With winter's passing it seemed the city-state of St. Valencia purged itself from the dark memories of the Old District as the streets were flooded with blood markets, occupying the denizens with dizzying drinks and narcotics to fizzle their minds with. The average citizen partook in it every day, replacing their alcohol and tobacco for the potent, and eventually in their own stupor they forgot of the Queen. As spring rounded the corner, the Blood Church fully eclipsed the monarchy in its addictive power, preparing to devour it whole so it may ascend beyond bloodlines and renown, but, however, the monarchy was not to be extinguished so lightly. It held onto its vast army and traditions to keep the people in line from revolting despite the streets constantly spewing propaganda in favor of a church-state. Upon spring's arrival, the monarchy prepared its largest display of power—the annual opening of Court.
The columns were re-decorated with onyx and rubies, glittering and glistening like roses and black laced thorns. The marble was polished and any impurities were ripped from the palace's flesh and replaced. Tulips were spun and tied to make great arbors within the gardens and arch ways of every hall and room. Imported wines and cheese were laid on silver platters at every nook and table available as planners and servants swept across every surface, decorating in splendor.
While the castle itself was proclaimed the closest view to the Heavens humanity would ever glimpse upon, the Queen felt less than satisfied.
"Look," Frieda stood at a large window that overlooked the inner-sanctum of the castle walls and onto the streets. Her ghost white hand pointed to a mass of citizens surrounding a speck of a man. "They speak of seditious ways and things."
Frieda's eyes were rimmed with red and tired circles. Historia didn't try to eavesdrop but the doctors were not quiet when they spoke of her growing paranoia. Her mien was of exhaustion when she and Historia were alone, but when the Queen was in public she was a ray of sunshine. The only indication of her depressed mental state was of the dark circles under her eyes and lack of natural glow. However, the artists were skilled in hiding imperfection with their powdered brushes.
"They'll see." Frieda whispered to herself. She swiveled on her heel and away, returning to her happy self, and overseeing the final touches for the official opening of court.
"Her mind is decaying," Ymir was less than subtle as she floated by Historia, watching Frieda disappear into the throng of bickering planners and directors. "I can smell her brain rotting."
"Don't speak of my sister like that," Historia muttered to her. It had been months since Ymir decided to be a part of her everyday life. Though, sometimes, she wondered if that also was a blessing or curse. "She does much more good than the world will ever know."
"Hm," Ymir followed after Historia when the teenage girl took towards the gardens, "I never did question her character. I only stated something is ailing her mind. Is it that you wish to ignore her frail mental state?"
"I said enough," Historia repeated when she went out the doors, inhaling the scent of a thousand flowers. Immediately it made her feel at ease. It felt and smelled a lot better than being cooped up in her room all winter long. It also gave her space from Ymir's constant yammering.
"Seditious ways and things," Ymir lightly teased, floating up near the canopy of the trees, "oh, she's so upset, isn't she? A lot is going on but definitely not for her."
This was normal.
Historia knew that Ymir wasn't exactly human but she did try her best. Sometimes. Only if she wanted to. When she wasn't, it felt like this was all a game in Ymir's eyes with how she'd laugh over tragedy and small inconveniences, but Historia also knew that her laughing didn't mean she was apathetic. It did keep Historia wondering why Ymir even bothered sticking around, though, especially if the 'trifling matters of humanity and its squabbling' weren't as interesting as whatever she originated from.
"Well, I stand correct," Ymir seemed annoyed as a group of laborers cut through the garden, hauling chairs of ivory and mahogany, "she's really putting all her cards into this 'Court', hm?"
Historia withdrew into a small, intimate nook of the garden, sitting down and sighing deeply.
"It's where the nobles and other royalty partake in a summer's worth of social events. She says that it's where you either make your grand entrance, or you get left behind in the social jousting that is the Court," Historia repeated, tired of it already.
Ymir descended near her but found the nearby birdbath to be quite delightful instead. She stood on the very rim of it with all the chickadees. A few even peered up at her, tilting their head, and singing sweetly for her.
"Sounds boring," Ymir drawled, bringing a finger down and cooing at the little birds, "why get all these stuffy people in one room, trying to outdo each other? Sounds rather pretentious for such a frivolous mortal thing. Truly, when they're rotting in the ground along with the worms and weevils, all this 'social jousting' would be as good as a firm prick up the ass?"
Another thing about Ymir was that she loved eavesdropping on the servants and throwing their slang into conversation. Often mangling it until it fit her despicable liking. Historia would never tell her but it was entertaining to hear what Ymir loved most about their conversations. She'd dissect their language and pick it out her favorite jargon, and then throw it around in her speeches like she owned it.
"Here's the surprise," Historia smiled, watching as all the birds were flittering around her, excited and brimming with unadulterated love for her, "some people actually find that to be enjoyable."
They were making quite the fuss. Even Ymir was getting carried away as she languidly suspended herself in the air, whistling back at them.
"Like what?" She asked. How easily distracted she was for some ominous being!
"A firm prick up the ass." Historia quoted, chuckling.
Ymir stopped altogether, staring off the side of Historia before giggling. She winked at the blonde and dematerialized before her eyes. Freckles and all.
Historia rolled her eyes.
"Why are you hiding all of a sudden?" Historia stood up, waiting for Ymir to pop up and scare her like usual. "You might as well come out. I don't have the patience for it."
Historia heard Ymir near the entrance to the alcove and was going to chide her for being so spontaneous until she met icy eyes instead.
"I didn't mean to intrude," an older woman with an accent came through the grove. Historia's eyes widened as she bit back her tongue. "I felt it'd be inappropriate of me to walk in on your conversation."
Immediately, the birds darted away, causing the woman's eyes to flick around. The stranger's eyebrow arched upwards before she schooled it.
Historia couldn't utter a peep as she heard Ymir giggling from somewhere.
"Especially… of pricks being in asses?" This time a ghost of a smile curled on the woman's lips. Historia went flush red as she squeezed her eyes shut, lulling her head to the side and biting her lips into submission for being so crass in public.
"Right," she squeaked between gritted teeth, "um, that…"
"Excuse my rudeness," the woman took off her leather tricorn, bowing her head in a foreign custom. It was hard to take it as due politeness since the gleam in her eyes told Historia she was teasing her, greatly, for her strange conversation. "I am Annie Leonhardt, beneficiary of Lady Maria. I was given sponsorship to attend the Court this season."
She licked her lips, adjusting the stray blonde hairs from her face and gave a gesture to the flailing workers.
"However, it seems I've arrived unfashionably early." She added, pulling up from her strange bow. "I digress, mistress— may I know your name?"
Historia couldn't stop staring despite the woman's signs of uncertainty. She hadn't seen such a pretty woman since…
"My, she's quite pretty," Ymir remarked, leaning against the iron lattice, "maybe I should've made my physical form more like her."
Ymir was right, though.
The woman was very handsome and beautiful.
Her choice of fashion was strange but Historia recognized it as the queer garb the Choir wore—the people who were slowly peeling the throne from Frieda. Even then, the Inverness coat was intricately made and stood out from the plain attire the Choir adorned. The caplet and cloak were made from a fine champagne silk, covering the dark Pendleton wool coat. The fabrics edges were embroidered with gleaming, golden floss—
"What a sharp dresser, too," Ymir commented, greedily eyeing the woman's boots. Slowly, the very same boots began to form on Ymir's feet until she had a replica pair. "Oh, you humans do make such interesting things. I particularly like your footwear!"
Miss Leonhardt had dark circles under her eyes but she was very much young. Not younger than Historia but still in her prime.
"My name is Historia, Historia Reiss," she could only muster. She was stricken with the cold appearance of the woman, because she had never seen an aloof beauty such as Annie Leonhardt.
Extending her hand, Leonhardt took Historia's and leaned down, kissing the back of it.
"You are the princess, then," she kept it to her lips a moment too long before returning to her normal posture, releasing Historia from her captivation, "it's a pleasure to meet you."
She almost seemed a little surprised.
"Charmer, huh?" Ymir snorted. "Oh, well, I can't help that, can I? Having fun, Historia?"
"The pleasure is mine," Historia slipped into her royal persona, taught and reprimanded for years by her tutor until it finally stuck, "I'm afraid I don't recall the Leonhardt family. I'm still learning of history. Enlighten my fleeting mind?"
Leonhardt's face was cool and stoic as she held her hands behind her back, clicking her tongue.
"My family isn't known in Saint Valencia, so I am here to unofficially officially make an appearance for their namesake." She responded.
"Oh, right," Historia heard Ymir snickering. Leonhardt did state that she was here on sponsorship…
"It's quite okay. It's rare for new faces to appear in court, yes?" Leonhardt's tongue slipped as it fell into a deeper accent. It sent Historia into a small tizzy.
Ymir could only yawn in the background.
"I didn't know you were into accents? How cliché of you, Historia," Ymir huffed, pushing off the wall and drifting to her until she was right by her side.
"Sorry," Leonhardt apologized, caught off guard, "I'm still learning your nation's language. It's a bit hard on the tongue."
"I-It's okay," Historia had to turn away, going back to where she was sitting, "it was… nice meeting you, Leonhardt."
"What? Really?" Ymir cried out, annoyed. "That's what this led up to?"
"Likewise." Leonhardt did another bow despite Historia not witnessing it. Ymir just stuck her tongue out at the woman. "I hope to see more of you at the Court, princess Historia."
Leonhardt departed, striding into the shadow of the castle and disappearing behind a door as more servants spilled out, barking orders and instructions.
"Hm. Let's see," Ymir was counting on her fingers, "ah, right, six. Hm. Ah, oh well, not a bother compared to me and you. Say, Historia, dear, what is it that you find most charming about her? You already live among beautiful people and she's no different. Perhaps a little more aloof and barren regarding the family lineage."
Historia was fidgeting as she wrung her hands together. She couldn't tell Ymir or else she'd fear being reprimanded for being naïve.
"Ah, I see," Ymir sat beside Historia, wrapping her dark cloaked hand around the girl's waist, "she's the first person to be kind to you, isn't she? That is why she somehow snuck her way into your heart just now, hm? How… innocent."
Historia could only lean against Ymir, shyly smiling as she stared at the ground and admired the green clovers.