fic: "Assembly, Care, & Feeding of a Queen's Court" by Tielan - Chapter 4
TITLE: Assembly, Care, & Feeding of a Queen's Court - Part 4: Stomping On Sleeping Dragons
SUMMARY: Maria was his Queen, and if she wanted some time to herself, then he would do whatever he had to do to get her that time.
CHARACTERS: Phil, Maria, Natasha, Clint
DETAILS: Master Post
Chapter 4: Stomping On Sleeping Dragons
One hour into the trip to town, Phil realised just how optimistic he'd been to think that he'd get anything done today at all.
The theory had been simple enough: bring Maria into town to get her the better part of a new wardrobe. While she was happy to weapons train and garden and take her lessons in any old thing, Nick had finally decided that enough was enough and if she was going to be a Queen then she was going to dress the part - at dinner, if never else.
In practice...
It had been a long time since the townspeople had seen a Queen, and when one appeared in their midst, they weren't behindhand about coming to have a look at her.
There wasn't any gawking - at least not from the adults. However, within moments of going into any shop or business, the shop was crowded with people who were 'just' coming in to have a look at whatever wares were being sold.
*This isn't going to work, Phil,* Natasha advised as they came out of yet another too-crowded shop. *It's as bad as when she arrived at the residence - only worse, because back then you and Nick could hide her away and reassure them that she wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.*
*So I should give up on the new wardrobe?*
*Nick will survive not seeing her in dinner dress for a few weeks longer,* Natasha said dryly. *It's been so long since there's been a Queen around the town that even asking politely isn't going to move some of these people - the darker-Jewelled males in particular. Short of bringing Nick out to glower at them, I think we're going to have to consider this trip a loss in terms of what we planned to do.*
"The shops seem to be doing good business," Maria commented as they walked down the road, unaware of the private psychic conversation between Phil and Natasha. "But is it usual for that many males to be in a women's clothing shop, or are there local dress codes of which I'm unaware?"
The sardonic note in her voice nearly stopped Phil on the street.
"No," he said. She was his Queen and an intelligent young woman; there was no point in hiding it from her, and she had a right to say what she wanted - or didn't want - to do. "You're right. Those males wouldn't usually been seen in such shops."
"So they're coming out to see me."
"So it seems."
Maria paused as her escort gathered around her. "I would like to take a look in the bookshop," she said after a moment. "But we can go to a coffee shop or the park or something if you think people need to see me."
Like she was some kind of spectacle or curiosity.
Phil felt anger rise in him before he reined it in.
"You're not here for the townspeople to gawk at," he said, making a decision. Yes, Maria was a Queen and it had been years since there was a Queen in residence. But she was also his Queen, and if she wanted some time to herself, then he would do whatever he had to do to get her that time. "If you want to go into the bookshop, we'll go to the bookshop. Clint can keep the townspeople out by looking intimidating."
"Wouldn't Clint have to actually look intimidating for that to work?" A faint smile curled about Maria's lips.
"Oh, I keep my intimidating face for special occasions," Clint said, deadpan, as Natasha covered her laughter with a coughing fit.
"Of course you do. Forgive me for doubting, Lord Barton." The words were solemn, but the corners of Maria's mouth twitched.
The by-play warmed something in Phil's chest; loosening a tightness he hadn't even known was there until that moment.
"Helvan and Kiron aren't coming with us?" Maria asked as they paused on the stoop of the shop.
"I've sent them on to get us a table at the local tavern." And Clint and the two Warlords outside would make sure that Maria got at least a little time to do some browsing and shopping. Just because she was a Queen didn't mean she couldn't have time to herself.
Usually, everyone would have respected the Queen's personal time. Phil had been young before the Purges, but he remembered the Queen of his village going for a walk with her dogs and getting nothing more than greetings. But that had been back when Queens were, if not common, at least a regular sight.
It had been twenty five years since Lady Peggy's court had fallen - and the two successive Queens who'd tried to hold the Territory from the Residence had died only a few years later. After that, any Queen gathering a court about her stayed well away from the Residence in Aer Gerulus.
But however long it had been, Phil wasn't about to let them crowd Maria.
He expected her to make a dash inside, elated by the prospect of an uninterrupted moment. Instead, she touched him on the arm - a voluntary brush of fingertips that had nothing to do with Protocol or courtesy.
"Thank you."
It spun him around, dizzying, making his tongue thick and his thoughts foggy. "My life is in your service."
It was no less than the truth, and she'd just confirmed it by treating him - however unconsciously - as a male of her court. But it was a formal declaration from a male to his Queen - a statement of intent and commitment.
Maria didn't quite wince. But she looked deeply uncomfortable as she passed him and went into the shop.
Natasha paused on the door stoop. *I suppose that's one way of doing it.*
Phil caught Clint's half-smile before the door closed behind them with a jingle of bells. The shopkeeper hustled out of the back of the shop, a grin pasted on his face that faltered when he realised he had a Queen in his bookshop.
"And how might I help you today, my Lady?"
"We're just looking," Maria said.
"By all means - by all means! Is there anything that you're particularly interested in? So I might direct you to your pleasure? Novels? Biographies? Non-fiction?"
"I...haven't really had time to read anything for a while," she said with a quick glance at Phil. "The last book I read was about a Black Widow who was born in a village, and got called to the Queen's court to perform a service. And there was a Warlord Prince at the court who took an interest in her, but she had to defend herself and him against an attack and provided him with shields..."
The shopkeeper's expression brightened. "Ah, yes! Widow's Pique! That one is several years old now - there are sequels, you know..."
"I didn't even manage to finish that one," she confessed. "I was in the middle of it, and then I...lost the book." The way she hurried over the words suggested something other than 'losing' the book. Phil made a note to find out what had happened to it. "So if you have it, I'd really like to read it again. And the sequels if you have them."
The man's grin nearly split his face as he waddled out and down along one of the rows of shelves. "If we don't, it's no trouble to order them in, Lady- I'm sorry, I didn't get your name..."
Maria hesitated and Phil stepped in. "Lady Hill."
"Of course! You'll enjoy them, I'm sure, Lady Hill. A great many customers did..."
Drifting through the shelves of the shop, Phil let his eyes play across the titles while he listened to Maria conversing with the shopkeeper, her stiff answers slowly easing into more comfortable conversations.
*It's good to see her relaxing,* Natasha said on a private thread, apparently flipping through a book of Revellan war-poetry. *That was a good decision - to give her some breathing space.*
*So glad you approve,* Phil said dryly.
*And glad you brought a decent wallet with you?*
*Considering that pile of books is still growing, yes.*
It seemed like Maria had bought out half the shop when she and the shopkeeper got back to the counter. Phil did a mental tally and sighed a little. Explaining this to Fury was going to be fun - the old man had opinions about the proper dress for dinner, and the realisation that the wardrobe funds had been raided to add to Maria's library was not going to go down well. Meanwhile, Clint was out in the street with his arms folded and a smirk playing on his lips and Natasha was grinning openly.
*You shut up,* he told them as the shopkeeper totted up the purchases.
And then Maria called in a worn leather purse. and began pulling out silver marks.
Phil gaped. Where did she get-?
Before the shopkeeper could react, Phil reached out and put a hand down over hers. "That won't be necessary. I've got this."
She looked at him with a startled and slightly wary expression. "They're my purchases."
"And I can cover them."
Her eyes studied the books on the bench as she pulled her hands and purse out from under his. "But you don't have to."
"Strangely, yes. I do."
The shopkeeper cleared his throat. "If I might make a suggestion, Lady, Prince? The books can go on an account. Towards the tithes."
The tithes that the town had refused to pay for the last two years, insulting Fury and the Residence with not just their rejection but their sneers.
Maria turned to Phil, surprised. "We receive tithes from the town?"
"No."
She frowned. "If we don't receive tithes, then they can't go on account."
"I didn't say they could." Phil kept his voice neutral - perhaps a little too neutral.
Perhaps he should have been a little less flat about it, but the merchants in the last meeting between Nick and the town had been insulting and smug, safe in their gamble that the town wouldn't need protection and so didn't need to pay tithes to the Warlord Prince in the residence.
Maria's smile dropped. The shopkeeper's smile wavered. Then Maria vanished her wallet, and her expression grew cool and mask-like. The change was abrupt and terrifying. An animated adolescent witch became an angry Queen with nothing more than a dropped smile.
"I see." She looked at the books and then at the shopkeeper. "I apologise for taking up your time, but I won't be taking those books after all."
"Lady-" The shopkeeper caught his breath as Clint pushed open the door, blue eyes icy. He'd felt the change in Maria's mood and come to see what was wrong - just the way any Warlord would when his Queen was disturbed.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, Lord Barton," Maria answered in those same cool, almost biting tones. "We were just leaving."
"Lady-Please..." The shopkeeper broke off as she turned back to look at him, slim and young and every inch a Queen.
"Yes?"
"If you won't take them on account, Lady, may I at least put them aside for you for later?"
For a moment, Phil wondered if she'd throw the offer back in the shopkeeper's face. All she had to say was 'no' and the man would be a wreck.
He wondered if he should say something.
But after a moment's hesitation, Maria nodded. "You may. Thank you for making the offer, and bringing this to my attention."
And then she was gone, accepting Clint's escort out the door.
Phil reassured Clint on a private thread that he and Natasha would be out in a minute, then waited until the door had closed before turning to the shopkeeper. "Might I suggest you speak with the town merchants about the tithing situation and arrange a meeting with Prince Fury?"
"I... Yes. Yes, we will. Prince, I would like to apologise-"
Phil cut off his obsequious pleas with one lifted finger. "It's not me you have to appease."
He offered his arm to escort Natasha out the door, and managed not to smile when she asked, "Isn't there a saying about not tickling sleeping dragons?"
"I don't think it was 'tickled' so much as 'stomped on'," Phil murmured with an amusement that rapidly faded as he took in the tableau outside.
Maria and Clint had stopped down the road, and Clint had the carefully wooden expression that meant he was also fighting a bout of temper - although probably not at Maria.
"And they just decided they didn't need to pay tithes?"
"They didn't want to be beholden to us."
"That doesn't mean they could be rude!"
"Yeah, well, you might be surprised how many people think they can be rude just because they see themselves as superior to a bunch of upstart warriors."
*Mother Night,* Phil muttered as the air around them grew sharp and cold. Maybe sending Maria out with Clint had been a mistake. Warlords weren't as volatile as Warlord Princes, but they had pride and temper - and when it rode side-by-side with muscle, it was a lethal combination.
"They said that?"
"No," Phil interrupted, figuring it was time for some damage control - what little he could. "They implied it during the meeting we had with them when we first moved into the residence."
Her eyes narrowed. "I want to speak with Fury."
Mother Night. Phil figured it was time to head this off. "And you will - when we get back to the residence. We're on our way to the tavern, remember?"
She thought about that, looking down the street and then back towards the landing web and the coach station. "We could just collect Helvan and Kiron and go home," she suggested with wide-eyed ingenuity. "Then they'd have to come to us instead."
*I like the way she thinks,* Clint murmured on a spear thread.
*You would,* Phil retorted. Natasha looked like she was caught between horror and the desire to laugh, although she couldn't have caught the exchange. "I think this one time, we'll sit and have a drink - or an age-appropriate beverage - and be polite."
"Polite?"
"Polite."
She didn't like it, but she acquiesced to the advice of a male in her court, held out her hand for him to fit his hand under in escort, and strode towards the tavern with the intensity of a warrior about to walk onto a battlefield.
And Phil thought - under very close psychic shields - that the Darkness would need to have mercy on the fool townspeople, because the Lady Maria Hill was showing little sign that she would.
--
Chapter 5: Underestimated
SUMMARY: Maria was his Queen, and if she wanted some time to herself, then he would do whatever he had to do to get her that time.
CHARACTERS: Phil, Maria, Natasha, Clint
DETAILS: Master Post
Chapter 4: Stomping On Sleeping Dragons
One hour into the trip to town, Phil realised just how optimistic he'd been to think that he'd get anything done today at all.
The theory had been simple enough: bring Maria into town to get her the better part of a new wardrobe. While she was happy to weapons train and garden and take her lessons in any old thing, Nick had finally decided that enough was enough and if she was going to be a Queen then she was going to dress the part - at dinner, if never else.
In practice...
It had been a long time since the townspeople had seen a Queen, and when one appeared in their midst, they weren't behindhand about coming to have a look at her.
There wasn't any gawking - at least not from the adults. However, within moments of going into any shop or business, the shop was crowded with people who were 'just' coming in to have a look at whatever wares were being sold.
*This isn't going to work, Phil,* Natasha advised as they came out of yet another too-crowded shop. *It's as bad as when she arrived at the residence - only worse, because back then you and Nick could hide her away and reassure them that she wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.*
*So I should give up on the new wardrobe?*
*Nick will survive not seeing her in dinner dress for a few weeks longer,* Natasha said dryly. *It's been so long since there's been a Queen around the town that even asking politely isn't going to move some of these people - the darker-Jewelled males in particular. Short of bringing Nick out to glower at them, I think we're going to have to consider this trip a loss in terms of what we planned to do.*
"The shops seem to be doing good business," Maria commented as they walked down the road, unaware of the private psychic conversation between Phil and Natasha. "But is it usual for that many males to be in a women's clothing shop, or are there local dress codes of which I'm unaware?"
The sardonic note in her voice nearly stopped Phil on the street.
"No," he said. She was his Queen and an intelligent young woman; there was no point in hiding it from her, and she had a right to say what she wanted - or didn't want - to do. "You're right. Those males wouldn't usually been seen in such shops."
"So they're coming out to see me."
"So it seems."
Maria paused as her escort gathered around her. "I would like to take a look in the bookshop," she said after a moment. "But we can go to a coffee shop or the park or something if you think people need to see me."
Like she was some kind of spectacle or curiosity.
Phil felt anger rise in him before he reined it in.
"You're not here for the townspeople to gawk at," he said, making a decision. Yes, Maria was a Queen and it had been years since there was a Queen in residence. But she was also his Queen, and if she wanted some time to herself, then he would do whatever he had to do to get her that time. "If you want to go into the bookshop, we'll go to the bookshop. Clint can keep the townspeople out by looking intimidating."
"Wouldn't Clint have to actually look intimidating for that to work?" A faint smile curled about Maria's lips.
"Oh, I keep my intimidating face for special occasions," Clint said, deadpan, as Natasha covered her laughter with a coughing fit.
"Of course you do. Forgive me for doubting, Lord Barton." The words were solemn, but the corners of Maria's mouth twitched.
The by-play warmed something in Phil's chest; loosening a tightness he hadn't even known was there until that moment.
"Helvan and Kiron aren't coming with us?" Maria asked as they paused on the stoop of the shop.
"I've sent them on to get us a table at the local tavern." And Clint and the two Warlords outside would make sure that Maria got at least a little time to do some browsing and shopping. Just because she was a Queen didn't mean she couldn't have time to herself.
Usually, everyone would have respected the Queen's personal time. Phil had been young before the Purges, but he remembered the Queen of his village going for a walk with her dogs and getting nothing more than greetings. But that had been back when Queens were, if not common, at least a regular sight.
It had been twenty five years since Lady Peggy's court had fallen - and the two successive Queens who'd tried to hold the Territory from the Residence had died only a few years later. After that, any Queen gathering a court about her stayed well away from the Residence in Aer Gerulus.
But however long it had been, Phil wasn't about to let them crowd Maria.
He expected her to make a dash inside, elated by the prospect of an uninterrupted moment. Instead, she touched him on the arm - a voluntary brush of fingertips that had nothing to do with Protocol or courtesy.
"Thank you."
It spun him around, dizzying, making his tongue thick and his thoughts foggy. "My life is in your service."
It was no less than the truth, and she'd just confirmed it by treating him - however unconsciously - as a male of her court. But it was a formal declaration from a male to his Queen - a statement of intent and commitment.
Maria didn't quite wince. But she looked deeply uncomfortable as she passed him and went into the shop.
Natasha paused on the door stoop. *I suppose that's one way of doing it.*
Phil caught Clint's half-smile before the door closed behind them with a jingle of bells. The shopkeeper hustled out of the back of the shop, a grin pasted on his face that faltered when he realised he had a Queen in his bookshop.
"And how might I help you today, my Lady?"
"We're just looking," Maria said.
"By all means - by all means! Is there anything that you're particularly interested in? So I might direct you to your pleasure? Novels? Biographies? Non-fiction?"
"I...haven't really had time to read anything for a while," she said with a quick glance at Phil. "The last book I read was about a Black Widow who was born in a village, and got called to the Queen's court to perform a service. And there was a Warlord Prince at the court who took an interest in her, but she had to defend herself and him against an attack and provided him with shields..."
The shopkeeper's expression brightened. "Ah, yes! Widow's Pique! That one is several years old now - there are sequels, you know..."
"I didn't even manage to finish that one," she confessed. "I was in the middle of it, and then I...lost the book." The way she hurried over the words suggested something other than 'losing' the book. Phil made a note to find out what had happened to it. "So if you have it, I'd really like to read it again. And the sequels if you have them."
The man's grin nearly split his face as he waddled out and down along one of the rows of shelves. "If we don't, it's no trouble to order them in, Lady- I'm sorry, I didn't get your name..."
Maria hesitated and Phil stepped in. "Lady Hill."
"Of course! You'll enjoy them, I'm sure, Lady Hill. A great many customers did..."
Drifting through the shelves of the shop, Phil let his eyes play across the titles while he listened to Maria conversing with the shopkeeper, her stiff answers slowly easing into more comfortable conversations.
*It's good to see her relaxing,* Natasha said on a private thread, apparently flipping through a book of Revellan war-poetry. *That was a good decision - to give her some breathing space.*
*So glad you approve,* Phil said dryly.
*And glad you brought a decent wallet with you?*
*Considering that pile of books is still growing, yes.*
It seemed like Maria had bought out half the shop when she and the shopkeeper got back to the counter. Phil did a mental tally and sighed a little. Explaining this to Fury was going to be fun - the old man had opinions about the proper dress for dinner, and the realisation that the wardrobe funds had been raided to add to Maria's library was not going to go down well. Meanwhile, Clint was out in the street with his arms folded and a smirk playing on his lips and Natasha was grinning openly.
*You shut up,* he told them as the shopkeeper totted up the purchases.
And then Maria called in a worn leather purse. and began pulling out silver marks.
Phil gaped. Where did she get-?
Before the shopkeeper could react, Phil reached out and put a hand down over hers. "That won't be necessary. I've got this."
She looked at him with a startled and slightly wary expression. "They're my purchases."
"And I can cover them."
Her eyes studied the books on the bench as she pulled her hands and purse out from under his. "But you don't have to."
"Strangely, yes. I do."
The shopkeeper cleared his throat. "If I might make a suggestion, Lady, Prince? The books can go on an account. Towards the tithes."
The tithes that the town had refused to pay for the last two years, insulting Fury and the Residence with not just their rejection but their sneers.
Maria turned to Phil, surprised. "We receive tithes from the town?"
"No."
She frowned. "If we don't receive tithes, then they can't go on account."
"I didn't say they could." Phil kept his voice neutral - perhaps a little too neutral.
Perhaps he should have been a little less flat about it, but the merchants in the last meeting between Nick and the town had been insulting and smug, safe in their gamble that the town wouldn't need protection and so didn't need to pay tithes to the Warlord Prince in the residence.
Maria's smile dropped. The shopkeeper's smile wavered. Then Maria vanished her wallet, and her expression grew cool and mask-like. The change was abrupt and terrifying. An animated adolescent witch became an angry Queen with nothing more than a dropped smile.
"I see." She looked at the books and then at the shopkeeper. "I apologise for taking up your time, but I won't be taking those books after all."
"Lady-" The shopkeeper caught his breath as Clint pushed open the door, blue eyes icy. He'd felt the change in Maria's mood and come to see what was wrong - just the way any Warlord would when his Queen was disturbed.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, Lord Barton," Maria answered in those same cool, almost biting tones. "We were just leaving."
"Lady-Please..." The shopkeeper broke off as she turned back to look at him, slim and young and every inch a Queen.
"Yes?"
"If you won't take them on account, Lady, may I at least put them aside for you for later?"
For a moment, Phil wondered if she'd throw the offer back in the shopkeeper's face. All she had to say was 'no' and the man would be a wreck.
He wondered if he should say something.
But after a moment's hesitation, Maria nodded. "You may. Thank you for making the offer, and bringing this to my attention."
And then she was gone, accepting Clint's escort out the door.
Phil reassured Clint on a private thread that he and Natasha would be out in a minute, then waited until the door had closed before turning to the shopkeeper. "Might I suggest you speak with the town merchants about the tithing situation and arrange a meeting with Prince Fury?"
"I... Yes. Yes, we will. Prince, I would like to apologise-"
Phil cut off his obsequious pleas with one lifted finger. "It's not me you have to appease."
He offered his arm to escort Natasha out the door, and managed not to smile when she asked, "Isn't there a saying about not tickling sleeping dragons?"
"I don't think it was 'tickled' so much as 'stomped on'," Phil murmured with an amusement that rapidly faded as he took in the tableau outside.
Maria and Clint had stopped down the road, and Clint had the carefully wooden expression that meant he was also fighting a bout of temper - although probably not at Maria.
"And they just decided they didn't need to pay tithes?"
"They didn't want to be beholden to us."
"That doesn't mean they could be rude!"
"Yeah, well, you might be surprised how many people think they can be rude just because they see themselves as superior to a bunch of upstart warriors."
*Mother Night,* Phil muttered as the air around them grew sharp and cold. Maybe sending Maria out with Clint had been a mistake. Warlords weren't as volatile as Warlord Princes, but they had pride and temper - and when it rode side-by-side with muscle, it was a lethal combination.
"They said that?"
"No," Phil interrupted, figuring it was time for some damage control - what little he could. "They implied it during the meeting we had with them when we first moved into the residence."
Her eyes narrowed. "I want to speak with Fury."
Mother Night. Phil figured it was time to head this off. "And you will - when we get back to the residence. We're on our way to the tavern, remember?"
She thought about that, looking down the street and then back towards the landing web and the coach station. "We could just collect Helvan and Kiron and go home," she suggested with wide-eyed ingenuity. "Then they'd have to come to us instead."
*I like the way she thinks,* Clint murmured on a spear thread.
*You would,* Phil retorted. Natasha looked like she was caught between horror and the desire to laugh, although she couldn't have caught the exchange. "I think this one time, we'll sit and have a drink - or an age-appropriate beverage - and be polite."
"Polite?"
"Polite."
She didn't like it, but she acquiesced to the advice of a male in her court, held out her hand for him to fit his hand under in escort, and strode towards the tavern with the intensity of a warrior about to walk onto a battlefield.
And Phil thought - under very close psychic shields - that the Darkness would need to have mercy on the fool townspeople, because the Lady Maria Hill was showing little sign that she would.
--
Chapter 5: Underestimated