I'm glad this fic doesn't have too many threads to keep track of, because I'm already forgetting the little details of what I was doing. The fact that Amelia can time travel makes things unnecessarily complicated too, and my memory has always been garbage.
Good thing I don't mind rereading my own stuff, I guess.
Amelia isn't used to having time off. Time off is for people with regular jobs, not self-employed detectives who need to keep the lights on and decide their own hours.
(She still hasn't cashed that blank cheque Her Highness gave to her. It sits heavy in her suitcase, tucked safely into a side zipper. She's been digging into her reserve money to avoid using it. She refuses to use it. She hasn't finished the job she was hired for.)
She's so unused to time off that she doesn't even do anything the entire day she returns from the capital. She stops by her office to file some papers from Their Imperial Majesties' case, then goes back home.
'Home' is an old bungalow on the border of the suburbs' commercial area, only a street away from a train track. The bungalow is small, with peeling white paint on the wooden walls and a roof with red tiles, some of which are missing. The lawn is overgrown, almost entirely hiding the walkway and creeping up the small front window. It has no driveway to speak of, not that Amelia needs one because she can't afford a car to begin with, and if you were to go around the back over the rusty, wrought-iron gate, you'd find a few hardy berry bushes and an apple tree that almost entirely blocks the bedroom window.
Amelia bought the house because of the tree. It makes enough apples to help cut down on food expenses. She planted the berry bushes herself for similar reasons. She opens the front door with her A key.
The interior is only in marginally better shape than the exterior. It has three rooms (bathroom, bedroom, and main room), and a small attic. The old, dull, faded yellow wallpaper from the previous owner is peeling, but not as badly as the paint outside. There are still some spots of spackle visible on the walls where she had to cut away sections to be able to reach in and fix old wiring, and the dirty grey carpet and parquet flooring have been overlaid in some places by heavily textured mats to make a path through the house to everything of importance.
Calli helped her put the mats in when she was blinded so she could use them to navigate around the house and avoid bumping into walls as she didn't have any other navigation techniques yet. She doesn't really need them anymore, but she's also never had a reason to get rid of them.
As she does every time she returns home after time away, she checks behind the ceiling light in the kitchen section of the main room before doing anything else. She unscrews the light holder itself, which falls a foot and then stops as it's held by sturdy wires, and peers into the cavity in the ceiling she can access now that the light is out of the way.
The Box is still there with its lock unbroken. Good.
Bubba makes a chirp of curiosity, floating up towards the Box, but Amelia ushers him away and screws the light fixture back into place.
(She's considered installing some sort of sensor or camera in the cavity so she can tell if it's been accessed, but she doesn't have the money for that, and there's a chance the surveillance equipment itself could help people find the Box.
Or maybe she's just paranoid.)
With her paranoia satiated, she moves to the attic. The only way to access it is from the bedroom, where you need to pull down a ladder. She pushes a box she brought back from the office in first, then climbs up. She has to stoop at the top of the ladder, and shuffles on her knees once she's properly inside. The attic isn't tall enough to stand in. She's only a few inches away from needing to crawl.
The attic is where she has her long-term file storage for old, irrelevant cases. There are a number of cabinets shoved into the sides, as well as a few cardboard boxes to hold some seasonal items.
She hunkers down to do some filing, much to the displeasure of Bubba who sneezes at the dust in the attic and settles on her head to avoid it.
"Bubba doesn't even have a nose. Why is he sneezing?" Amelia wonders, slotting sheets into a new folder and slipping it into alphabetic order in the cabinets. She's going to need to look up takodachi care on the internet. She knows nothing about what he's going to need.
She hopes his essentials don't cost too much. Money is already tight.
Filing while hunched over is hell on her back, but it must be done. It takes about an hour to do, and by the time she's done and climbed back down, the sun is dipping in the sky. Between her morning investigations, the train ride, dropping by her office, and her home filing, there's only about two hours before dinner, and Amelia is already feeling tired because thanks to time travel she's been awake for an extra few hours already.
After a quick check on her laptop to figure out what Bubba can eat (anything a human can and more, it turns out) Amelia boils some noodles, grabs some apples and parmesan cheese from the fridge, and grabs some peanut butter from the cupboards, and has a simple meal of noodles with parmesan sprinkled onto it, and sliced apples with peanut butter spread on top.
Calling it a 'meal' is a bit generous, but Bubba seems to like it. He gnaws through his apple slice with gusto and makes adorable chewing motions while trying to swallow the peanut butter in his mouth.
(She fills a small cup with water and puts a reusable metal straw in it so Bubba can drink from it. That seems to help.)
The rest of the day is much more relaxed, if only because Amelia is already exhausted. She makes a little nest for Bubba out of a cardboard box and a spare blanket which she places on the other side of her side-table (which means it's tucked into a corner, because the bedroom is very small), settles Bubba in, and falls asleep within minutes of sliding under her sheets.
###
Ultimately, Amelia doesn't do much with her week. She doesn't have the money for it. She even does a bit of work, taking a few quick missing person cases (easy to solve with her watch) for some quick cash.
Bubba looks at her in extreme disappointment every time she takes out her watch. It's almost like he knows… or maybe Amelia is projecting, and Bubba just doesn't like being left alone and knows her taking out the watch means she'll be gone, if not for that long.
(Though Takodachis can understand human speech, albeit with heavy training. There's a chance Bubba is one of those trained takodachis and knows she's not supposed to be working.)
It's nice to have someone to share her home with. If she sits on the couch, Bubba will settle in her lap. He'll watch TV with her and eat her chips, or nap while she does something on the computer, or allow her to stroke his head or play with his tentacles. He'll go on a walk with her, floating beside her or resting on her head, and she can share nearly every part of her life with him in some way.
Everything but work of course, but that's fine. Bubba shares a life with Amelia, not The Detective.
Only a few people know where Amelia lives. She has a PO box for business mail, doesn't communicate with her uncle that much, doesn't have any other extended family she cares about, and never has a reason to invite other people to her house.
Calli knows where she lives, but that's because Calli can use magic to locate people. Chaos knows because she's the creator deity, and Humanity sometimes wanders over despite never really remembering how to get there, but that's about it. Time has never actually appeared in her house, but Amelia would imagine she has a lock on the watch so she probably knows too.
Kiara doesn't know (despite begging to see Amelia's home numerous times), and Amelia hasn't told Nature, Space, or Hope either.
Oh, and Bubba knows now, of course.
On her last day of vacation Amelia takes Bubba with her to a restaurant so she can say she did something in case Her Highness asks her what she did. She can imagine their disappointment if she did literally nothing but sit in her house.
(And do work, but she's not telling them that.)
She really hopes they don't ask her what she did. Her Highness isn't too intrusive, so she should be fine, but all she can do is cross her fingers and pray.
The train ride back to the capital is filled with tension, and feels like it really shouldn't be. Her Highness would probably be disappointed to know Amelia is nervous about talking to her.
"Trust." Amelia reminds herself, massaging Bubba's sides to distract herself. "It'll be fine. Her Highness wants my trust. She won't be mad. Probably."
Or maybe that's an assumption she shouldn't be making. Isn't asking for trust just a thing that all politicians do? Of course Her Highness wants her trust, they want everyone's trust, they're the queen.
"Or maybe that's rude?" Amelia considers. "If everyone had that mindset, no one would ever trust Her Highness. How would she make friends?"
(Actually, that's a good question. How do the leaders of an empire make friends? Is it even possible?
…
Are they lonely?)
"Stop thinking about it. There's nothing you could do anyway. It's not your place to stick your nose into the Queen's social life. You were hired to do a job. Think about that first."
Ignoring, of course, that she has no idea what she's actually going to be asked to do when she gets to the palace. That's the whole point of getting a new contract and clearer instructions.
Also so she won't go off sneaking into churches and searching through their stuff without her bosses knowing about it because she couldn't be bothered to clarify what she was and wasn't allowed to do.
"Wah." Bubba chirps. He tugs on Amelia's shirt to get her attention, and then waves a few of his tentacles in the air. "Wah!"
She absently picks up her takodachi and strokes his head. "We'll be there in a bit, Bubba."
Bubba coos at her, pushing against her hand when she strokes him to get better scritches. His flaps flutter happily. That's enough of a distraction to occupy her until they get to London. Takodachis are wonderfully squishy.
There's a different feeling to walking through London with Bubba. She can't afford to stare at the walkway and navigate mostly by sound and the bumps in the sidewalk near the lights. Bubba never leaves her, but she feels the need to watch him anyhow, she has to keep her eyes up.
Nobody looks at her. A takodachi is unremarkable, if not downright common, in a cult city, and as long as she keeps in line with everyone else they shouldn't give her any weird looks. Only tourists might notice her, and no more than anyone else.
When the palace comes into sight, the Detective takes a breath, straightens her clothes… and goes around to the side entrance like usual. The guards spare her only a glance to check her identification, poke Bubba once to make sure he's not a drone pretending to be a takodachi, and then wave them through.
The Detective doesn't go to her office. No, she has something else to do first; something more horrifying.
She has to talk to Her Highness's secretary.
If she's going to be working for the crown in a more formal capacity, she needs to get used to official channels of contact, so Her Highness had requested (through email) that when the Detective returned to work, she set a meeting time through their secretary.
The secretary's office is on the third floor, the second door to the left of the main staircase (the first is the receptionist who deals with general appointments like meetings in rented conference rooms, and the first to the left is the help desk). When Amelia pokes her head inside, she's met with a small, tidy office painted in dark colors with minimal decoration (a far cry from nearly every other part of the palace).
Her Highness's secretary, unsurprisingly, is an atlantean. She's a tall, thin lady with straight, dark-blue hair and deep-set eyes that give her the impression of having a perpetual glare. Her facial features are razor sharp, and clothing just as much so: a tuxedo of crisp blue with a deep purple tie as an accent certainly makes an impact. Her eyes are fixed on a computer screen as she clicks away with a mouse and keyboard.
"Yes? Can I help you?" The woman asks after a moment of awkward silence. She didn't even bother to look up. "You can come in. There's a chair if you need it."
Bubba floats on in, and that gives The Detective no choice but to follow. She steps inside the room, noting the way the rug muffles her footsteps entirely, how the secretary's desk blocks the entire room with a small latch-door to get through, and how the woman's hand dips out of view behind the desk for a moment.
"She probably has a weapon back there." The Detective thinks instantly. "A secretary for the second most important person in the Empire definitely knows how to defend herself. The computer is cover for her, but I'm totally exposed."
This shouldn't be relevant information. She's supposed to be organizing a meeting, not figuring out how to assassinate this lady.
Bubba floats over to the lady while the Detective is distracted and settles down on her desk. It's only when he chirps at her, pausing her typing, that the Detective remembers she was asked a question and never answered.
"Bubba, come." The Detective whispers, beckoning the takodachi. "Don't bother her."
The takodachi obeys, turning around and moving back to the Detective's arms. He nestles into her grip, content with his mayhem.
The lady's eyes are now on her, and the Detective forces herself to act like the professional she supposedly is. "Hello. I was told you were the person I should talk to in order to arrange a meeting with Her Highness."
"I am." The lady says. "Can I have a name?"
"Amelia Watson."
"The detective?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Hold your ID up to the scanner please." The lady says, pointing to a scanner on her desk.
The Detective mutely holds it up, and the device beeps. She didn't realize her identification had an electronic component… or maybe it doesn't? Maybe it just reads the print? That scanner looks new, and she can't think of a reason why these wouldn't be implemented at the employee entrance unless it hasn't been installed yet.
It makes sense to install the scanners first for the security of the Imperial Family, and then everyone else after, she supposes, and it has to be picture-recognition because (again) she's fairly sure there's no electronic component to the ID cards.
It's a solution that doesn't require every ID card to be replaced; the system probably just needs to check what it reads against the already-existing database. Clever. Captain Dyne is in charge of security, right? So this was probably his idea. If he didn't intimidate her she'd praise his good thinking.
(Or not. Because he's not going to care about her thinking he did a good job anyways.)
"Her Imperial Highness had planned to see you today, but that simply isn't feasible anymore." The lady says, clasping her hands together. "I'm afraid she had to teleport this morning on urgent business. However, she asked me to tell you to go to the fifth floor and meet her yesterday at five twenty PM in the family room."
Yesterday. Her Highness wants her to jump. That's… not a problem. Expected, even. Yeah, that's fine. Totally fine. Just a part of the job. Really, why would she expect otherwise? If she can time travel, she should take advantage. A logical thing to think. "Sure, I can do that."
"Good. I'll slot you in for archival purposes." The lady says, taking the whole 'time travel' thing in stride. "Have a pleasant day, Detective Waston."
"You too, uh…" Shit. She never got her name. Asking now would just highlight that she's incompetant, so she can't do that. "I'll see you some other time."
The Detective steps out the door clutching Bubba. She does not go up the main stairway, and instead makes her way over to one of the service stairwells and uses that, transitions on the fourth floor to another, and uses that to get to the fifth.
"Is it really fine that Her Highness expects me to use my watch?" The Detective wonders. She generally tries not to use it if she's not on the job, she needs some grounding in reality, but this is technically her job, right?
Of course this is her job. What else would it be? It's not like they're having a rendezvous or a casual chat, or playing a game or something. They've never done that!
"She did invite me to go swimming though." The Detective remembers, and then squeezes her eyes shut. "Stop! Don't think about it! That's not helpful right now!"
The Detective doesn't need a repeat of her embarrassment a week ago.
When she arrives in the main room of the fifth floor, she sets Bubba down on the table. "Wait here. I need to make a quick jump to chat with Her Highness… and then sit around for an hour and a bit to recharge, but for you it'll only be a minute, okay?"
"Wah." Bubba pouts.
"I'd take you with me if I could, but my watch doesn't work like that." The Detective says gently. "Don't wander off, alright? Don't knock anything over, or touch the door."
"Wah."
"Good boy."
The Detective pulls out her watch, twists it to fifteen after five to give herself a few minutes of leeway, and presses the button.
Time twists around her for a brief moment (or non-moment, depending on how you want to look at it), and when the Detective arrives at the correct time, the lighting has changed. Rather than shining through the large windows onto the table, the sunlight is cast in a way that reaches through none of the windows, and so the room is instead illuminated by the warm, orange electric lights on the walls.
(She wonders why they aren't blue. Blue lights are the traditional Atlantean lighting for underwater sections of their cities, but really any capital A Atlantean city mostly has blue lighting because they've historically used magic lighting or a specific bioluminescent blue moss before the advent of electricity. Maybe Her Highness doesn't care for that part of her heritage so much? Or maybe Her Majesty doesn't like it?)
"You're a day early, Detective."
She yelps, fumbling her watch back into her pocket and spinning around. Her back was to the table, and that was a mistake because there are three people there.
Her Highness is a familiar sight, sitting casually at the table in full military regalia. There's some badges and medals on her uniform that they don't usually wear, and they have some sort of loose… cape? Dress? Sash? Some sort of loose, light-blue cloth that is attached on one shoulder, cuts across their uniform and around their hip, and then droops to cover one leg.
It clashes rather badly with their uniform, so the Detective would bet money it's some historically symbolic bullshit.
The second person is Her Majesty, looking as they usually do, sitting next to Her Highness with their legs crossed.
And then, the last person, not sitting down, is Captain Dyne.
With only a moment of indecision, the Detective drops to one knee and lowers her head. Her Highness will be annoyed, but there's an audience right now. "Your Imperial Majesties, Captain, pardon the interruption. I must have misjudged my jump."
"Detective…" Her Highness's tone is an exasperated one. "Please tell me you didn't time travel from our conversation last week to right now."
"No, Your Highness. I jumped back from tomorrow to today."
"We'll be happy to hear you in a moment, Detective." Her Majesty interjects a bit loudly. "But we have business to finish with the Captain first."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Of course, Your Majesty."
…
…
"If you would leave the room, Detective…?" Her Highness asks.
She jerks up. She's horrendously stupid, of course she needs to leave, this meeting doesn't concern her, it might be important security stuff. "Yes- sorry- I'll just-" She stammers, moving towards the main stairwell.
The Detective only realizes her mistake after she steps out onto the landing of the fifth floor of the main staircase and realizes there are guards. They don't linger their eyes on her, consummate professionals that they are, but the Detective feels the need to act calm. They might still be watching her carefully, keeping an eye on this random girl who walked out of their Imperial Majesty's home, judging her lack of composure and dignity and slightly off-set hat and tacky plaid skirt instead of a nice suit or dress or-
Wait, what if these guards are some of the same ones that she led on a chase when she was jumping back to chase the thief? Are they made at her? Do they know other guards who did have to chase her and are mad because she made their friends mad?
Do all the guards think she's an asshole? Oh Baelz they probably do. They'd probably glare at her if they were allowed to!
She frets, her back to the guards (probably) judging stares, until the door opens and someone walks out.
She can tell it's Captain Dyne based purely on the weight of his footsteps. Neither of Their Imperial Majesties step that harshly. She can hear the door creak, and a brief talk between him and the guards checking how many people have tried to enter (two people, apparently. Lost tourists), and if the ID checker is working.
The Detective hadn't noticed the checker. Is it on the wall next to the door? Do the guards have a handheld version? She wants to turn and check, but doesn't want to face Captain Dyne.
After the Captain is done talking, the Detective expects him to leave. He'll walk down the stairs, ignoring her entirely, and she can go in and talk to Their Imperial Majesties.
That doesn't happen.
She can hear when he stops moving, the pause, the deep breath he takes.
The step towards her.
"Detective Watson."
Her grip tightens on the railings for a second. Panic flutters in her chest, but she manages to school her expression before turning around and meeting his eyes. She can be professional, just for a moment. "Captain Dyne, Sir."
"I have a request."
Her heart clenches. That doesn't sound good. "What is it, Sir?"
"I would like to request your help in a security test in a month from now." The Captain says, his expression aggressively neutral. "We're implementing several new measures, and I believe your time jumping abilities would be an adequate test to ensure their effectiveness."
That's not at all what she expected. She was expecting a scolding, a confrontation about how she shouldn't be here, because she remembers full well that the captain didn't seem to like her very much. "I can do that."
"Good. I'll email you with the details when a time is decided." The Captain says, giving her a single, curt nod. "May the Ancients favor you, Detective."
"And Hakos watch over you, Captain." She replies, tipping her hat.
That clearly catches him off guard. She can see his eyebrows jump for a split second before his flat expression resumes and he leaves down the stairs.
It's probably a bit weird to have a follower of the Aspects working for the primary religious authority of a different religion.
That's probably the least weird thing about her.
"I can probably go back in now." The Detective realizes belatedly. She turns to the door (the ID scanner is on the wall) and goes to grab the handle, only for it to push open before she grabs it. She hops back to avoid getting hit, heart irrationally pounding in her chest.
"Ah, good, I thought I was going to have to get you." Her Highness says casually. They've apparently discarded their sash/toga/culturally-significant-but-horribly-out-of-place cloth thing in the time between the Captain leaving and coming to get the Detective.
Also, apparently Her Highness thinks she's flighty or incompetant enough to need fetching.
The Detective follows Her Highness back into the fifth floor and to the table. Her Majesty is still there, and gives the Detective a smile that she might try to return if she wasn't half-sure Her Majesty is just being polite and if it didn't make her throat try to strangle itself and give her the urge to grovel.
"I-I'm so sorry for interrupting, Your Imperial Majesties!" The Detective says before Her Highness has even taken her seat again. "Her Highness's secretary told me to jump back to five twenty, so I jumped a few minutes early just in case!"
"It is quite alright, Detective." Her Majesty soothes before she can start rambling excuses. "You were given the right time, Captain Dyne was indeed due to leave at five twenty. Why were you told to jump to such a time?"
"Her Highness is going to get called away on urgent business tomorrow, so I was told to jump back here to talk instead."
"Really?" Her Highness groans, rubbing their forehead. "I was looking forward to tomorrow being a bit more calm. What's going to happen?"
"I don't know, Highness." The Detective says. "I-"
"Sit down already Detective." Her Highness interrupts briefly.
She does so, dropping into the nearest seat. "I wasn't told, Your Highness, and didn't ask."
"Yeah, Seana knows how to stay quiet." Her Highness sighs. "I should know better than to ask that. I guess I'm turning in early tonight."
The Detective nods mutely. What's she supposed to say?
"Right, I guess we can do contract stuff while we wait for dinner." Her Highness groans, cracking their shoulders. "I just need-"
Her Majesty flicks their wrist, and a small stack of papers appears in their fingers. "Here, dear."
"Right." Her Highness says, grabbing it. "Before we start… you said you jumped back in time, right?"
"Yes."
"What's your cooldown?"
"An hour and a half." Fifteen hours is nine hundred minutes, divided by ten is ninety minutes.
"Great. You have no reason not to join us for dinner after we're done then."
Well, she doesn't have much of a choice. She can't refuse an order(?) from the queen.
"So, contract." Her Highness says, tossing it across the table to the Detective for her to read. "Standard fare mostly. Don't talk about work stuff with people outside of work because you know important stuff, you work directly under me and Ina unless we tell you otherwise, make sure you run ideas by me or Ina first unless it's an emergency because most of the stuff you're gonna be doing is otherwise illegal and you need clearance, regular pay because you're a proper employee now and refuse to cash that stupid cheque-"
They give her a pointed look, and the Detective drops her gaze to her lap in shame.
"-all the standard benefits, potential long-term employment opportunities, access to our teleportation pads for official and personal usage (personal usage has a limit of four times per month, and extra usage will require a fee), and-"
"Where do the pads go?" The Detective interrupts sharply, looking up with a serious expression.
"Er, repeat that." Her Highness blinks, clearly not having expected an interruption.
"Where can the teleport pads take me?" The Detective clarifies. "How do they work?"
"Well." Her Majesty speaks up. "The pads do not transport you anywhere, not by default at least. They function by connecting to another teleport pad and transporting you there, which is more energy efficient than even a normal pinpoint teleportation. We have pads in all the major cities, of course, as well as some for military use inside major military compounds."
"I see." Well, that's good enough. When she gets special customers in the future, the teleport pads should be able to cut down on transport time and costs. "Sorry for the interruption, Highness, please continue."
"Did you have something specific in mind, Detective?" Her Majesty asks, holding up a hand to forestall their wife from continuing as asked. "Usually the teleportation pads are not the interesting part of the contract."
"I…" She can be honest, right? They already know about her special customers. "If I get any special customers, the teleport pads could be useful for logistics."
"Ahh." Her Majesty muses, clasping their hands on the table. "Using the transport pads for private business is perfectly fine as well, as long as that business does not reflect badly on the Empire. In fact, I would argue your 'special requests' are more akin to doing a job the Empire itself should be handling." They look to their wife. "I would not be opposed to adding a clause that designates our detective's 'special requests' as an official business use of the pads."
"That sounds reasonable." Her Highness agrees, drumming their fingers on the table. "Though if she's doing a job the Empire should be doing, shouldn't her requests be forwarded to us?"
The Detective's shoulders hunch. They're trying to take her work!?
"Gura, she gets requests about things that have already gone too far." Her Majesty reminds them. "So she can go back and fix them. The Empire couldn't do anything anyways."
"Ah." Her Highness blinks. "Right, forgot about that."
"Now you can continue, dear." Her Majesty hums.
"Uhh…" Her Highness squints at the air, trying to remember where they left off. "Teleport pads… and the ability to requisition government resources if you need. Some of them require approval from us or some other authority, but there are things you can requisition on your own thanks to your importance."
"Okay." The Detective nods. "Is that all?"
"There's a bunch of minor clauses if you want to take a look." Her Highness says, gesturing to the papers. "Actually, what do you want to eat? You can look it over while I contact the kitchen."
She has no idea what she wants. She had breakfast… actually, around five hours ago. She woke up very early out of nervousness. She's hungry, but she doesn't know what to say about food. "What do they have that's gluten-free again?"
"Uh…" Her Highness blanks.
"Name it, and the kitchens can manage." Her Majesty interjects. Their smile is wry. "They're plenty used to strange requests from foreign dignitaries. You won't break them."
"Uh… do they have bacon, eggs, and salad at this point in the day? It's basically lunch for me."
"That's it?" Her Highness asks, and the Detective looks away again in embarrassment. She made a big deal over nothing. There's a momentary pause, and the Detective can hear someone (Her Highness, she thinks) shifting in their seat and a murmured "what?" before Her Highness clears her throat and says, "uh, and to drink?"
"Just water?"
"You sure? Not… literally anything else?"
"Gura." Her Majesty says sharply.
"Sorry." They say, "but we have almost everything, so you don't have to have only water."
"Water is fine." The Detective mumbles. She doesn't want to order coke or something when dining with the royal family. That feels improper.
"Right. Water it is."
The Detective scans her contract in silence, interrupted only by Her Majesty whispering that they'll revise the teleportation pad section and print out a new copy soon, and Her Highness placing their order through the phone.
"See anything you want to ask about?" Her Highness questions when they're done ordering.
"No, Your Highness."
"Great. I'm going to get changed outta this then." Her Highness says, moving to their bedroom. "Been wearing it all day, and this is not soft fabric."
"Have a shred of professionalism, dear." Her Majesty says with fond exasperation.
"It's Watson, we're fine." Her Highness huffs. "Besides, she's already seen me in my swimsuit."
The Detective's face burns, and she keeps her eyes firmly fixed on the contract even though she's already read it.
"I'm not worried about our image, I'm worried about the Detective." Her Majesty scolds, humor in their voice. "You know she's easily flustered."
The Detec- Amelia hunches her shoulders and dips her head in utter embarrassment. She has a reputation, and not a good one, and Their Imperial Majesties have clearly had conversations about her.
"So no lingerie?" Her Highness asks.
Amelia whines, then realizes she made that noise out loud and pulls her hat over her face in mortification. She can feel their eyes on the side of her head, and hear the sigh Her Majesty lets out.
"Dear." Her Majesty is trying to sound serious, but Amelia can hear the laughter threatening to spill out.
"Fine, fine. Can't even make a joke…"
Amelia can hear Her Highness walking away, moderate and firm footsteps marching across the carpet, until the bedroom door opens with a light woosh and then closes with a click.
"Sorry about that Detective." Her Majesty says, getting their near-laughter under control. "Gura's a bit tired, I'm sure you can tell. She's been waiting to relax all week, and you're a friendly enough face that she doesn't feel the need to keep up her act."
A friendly face? More like she's not worth the energy. She's not the captain of the guard, she's just some random outside hire who they know full well is too much of a coward to gossip. That's probably the reason Her Highness is so relaxed, and her Majesty probably just wants an excuse that doesn't sound rude.
Amelia takes a deep breath and pushes her hat back up on her head. Composure. She needs to keep composure. She should not cower before her employers… unless they yell at her, in which case cowering is perfectly justified, because there's three ways you deal with angry powerful people: you placate them, you run, or you shoot them in the face.
She'd rather not shoot them in the face, and running isn't an option when they're the two most powerful people in the world with a world-spanning religion at their disposal, so cowering would be the only option.
You know, theoretically. Not something she's devoted any time (hours, and more than one sleepless night) to. Nope.
Her Majesty is watching her with a serene smile, like one of their employees hiding behind her hat is a normal, amusing occurrence and not at all an embarrassing, degrading oddity.
She wants to hide behind her hat again. Her Majesty is smiling at her. Oh Baelz, what is she supposed to do? Is she supposed to say something? She's used to dealing with Her Highness, not Her Majesty!
"I was planning to have Gura refer you to me tomorrow, but if you're here today, I may as well ask now." Her Majesty says. "Have you ever done bodyguard duty?"
Amelia blinks rapidly. Her brain shifts from Amelia to the Detective. "No, I haven't. Though with time travel I can always go back in time to eliminate threats before they're an issue."
"Hmm, well that's good enough." Her Majesty hums. "Tomorrow, you're coming with me."
What? Why? "Okay."
"I'm making an official visit to the church of Edinburgh, a routine matter to the eyes of the public, and hopefully to the clergy there." Her Majesty says, folding their hands in their lap.
"That's not the real reason." The Detective prompts. She wouldn't be told to come along otherwise.
"It's not." Her Majesty agrees. "You've shown some skill at snooping around churches, so I'd like you to employ it there."
Okay. Clandestine operations. She can do that. This is closer to her comfort zone. "What am I looking for?"
"I need a catalog of all items of note. Magic items, religious artifacts, summoning materials, weapons, whatever looks important." Her Majesty explains softly. A hint of ice enters their voice as they continue to speak. "There have been some inconsistencies in their financial records, as well as their inventory, with flimsy excuses for each, as well as alerts from concerned citizens about strange characters hanging around the church after hours. The alerts are inconsistent and were considered a non-issue on their own, but the inconsistencies are a recent find, and they nearly perfectly coincide with an uptick in magical crime in Edinburgh starting two years ago. Demon attacks, unregistered magical weapon ownership, exotic and dangerous creature shows…"
"You think they're related."
"I cannot deny the possibility." Her Majesty whispers. "What better way to avoid the notice of the authorities when you are, yourself, a form of authority? The police of the Empire still largely rely on the Cult of the Ancient ones to help regulate magical matters. It would be easy for a major church's illegal dealings to escape notice when they are the ones who help combat such things."
"Gotcha." The Detective allows a thin smile to cross her face. "I can make that catalog. Anything else?"
"Try not to murder anyone. We need to drag them before the court as an example." Her Majesty says, eerily calm. "And don't cause too much of a racket. While you are looking around, I will be extracting information through the social angle. With our information combined, it should be a simple matter to get enough evidence to figure out exactly what is going on and who is responsible."
The Detective nods. "Sounds like a plan."
"Hardly, but the brute force of your time travel and my social skills should more than suffice." Her Majesty says with a smile. "As well as me commandeering the senses of every eldritch being in the building, just in case."
"You can do that?"
"That's pretty tame by Ina's standards." Her Highness says, taking their seat at the table again. They're dressed much like they were a week ago, with sweatpants and a loose shirt. "There was this one time she summoned fifty takodachis to drive a tank."
The Detective can feel her eyes going wide, and Her Majesty groans softly. A blush tickles the tips of their ears, and the Detective just can't look away. "Gura…"
"What? It's a fun story."
"I was unnecessarily dramatic. I was impatient and overreacted."
Her Highness leans across the table, eyes sparkling with mirth. "So, there was this military parade happening in Belfast just after the second world war, right? Big thing. Military had just finished up this new tank design, the Centurion, that was supposed to be at the front. Its first big showing."
The Detective nods, rapt and fascinated.
"Crew gets piss drunk the night before." Her Highness says, grinning. "Celebrating one of their member's new baby. None of 'em get back to the barracks, and the parade is first thing in the morning, so we don't have time to find them by the time we notice they're missing."
Her Majesty huffs loudly, but Her Highness ignores her.
"So we're two minutes late getting started because no one else is trained in how to use the damn tank, we've got soldiers running everywhere looking for our missing men, and Ina comes marching to the front, takes two seconds to listen to the problem, says 'we don't have time for this' and waves her hand, and suddenly the tank's engine starts running. I get everyone in position to start the parade, and everything's fine for a few minutes… and then halfway down the second street, the gunner's hatch opens up, and five takos poke their heads out. They end up doing that for the whole parade, poking out of the hatches, squeezing out the driver's window, and generally being excited takos like you'd expect. When the parade ends, at least fifty of the things come pouring out of the vehicle. Not a single other eldritch thing in there. Just takos. Made the parade way funnier than it was supposed to be."
Her Majesty sighs, and the flaps on their head curl in minor embarrassment. "Yes, yes, it will not happen again."
"Aww, c'mon, there's still memes about it today. The public loved it."
The Detective never understood the takotank meme, or why it used an old black and white photograph of a takodachi on a tank, but she can't say she's disappointed now that she has context.
"Aren't you always saying we have to think about our image, dear?" Her Highness teases. "Wouldn't more takotanks help?"
"I need to retain some level of dignity, Gura."
"You're the Empress, you're going to be dignified no matter what." Her Highness scoffs. "Most people already think you're a demigod."
"Other countries less so." Her Majesty points out. "Besides, balls work just as well, and have other political benefits besides."
"Yeah, but I have to talk to people at balls." Her Highness protests. "And you won't let me stay at the buffet table the whole time, or the bar."
"You need to do some level of socializing, dear. We don't want everyone thinking the Queen is a recluse."
"And why not?" Her Highness grumbles. "Makes it easier for me…"
"Because you're not, you just hate politics."
"Like a sensible person." Her Highness protests again. "Detective, back me up here!"
"Umm…"
"Detective, surely you can see the value in a bit of polite conversation for the sake of the Empire." Her Majesty interrupts, leaning forward in their seat with a serious expression.
"Uhh…" The Detective sweats.
"I'll get you something. Car, magazine subscription, whatever, just agree with me." Her Highness says, trying and failing to replicate Her Majesty's serious expression. "You want more pictures of my wife in cute outfits, right? I can get you that."
The Detective feels like she could die right there. She was really hoping they'd forget about that.
"Not if I take the photos off our cloud." Her Majesty threatens.
"Gina has backups. I'll get them from her." Her Highness shoots back smugly.
Her Majesty's frowns, sitting back in their chair, and then something occurs to them and they rise out of their seat and move around to the Detective's side. "Detective, you must agree with me."
Their eyes slowly open (the first time the Detective has ever seen it happen), revealing not the usual pupils, irises, and whites, but instead a vast expanse of pinpoint lights, grand nebulas, and empty space.
"Sana above… did you give Her Majesty your blessing at some point?" The Detective wonders, transfixed in awe by the scope, the colors, the excruciating detail and beauty. Very few people had had the honor of seeing Her Majesty's eyes, and she has done nothing to deserve but here she is, sitting in this chair, at this time, and-
"That's not fair!" Her Highness shouts. "Using your eyes is cheating, Ina!"
Her Majesty turns away, and the Detective blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a dream. "How else am I supposed to convince her when you're bribing her with my photos?"
"I dunno. Paint something for her."
"Oh!" Her Majesty's eyes close, and the Detective feels like she's suffered a great loss of some sort. "That's a wonderful idea! I'll paint something for you, Detective! No, better, I'll paint you!"
"I-" The Detective is tongue-tied, but they need to say something to prevent this from going any further. "B-But I agree with Her Highness, so there's no need."
"HAH!"
"Even so." Her Majesty insists, clasping their hands in front of them in a pleading motion. "I would love the opportunity to paint you, if you are not opposed."
She can't refuse a request from the Empress. "O-Of course, Your Majesty."
"Perfect. We can discuss the details tomorrow." Her Majesty beams, and the Detective wants to look away but just can't.
It's about that time the food arrives, and the Detective eagerly digs into it to avoid more interaction.
Any excuse to not be the focus of Their Imperial Majesties for at least a few minutes.
(Her life is so much simpler when she only has Bubba to talk to.)
Speaking of… "I-If I'm coming with you, where should I leave Bubba?"
"Bubba?" Her Majesty repeats, carving a steak with knife and fork.
"Uh, the takodachi you summoned to guide me a week ago. He sort of followed me onto the train, so…" She stammers. It occurs to her only now she might have done something wrong by adopting Bubba without permission.
"Ahh." Her Majesty smiles serenely. "Bubba can stay in the gardens or in the church hall. You can pick him up after we come back. It's not unusual for employees to leave their takodachis there while working. Some of the priests feed them a few times a day, and bring toys for them."
"Part of the employee benefits." Her Highness nods sagely. "Tako day care."
The Detective mumbles a thank you, then ducks her head and keeps eating.
She's only going to have a few minutes after this meal is over before going to find Her Majesty back in the 'present' time, so she needs to take as much quiet time to recover as she can get.
It's looking increasingly like Displacement to Royalty will be a similar but technically different continuity to this, because minor but important differences are starting to rack up. Well, whatever. Not a big deal.
Also, yes, Amelia did admit in this chapter that her three conflict resolution tools are: beg for mercy, avoid them at all costs, and murder.
(I can imagine Amelia doing a work presentation about it, and Gura and Ina watching from the back with increasing concern as it slowly dawns on them just how fucked up Amelia's mindset is as she describes, in detail, the most effective ways to cower and how you should never speak unless spoken to and never contradict what people are saying, how to check for escape routes and the importance of knowing the layout of your workplace in case you need to run, and the best places to shoot someone for an instant kill and how to conceal a weapon.)