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I.
Mary had always been in love with princesses.
Even as a little girl, as a princess herself, she loved the princesses from the storybooks. They had been so similar to Mary, so familiar in their longing. Every lonely girl searching for love or for freedom called to her. Every storybook princess trapped by her circumstances was a faithful companion. For a young Mary, trapped in the world of her mother’s expectations and the pressures of her rank, these were the most important friends she could ever imagine.
Then she grew up, and met a beautiful princess in the flesh.
The Princesse de Lamballe had been Mary’s everything. Her wonderful companion, her confidante, the first face she saw in the morning and the last one at night. She was exactly like one of the princesses out of her stories: kind, modest, loyal. Mary had loved her with her whole heart. No king or counselor or peasant revolutionary could ever take that feeling from her.
But they could take Mary’s princess from her. Mary learned that the hard way.
But that was far behind Mary, in another life. In this life, Mary was more free than she had ever been. The manor may have restricted her movements, but that was no different than being the Queen beholden to her court. Even trapped as she was, things were better here. Here no one used her image to enrich themselves, or to sell lies about those she cared for. Here no one expected her to do nothing but stay in her place, to hide away unless called, or to simply be a pawn in games she cared not to play. Here if someone made her angry, she could strike them down like a dog where they stood.
Most importantly, here there was another princess.
Michiko may not have had the title of the princesses Mary grew up with, but she was certainly just as regal. Her dark eyes—so like Lamballe’s—had captivated Mary from the moment she arrived at the manor. She had immediately drifted to Michiko, wanting to get to know her, wanting to simply be near her.
Michiko graciously had allowed it, and had taken to showing Mary the ropes of hunting and the game. Mary learned later that Michiko often tried to help the newer hunters, and had done the same for others since. But the attention and care had made Mary feel special, and the friendship they had struck persisted even as Mary progressed past the need for hunting lessons.
Somewhere through all their time spent together—cheerful breakfasts gossiping, quiet afternoons reading in each other’s company, rowdier evening social hours among the other hunters—Mary realized that Michiko was beautiful. Michiko was, perhaps, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Not only graceful and elegant, but tantalizingly kind and thoughtful even for all her ruthlessness in the games. Mary loved and valued Michiko’s friendship, but there were other feelings there as well.
The feelings were familiar, an old romantic pull she remembered, but made new again. Mary thought it something like another kind of second chance.
If only Mary could figure out what to do with the chance she was being given.
II.
“That damnable Doctor, what is her name? The unfortunate woman with the tired countenance,” Joseph asked, scowling. He sat down heavily at Mary’s tea table, visibly agitated. Clearly, Mary thought, he was looking for an excuse to complain about something.
Mary delicately lifted her cup to her mouth; perhaps she’d indulge his theatrics. “I believe her name is Emily Dyer, dear?”
“Doctor Dyer, yes. Horrible woman, but more dreadfully a nuisance . I have never encountered a more infuriating survivor. And before you ask, I am including all of your least favorites,” Joseph said, beginning the process of making himself a cup of tea.
Afternoon tea had become a pastime for Mary at the manor. Started initially to sate a social itch from the time before and get to know her fellow hunters, it had quickly become a daily standard for the various manor guests. Not every hunter was inclined to join her, but several would if their match schedules permitted (as well as the occasional brave survivor). Her most frequent guest, and perhaps her favorite, was Joseph. He rarely missed an afternoon, and was always willing to indulge Mary in treats and manor gossip. He was also prone to indulging himself in his complaining, but Mary supposed he needed an outlet.
“Even more troublesome than that Mr. Campbell, or that strange woman, the one that can create those horrible occult portals?” Mary asked.
“Certainly more troublesome than Ms. Gilman,” Joseph replied with a huff, “the damn Doctor can heal anything! Anything! If I try to strike the survivors within my photos, she has them back up in a moment! It drags out the pace of the game in the most unpleasant way.”
Mary raised an eyebrow. “Have you considered you are perhaps too reliant on your photos to drive results, my dear?”
“Bah, impossible, it is simply the horrible Doctor causing me this stress. My photos, as always, are perfect,” Joseph said, punctuating the statement with a forceful sip of his tea.
“If you say so. Perhaps you should work to locate those you strike more quickly if you would not like the good Doctor to cause you such stress. I would so hate to see you develop wrinkles.”
“You forget, your majesty, that some of us have already had the misfortune of aging once. That was not your best retort, you have had much more biting remarks.”
“Apologies, my dear, I have found myself somewhat distracted lately. I promise I will stick to mocking the tragic ceiling of your abilities rather than your appearance.”
“That’s more of the charming madame I expect.”
“I do so aim to please my subjects.”
Joseph reached for a petit four, and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Does your distraction have anything to do with one of our fellows here? Perhaps a certain butterfly ?”
“Hold your tongue, photographer,” Mary replied, feeling heat flood her cheeks.
“Aha, I thought that may be the case. Your affection is just a touch obvious, your majesty,” Joseph said, smirking.
“It is no such thing, and even if it were, it would be of no consequence.”
“Of course, of course. But that does beg the question, do you intend to, well, do anything in regards to your affection? Forgive my insolence, but you had never struck me as a particularly subtle or patient woman.”
“That was not your best work either dear, you have been much more acidic in the past.”
“Expertly dodging the question at hand, we should all strive for the skill of royalty.”
Mary sighed. “I do not know what I intend to do, or if I intend to do anything at all. It has been… a long time since I have had to address any affection I may have felt for someone. And the last time, well. It ended quite poorly at others’ hands, as you well know.”
Joseph immediately frowned. “That time ended cruelly, for many people.”
“For many people. But let's not speak of such gloomy affairs. Let's instead speak of if you ever intend anything in regards to your affection for, let’s see, two of our fellows?”
“I have no idea of what you speak, madame, no idea whatsoever.”
“No? You have not been spending an unusual amount of time insisting that Mr. Xie Bi’an is an excellent model for your photographs, or fencing with Mr. Fan Wujiu, hm? How unlike you to be modest, dear.”
“Why, you, Mary ,” Joseph spluttered, but was interrupted by another figure walking into Mary’s makeshift salon.
“Am I too late to join for the afternoon?” Michiko asked, a small apologetic smile on her face.
“It is never too late for you, my dear,” Mary replied, flashing Michiko a bright smile.
With a pointed look from Mary, Joseph stood and pulled out a chair for Michiko. Mary set about making her a cup of tea, no cream and just a little sugar as she knew Michiko preferred.
“Thank you, Mr. Desaulniers, Mary. My matches ran late today,” Michiko explained.
“Was it that damned Doctor?” Joseph jumped in.
“No, it was the Seer, Mr. Clark, I believe. He had excellent coordination with his teammates today, which unfortunately included Mr. Subedar and Ms. Behamfil. It was… very slow, and exhausting,” Michiko replied.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Mary cooed. “I believe you need restorative sweets with the utmost haste.”
Michiko giggled, and Mary felt what was left of her heart skip a beat. “That sounds lovely, thank you.”
“Of course, of course,” Mary replied, covering her moment of sentiment with a charming smile. “Would you like to join us in indulging in the latest gossip? Joseph and I were just discussing—”
“Her majesty and I were just discussing the merits and flaws of the various survivors,” Joseph smoothly cut Mary off, shooting Mary a dirty look.
Mary laughed at Joseph’s expense. “Oh, but you do make it sound so droll. Michiko, darling, have you any survivors you’d like to debate the merits of , or perhaps complain about?”
“No complaints, really,” Michiko began, after a sip of her tea, “but have you noticed that occasionally survivors grouped together will be… distracted, by one another? I notice sometimes Mr. Kreiss will do poorly if Mr. Balsa is also present, or that Ms. Behamfil will, hm, prioritize female comrades, even at the risk of a match. It's very interesting.”
“Oh, most interesting! Do you think it’s from a sense of duty, or sentiment?” Mary asked.
Joseph looked between the two for a moment; Mary found it odd, but dismissed it. “It's obviously from sentiment. What else would cause someone as normally sharp as the unpleasant Coordinator to make such simple mistakes.”
“Precisely my thinking, Mr. Desaulniers. I believe in some cases the survivors may have… developed feelings for one another? Or perhaps pursued deeper relationships,” Michiko said. “Personally, I think it is quite sweet.”
“The kind of feelings you would throw a match for would be powerful indeed,” Mary replied, a bit more sincerity in her tone than she meant.
“It’s likely for the best that we most often hunt alone, hm?” Joseph chimed in with a smirk.
“Almost certainly, but it is, hm, a little lonely too, don’t you think? That we can’t often enjoy the feeling of working together with a beloved like the survivors can,” Michiko said.
“Well, there is always the rare opportunity for duo hunting?” Mary offered.
Michiko smiled. “Yes, that’s true! We will have to savor those games when they come.”
Joseph leveled another meaningful look between Michiko and Mary, gaze shifting back and forth between them. Mary couldn’t quite parse what he was seeing, or what he was trying to convey back with his unimpressed gaze. She figured it was likely another of his eccentricities, decided not to think more of it, and went back to admiring the shape of Michiko’s mouth as she spoke.
III.
The opportunity to hunt together came up sooner than Mary expected, just a few days after her conversation with Joseph and Michiko. The invitation to play had appeared that evening later than usual, informing her of a summons to a match. Mary had been pleasantly surprised to find herself directed to the larger lobby, and even more pleasantly surprised to find Michiko was waiting there for her.
“Hello darling, fancy seeing you here,” Mary said warmly.
Michiko smiled. “Good evening, Mary. It’s a lovely night, and always lovely to see you.”
“Likewise! I’m so tickled I get to enjoy your company while hunting, what a treat,” Mary said.
“A treat indeed. I believe I will enjoy this,” Michiko replied.
Mary felt her cheeks warm. “I’m happy you feel that way. I believe I will as well, regardless of the survivors we may have to deal with. Oh, but I will be sure to stay out of your line of sight, dear.”
Michiko looked confused for a moment. “Why would that be necessary?”
“I recall you mentioning you disliked mirrors. I would not wish to make you uncomfortable with my ability, my dear,” Mary said gently. It would be a shame though, she thought privately, to need to stay so far away from Michiko while hunting.
“Oh, Mary,” Michiko began, “that’s… very kind of you to remember.”
“Think nothing of it, my dear. I would so hate for my presence to cause you discomfort,” Mary replied, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on top of Michiko’s.
“On the contrary, I—“
But whatever Michiko began to say was cut off by the lights beginning to dim as the manor’s odd magic took hold. When Mary next looked up, she was standing near the bridge on the side of Moonlit River Park.
Matches in the park grounds always made Mary smile. The place had a wonderful carnival-like atmosphere, the promise that fun was just around the corner even in its state of tragic disrepair. It would certainly be fun for her, in any case.
She gripped the edges of her mirrored knife a bit tighter, casting her gaze about for movement. She caught sight of something out of the corner of her left eye, and smiled at the sight of the lovely Enchantress running towards a wall. The chase was on.
Ms. Dorval put up a good fight for several moments, frustrating Mary with a few unpleasant curses, but eventually she was able to corner the unfortunate young lady between a pallet and her mirror image. After taking Ms. Dorval to a chair, Mary looked across the river and saw Michiko had made quick work of Ms. Adams as well. Things were progressing in the hunters’ favor.
Leaving Ms. Dorval on her chair, Mary went to look for her next mark, and spotted someone decoding at the cipher on the bridge. Moving towards the cipher revealed the profile of Mr. Balsa, oblivious to his surroundings and already injured. Mary summoned her mirror with a flick of her wrist, walked to the precise distance, and brought her mirror image’s knife down. The resulting toll of the bell was music to Mary’s ears.
Mary twirled to switch with her image and closed the distance. She took a moment to undo the connection Mr. Balsa had created, hoping to avoid any nasty shocks. Mr. Balsa looked up at her from the ground as she did, clutching his shoulder and smiling through gritted teeth.
“Hello m-ma’am, I wish I could s-say it was a pleasure to see you this evening,” Mr. Balsa greeted shakily.
“I can assure you the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Balsa,” Mary replied.
“Must we c-continue on with the next steps?” Mr. Balsa asked, voice surprisingly steady even as Mary began to see blood seep through his shirt. “I don’t suppose you could, perhaps, let me go, j-just this once? I’ll even take a good long moment to bandage this wound with all the p-proper procedures of first aid medical care, ensuring I won’t be on a cipher machine for at least several strategic minutes.”
“Alas, a queen must endeavor not to play favorites like that, my dear. If I were to leave you with that mercy, the toll it would take on my reputation! You of course understand,” Mary said, smiling.
“Ah, of c-course. Can’t blame a man for trying,” Mr. Balsa said. Mary decided that was quite enough chatting, and picked him up to take him to the nearest rocket chair.
Mr. Balsa fell on the chair with an uncomfortable sounding thud. As the strange spikes surrounded the chair, Mary looked up again to take stock of their situation. The sound of wind in the distance caught her attention, and she turned just in time to see Michiko dash across the other bridge.
The sight made Mary’s breath catch in her throat. Michiko’s hair and kimono sleeves streamed behind her elegantly as she chased Mr. Campbell, her form lithe and graceful. Mary knew Michiko disliked the face she showed in a full pursuit, but to Mary it was incredible to watch. Michiko was an apex predator in her element, capable of pursuing and taking down anyone foolish or unfortunate enough to stand in her way. Mary felt her heart skip a beat, and was almost knocked back with the force of her own feelings.
By God, did Mary want to kiss her.
Mr. Balsa cleared his throat. “Ah, um, Ms. Mary? Er, n-no, your majesty?”
“What?” Mary snapped, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Mr. Balsa.
“Do you, perhaps, have feelings for Ms. Michiko?” Mr. Balsa asked.
Mary looked at him, frowning. Surely her thoughts couldn’t have been so obvious that survivors could notice them?
Mr. Balsa paused for a moment, apparently misunderstanding her look, and continued, “Oh, no, hm, is that rude, would it perhaps be m-more appropriate to call her Geisha, as a title? Or perhaps Ms. Geisha, is that more polite? Or no, there are other things to t-take in to consideration, considering the implications of the ‘Geisha’ title as a borrowing in our shared parlance—”
“Mr. Balsa, please,” Mary huffed, cutting him off. “What could possibly make you ask me such a thing?”
“Well, you s-see, a few key points of evidence. You’ve been standing s-still here beside my chair for almost the full duration of the c-containment spike countdown while Ms. Michiko—forgive m-me again if that’s an impolite form of address— chased Norton. Also, even I c-can see Ms. Gilman working on a cipher nearby,” Luca said.
Mary barely resisted the urge to hit him again. “So that led you to ask me such an imprudent question?”
“Yes!” Mr. Balsa exclaimed with a grin. “I had to t-test my hypothesis by posing the question as an experiment! I know I often take similar pauses in matches when Andrew does a particularly well d-done rescue, or Victor gets a letter to me just in the n-nick of time. So, therefore, that was m-my starting assumption to p-prove or disprove, given the initial observations.”
Mary felt her face warm, and frowned at Mr. Balsa. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk far too much, Mr. Balsa?”
Mr. Balsa grinned. “All the t-time. But, so, for the sake of s-scientific curiosity, do you have feelings for Ms. Michiko?”
“It is one hundred years too early for you to be allowed to speculate on the private affairs of royalty. I bid you farewell, Mr. Balsa,” Mary said, her annoyance plain.
“What, farewell, you’re leaving me without answering m-my question, erm, ma’am?” Mr. Balsa asked.
“No dear, you’re leaving,” Mary said, and pointed to the clock at the top of the rocket chair.
Mr. Balsa looked up just in time to see the timer hit zero. He sighed in defeat in the final moment, before his louder cries filled the surrounding area as he was shot back to the manor. The sudden absence of the chair, and the distraction of Mr. Balsa, allowed Mary to see the form of the Priestess, Ms. Gilman, apparently now done with her cipher and just missing Mr. Balsa’s rescue.
Mary smiled sweetly at Ms. Gilman, who visibly shivered and turned tail to run. The chase was on once again.
But as she followed Ms. Gilman through the circus debris in the middle of the park, Mary’s thoughts drifted back to Michiko. Feelings that could cost you a match were powerful indeed , Mary herself had said. Powerful enough to cause even a Queen to make mistakes. Perhaps she would have to do something about her affection after all.
IV.
But the question of what to do about her feelings remained.
Courting someone was not something Mary had ever had to do, precisely. She was familiar with the act, had been courted herself more than once. But she only knew half of the dance, the role of the follower and not the lead. She had no idea how one initiated.
No one had ever accused Mary of being practical in any lifetime, but she had at least always been deft at knowing when she needed allies. She fortunately had an idea for who might be able to help in this case.
“Good evening, Xie Bi’an!” Mary called out as she spotted the man sitting in the manor gardens. He looked up, startled out of an apparent reverie, but smiled when he spotted Mary.
“Good evening, Madame Mary,” Bi’an replied, nodding in greeting.
“Please, call me Mary. I would like us to be friends, especially considering all of the friends we have in common. That said, may I trouble you for a bit of your time, dear? I find myself in need of some advice,” Mary asked.
Bi’an nodded, gesturing to the other end of his stone bench. “It would be no trouble, Mary,” Bi’an said, “but I am surprised you chose me to ask. I would have expected Joseph, or perhaps Michiko, to have been your first choice.”
“Ah, well, you see,” Mary paused. “This is… a delicate matter involving courtship. I can not trust Joseph with this because I’m uncertain if he’s seriously pursued something other than his arts ever in any life. And well, I can’t precisely ask Michiko, because…”
Bi’an looked strangely pained for a moment when she mentioned Joseph, Mary noticed, but then his expression turned thoughtful. “The matter of courtship… involves Michiko?”
“Yes, that’s correct. How very astute of you, Bi’an,” Mary observed, slightly embarrassed.
Bi’an chuckled. “With respect Mary, you have not kept your affection well hidden.”
“Hmph, well, setting that aside, I thought perhaps, you might be experienced with how one might initiate a courtship?”
“Ah, an interesting question. Have you never been courted? I would have thought, given your history…”
“I have certainly been courted before! It is simply, I have never been the one to—how do I put this—make the opening move, so to speak.”
“Of course of course, forgive me. I will admit… when it mattered, with Wujiu, I was not the one to ‘make the opening move’ either. Wujiu has always been braver than me.”
Mary tried to hide her disappointment. “Ah, I see.”
“ But I think I may still be of assistance. It is not so different being the one to make the answering move, yes?”
“I… suppose? That may be the case.”
“If I wanted to convey an interest in a person, I would try to find something they like. Whether that’s a gift or a token, or perhaps an act of service for them. Something with which I could show them all my fondness, to show them all that they mean to me.”
“Bi’an, dear, you put these things in such poetic terms. How lovely.”
“Ha, I may have gotten a bit carried away. But I think giving something from the heart can go a long way for declaring your intentions. And then of course, actually declaring your intentions would likely not go amiss either.”
Mary coughed delicately. “Yes, of course. That is certainly something I intend to work up towards.”\
“Are you afraid?” Bi’an asked.
Mary thought for a moment. She was afraid, at least on some level, that her feelings might make Michiko uncomfortable, or that it might hurt their friendship. She didn’t think Michiko would be the type to abandon her completely, but even so the possibility existed.
She cleared her throat to try to hide her buzzing thoughts. “Royalty does not experience such mundane emotions as fear, darling. But it would not be, perhaps, entirely inaccurate to say I am a bit, well, apprehensive about the notion.”
“Being vulnerable can be quite terrifying, I agree.”
“Most unbecoming, vulnerability. I’d much prefer if we could come in to knowing a person without that pesky detail.”
“It would be simpler, I agree. But would it be as meaningful?”
“Perhaps not. Drat.” Mary smiled. “You’re quite wise, Bi’an.”
Bi’an returned the smile. “Oh not at all, Mary. This is just a subject I’m experienced in.”
“I certainly appreciate your expertise in this matter. It is nice to get direction on how to proceed; I have admittedly been somewhat lost.”
“I don’t believe courtship is something to overthink, especially if you already have a bond with someone. Even at worst, if they do not return your feelings, you still have their friendship, which itself is a wonderful thing.” Bi’an paused for a moment, then laughed a little ruefully, “that is advice I wish had been given quite a long time ago.”
“Did you find yourself in a similar predicament, in the past?”
“Oh, yes. When I was young I was terrified of revealing my feelings, for fear I would lose the most important person in my life. Of course, things worked out a lot more pleasantly than that. Wujiu is, thankfully, first and foremost a man of action.”
Mary smiled. “You balance each other.”
“I’d like to think so. I wish…” Bi’an sighed, then muttered, “But nothing will come of wishing, currently, so better to not.”
Mary recognized that kind of despair, had felt something like it many times before. She laid her hand on top of Bi’an’s. “Darling, we all are doing what we have to to get to our own ends, and doing what we need to do to keep ourselves together in this place. It’s ok to wish for pleasant things for ourselves, I believe,” she said softly.
Bi’an looked up, a small smile pushing through his tired expression. “You are also rather wise, Mary.”
“Simply returning the favor! I was quite serious when I said I wanted us to be friends, dear, and I believe such relationships should be built on reciprocity.”
“Then likewise, I appreciate the advice,” Bi’an said.
“Of course, dear, happily,” Mary replied.
They lingered there a few moments longer, enjoying the garden in the fading evening light. Mary started turning over ideas in her mind for things she could do to show Michiko her intentions. It would need to be simple, yet elegant; something lovely and sweet that would suit Michiko.
“Well, my dear, you've given me much to consider. Thank you again, I'll not take more of your time,” Mary said, getting up to leave.
A sudden wind and flash of light from Bi’an’s direction blinded Mary for a moment. When her vision cleared, Fan Wujiu sat in Bi’an’s place.
“Mary, just tell Michiko how you feel,” Wujiu said bluntly. “It will be fine.”
“Oh, goodness, Wujiu! How can you be sure—” Mary began, but Wujiu cut her off.
“Trust me. Don't worry so much. It will be fine,” he said.
Mary hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. Wujiu had no reason to lie to her, nor any incentive to spare her feelings. “Then I believe I have preparations to make,” she muttered to herself, then said louder, “Thank you, Wujiu. I wish you both a pleasant evening.”
As Mary began the walk back towards the manor, something obvious occurred to her. She smiled to herself and called back as casually as she could manage, “and do bid my dear Joseph a pleasant evening as well, when you see him tonight.” She was gratified to hear Wujiu’s answering chuckle.
V.
Mary meant to start her preparations for a grand gesture the very next day. However, circumstances always had a way of getting in the way of plans.
Mary woke far too early the next morning with a start. The nightmare wasn’t new, but it never got easier, the weight of it pressing her down. The screaming jeers, the taunts of a crowd, the glint of the sun off a blade high above. The rough grasp of hands on her forearms, on her shoulders, on her head. The final moment, her heartbeat, a collective intake of breath, the soft whoosh is a falling object.
Sitting up, Mary panted even though she didn’t need to, brought her hand up to her chest to calm a dead heart she expected to be racing. Gingerly she reached up to touch the stitches on her neck, to ensure they were still in place.
The world felt wrong still, in a way that Mary couldn’t describe. As if everything was two inches to the left of correct, or that the ceiling was slowly pushing in on her. Adrenaline hummed under her skin, urging her to get away, to hide even as she was undoubtedly the scariest thing in the room. It was overwhelming, the sensations from past and present too much all at once. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this today at all.
After an arduous moment making her trembling limbs work again, Mary pulled herself out of bed and grabbed a dressing gown. The walk to Joseph’s room was but the length of the hall, and no one was around to question her this early. She gave two quick raps on the door, and waited. After an impatient beat, she gave another two knocks in rapid succession. This time she heard muffled cursing from the other side of the door.
The door opened. “Good Lord, excuse me, what could you possibly want at this thrice damned hour of the morning, God—“ Joseph began, but Mary cut him off.
“You’re taking my matches today,” she said.
“And why should I do that?” Joseph snapped, clearly annoyed.
“Bad morning. Bad, darling. I dreamed about the execution,” Mary said, trying to hide her lingering shakiness. Moving around hadn’t helped with how much she still wanted to hide, to find a place where no one could ever question her loyalties and choices and right to exist ever again.
Joseph’s eyes widened, and his expression softened. “I see. Yes, alright. Do you, erm, need anything right now?”
“If it’s all the same to you darling, I’d like to go back to sleep until the world feels less abysmally terrible,” Mary said. She was just so, so tired.
“Yes, of course. I can fetch you lunch later,” Joseph said. Mary nodded, and turned on her heel to retreat back to her room.
Joseph, Mary had discovered, was prone to the same bouts of melancholy as she was. Occasionally the weight of the past became too much to handle, and got into one's head like an illness, an itch somehow under the skin. They had worked out a system at this point. When one of them started to feel like they were drowning, the other would cover for them. Mary would never admit it to Joseph, but she valued his support more than words could say.
Once she made it back to her room, Mary stripped off the dressing gown and crawled back into bed in just her light shift. Ghosts of the past were always hard to shake off. She knew sleep wouldn’t come easily no matter how tired she felt.
Drawing the blankets tighter around her shoulders, Mary tried to cast her thoughts out to anything that wasn’t her past, any moments of joy she could grasp at to pull out of the fog of her memories. Thoughts of tea with Joseph, Bi’an’s soothing voice, Mr. Beck’s oddly cute dolls, little Robbie’s joy when presented with a treat. Michiko’s smile when Mary made her tea. Michiko’s laughter making fun of Mr. Jack’s attempts to woo Survivors. Michiko’s beautiful dancing.
Mary managed to drift off again with the present’s strange blessings chasing off the past’s darkness.
She awoke later to a gentle voice humming.
Opening her eyes, the first thing Mary noticed was that it was now solidly afternoon; the light filtering through her windows was lower and warmer even by the standards of the manor. The second thing she noticed was that the voice belonged not to Joseph as she had expected, but to Michiko.
“Oh Mary, you're awake,” Michiko said, humming cut short as Mary caught her eye. Mary felt a little pang from the loss of the melody.
“Mmm, good morning, dear. Or perhaps, good afternoon?” Mary replied, groggy and soft.
“Good afternoon would be appropriate,” Michiko said with a smile. “Joseph let me know you were feeling poorly, so I wanted to check on you. Oh, I also brought you a late lunch.”
Mary sat up slowly, mind still running on half speed. “You wanted to check on me?”
“Yes? I was worried about you Mary,” Michiko said simply. “Besides, I also sometimes, hm, get lost in past troubles. It can be easier to face with someone else, I think.”
Mary felt her face warm. “Thank you, dear.”
Michiko put her hand over Mary’s on the duvet, and squeezed it softly. “Would you like to talk about it? It may help.”
Mary thought for a moment—about the crowds, the fear, the pain—and shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you with a tragedy of the past darling,” she replied, aiming for nonchalance but falling flat.
“Mary,” Michiko said softly, “it is no trouble to me, not if it would make you feel better. I’m happy to listen.”
“Darling, you are so sweet. But even so, I think I would prefer not. It’s still… raw sometimes, and that can be hard to talk through on days like this.”
“Of course, Mary, whatever you need. But that offer stands, alright? I’m here whenever you need it.”
Perhaps her emotions were still a little raw and volatile, but Mary was stunned for a moment. “Michiko, dear, whatever did I do to deserve you?”
“I’m only returning the kindness you’ve shown me, Mary. If you’re not sure what you have done to deserve me, I am not sure what I’ve done to deserve you.”
“There is so much I could list here, but perhaps it would be best to leave it for now. I’m… very glad you’re here, darling.”
“Though the circumstances are not what we may have wished for, I am very glad to be here with you, Mary.”
Mary smiled and turned her hand over to run her thumb over Michiko’s fingers. They were rougher than Mary might have expected, she noted, callused where Michiko held her fan. She cleared her throat, aiming to lift the mood. “I really must apologize for being a less than gracious host this afternoon, dear. I do wish I had tea or some entertainment to offer you—”
“Mary,” Michiko cut her off, “It’s really alright. As I said, I brought lunch and was happy to read while looking after you. Which reminds me, I was given strict instructions from Mr. Desaulniers to make sure you eat.”
“Lowly curmudgeon, thinking he can give anyone orders,” Mary muttered, but it lacked any bite.
Michiko giggled. “I believe he’s showing he cares, in his own way. Let me get you a plate, I have some finger sandwiches.”
“In any case, he’ll be getting an earful from me the next time I see him,” Mary said, knowing as she said it he would only be getting a sincere thanks. “What were you reading, dear, if I may ask?”
“Oh, just a poetry volume I found in the library,” Michiko said, handing Mary a plate of food. After a pause, she continued softly, “If you’d like, I could read some to you? There are some very pretty poems about love.”
“Oh, please, I would adore that Michiko,” Mary replied.
They passed the rest of the afternoon like that, Michiko’s lovely voice taking Mary’s thoughts further and further from the past. Michiko had been right, the poems were lovely, full of beautiful images of longing and romance. Looking at Michiko, Mary thought she knew exactly what the writer was talking about.
VI.
Mary checked over her list again, for probably the fourth time the next evening. The tea was in place, the table set just for two, and the most important piece—a delicate strawberry cake she had requested specifically from the manor—was being placed perfectly by Joseph to draw the eye when someone entered the gardens. Everything was set and ready.
Mary could not help her nerves anyways.
“Relax, your majesty, watching you is giving my dead heart palpitations,” Joseph said to her left, snapping her out of her anxious thoughts.
Mary huffed. “If it’s so troublesome you don’t need to be here, darling. Go on, shoo.”
“But then I’d be leaving my liege to stew in her own silly head while she waits,” Joseph retorted, “And that would unfortunately make me a terrible friend.”
“You’re terrible anyways, truly a menace” Mary said, but folded her hand into the crook of Joseph’s offered arm.
“And I’d hate for you to forget it,” Joseph said, placing his other hand over Mary’s to squeeze her fingers. “It's going to go fine. Michiko is going to love this.”
“I do hope you’re right, darling. I feel so foolish, working myself up like this,” Mary said softly.
“Love makes us all act in foolish ways. It is scary, to feel something that overwhelming,” Joseph replied simply.
“Yes, I think I agree. It’s strange, being here again.”
“Not everyone is so lucky to get the chance to love more than once.”
“No, not everyone indeed.”
Joseph paused for a moment, as if hesitating. “Do you ever miss her? Whoever she was.”
“Oh darling. All the time, almost everyday. But it’s getting easier, I think. There’s something about second chances.”
“Yes, I think I know what you mean.”
They paused for a moment, looking over the gardens in the setting sun. Mary knew Joseph was caught in his own memories, and tried to give him room to make it back through them.
“My God, but don’t we sound so maudlin,” Joseph said after a beat, surprising Mary with a chuckle. She couldn’t help but laugh as well.
“We’re quite a pair, as always. Thank you—sincerely—for your help, dear,” Mary said.
“Don’t get sentimental on me, your majesty, it hardly suits you,” Joseph said.
“Of course, how silly of me. Begone, foul pest, you’re quite dismissed. Michiko will be arriving any moment and I would hate for her to have to deal with your unpleasantness,” Mary said through a smile.
“I’ll take my leave then, ghastly tyrant,” Joseph said with an answering smirk.
As Joseph walked back towards the manor, the nerves began to set in again. What if Michiko didn’t care for the cake, or didn’t like strawberries? What if something held her up and she was unable to join Mary at the time the note under her door had specified? What if, worst of all, Michiko simply had no desire to join her for the evening?
Mary shook her head. Michiko had never stood her up before, and Mary had no reason to believe she would now. The only difference between today and any other afternoon tea was that Mary planned to finally declare her intentions, as Bi’an and Wujiu had suggested.
Of course, Mary had some concerns that Michiko may not return her feelings. That lingered under the other anxieties, heightening the rest. She had been trying hard, however, not to focus on that. Cake flavors and time issues were problems that could be addressed, made perfect. Someone else’s feelings, while utterly terrifying, were simply facts one had to move forward with after learning. Worrying over them would be of no use.
All the same, Mary truly hoped she hadn’t been misjudging things with Michiko.
Mary heard a voice call her name, and snapped her head up to look across the garden. Michiko was making her way down the path with a smile on her face. She looked especially lovely today, Mary thought idly, dressed in a pretty soft pink.
“Hello, Michiko,” Mary called back.
“Good evening, Mary. I’m so sorry I was late, Robbie had misplaced a little doll and came to me for help...” Michiko said, trailing off when she took sight of the table with the cake. “Oh, wow, that’s different than usual!”
“I wanted to do something a bit different for you, dear. Please, sit, I’ll make you a cup of tea,” Mary said, sitting down and starting to pour tea for them both.
“It looks delicious, thank you. Will anyone else be joining us today? I thought I saw Mr. Desaulniers passing nearby when I was on my way out,” Michiko said as she took the seat across the table.
“No, I believe it should just be us this afternoon. Is— is that alright?” Mary asked, her nerves getting the better of her for a moment.
Michiko turned to look at Mary, and smiled softly. “Of course, Mary. I’m always happy to spend time with you.”
“Oh, likewise dear,” Mary said. She passed Michiko a cup of tea, made how she knew Michiko liked it.
“Mary, is there a special occasion I’ve forgotten about?” Michiko asked after a beat. “With the cake, and tea in the garden, I feel as though I’m missing something.”
“Well, erm, about that,” Mary began. She set her tea down and took a deep breath. Now or never. “There is a bit of an occasion I set all this up for. It’s hm, I suppose a bit of a gift? For you.”
“What for?” Michiko asked.
“Michiko, you’re always so kind and lovely to me,” Mary began. “You’ve been an absolutely wonderful companion ever since I arrived, and someone whose presence I value tremendously.”
Michiko blushed. “Mary, please, the pleasure is mine. If this is about the other day, you don’t need to thank me—“
“It is, but there’s more than that!” Mary said, cutting Michiko off. “You make me happy, Michiko. Just being around makes me feel joy. Seeing you hunt makes my heart race with awe, you’re lovely when you smile, and beautiful when you dance. I— you— you’re important to me.”
“You’re important to me too, Mary,” Michiko said slowly. Mary wasn’t sure, but she thought Michiko might be fighting back a smile.
Mary took a deep breath. “What all that is to say is, well, I have feelings for you, Michiko. Not strictly feelings of friendship, to be perfectly clear,” Mary said.
A beat of silence hung in the air for a moment while Mary searched Michiko’s expression for any hint of her thoughts. She first saw only surprise, which had Mary holding her breath and braced for the impact of a gentle rejection. But then, Michiko’s smile returned, and Mary could only smile helplessly back.
“I had been hoping for quite awhile that you did,” Michiko said. “I had been trying to figure out how to tell you the same for so long, Mary.”
Mary was caught unexpectedly off guard. She felt buoyant, light with happiness and shock and relief. “I— you have?”
Michiko nodded. “Long enough that I feel a bit foolish now. But, yes. Yes, of course. I don’t know how anyone that spends any time with you wouldn’t fall for you.”
“I— I should be saying that. Have we really been dancing around each other this whole time?” Mary said, a little breathless.
Michiko laughed. “It seems like it. I can hardly believe it.”
Mary stood abruptly, jostling the table. She walked the three quick steps to Michiko’s side of the table, and leaned down.
“Michiko, unless you have very strong objections, I am going to kiss you now,” Mary said softly.
Michiko reached up to take Mary’s face in her hands. “Please do.”
The kiss was sweet and soft. It felt like relief, and joy, and something new and exciting that Mary wanted to fall into and stay in. It was also over far, far too quickly for Mary’s liking.
“I think, darling,” Mary said, pulling back barely an inch, “that I am going to kiss you again. Perhaps quite a lot more.”
“I think you should. It sounds like we have some lost time to make up for,” Michiko said, and closed the distance between them again.