The Empress and the Captain

One

Fare smiled, eyes closed as music filled her head. The window to her studio was propped open and in the street below minstrels plucked out a tune she especially loved, the story of a couple in love but just out of reach. The lyrics themselves wrought a tale of aching heartbreak, but the music was light, bright and wistful, and Fare executed a circuit of the room, hands held out before her as if she were dancing with an imaginary partner, the wet clay that dripped from her fingers leaving a trail of white splashes across the floor.

'And I held her as she held me-'

Her extended fingers hit something hard and Fare lurched backwards with a surprised cry, eyes snapping open and hands swinging wide. She felt the corner of an easel catch her hip, a biting, shock of pain, before a hand clasped her shoulder and stopped her from falling.

Erilia Fen, Captain of the Guard, was covered in a splattering of clay, her helmet peppered with white droplets and her chest marred with- Fare winced. Fingerprints.

'Captain!' She lowered her hands, clasping them in mortification. She had never seen Erilia less than perfectly turned out in the year they had worked together, indeed she knew how much pride the Captain took in her appearance so to be completely destroying that, and at such an early hour, hardly felt like a highlight of Fare's time in Court. 'I'm- I didn't hear you.'

'You were singing, Ma'am.'

Fare closed her eyes, nodding slowly. 'I... yes, perhaps,' she conceded. 'You are very quiet, though.'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

Swallowing - and wishing she could as easily remove the pink flush creeping ever further up her cheeks - she looked again at the fingerprints on Erilia's armour. 'I didn't see you come in.'

'You had your eyes closed, Ma'am.'

'Still with the Ma'am?'

'Empress?' the Captain gave away no emotion from within her gilt helmet, her stance perfect, her tone as respectful as always; the only thing that was out of the ordinary, aside from the clay, was the fact her hand still rested on Fare's shoulder.

'Fare,' she corrected. 'I know you know my name. You're allowed to use it.'

'Apologies, Ma'am.'

She sighed, a tiny smile touching the edges of her lips. It was a dance they had been playing almost from the moment she had selected Erilia as Captain of her Guard. That's not to say it was a routine she found tiring, but the heat that was pressing between her shoulder blades was a constant reminder that she felt more than she necessarily ought- and most certainly more than was reciprocated.

'Wait here a moment, I'll get you a cl-' The hand on Fare's shoulder - did it tighten? - remained in place, a wall holding as impassable as any made of stone, and she hesitated, eyes turning towards it, until with a sharp inhale Erilia released her grip and once again became the perfect Captain, soldier, employee, poise regimented and seamless. 'I'll get you a cloth,' Fare repeated carefully, darting from the room as quickly as she was able, which happened to be just short of what could be described as running breathing deeply as soon as she was in the safety of the washroom just beyond.

The water ran icy cold beneath her fingers as she soaked a washcloth and she took a minute to stare at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Her cheeks were pink, bright like a sunset, her blonde hair twisted in braids atop her head that were coming out all around her face.

'A mess,' she chastised her reflection, not bothering to clean the clay from her own hands as she wrung the cloth and rushed back to her studio proper, falling still only when she was looking at the emptiness that mere moments before had been Captain Erilia.