Once upon a time, the kingdom of Torchwood faced strife and warfare. Brave knights, beautiful princesses, and fearsome dragons roamed the land, each with an agenda, vying for power.

In modern times, the kingdom of Torchwood was ruled by Queen Lisa, who dressed in gold and scarcely smiled. But when she did, the sun shone, the clouds parted, and the nobles shook. She never frowned, never sat stone-faced. Yet her smile was rare, rarer than the sight of long-gone dragons, and if sometimes her eyes twinkled, the sight could be dismissed as a trick of the light; if her lips quirked up at a comment or suggestion, the movement was dismissed.

Such were the tales told throughout the land, of the benevolent queen and her dark eyes, of her glowing crown and fair rule. She never rejected visitors and did not let her court torment her citizens. She never showed up at balls and only left the castle in disguise.

Ianto Jones—the surname belonging to his father and his father's father and previously nonexistent because such formalities had not yet reached his village—was well aware of the rumors, though not sure of their validity, as he walked through the capital's gates and saw the castle looming in the distance.

Looming—no, it wasn't looming. It was standing over the city, yes, but guarding it: light and bright and kind.

He picked up his pace in the city traffic and kept his eye on his destination: the castle. It didn't grow as he approached, didn't suddenly become animated and evil. He asked porters and shopkeepers where to go and they directed him towards the servants' entrance, and when he got turned around in the halls, a blue-clad knight smiled at him and walked him to the proper corridor.

"It can be confusing, I know," the knight said with a blinding grin. "Find me if you get lost again."

"How can I know where to find you if I'm lost?"

The knight laughed; Ianto wanted to fall through the ground, the quip coming out of his mouth faster than he could think. He didn't seem offended though, and his smile only widened. "Find me on purpose, then. Jack Harkness, Captain of the Guard."

Ianto inclined his head. "Sir Jack."

"Oh, I like you—"

"Jones." Ianto took his offered hand. "Ianto Jones."

"I won't keep you, Ianto, but do visit me in my chambers. I'm visiting from Cardiff—judging by those vowels, you're from around there?—and I'd hate not to see you before I leave."

"Yes, Sir Jack."

The knight inclined his head; Ianto bowed his even lower, which seemed to amuse him. Nevertheless, he stood aside and let Ianto pass with a final promise of visitation.

Jack's directions had been correct—Ianto had heard horror stories of evil knights and unpleasant courtiers, and was on the lookout even though he didn't expect such atrocities under Queen Lisa's rule—and soon Ianto found himself facing the Mistress of the Household. He took a breath and sat down in front of her when she indicated him to do so; he would not screw this up. He needed the job.

.oOo.

The days had gone by so quickly, Ianto only glimpsed a short look of Captain Harkness when the trumpets blared a procession. He was riding out of the castle past the grounds, and Ianto wanted to smack himself. He'd said that he was visiting. In the hubbub of getting acquainted with the garden and rising through the ranks in the three days he'd been there when he'd proven his capability, he'd missed the knight's invitation.

Ianto allowed himself a moment of silence and returned to shearing a shrub. By the time he looked up from his work once again, the procession was gone, and Jack was gone with it.

There was also someone standing behind him.

Ianto dropped his shears in his haste to bow and raised his head when he heard a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Milady, I—"

"It's no matter." She had the warm voice of someone used to controlling their power. "I startled you. You're the new hire—I've heard much about you from the Head Gardener."

"Ianto Jones, Milady." He bowed again.

"No need to bow, Ianto." She approached and stayed silent until Ianto raised his head, then leveled him with an approving look. "I'm just passing through the gardens, no need to stand on such ceremony."

Ianto wanted to insist that there actually was, but he had no idea who the woman was. There was something familiar about her, however, about the regal way she held herself, the ease with which she walked around in magenta silks, the hair atop her head decorated with a golden chain.

She said nothing else and Ianto let her pass, but he looked at her retreating figure with admiration. She had been nice—he'd known the kingdom was like that, was nothing like his native village, but it was still just enough of a shock to take note of.

He returned to the shrub but half of his attention was still on the woman. Who was she? Why did she look so familiar? And why did Ianto ache to see her again already?

.oOo.

Ianto got all the answers he searched for when the Head Gardener made him decorate the throne room.

His heart fell into his stomach when he was pinning a lily to a column—and he'd called her "Milady!"

Queen Lisa, now dressed in gold instead of red, took her seat on the throne, her robes arranged artfully over the dais, her crown imposing over her head. Her eyes scanned the room; Ianto averted his own and sunk into a deeper bow when she paused on him and inclined her head in recognition.

The moment passed as quickly as it came on, and when the queen began to speak, Ianto turned back to the columns and windows. He moved quietly, not interrupting the queen's conversation with her advisors, which went over his head. Mostly—he tried not to listen because if he let himself process the words, he would understand them, and that was even less proper than calling the queen "Milady" instead of "Your Majesty." It was not the place of village boys or gardeners to be privy to matters of the state, even if they were present in the room when those were being discussed.

Ianto passed the meeting with his eyes firmly fixed on decoration and his ears firmly plugged—so firmly that when the queen called his name, he was sure it was for the second time.

He bowed quickly, upending a basket and letting some blossoms tumble out.

"Stay behind for a minute, Ianto, I'm curious about those red flowers. Only on the windows?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Ianto bowed. He didn't dare get distracted by picking up the fallen flowers. "It was outlined as such. The sun would shine through the petals and make them lighter to match the other ones."

"Hmm." The queen approached and took one of the flowers from the windowsill. "A good idea. Do you agree?"

"I believe Your Majesty would prefer a softer color. A dark pink, perhaps. But it's not my place to—"

"And yet."

She was amused. Ianto allowed himself a small smile before bowing again. "And yet, Your Majesty."

The queen hummed again, then placed the blossom in Ianto's basket. "Pink, then, if we have any."

She dismissed him with a nod of her head and Ianto bowed once more. Was he overdoing it? No one had told him how to behave around the queen. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Oh, and Ianto—" He turned in the doorway. "Have the steward show you to my offices, I want to see the flowers before they're placed for the ball."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

.oOo.

The flowers were in place, pink in the windows against the fading sunlight. Ianto wasn't allowed inside, didn't know how the room actually looked, only that the queen had approved of the flowers.

Ianto looked away from the windows and focused on the plants that were still growing, the flowers under his direct care. It hadn't even been his job to decorate the throne room and the great ballroom, but someone had fallen ill and he'd stepped in. He'd stepped into it with the queen, making a fool of himself with his bowing and stumbling—and yet had pleased her.

He smiled to himself.

"It does look good, doesn't it?" a voice sounded from behind.

Ianto had been trained over the past few days to bow immediately upon hearing it. "Your Majesty."

"Drop it, Ianto, I'm not here as a queen."

And she really wasn't. Gone was the crown, gone was even the jewelry. Her dress was well-fitted, clearly the best craftsmanship in the kingdom, yet the colors were muted and the cloak over her shoulders indicated that she hadn't even made an appearance at the ball. So the rumors were true.

"I'm here as a gardener, Milady," Ianto replied, "at least allow me that."

"If it comforts you." The queen lowered herself onto a nearby stone bench. "What are you working on?"

"The hedges. But I'm also checking on the crocuses. They're so deep in the gardens no one sees them, but I like them. And they do need to be taken care of." Ianto looked at the queen's serene expression. "Milady?"

"Yes?"

"If I must drop it, may I ask you a question?"

"If this sudden boldness persists, yes."

Ianto fought a frown; the boldness wasn't sudden. He had a habit of speaking too quickly for his own good, and it was only luck that prevented him from being fired or imprisoned for talking to the queen like this. Even if she was legendarily kind. "Why are you not at the party? Are the flowers not to your liking?"

"The flowers are perfect, Ianto." The queen watched him work. "You must have heard the rumors."

"Only that you are not present at such celebrations."

"There is much conniving at feasts and balls. The assassination attempts alone… I have a hand in thwarting them, but they put a damper on the celebration—and I don't much enjoy all the pomp anyway." She laughed at the look Ianto hadn't managed to hide. "I know I'm a queen, Ianto, but some of these visiting dignitaries... It's a lot, sometimes."

Ianto nodded politely. He doubted that the queen was of their mettle, but he'd known many powerful people to talk at people rather than to them—a habit his father had shared in his family life. "I'm sorry, Milady."

"Don't let me keep you." She shifted on the bench. "Or do, if you want a break. Come, sit with me."

"I don't think—"

"I don't know if it's bold for you to refuse me, or if it's more of that accursed propriety. Do you know?"

"No, Milady." Ianto smiled and put down the shears he'd picked up to look busy—stupid when he was dealing with flowers—, then slowly made his way towards the bench, settling a respectable distance away. "So you really don't go to the balls?"

"I don't remember the last time I did." She sighed and turned a look that Ianto might dare to call wistful at the castle. "I guess I miss it. I can't start showing up now, I have a reputation in place. It's why I paid so much attention to the flowers. I was right, the red didn't look good."

"And the pink does."

"And the pink does." She turned from the castle, holding Ianto's gaze at an angle he couldn't escape. "And you?"

"I'm a gardener, Milady, I'm not allowed at balls."

"I meant: what are you doing here? Surely no one's making you work so late."

"I like it." He allowed himself the liberty of looking at the castle rather than his companion. "And I wanted to see it. I decorated it, I... It's not my place, I know, but I was curious."

"There's no harm in that."

The queen stood; Ianto quickly followed, only slightly tripping over himself in his haste to do so. She chuckled. Ianto did too, sheepishly, but hastened to add, "I'm not normally this clumsy."

"No?"

"Just unused to the terrain." And to the presence of a queen. "Milady?"

"Come."

"Where?" Even as he talked, Ianto ran to keep up with her.

"Inside. Don't look like that, it's only partially for you. I need to change, and you deserve to see the fruits of your labor."

Ianto didn't question her further. It wasn't his place, and if the queen had chosen him as a temporary companion, he wasn't going to argue. Especially because he liked her company as well. She didn't look down upon him as even the nicer nobles did, being too aware of their differing social status to give Ianto the time of day as a person rather than as a servant, and she listened to him. It might have been a passing fancy, but Queen Lisa didn't seem like one to have passing fancies. Ianto was not going to complain, not when he ached to see her again, from the moment she'd stolen a lily from his basket. When she'd invited him to her office to discuss the decorations and in that time had drawn his life story from him, sharing part of hers in return—more than should ever have been given to a gardener. When she'd found him in the garden—and he was sure, now, with the smile of accomplishment on her face, that the queen had come there on purpose—and now led him into the castle.

"Come on."

"I don't—"

Ianto stood behind her in a doorway. Inside, music played and opulent gowns danced around the hall, shimmering, colors blending into each other, laughter rising above the din of conversation. He saw a few servers—dinner must have finished, they were dancing, talking, living a life he had seen through the windows. He couldn't take a step further.

What was he wearing? Not his uniform. Simple wear, trousers, boots, shirtsleeves, the collar unfastened.

He took another step back. "I can't go in there."

"Come," said the queen—

"Come," corrected Lisa.

Ianto knew he could refuse, so he took a step forward and took her hand.

Chapter one of three, the rest of which will be posted throughout the week. Thanks for reading, and please please please let me know what you think!