face for the rest of the day.