There were only so many times in Q's life that she'd been afraid.
Real, bone-deep fear wasn't something she was used to.
Most of the time, her worries were small, fleeting things that gnawed at her like mice in the grain shed. She feared the cows kicking over a full bucket of milk after hours of work. She feared the storm clouds that rolled in during planting season, threatening to drown their meager fields. She feared her mother's sharp tongue on the days when money ran short and patience ran shorter.
Silly fears, really. None of them were life-threatening.
None of them ever came with the sharp gleam of a knife pointed directly at her.
Now, standing frozen in the modest kitchen of the bungalow, she found herself staring at a girl who looked her age, holding a blade that glinted in the faint lantern light. And Q—who had faced snapping pigs, temperamental roosters, and her mother on a bad day—was completely and utterly undone.
The knife didn't waver, steady as the hand that held it. The girl's gray eyes were sharp, calculating, and entirely unimpressed.
"Don't move," the girl said again, her voice low and firm. "Who are you?"
Q's breath hitched, her heart hammering so loudly she could hardly hear anything else. Her hands shot into the air, the dried fish dangling uselessly from her fingertips like some absurd white flag. And then, to her utter horror, the tears started.
"I'm sorry!" Q wailed, her voice breaking into a high-pitched sob. "I don't know what I did! I didn't mean to—oh gods, please don't kill me!"
The girl blinked, startled, her knife-hand faltering for the first time. Q didn't notice. She was too busy sobbing, her words spilling out in a desperate, snot-filled tumble.
"I swear, I didn't steal anything! I thought the fish was for the dorm—why wouldn't it be? I didn't know it was yours! I just wanted to eat, that's all!"
The girl stepped back, her sharp expression melting into something closer to disbelief. She lowered the knife slowly, her gaze flicking between the sobbing, sniveling mess in front of her and the drying bass still dangling from Q's outstretched hand.
"I just got here!" Q cried, her voice muffled as she swiped at her tear-streaked face with the back of her sleeve. "I'm not a thief—I don't even know how to steal! I just wanted to cook some dinner before going to bed and—and—"
The words dissolved into hiccupping sobs, her shoulders shaking as tears streamed freely down her face.
"Alright, alright, stop that," the girl said, her tone sharp but not unkind. She set the knife down on the counter and took another step back, holding up her hands as if to show she wasn't a threat. "I'm not going to kill you. Just—calm down."
But Q was too far gone. Her knees buckled slightly as she slumped against the counter for support, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I don't wanna die! Not here, not now! I just got here, and I've got dreams and—and things to do!"
The girl sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Gods above, you're dramatic."
Q sniffled loudly, finally daring to peek up at her attacker. The girl had backed off entirely now, leaning against the opposite counter with her arms crossed. Her expression was tight, as if she wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused.
"Are you done?"
Q wiped at her nose, her cheeks blazing with heat as she realized just how much of a scene she'd made. "I… I think so."
The girl sighed again, shaking her head as if to clear it. "You really thought I was going to stab you?"
Q sniffed. "You had a knife."
"And you had my fish," the girl shot back. "What was I supposed to think?"
Q opened her mouth to argue but closed it again, the absurdity of the situation dawning on her. She glanced down at the bass in her hand, its glassy eyes staring back at her, and let out a shaky laugh.
"Guess we both overreacted."
"Hm."
"Uh.."
"I wasn't expecting anyone new," the girl said bluntly. "Let alone someone to live with me."
Her words were sharp, but there was no real malice behind them—just the kind of plain annoyance that made Q's shoulders bristle. She straightened herself, swiping at her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, only to wrinkle her nose when she caught the lingering smell of bass on her skin. Great. She was crying and fishy. She'd need a bath if she was ever going to get sleep tonight.
"Well," Q said, her voice still a little wobbly but determined to steady it, "Tomorrow's my first day. I got accepted as a Lady in Waiting."
The girl's eyes flickered, just slightly, like she hadn't been expecting that answer. Her posture straightened, and for a brief moment, she seemed almost… impressed. But whatever thought crossed her mind, she didn't share it. Instead, she gave the faintest of nods and said nothing.
Q frowned at the silence but decided to push through it anyway.
"I'm Q," she offered, extending her hand toward the girl, her grin a little crooked but genuine. "What's your name?"
The girl glanced at the hand, her brow lifting as though Q had just offered her a handful of muck. She didn't take it. Instead, she turned away, her focus shifting to the larder like Q wasn't even there.
"So, why'd you even come here?" the girl asked, her tone flat and dismissive.
Q blinked at her, the rejection stinging more than she'd expected. She lowered her hand awkwardly, her grin fading.
"What do you mean, why? I plan to be the best Lady in Waiting ever," she said, her voice firm, her chin lifting defiantly. "And my best friend's studying here to be a Princess. We'll make a great team someday."
The girl snorted, turning back to face Q, her sharp features twisted in something between disbelief and disdain.
"That's your big dream?" she said, her nose wrinkling like she'd just smelled something rotten. "To be the best Lady in Waiting? To trail behind your little princess friend like some loyal dog?"
Q's face flushed hot with offense, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
"What's wrong with that?" she snapped. "It's a good dream! Better than sneering at other people's, anyway. Why are you even here, if you're so much better than me?"
The girl tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she smirked, a sharp, cutting thing that made Q's stomach twist.
"Because," the girl said, her voice dropping low, "I'm not here to be some footnote in someone else's story. I'm here for the Princess Ascension."
Q blinked, the words unfamiliar and heavy, carrying a weight she didn't understand.
"The what now?"
The girl's smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with something fierce and unyielding. "The Princess Ascension. Once in a generation, a Lady in Waiting gets the chance to rise above her station. To stop waiting on someone else's crown and claim her own. Unlike you, that's my dream."