Once again, thanks Cuddlyness for doing the beta. Thanks for putting up with my flights of fancy. ---------- "Welcome back, Master!" When an otome greets her master, she must always have the most glorious smile on her face. "Is there anything I can get for you master?" The effective otome must be indispensable to her master but never obtrusive. "Good morning Master. How shall I serve you today?" An otome must always speak with a moderate tone. Her voice must never override her master's except in times of emergency. "If there is nothing else Master, I shall retire for the evening. Have a pleasant sleep, Master." The young lady smiled pleasantly and bowed politely. Her gaze was steady, her smile the perfect mix of confidence and servitude. That perfect smile, however was false. the happiness never reached those aqua eyes. "What am I doing?" Yumemiya Arika asked the girl in the mirror. She only smiled back stupidly until the otome made the smile disappear. Forming a contract with the Azure Sky Emerald halfway through her Coral year had left some gaping holes in Arika's formal education. While she excelled in the physical and martial aspects of her post, her social graces were severely lacking. Daily practice assignments from Miss Yukariko (mainly to protect Garderobe's reputation) helped but Arika still had long hours of study ahead of her. It didn't help that she was so lonely. After the day at Mimi's House, she and Mashiro hadn't spoken much. in fact they were avoiding each other, about as much as otome and master could. At meetings of the Garderobe Council and public appearances, her attendance was required. However, their eyes never met, and Mashiro never took Arika's arm as she used to. The otome felt silly, missing something like Mashiro's touch, until she realized just how many times a day it happened. From the queen fussing over the tidiness of Arika's uniform, to Arika massaging her queen's shoulders during tense negotiations; it seemed the two were always touching for one reason or another. Now, Arika felt simply abandoned. And she had a feeling that she knew why. When she awoke in Mashiro's arms that look in her eyes, that intense longing, was the same as the phantom from her dreams. But what was this feeling deep inside her? It chilled her very heart because deep within, Arika understood this longing for she, too had felt it. "But I can't let that happen again," she said aloud. "I can't hurt Mashiro-chan." --------------- Days had passed. Days since she'd felt human contact. As a queen, Mashiro Blan de Windbloom was used to a certain amount of distance from her subjects. Her position and her duty required it. However, she'd always had her maid Aoi who treated her more like a dear friend than an employer. And then there was Arika. Arika's touch was so different than any in Mashiro's experience. Everyone she knew, even Aoi, was very gentle with her. As if she were some porcelain doll that would shatter if jarred even slightly. Yet Arika was always he same with her. From the first time she'd grabbed her hand in that back alley, her grip was firm and sure. Not at all timid or careful like the many courtiers and functionaries. Even as time moved on and Arika's hands grew strong and callused from hard training, they never lost that sureness, that honesty. Until now. On the trip back from Garderobe Arika had helped her out of the sedan yet instead of taking her arm all the way back to the castle, the two parted as soon as possible. However, in that brief moment of contact, the hands holding Mashiro's trembled. "When did it come to this?" Mashiro said mournfully. Pardon your Highness?" Came an anxious voice behind her. Mashiro looked up at the servant who was styling her hair. The girl's touch was so light, so insubstantial, that Mashiro had forgotten she was there. "Not like Arika," Mashiro mused. That day, when she was heartbroken over a love that never even started, as if by magic Arika appeared before her. She too was suffering that day. And instead of offering trite words of false comfort she'd just held her. It wasn't the flimsy, anxious grip of a courtier, too afraid to bruise the queen's porcelain skin. It was just a girl at the edge of her endurance hanging on for dear life. The feather-light touch of the hair-dresser jarred the queen's thoughts. "Get out," she growled. "B-but your highness," the servant stammered. "Your hair isn't-" "I SAID GET OUT!" Mashiro roared. "I'll finish it myself!" The hapless maid fled before her queen, tears streaming down her cheeks. Tears also ran down the monarch's cheeks, marring the freshly applied makeup. "Am I really this terrible?" ------------------------------------------- The queen's sitting room was modest. That is, it was modest by Fuuka Castle standards. It was small enough to swallow a commoner's house twice. The room was appointed by heavily cushioned couches and chairs. Heavy silks and tapestries adorned the walls, all colored bright pastels as was the queen's preference. A two story window and terrace which opened to a panoramic view of Wind City dominated one wall. Upon the walls were carefully arranged shelves holding treasures most precious to the queen: Gifts given her by her youngest subjects included, stick figure portraits of the monarch, a preserved bouquet of scraggly wildflowers, a favorite marble, a shiny stone the same color as her eyes. It was among these treasures that the queen sat and contemplated after a hard day. And it was the perfect place for an "informal" gathering of select members from the Garderobe Council. The view notwithstanding, this room was not meant to awe visitors with grandeur but to remind them just where Her Highness's loyalties were. As the delegates milled about, many clucking over the queen's eclectic taste in decor, said monarch sat upon an over-stuffed sofa with a light drink. Mashiro usually eschewed alcohol, but as with many things, even a queen couldn't refuse to participate in toasts from her fellow leaders. She sat and tried not to glower, dressed in one of her less uncomfortable frocks for this "informal" meeting. A sleeveless single piece summer gown of aqua with a matching thin over wrap. (bare shoulders are a royal no-no) Her silver hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail with a ribbon. Her only adornment was a gold necklace bearing the insignia of the Windbloom Royal Family. "I must commend the magnificence of Your Highness's Otome," a representative from a country Mashiro couldn't remember commented. "We try our best," the queen said graciously. All the while her eyes followed the girl in sky blue. Yumemiya Arika was busy serving drinks to the assembled guests. The queen had dismissed the domestic help for the night to keep the meeting intimate. More likely, this arrangement was for her guests' sake, since this was a meeting of moderates from the council. The council would soon recess for the year and many of those gathered had yet to state positions on key articles of the Technology Proliferation Act. As carefully crafted as this meeting was, Mashiro couldn't help but stray back to Arika. Tonight, she was astounding in the halter-type gown, the same blue as her working uniform, with a daringly low neckline, and a flared, floor-length skirt. She noticed how the chiffon garment hugged Arika's scant curves. And Mashiro noticed several of her guests noticing as well. But did any of them truly know her? Did they know her beyond the news programs and editorials? Did they know that Arika liked to sleep in on weekends and adored pastries? Did they know that she studied ferociously to make up for the gaps in her education? Did they know that the Meister Otome wept at night for a mother she never got the chance to know? Mashiro violently shook off these thoughts. She had a duty tonight, no matter how much she wanted to drag her otome out of here. No matter how she just wanted to find a quite place where they could just hold each other and cry for a while. And maybe kiss a bit. --------------- The meeting had extended to hours as the various delegates offered more toasts and became more merry. Yumemiya Arika went from wondering when the diplomacy would kick in to being shocked to find it had already begun. Among the diplomats sharing drinks and anecdotes, several had paired off in secluded corners of the room, or even out on the parquet. The queen was a whirlwind, bouncing from one group to another, sharing a story, providing a fact, or just a sympathetic ear. She could see why her master hated this sort of thing. Even if she was so adept at it. She was required to bend others to her will through cajolery, make every sentence drip with compliment, laugh at inane jokes and agree with ideas she found absurd while guiding her targets to her way of thinking. All while making them think it was their idea in the first place. Many of the smaller groups had finished "business" and were making merry in earnest. In order to save her master some difficulty, Arika had surreptitiously replaced her wine with juice. This earned her a grateful smile from Mashiro who was at her limit. The queen was currently speaking with a representative from Carletya, but her young body was flagging. Attuned to her master's plight, Arika took Mashiro by the hand, made her apologies and ushered her from the room. The ever-reliable Sakomizu took over hosting duties. ------------------ Clad in her nightgown and robe, Mashiro sat at her vanity, while Arika brushed her hair. Neither had exchanged more than pleasantries as the otome prepared her master for bed. "Master," Arika finally said. "You were amazing tonight. I think you really made some headway with the moderates." "Thanks," Mashiro quietly replied. "We'll see about my efforts when the Winter session starts." "You seem a bit unsettled master," Arika observed. "Would you like a warm drink before be? Or perhaps some soft music?" "Don't." "Don't what, Master?" "Don't call me that," the queen replied. "But isn't this the proper way to address you?" "Of COURSE it is!" Arika staggered back from the force of the sudden outburst. "I-I'm sorry," Mashiro said contritely. "That's just not like you." "But..." "I don't want you to be my otome anymore," Mashiro said as she stood to face Arika. "Don't get the wrong idea because it's not like that. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me. But if everything we've done together, everything we've been together is all because you're my otome and I'm your master then it's the worst kind of cruelty there is." "Mashiro...chan..." Realization struck Arika as a thunderbolt as she saw the shamed look on the queen's face. These feelings she'd kept bottled up for the past year, the fear that her voice or action might betray her, the certainty that to act on said feelings would destroy their friendship; Mashiro had been dealing with the same. It was then that Mashiro came close and embraced her. "Thank you," Mashiro said into the taller girl's shoulder. "Thank you for touching me. Thank you for always touching me." The otome could only nod dumbly as she felt hot tears stream down her face. As she held Mashiro's quaking form, she recalled another time when they'd both been dealt an emotional hammer blow. All they could do was cling to one another and cry. "Mashiro-chan," she ventured, "I'm afraid of what's next. What's going to happen to us?" Mashiro looked up at her then, her emerald eyes brimming with tears. "I think something like this..." She stood on her toes and haltingly kissed Arika's cheek, tasting the salty tears. The otome didn't respond, but she also didn't back away. Mashiro slowly kissed her other cheek, letting her lips linger, and then peel away. She gazed up at Arika expectantly. "She's giving me a chance," Arika mused. "It's a chance to walk away from this and pretend it never happened." Yet as she looked into Mashiro's eyes, she couldn't turn away. Not from her. Arika leaned forward and softly kissed both of Mashiro's wet cheeks. A flush touched those cheeks as the queen looked into the taller girl's cerulean eyes. Could she? Would she? Trepidation dissolved, as Arika tilted Mashiro's face upward and their lips finally met. "Well, the world didn't fall apart," Mashiro smiled up at her when they parted. "But I don't want to go back there yet," Arika replied and took her breath away with another kiss. However, instead of returning the gesture, Mashiro surprised pushing her onto her huge canopy bed. The queen was upon her like a feline, kissing her face, reveling in the sensation of their bodies' closeness. This was not the dainty and proper monarch, but the young woman who hungered and desired. This same young woman whose tongue now tasted of her. "I want to, now," Mashiro said suddenly. "Are you sure?" Arika stared up into those emerald eyes so full of passion and a hunger that the otome was beginning to understand. She succumbed to that destiny. Mashiro kissed her deeply. "So...what's next?" Arika asked breathlessly. "I thought you knew," replied Mashiro as she gazed down at her. "What gave you that idea?' "Well..." Mashiro hesitated. "You DID attend Garderobe. I just thought you would...you know." "I never had a chance to do anything like that. Erm...not that I was looking for it." Arika added quickly. "This is about as far as we got in my dream too" "You dreamt about us? Together?" Mashiro exclaimed. "What was it like?" "I don't know. I always wake up at around this time," the otome replied helplessly. With a heavy sigh, Mashiro lay down next to Arika and accepted her embrace. "Are we really this pathetic?" Mashiro asked as Arika pulled her close. "I think," Arika brushed silver strands away and kissed Mashiro's neck, "We've got plenty of time to figure it out." Mashiro could only smile as she drifted away, listening to the steady rhythm of her love's wonderful heart. -FIN- ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for reading this story. Arika and Mashiro are a couple I truly believe in so I wanted to do right by them. While this is the end of this tale it is by no means the end of this timeline. I hope to visit these two again some day and catch up on what they've been up to. Thanks for all your support. ::HUGS:: Arca Jeth
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