Rating: T

TAKE NOTE

Alright. Here’s the state of things so you’d best take note:

She does know how to break a man when no one’s looking, that Lady. She may not look it herself: halo of hair woven in shades of hard gold; deft, dainty fingers, manicured nails; blood red lips painted so stark and careful; black lashes and powder blue eyes dyed deep with trust—trust you can see because there's a whole lotta secrets in ‘em, some hers and some not, and it does say a lot about a body that holds so many…

But appearances do so often lie, don’t they? Blood is rather alarming, after all. A waving red flag. Puts a person to a stop. Makes ‘em take note.

And maybe that’s why He keeps her around, likes that she sees something in breaking, in bleeding, in pain: the spilling of red hot pressure to recklessly pan for its rich deposits of dopamine. Maybe He keeps her around because He was already broken when He found her, the only state that man there knows, and He likes that someone else can see that for what it is, take that for nothing more and nothing less than what it means.

Which is to say: she knows how to handle it.

How to hold it tight to her chest, safe between her breasts, warm hands, cupped palms, fingers curled and secure but soft and adoring because what she has sitting heavy in her hands there, what she has sitting close to her heart is valuable, priceless. And she ain’t gonna let anything happen to it.

She ain’t gonna sell it, she ain’t gonna toss it, she ain’t gonna hide it, not completely. She’s gonna put it high up on her shelf where it won’t mean a darn thing to a person who glances at it, not that much—unless you stop and stand there, down below it, head tipped back, and you look up at it, consider it, see it…

Which means you now know very well that it’s there. Always lookin' over everything and everyone that walks into that room, into her life. And that’s quite the significant thing, ain't it. Ain't a thing for a body to scoff at, no matter who you are.

(And let you know this, know it good and true: even kinship means very little here. Once you poison a well, there ain’t no fixing it. Sinks deep. Sets even deeper. Makes a person sick with headaches. No choice but to board the useless thing up and walk away. Let the weeds have at it. So take note and be sure to underline that.)

You don’t waltz into a Queen’s life without her King knowing you’re there; because He’s also letting you stay there. Best remember that. Your behavior, 'specially around her, will be more than a mile high above impeccable, and it’d best make her happy. Yes, it does mean a lot to be waltzing that close which means there’s even more sitting on down the line.

Best remember that too.

Not a place friendly to missteps—which is to say, you’d better not so much as sneeze in His Lady’s direction ‘cause He’ll know about it. And you’d better not forget the God Bless You when His Lady sneezes in yours ‘cause He’ll know about that too. Otherwise you’re prayin’ harm on His Lady and He does not take kindly to that. Makes sure everyone knows that. He’s very clear about that, very very clear. Even when it feels you can’t pull a damn thing outta that seam down there, down in that mine you’re tryin’ in secret to work, the one with that Lady’s name written all over it—if you even manage the guts and the audacity to do such a potentially stupid and hazardous thing—

Even then.
You will pull that.
You will claim it clean and clear from the rock.
Every time.

He’s very fond of her and He don’t want anything happening to her.

So.
Do you understand what, exactly, that thing there is, sitting heavy in your hands?

If you don’t, you’re not nearly as smart as He thinks you to be which means you don’t belong down there. A mine ain't no place for a wandering fool, wildly throwing about his tools, blind as a fucking bat. Can’t tell gold from pyrite, a fool, which means he’ll dig the knife claim straight outta vein of Fool’s Gold and work it ‘til sparks fly and the whole damn thing blows ‘cause he didn’t know about the damn pyrites and he didn’t know about the damn firedamp 'cause he couldn’t see it.

Now there’s a mess no one wants to deal with, especially the Boss. A lotta paperwork, a lotta coffins. And have you ever tried papering over rumors spread by word of mouth?

Ain’t possible.

And a castle ain't any safer for a wandering fool, sorry to say. A dangerous place if you don’t know where you’re going, where you ain't allowed to be, because… well, you see, here’s the thing: without dragging up any of the dirty details (don’t kid yourself—you don’t have the proper papers for those and you know it), sometimes locked doors are left unlocked on accident and opening them just creates awkward and irritating complications where a man of the house can’t even walk his own halls in peace because he don’t wanna run into you, knowing what it is that you know is, in fact, too much.

Eye contact gives a lot away, and avoiding it gives away even more. See the problem here?

So you’ll fast get a:

Thank you for coming, it’s been a pleasure to see you, you really ought to visit more often, yes, it’s always been too long and we absolutely must set a date to keep that from happening, we must break the habit now while we have the opportunity.
Now.
Do you need help with your bags?
The car will take you to the station.
Have a safe trip.

Take note: you will leave without a "Goodbye" from the King and you will leave without a date. And the next time you come, if you ever do, His Lady ain’t gonna be there. You ain’t gonna see her. Both the mine and the well are gonna be all boarded up, left to the weeds—because you just didn’t get it, this state of things.

So you’d best take note.

Written for the reichblr-ficathon. Prompt: "an exchange of secrets"