fic: "Assembly, Care, & Feeding of a Queen's Court" by Tielan - Chapter 13
CHAPTER: Assembly, Care, & Feeding of a Queen's Court - Part 13: "Hers"
SUMMARY: They were hers. Her responsibility, her duty, her court.
CHARACTERS: Maria, Natasha, Pepper, Jane, Darcy, Logan, Nick.
DETAILS: Master Post
FINAL NOTES: Thanks so much for reading - I hope you enjoyed the story!
Chapter 13: Hers
Of all the parties that were on offer on Winsol Eve throughout the Territory, the most-desired invitation was always the one from Stark Manor.
Whatever else could be said of Tony Stark, he knew how to throw a party.
However, this year the expected invitation failed to materialise for many aristo Bloods in the Territory, much to their consternation and dismay. Given that the Lady Maria Hill had taken up her Jewels and chosen her court and was now officially ruling SHIELD Territory from the Aer Gerulus residence, it seemed as though this should be a year in which there would surely be a Winsol party to end all parties - particularly since Stark was one of the males serving in her First Circle.
It was expected.
Maria was perfectly aware of what was expected of her as the new Territory Queen.
She was also quite determined not to spend the entire season of Winsol in a blur of events.
"I think we can arrange for a quiet Winsol Eve," Pepper said with a smile when Maria found her in the housekeeper's retreat with a request. "Just the First Circle?"
"Yes. And thank you. I know that the Winsol party is usually a big thing in this part of the Territory..."
"Maria." One hand lifted to stop her apology, an impish tilt to the serene expression. "Don't apologise for making less work for me and the manor staff."
"Should I apologise to Stark instead?"
This time, the smile was decidedly wicked. "I think you'll find Tony hasn't enjoyed the Winsol Eve party for the last five years. He kept putting it on because it was expected."
And, of course, when Maria brought it up to Stark, she discovered Pepper was right.
So Winsol Eve was a quiet day - arrival at the Manor, the afternoon spent tromping through the snow on a tour of the Manor's winter scenery, dinner with her First Circle, and now conversation with the witches in the warmed library.
Maria kicked off her shoes so she could wriggle her toes at the fire.
"Queen's court, dress-code: shoeless," said Jane with a laugh as she sat down next to Maria.
Darcy bounced into the chair opposite and promptly kicked off her own shoes. "I like it. Although it's beyond frosty outside, so the barefoot trend probably isn't going to catch on."
Pepper had suggested the men and women separate for a while after dinner, and Maria was relieved by the suggestion. There were moments when she became uncomfortably aware that she held the lives and honour of these people in her hands - the females as much as the males, but the males more urgently, simply because of the way Blood society worked.
My life is yours. Take what you need.
Nine days ago - two days before the Winsol holiday, twelve males had knelt before her and said those words. They'd sworn their lives to her service, their surrender to her will.
To each of them, Maria had replied, Your service is accepted; my honour is yours.
Each time she'd accepted the oath, she'd quaked inside, remembering that last day in the Phoenix Court - the anger, the bitterness, the recriminations, the grief. She'd seen the results of Jean's death and the impact it had on the males who'd served and belonged to Jean, from the males of her Blood triangle to her adolescent son, Nate.
Maria didn't want that for her males.
Queens weren't taught to think about what happened when they died - what happened to the males in their court who'd given them lifetime service. Yet Maria couldn't put her vision out of her head - not entirely. She could push it aside, or remind herself that what was seen didn't always have to be what came to pass, but it haunted her still.
"Are you okay?" Natasha offered her a small glass of white port, which Maria took with a smile to hide her worry.
"Just tired."
"And no wonder, either," said Pepper, gracefully taking a seat on the couch. "You've been run off your feet the last six days."
"Says the witch running Stark Manor," Maria returned.
Almost surprisingly, Pepper hadn't argued with Maria's insistence that she join them for dinner. Which either meant that Tony had been overbearing and bossy, or Pepper was accustoming herself to the idea that she was now First Circle and when the Queen requested her presence socially, her presence was expected.
"Well, you survived the Puceanu house party, anyway," said Darcy, now sprawled on the couch. "Did you see the girl? The one they're ashamed of because she apparently can't wear Jewels?"
"How do you know all this?" Jane asked.
"I keep my eyes and ears open, of course." Darcy accepted a nutcake from the plate Pepper passed around and bit into it, before putting her hand over her mouth and speaking through it. "Well?"
Maria exchanged a look with Natasha. "Meggan was the daughter, right?"
"Yes. The quiet blonde."
"She seemed nice enough - a bit shy, perhaps."
Darcy snorted. "You know, I thought exactly the same thing of you the first time I met you at Jane's. And look how you turned out!"
Amused, Maria leaned back in the chair. "I was 'turned out' long before I met you, Darcy. And the Puceanu party was enjoyable enough."
"'Enjoyable enough,'" came the returning mutter. "I swear, being a Queen is wasted on you, Maria! The Puceanus are said to throw the best houseparties - but for the ones at Stark Manor," she hastily added with an apologetic look at Pepper.
"Such a reassurance to know we're being entertained by the best." Natasha exchanged a wry look with Pepper. "The howls of dismay were audible back in Aer Gerulus when people realised they weren't receiving an invite this year."
"They'll survive," Pepper said firmly. "The Queen's wishes come first."
Maria curled her feet up under her skirt, cradling her glass of port so it didn't spill on the fine material. "I wanted some quiet."
"And no wonder, after the formation of the court and the first few days of Winsol," said Jane, touching Maria's shoulder. "I'm tired, and I'm not even attending half the events you are!"
"Yes, but, Jane, going out more than twice a week makes you think you qualify for social butterfly status," Darcy pointed out.
"We like staying in!"
"I can't imagine why." Darcy plumped her hand down on her chin and smirked, making Jane blush furiously. Maria coughed to cover her laugh. Then she sobered as Darcy turned big brown eyes on her. "And speaking of good reasons to stay in bed, why did you offer Prince Rogers the position of First Escort?"
Confused, Maria looked at the other women in the room, trying to see if any of them understood Darcy's question. "Because he was willing to take service with me?"
"So why didn't you offer him the Consort's Ring? I mean, even just looking at him, the man was practically made to be bedded."
Oh. She'd expected the question, but she'd expected it would be asked long before this.
The answer was complicated, though.
"He's still not past the memory of Lady Peggy." Maria gave the simplest explanation. "And I don't particularly fancy having to share my lover with a ghost."
Not that she would have offered Steve Rogers the Consort's Ring even if he hadn't been mourning his Queen.
She was under no illusions as to why he'd chosen to serve her. Having stayed on the edges of the court ever since he'd returned from killing the Red Skull, ignoring the flirtatious looks from Darcy, and the subtle challenges from Tony, he'd only decided to serve in her court after he'd glimpsed her vision.
As Phil told it, there was no way he could have saved Lady Peggy. As Maria saw it, Prince Rogers thought that maybe he could save her as he hadn't managed to save his Queen.
And if that was his purpose in joining her court, Maria certainly wasn't going to use him in her bed. She didn't want saving from a Warlord Prince who didn't even belong to her.
It was just easier to explain it in terms of his reluctance rather than hers.
"And no lover on the horizon?"
"Can we talk about something other than the Queen's private life?" Maria inquired with some exasperation.
"Well, the other ladies here all have lovers, and nobody's interested in who I'm bedding..."
Maria glared.
Natasha coughed and adroitly turned the conversation to the plans for the rest of the Winsol holiday, the tour of the Territory that was planned come the spring, and the Queen's Gifting of the land which was also planned for the spring.
Jane and Darcy were asking about the number of Queens available to gift to the land when the males asked permission to come in.
A few minutes later, Maria sat back and watched her First Circle mingle and talk among themselves, their quick glances her way quickly reassured with a brief smile or nod that at once soothed the males but gave her the space she needed for the moment.
Of course, there was always a male who pushed the boundaries.
This one, at least, she didn't mind - especially when he came bearing a mug of hot mulled wine.
Logan handed her the mug, pushed the plate of pastries aside and sat down on the coffee table, disdaining the couch. "Regrets, brat?"
Uncertainties? Yes. Regrets? "No."
"You've come a long way from the forest."
"But not so far from Jean's court." She wrapped her hands around the mug, glad of its warmth. "Did Jean... Was she ever...?"
*Was she ever scared?* Logan asked on a private thread. *All the time, I think. She was just past her majority when she started her rule. And we'd been fighting the Hydra for years at that point, with no end in sight.*
*So I shouldn't be scared? Is that it?*
*That's not it at all - if you'd let me finish.* Logan frowned at her, dark brows lowering. *You're allowed to be scared. Hell, if you weren't scared, I'd think there was something wrong with you. But you're strong enough not to let the fear control you - or you'd never have survived the forest."
Maria wasn't so sure.
Those first nights alone in the forest had been chilling - the emptiness of the cottage, the drugging fear that leeched through her when she thought of the court, of Ororo and Betsy and Marie, of Charles, Scott, and Logan, of Nate and the others who'd been her playmates. She'd wept and quivered and waited and wondered.
But in the end, what had moved her had been simple survival - the desire to live - and she'd learned strength.
*Is that why you left me there? To learn to live past the fear?*
*I left you there to survive. You learned to live past the fear all your own.* Logan glanced across at the others in the room. *You've got a good court here - good people around you. Even the ones I don't agree with.*
*But you won't take more than a one-year contract.*
*Not as Master of the Guard, no. You need a younger man to keep up with you.*
*You're not old, Logan.*
*No,* he replied seriously, *but I'm feeling it. Besides, Rogers is not only prettier than me, he also has a legend growing around him.* Logan didn't quite smile but there was a suspicious twinkle in his eyes when he looked at Maria. *Rather like a Queen I know.*
Maria glared. *Don't you start, too!*
Logan grinned broadly. *You don't need him in bed. But he's better with the men than I'll ever be. They respect and fear me, but he's the kind of leader they'll follow into Hell and back.*
*Hopefully it won't ever come to that.* But Maria could see what Logan meant. Even now, Steve was conversing easily with Bruce and Rhodey, his expression intent as he listened to whatever Rhodey was saying. His gaze flicked up to meet hers and after a moment he smiled. *I was thinking he might make a good second for you.*
*He'd make a better Master. I'll start training him when we settle into the winter routine.*
*You'll stay in the court, though? Afterwards?* The thought that he didn't want to serve her was painful - she knew she wasn't the Queen that Jean had been...
His hand covered hers. "Maria."
His use of her name shocked her into silence.
"Jean would be proud of you," he said gruffly. "She loved you as if you were as much hers as Nate - do you remember?"
The mulled wine must have been a little too hot. Her throat felt burned and her heart battered against her chest. "I remember."
Arms around her and laughter in her ears. A finger brushing past her cheek and a press of soft lips against her forehead. Sharp warning temper when she'd done something stupid or forbidden, and pride and pleasure when Maria got it right. But always the assurance that she was loved and wanted by Jean and Scott, no matter what her own father had thought of her.
"You were so serious as a child - as though you knew the world would rest on your shoulders, she said. And then," Logan's voice roughened, "two nights before she died, she came to see me and said that if she wasn't there to see you become Queen and take up your court, I should pass on this message. That she loved you, and that you had greatness in you - the stuff of which legends are made - if you didn't let what you feared most hold you back."
Her head was spinning, unable to form a coherent thought, and her insides were trembling so hard that she didn't know why she wasn't shaking like a leaf.
"I know you don't set any store in being a legend - you'd be content to live quiet. But Jean saw the potential in you then, and I see it now." He met her gaze and the hand still resting on hers squeezed lightly. "I'll serve as long as you need me - but not because you're destined for greatness. Just because you're you - stubborn wilfulness and all. Okay?"
"Okay."
Logan leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Happy Winsol, brat."
He moved away as Phil and Clint came over, wanting her to settle a matter between them, and Maria listened to their chatter, and arbitrated because they needed her to and because they made her laugh. Still, her thoughts were elsewhere, and when the opportunity presented itself, she excused herself on the pretext of needing fresh air and made for the doors out to the balcony.
She felt the eyes upon her as she went, and called in a thick coat at the door, brandishing it at the room to indicate that she wasn't so fool as to go out into the cold in nothing more than an evening gown. Then, slipping it over her shoulders, she set a warming spell around her, and stepped through the door out into the snow.
The bite of the night gave her clarity as she formed a shield under her hands that would insulate her from the worst of the frozen stone balustrade. It also gave her a reason for the tears that suddenly stung her eyes.
She loved you and saw greatness in you if you don't let what you fear hold you back.
She'd once asked Irene - the resident Black Widow in Jean's court - why, if the Hourglass Coven could see the future, they didn't tell people what was going to happen.
"The future isn't written in stone, little one," Irene had answered, brushing her white hair back from her eyes - the exact colour of Maria's Summer-sky Jewel. "And even if it was, stone can be broken."
Don't let it hold you back.
It was right to fear failing them - right to fear what might happen to them without her. It was part and parcel of the bargain between a Queen and her court - her care for their service. But it didn't need to hamstring her. Her court deserved better of her than freezing fear - all of them, from Bruce who still had little idea about the limits of his Warlord Prince, to Rhodey who was perfectly aware of his strengths and weaknesses as a Purple-Dusk Warlord, and comfortable with it.
They were hers. Her responsibility, her duty, her court.
And she would protect and nurture them and this Territory with everything in her, either until the vision of her own breaking came to pass, or until she died.
And that was her oath to them.
"Maria?"
Nick was standing at the doorway, the light of the room behind him casting his face further into shadow. She knew what he was asking of her, and what she should answer. But affection and memory rose up inside her and what she said was something else entirely. "I never thanked you for bringing me out of the forest."
His brows rose in surprise. "Seems there wasn't much to be thankful for," he said, dryly. "A run-down residence, a town that wouldn't tithe, and no society beyond a bunch of muscle-bound cocks."
"And on top of it all, you had an ungrateful little Queen who didn't really want anything to do with you and your people."
"I had a nervous young witch - with good reason not to trust," he corrected her. "And we worked out okay in the end, didn't we?"
Maria felt her mouth twitch at the corner. "Yes, we did," she agreed. "And I want to say thank you now."
The serious face broke into a faint smile. "You're welcome, Lady. It's even been a pleasure." His eyes gleamed. "Sometimes."
Beyond him, inside the house, Pepper paused by the door in the act of carrying a tray and tilted her head to indicate that they should come in, before Rhodey took the tray gently from her hands, ignoring her protests.
Maria found herself smiling. This was the court who served her, the witches and males in her First Circle - a court worthy of her strength and protection.
"They're serving the rum. Shall we go in?"
Nick held out his arm. She crossed the terrace and placed her hand atop his and they made their way inside.
The others were waiting by the fire, the little cups of hot blooded rum gleaming on a silver tray. The cups were made to be shared between two - a sip of fiery liquid in toast and remembrance.
Maria let Nick hold the cup and, as the Queen, spoke the words of thanksgiving.
"To the Darkness that formed us, and the land that gives us strength - for the glory of Witch - she who represents all that we are as Blood, and all that we are meant to be."
The room filled with murmurs of agreement and she took the proffered silver cup from Nick with a small smile of thanks.
I am theirs, and they are mine.
Then Maria drank to the Blood and the Darkness and everything she would and could be.
- fin -
To Masterpost.
SUMMARY: They were hers. Her responsibility, her duty, her court.
CHARACTERS: Maria, Natasha, Pepper, Jane, Darcy, Logan, Nick.
DETAILS: Master Post
FINAL NOTES: Thanks so much for reading - I hope you enjoyed the story!
Chapter 13: Hers
Of all the parties that were on offer on Winsol Eve throughout the Territory, the most-desired invitation was always the one from Stark Manor.
Whatever else could be said of Tony Stark, he knew how to throw a party.
However, this year the expected invitation failed to materialise for many aristo Bloods in the Territory, much to their consternation and dismay. Given that the Lady Maria Hill had taken up her Jewels and chosen her court and was now officially ruling SHIELD Territory from the Aer Gerulus residence, it seemed as though this should be a year in which there would surely be a Winsol party to end all parties - particularly since Stark was one of the males serving in her First Circle.
It was expected.
Maria was perfectly aware of what was expected of her as the new Territory Queen.
She was also quite determined not to spend the entire season of Winsol in a blur of events.
"I think we can arrange for a quiet Winsol Eve," Pepper said with a smile when Maria found her in the housekeeper's retreat with a request. "Just the First Circle?"
"Yes. And thank you. I know that the Winsol party is usually a big thing in this part of the Territory..."
"Maria." One hand lifted to stop her apology, an impish tilt to the serene expression. "Don't apologise for making less work for me and the manor staff."
"Should I apologise to Stark instead?"
This time, the smile was decidedly wicked. "I think you'll find Tony hasn't enjoyed the Winsol Eve party for the last five years. He kept putting it on because it was expected."
And, of course, when Maria brought it up to Stark, she discovered Pepper was right.
So Winsol Eve was a quiet day - arrival at the Manor, the afternoon spent tromping through the snow on a tour of the Manor's winter scenery, dinner with her First Circle, and now conversation with the witches in the warmed library.
Maria kicked off her shoes so she could wriggle her toes at the fire.
"Queen's court, dress-code: shoeless," said Jane with a laugh as she sat down next to Maria.
Darcy bounced into the chair opposite and promptly kicked off her own shoes. "I like it. Although it's beyond frosty outside, so the barefoot trend probably isn't going to catch on."
Pepper had suggested the men and women separate for a while after dinner, and Maria was relieved by the suggestion. There were moments when she became uncomfortably aware that she held the lives and honour of these people in her hands - the females as much as the males, but the males more urgently, simply because of the way Blood society worked.
My life is yours. Take what you need.
Nine days ago - two days before the Winsol holiday, twelve males had knelt before her and said those words. They'd sworn their lives to her service, their surrender to her will.
To each of them, Maria had replied, Your service is accepted; my honour is yours.
Each time she'd accepted the oath, she'd quaked inside, remembering that last day in the Phoenix Court - the anger, the bitterness, the recriminations, the grief. She'd seen the results of Jean's death and the impact it had on the males who'd served and belonged to Jean, from the males of her Blood triangle to her adolescent son, Nate.
Maria didn't want that for her males.
Queens weren't taught to think about what happened when they died - what happened to the males in their court who'd given them lifetime service. Yet Maria couldn't put her vision out of her head - not entirely. She could push it aside, or remind herself that what was seen didn't always have to be what came to pass, but it haunted her still.
"Are you okay?" Natasha offered her a small glass of white port, which Maria took with a smile to hide her worry.
"Just tired."
"And no wonder, either," said Pepper, gracefully taking a seat on the couch. "You've been run off your feet the last six days."
"Says the witch running Stark Manor," Maria returned.
Almost surprisingly, Pepper hadn't argued with Maria's insistence that she join them for dinner. Which either meant that Tony had been overbearing and bossy, or Pepper was accustoming herself to the idea that she was now First Circle and when the Queen requested her presence socially, her presence was expected.
"Well, you survived the Puceanu house party, anyway," said Darcy, now sprawled on the couch. "Did you see the girl? The one they're ashamed of because she apparently can't wear Jewels?"
"How do you know all this?" Jane asked.
"I keep my eyes and ears open, of course." Darcy accepted a nutcake from the plate Pepper passed around and bit into it, before putting her hand over her mouth and speaking through it. "Well?"
Maria exchanged a look with Natasha. "Meggan was the daughter, right?"
"Yes. The quiet blonde."
"She seemed nice enough - a bit shy, perhaps."
Darcy snorted. "You know, I thought exactly the same thing of you the first time I met you at Jane's. And look how you turned out!"
Amused, Maria leaned back in the chair. "I was 'turned out' long before I met you, Darcy. And the Puceanu party was enjoyable enough."
"'Enjoyable enough,'" came the returning mutter. "I swear, being a Queen is wasted on you, Maria! The Puceanus are said to throw the best houseparties - but for the ones at Stark Manor," she hastily added with an apologetic look at Pepper.
"Such a reassurance to know we're being entertained by the best." Natasha exchanged a wry look with Pepper. "The howls of dismay were audible back in Aer Gerulus when people realised they weren't receiving an invite this year."
"They'll survive," Pepper said firmly. "The Queen's wishes come first."
Maria curled her feet up under her skirt, cradling her glass of port so it didn't spill on the fine material. "I wanted some quiet."
"And no wonder, after the formation of the court and the first few days of Winsol," said Jane, touching Maria's shoulder. "I'm tired, and I'm not even attending half the events you are!"
"Yes, but, Jane, going out more than twice a week makes you think you qualify for social butterfly status," Darcy pointed out.
"We like staying in!"
"I can't imagine why." Darcy plumped her hand down on her chin and smirked, making Jane blush furiously. Maria coughed to cover her laugh. Then she sobered as Darcy turned big brown eyes on her. "And speaking of good reasons to stay in bed, why did you offer Prince Rogers the position of First Escort?"
Confused, Maria looked at the other women in the room, trying to see if any of them understood Darcy's question. "Because he was willing to take service with me?"
"So why didn't you offer him the Consort's Ring? I mean, even just looking at him, the man was practically made to be bedded."
Oh. She'd expected the question, but she'd expected it would be asked long before this.
The answer was complicated, though.
"He's still not past the memory of Lady Peggy." Maria gave the simplest explanation. "And I don't particularly fancy having to share my lover with a ghost."
Not that she would have offered Steve Rogers the Consort's Ring even if he hadn't been mourning his Queen.
She was under no illusions as to why he'd chosen to serve her. Having stayed on the edges of the court ever since he'd returned from killing the Red Skull, ignoring the flirtatious looks from Darcy, and the subtle challenges from Tony, he'd only decided to serve in her court after he'd glimpsed her vision.
As Phil told it, there was no way he could have saved Lady Peggy. As Maria saw it, Prince Rogers thought that maybe he could save her as he hadn't managed to save his Queen.
And if that was his purpose in joining her court, Maria certainly wasn't going to use him in her bed. She didn't want saving from a Warlord Prince who didn't even belong to her.
It was just easier to explain it in terms of his reluctance rather than hers.
"And no lover on the horizon?"
"Can we talk about something other than the Queen's private life?" Maria inquired with some exasperation.
"Well, the other ladies here all have lovers, and nobody's interested in who I'm bedding..."
Maria glared.
Natasha coughed and adroitly turned the conversation to the plans for the rest of the Winsol holiday, the tour of the Territory that was planned come the spring, and the Queen's Gifting of the land which was also planned for the spring.
Jane and Darcy were asking about the number of Queens available to gift to the land when the males asked permission to come in.
A few minutes later, Maria sat back and watched her First Circle mingle and talk among themselves, their quick glances her way quickly reassured with a brief smile or nod that at once soothed the males but gave her the space she needed for the moment.
Of course, there was always a male who pushed the boundaries.
This one, at least, she didn't mind - especially when he came bearing a mug of hot mulled wine.
Logan handed her the mug, pushed the plate of pastries aside and sat down on the coffee table, disdaining the couch. "Regrets, brat?"
Uncertainties? Yes. Regrets? "No."
"You've come a long way from the forest."
"But not so far from Jean's court." She wrapped her hands around the mug, glad of its warmth. "Did Jean... Was she ever...?"
*Was she ever scared?* Logan asked on a private thread. *All the time, I think. She was just past her majority when she started her rule. And we'd been fighting the Hydra for years at that point, with no end in sight.*
*So I shouldn't be scared? Is that it?*
*That's not it at all - if you'd let me finish.* Logan frowned at her, dark brows lowering. *You're allowed to be scared. Hell, if you weren't scared, I'd think there was something wrong with you. But you're strong enough not to let the fear control you - or you'd never have survived the forest."
Maria wasn't so sure.
Those first nights alone in the forest had been chilling - the emptiness of the cottage, the drugging fear that leeched through her when she thought of the court, of Ororo and Betsy and Marie, of Charles, Scott, and Logan, of Nate and the others who'd been her playmates. She'd wept and quivered and waited and wondered.
But in the end, what had moved her had been simple survival - the desire to live - and she'd learned strength.
*Is that why you left me there? To learn to live past the fear?*
*I left you there to survive. You learned to live past the fear all your own.* Logan glanced across at the others in the room. *You've got a good court here - good people around you. Even the ones I don't agree with.*
*But you won't take more than a one-year contract.*
*Not as Master of the Guard, no. You need a younger man to keep up with you.*
*You're not old, Logan.*
*No,* he replied seriously, *but I'm feeling it. Besides, Rogers is not only prettier than me, he also has a legend growing around him.* Logan didn't quite smile but there was a suspicious twinkle in his eyes when he looked at Maria. *Rather like a Queen I know.*
Maria glared. *Don't you start, too!*
Logan grinned broadly. *You don't need him in bed. But he's better with the men than I'll ever be. They respect and fear me, but he's the kind of leader they'll follow into Hell and back.*
*Hopefully it won't ever come to that.* But Maria could see what Logan meant. Even now, Steve was conversing easily with Bruce and Rhodey, his expression intent as he listened to whatever Rhodey was saying. His gaze flicked up to meet hers and after a moment he smiled. *I was thinking he might make a good second for you.*
*He'd make a better Master. I'll start training him when we settle into the winter routine.*
*You'll stay in the court, though? Afterwards?* The thought that he didn't want to serve her was painful - she knew she wasn't the Queen that Jean had been...
His hand covered hers. "Maria."
His use of her name shocked her into silence.
"Jean would be proud of you," he said gruffly. "She loved you as if you were as much hers as Nate - do you remember?"
The mulled wine must have been a little too hot. Her throat felt burned and her heart battered against her chest. "I remember."
Arms around her and laughter in her ears. A finger brushing past her cheek and a press of soft lips against her forehead. Sharp warning temper when she'd done something stupid or forbidden, and pride and pleasure when Maria got it right. But always the assurance that she was loved and wanted by Jean and Scott, no matter what her own father had thought of her.
"You were so serious as a child - as though you knew the world would rest on your shoulders, she said. And then," Logan's voice roughened, "two nights before she died, she came to see me and said that if she wasn't there to see you become Queen and take up your court, I should pass on this message. That she loved you, and that you had greatness in you - the stuff of which legends are made - if you didn't let what you feared most hold you back."
Her head was spinning, unable to form a coherent thought, and her insides were trembling so hard that she didn't know why she wasn't shaking like a leaf.
"I know you don't set any store in being a legend - you'd be content to live quiet. But Jean saw the potential in you then, and I see it now." He met her gaze and the hand still resting on hers squeezed lightly. "I'll serve as long as you need me - but not because you're destined for greatness. Just because you're you - stubborn wilfulness and all. Okay?"
"Okay."
Logan leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Happy Winsol, brat."
He moved away as Phil and Clint came over, wanting her to settle a matter between them, and Maria listened to their chatter, and arbitrated because they needed her to and because they made her laugh. Still, her thoughts were elsewhere, and when the opportunity presented itself, she excused herself on the pretext of needing fresh air and made for the doors out to the balcony.
She felt the eyes upon her as she went, and called in a thick coat at the door, brandishing it at the room to indicate that she wasn't so fool as to go out into the cold in nothing more than an evening gown. Then, slipping it over her shoulders, she set a warming spell around her, and stepped through the door out into the snow.
The bite of the night gave her clarity as she formed a shield under her hands that would insulate her from the worst of the frozen stone balustrade. It also gave her a reason for the tears that suddenly stung her eyes.
She loved you and saw greatness in you if you don't let what you fear hold you back.
She'd once asked Irene - the resident Black Widow in Jean's court - why, if the Hourglass Coven could see the future, they didn't tell people what was going to happen.
"The future isn't written in stone, little one," Irene had answered, brushing her white hair back from her eyes - the exact colour of Maria's Summer-sky Jewel. "And even if it was, stone can be broken."
Don't let it hold you back.
It was right to fear failing them - right to fear what might happen to them without her. It was part and parcel of the bargain between a Queen and her court - her care for their service. But it didn't need to hamstring her. Her court deserved better of her than freezing fear - all of them, from Bruce who still had little idea about the limits of his Warlord Prince, to Rhodey who was perfectly aware of his strengths and weaknesses as a Purple-Dusk Warlord, and comfortable with it.
They were hers. Her responsibility, her duty, her court.
And she would protect and nurture them and this Territory with everything in her, either until the vision of her own breaking came to pass, or until she died.
And that was her oath to them.
"Maria?"
Nick was standing at the doorway, the light of the room behind him casting his face further into shadow. She knew what he was asking of her, and what she should answer. But affection and memory rose up inside her and what she said was something else entirely. "I never thanked you for bringing me out of the forest."
His brows rose in surprise. "Seems there wasn't much to be thankful for," he said, dryly. "A run-down residence, a town that wouldn't tithe, and no society beyond a bunch of muscle-bound cocks."
"And on top of it all, you had an ungrateful little Queen who didn't really want anything to do with you and your people."
"I had a nervous young witch - with good reason not to trust," he corrected her. "And we worked out okay in the end, didn't we?"
Maria felt her mouth twitch at the corner. "Yes, we did," she agreed. "And I want to say thank you now."
The serious face broke into a faint smile. "You're welcome, Lady. It's even been a pleasure." His eyes gleamed. "Sometimes."
Beyond him, inside the house, Pepper paused by the door in the act of carrying a tray and tilted her head to indicate that they should come in, before Rhodey took the tray gently from her hands, ignoring her protests.
Maria found herself smiling. This was the court who served her, the witches and males in her First Circle - a court worthy of her strength and protection.
"They're serving the rum. Shall we go in?"
Nick held out his arm. She crossed the terrace and placed her hand atop his and they made their way inside.
The others were waiting by the fire, the little cups of hot blooded rum gleaming on a silver tray. The cups were made to be shared between two - a sip of fiery liquid in toast and remembrance.
Maria let Nick hold the cup and, as the Queen, spoke the words of thanksgiving.
"To the Darkness that formed us, and the land that gives us strength - for the glory of Witch - she who represents all that we are as Blood, and all that we are meant to be."
The room filled with murmurs of agreement and she took the proffered silver cup from Nick with a small smile of thanks.
I am theirs, and they are mine.
Then Maria drank to the Blood and the Darkness and everything she would and could be.
- fin -
To Masterpost.