Title: Cover Me
Series: Quick, Painless and Easy
Author: Vashti
Rating: G
Summary: The Princess needs a favor. But she's afraid she's asked too much.
Length: ~940 words
Prompt: courage
Author's Notes: See the first part for disclaimer and notes. Additional notes at end.

If it weren't for the men at her back, Azkadellia would have turned and fled to her rooms upstairs. She didn't have much pride left, but apparently there was enough to keep her walking toward inevitable humiliation.

The rise and fall of women's voices, punctuated by ringing laughter, did nothing to assuage her nerves. Azkadellia stood on the other side of the workroom door trying to slow her fluttering heart. Though the hallway was well lit by the Queen's windows mimicking the daylight above them, she felt the oppressive weight of stone, three levels underground as they were.

Moist heat from the laundry buffeted her before and her guard's stare pushed her from behind. She could only imagine what they thought of her being there. 'Oh, we can do more than imagine, can't we?' The thought came with a fierce sense of pride. And was quickly pushed aside.

Azkadellia squared her shoulders. It didn't matter what her guards thought of her. This had to be done.

The voices stopped the moment she was seen. There were three women gathered around a lengthy table, piled high with clothes in various stages of folding. Beyond them, two or three others were actually doing the washing. Azkadellia immediately recognized the Head Laundress as they all made their curtsy to her. A tall, stout woman, neither fat nor thin, she had worked for the House of Gale all her life. She had married a man loyal to the royal family, and had witnessed that good man's mind being stripped of anything the Sorceress thought might be useful.

"Please." Azkadellia held up a hand to stop them. Per usual, she was ignored. "I apologize for disturbing your work."

"No apology needed, Your Highness." The Head Laundress bobbed another, brief, curtsy.

"I...I have..." Azkadellia swallowed, nervous again. "I have a small favor to ask. Which I know that, of all people, I have the least right to ask for anything," she hastily added.

Pleasant as ever she was, the Head Laundress inclined her head. "How might we serve?"

"No, no. Please don't see this as a service but rather as a request. A request that can be refused without consequence."

It was clear that the women were waiting her to say more. Azkadellia cleared her throat. "Well...that is... I was wondering if any of your women could spare an old dress. Something you or they would have gotten rid of anyway. I am in need of a new wardrobe. Nothing that I..." Azkadellia's eyes dropped to study the silvery gray sheen of the old table's legs. "Nothing that remains of the Sorceress' wardrobe is fit to be worn."

"If you don't mind my asking, Highness," the Head Laundress said gently, "why not change what remains into something more suitable?"

Azkadellia dared not look her in the eye, for fear of what the older woman might see. "My mother is too busy, of course, and that sort of magic is still a bit too fine for DG. And she's very busy as well," she added quickly, lest she make her sister seem incompetent. "And I..." Her hands clenched reflexively. "After years of being forced to it...I would rather not use magic if I don't have to."

She looked up, imploring each woman with her eyes. "Please, anything you have will be suitable. I am not much of a seamstress, but I have nothing if not time on my hands. Learning how to let hems and take in waistlines will likely be the most productive skill I've acquired in the last sixteen years," she said, smiling tremulously. "Besides, if the Queen will not repudiate me the least I can do is not embarrass her."

The expressions she received in return, ranging from sympathy to thinly concealed fear, had her smoothing her slick palms against the skirt of one of DG's awful transformations.

Azkadellia gasped as careworn hands caught her own too-soft ones, enfolding it in surprisingly dry warmth. "Worry not, Your Highness. We shall see to everything."

Pleading with her eyes, she insisted again to the Head Laundress that any castoff would do. "Please don't burden yourself with this, too."

But, like so many others, the woman didn't seem to be listening to her at all as she gently pushed Azkadellia, and her retinue, outside the laundry rooms. After their humid warmth, the stone hallway seemed cold.

Frowning, Cain stood listening outside Princess Azkadellia's door, stepping back when he heard boots approaching. Tayborne, one of his new lieutenants, only looked mildly surprised to see him standing there.

"Is Azkadellia all right in there? I thought I heard crying."

"More like weeping," the lieutenant said. He grinned at the dark look Cain threw him. "She just got a package. Wasn't expecting it."

"What's in there?"

Tayborne, who had to be a foot taller and broader than Cain, shrugged elegantly as he took up his post. "Couple of new dresses she asked for."

"Adora was just the same way whenever she got a pretty gift. I swear, I will never understand women."

Later that night, stationed strategically between the two princesses during dinner, Cain marveled at Azkadellia's earlier emotionality. The dress was nothing to speak of. A muted green, the neck was cut wide enough to show her collar bone but so high that it didn't do much else, while the sleeves and high-waisted skirt were so voluminous they hid most of her shape. It was well tailored, however. Much better tailored than the things DG had been making for her, so it was possible that Azkadellia had been crying tears of sheer joy. But it didn't seem like her.

Fin[ite]