Francis had bought Gilbert a stupid outfit after all. It was clad in brought silver buttons, with red flesh to shine that spoke of how overly expensive the damn thing was.
Looking at himself in the mirror, Gilbert wondered what life would be like as a king's brother. Or maybe even just a king. With a crown that was too heavy to wear. And his outfit coming with some sort of ludicrous cape.
Gilbert would look awesome.
He met Elizaveta outside Francis's dining room. Her fingers went to work on his buttons because he didn't do them correctly.
"I like your outfit. It's almost as ridiculous as mine."
Her eyes caught him underneath her frothy lashes. Then she refastened a few of the buttons lining Gilbert's blood red shirt.
"For a minute there, I wondered if we'd both be wearing pink."
"I was disappointed because mine didn't have more rhinestones on it."
"Oh, don't worry. You can borrow some of mine."
They both turned and opened their side of the double doors, to find a table meant for another one hundred forty other people, with The King sitting at the very end of a feast. There was a roasted chicken, a few bottles of wine, green beans, some sort of unknown sauce, a gravy boat, stuffing and finally, an enormous cake that sat in the middle of it all.
Queen Elizaveta's very own birthday celebrations weren't so catered.
The entire meal completely obscured King Francis' face. Especially the cake, which was decorated with pink flowers and enough glitter to signal an airplane.
Regardless, either of them approached and King Francis welcomed them to either side of the table.
"Well! How do you two like your outfits?"
A servant came practically out of nowhere to refill Francis' wine glass, which might as well have had pearls sitting at the bottom of it. Gilbert and Elizaveta's chalices were filled promptly as well and either of them took a seat.
"They're lovely, Francis. Thank you."
"Of course." The King caught Gilbert with a special curiosity. "You'll have to forgive me. I haven't asked your name yet."
"I'm Gilbert."
The two shook hands as though they were high royalty.
The King's shimmering sapphire attention went right back to The Queen.
"So, you'll have to forgive me, but I've been so curious. Why exactly did you go running away from your darling husband? Because you know, if he ever hurt you I'd be more than happy to take him to war. Certainly. Even though your hair has been cut, your beauty hasn't diminished in the least, My Queen."
"Thank you, Francis. But Roderich hasn't done anything. I simply wanted to go away for a little while, because being The Queen is hard, especially when I'm her almost every day."
A servant had come around and cut slices away from the roasted bird, serving a piece to everyone. Then there was the gravy, and everything else at the table, until the plates had been made full to bursting.
Gilbert caught short images of Elizaveta. And then King Francis, and then the meal growing like a magic trick on the pristine white plate that had been empty just a few second before.
His diet, up to this point, had mainly consisted of turnips and potatoes along with short sips of cheap alcohol here and there. So really, this was like sex on a plate. You could put anything going on around him. A war. An execution. Kind Francis trying to make love with an adorable and already married queen. But Gilbert couldn't bring his focus away from the utter tragedy that had happening inside his stomach, and from the manna sent down from the very heavens to absolve it.
"It's hard to be The Queen. I think sometimes it must be even harder than being King. There's so much expected of a queen. Even one little hair out of place and they criticize you like you've killed a man." Francis brushed one of her shorter hairs away from her cheek. "Oh, I wonder what Roderich will say when he sees it."
"I'm sure he'll think it's too short."
Elizaveta took a sip of wine and King Francis moved in a little more forward.
They were putting seconds on Gilbert's plate.
"You know, Elizaveta. I can't help but feel you're being somewhat evasive with me. Why else would you go about your little vacation so secretly? Your husband is likely going mad looking for you. Not only that, but you came here, to my kingdom, knowing full well Roderich would behead me if he got the chance. In fact—he'd take up the axe himself. Build a guillotine from the boards of my bedroom floor—"
The King and The Misplaced Queen looked directly at one another.
"Certainly, in all of that, there must be an ulterior motive somewhere."
"No, Francis. I can't say there is." Finally, Elizaveta took a bite of her chicken and drank a steady gulp of wine. "I'll explain everything to you; my husband wanted to take me away himself, but I couldn't wait any longer. And I know he wouldn't be able to find the time. I'm not trying to anger him in being here. I simply liked your kingdom the last time I visited. It's a wonderful change in scenery and everything is very quaint. And it's…close."
Another sip.
"I'll probably return after a few more days. It's just like I said. I simply needed to stop being The Queen for a little while. I'm sure you understand."
"Of course I do, dear. Some days I wish I could stop being The King. There's always so much to do. But no. It's good to be King. Sometimes I forget how nice I have it. And the poor peasants—they never get a break from being destitute. Perhaps it would be unfair if I did go running away. Because you never get to truly leave your problems—"
King Francis continued speaking and Elizaveta and Gilbert simply looked to one another.
"Well, anyway. After dinner I'd like to show you my garden. I think it will be light out enough to see everything, but there will be enough shadows to really add an air of mysteriousness to it."
"Certainly. That sounds wonderful."
It was at this point that a very striking man with dark skin and heavy brown eyes refilled the Queen's wine glass. They caught one another, The Queen and this servant, and all her petals nearly wilted with the current running down her spine.
"Sadiq! For God's sake! Haven't you ever seen a queen before?"
"My apologies, Your Majesty."
He glanced at her one last time before leaving the room.
"Goodness! Some men just don't know how to look at a woman!"
They went back to eating.
After dinner and three slices of cake, Gilbert went to bed to be in a happy food coma. He was certain his stomach would rupture, and he would die, but it was a sweet trip. He had no regrets.
Francis took Elizaveta into the garden.
And he pinned a rose against her ear.
Either of them looked out, into the well maintained grass and rose bushes and sweet smelling honey suckles that lined the castle walls. The sun was setting and it cast a thousand different colors into the sky, where the clouds picked it up and wore the hues like silks and rhinestones.
And it was all so perfect. The sort of garden that Elizaveta always wanted. The kind of garden she tried to make. But the walls were too tall for sunsets and sometimes it was too dark to see.
There were so many colors.
Elizaveta's heart nearly bobbled up to her throat. Where it would drown in the pretty pink it made.
"You know, you could have all of this, if you really want it."
"No, Francis—"
The Queen gasped.
"No. I think—" But she didn't really think anything. "Your eyes are so much like his. It just wouldn't be-"
There was a long quiet, when the stars came out and the sun dipped down far beneath the black and blue mountains.
"King Roderich is a lucky man."
Then King Francis went inside, to leave Elizaveta to the nature he had created.