Bishop to Queen
By Shahrezad1
Summary: In chess a Bishop goes where their Monarch cannot. An unexpected tale involving the White Queen…and Hamish.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. :)
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He'd never seen someone so beautiful…or colorless…in all his life. But really, he shouldn't be paying attention to that. Her blood red lips were moving, and he knew somehow that what she was saying was important.
"…thus you shall become my Bishop," she finished with satisfaction, walking with all the grace befitting a queen, despite her speculatively young age.
"E-excuse me? Ah, pardon me, your Majesty, but I have no inclination to take up the clergy. I do apologize, I-."
"Clergy, whatever are you talking about?" she asked gently. Gentle, everything about her was gentle, from her voice to her walk. Sudden realization, however, darkened her eyes a moment. She smiled, "ah, yes. Another Alice-ism, I suspect."
"Alice-ism?" he repeated, dumbfounded.
"Yes. Something pertaining to the world Up There," she gestured with her hand as lightly as a butterfly, making a vague motion toward the sky, "above Underland. Something from the Overland, I believe. I had assumed that my Knight had sent you, and your Alice-isms seem to emphasize this point."
"My…dear Lady, while I know of an Alice…an Alice Kingsley, actually…I regret to say that she did not send me here. Rather I fell through a hole…and followed a blue butterfly. Then landed quite literally at your feet."
"Ah. A blue butterfly, then? Hmm, It seems things are not as clear as they seem. But then again, if Absalom summoned you then perhaps there is another reason that you are here at this time. Still, I would like for you to become my Bishop," at his continued blank look her mouth pursed silently. Even slight irritation became her, he thought to himself, then closed his eyes as he felt an embarrassing blush color his pallid cheeks. Oh, to be anything other than a redhead, with one's telltale moods available for everyone to see…particularly the object of one's thoughts.
When his eyes came back open she was smiling again and saying nothing, although she seemed to be thinking deeply. He just followed the elegant monarch as she continued her stroll.
"A Bishop, sweet Hamish," he blushed further, "is not a clergyman. We have those in their kind and they tend to stay rather far away from politics. Particularly in the last ten or so years. Or so it seems. I'm not sure, Time has run away often enough lately."
"Then what is a Bishop to you, your Majesty?" he interjected what he guessed to be a tangent. Her brows had dropped and her smile became weak and tremulous, and he would really do anything to rid her of that kind of smile.
"An adviser," she continued, flashing him a thankful grin. Then abruptly she stopped, turning toward him to her left, hands still held aloft, "a Bishop goes where their monarch cannot. He or she looks for a different route and at a situation with a different view than what is normally seen or presented and then clears out all barriers so that the Queen may make her move in confidence. A Bishop is the closest aid and confidant to a Queen, sans the Queen's own King."
The palest of blushes became obvious upon her cheeks, but her expression remained constant and firm. A Queen's expectant look. As though she was waiting for a response. From him.
He blinked. Gaped. Blushed a little. Then slowly nodded as resignation and acceptance seeped into his stomach, then settled there in order to start its own colony of loyal emotions, "yes. Yes, I'll do it," he didn't know why, but he would, "I would be…honored to become your Bishop."
Gratitude washed over her like butter through spun sugar, her form sweet from toe to crown, and he realized for the first time that perhaps she'd been worried about his response. And also, maybe she needed help with her facade of perfection more than she was willing to admit.
Well, in that case he was ever the gentleman, born bred and raised to fill the part. And if anything, the weight that was upon her now looked as difficult to master as the constant perch she made of her arms.
Affording himself an ironic smile, he held out his hand just as she was about to turn away, surprising the woman, "your Majesty, may I escort you back to your palace?"
She seemed overly surprised, then grateful, taking his limb as though she'd never done it before; never been awarded with such polite gentility. And when she hesitated with gloved fingers on his sleeve Hamish took it upon his self to gently direct them into place, without any commentary.
Allowing her arm, for once, to rest.
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AN: This was an unexpected one-shot. I was actually only trying to create a short little blurb to go along with a piece of fanart I drew but then it, well, spawned a whole conversation. ^^; Oops? –laughs- Well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway, with yet another one of my cracktastic pairings. ^^